What I Thought

prologue

TO SHAKE MY HEAD as a response is all I could do to answer her questioning look. Those unavoidable dark brown eyes of Katherine Gonzales are, well, difficult to avert from and are evidently superior compared to the crystal blues of Iliana Thunder - who unfortunately happen to be me. How fun it is to be an underdog and an outcast!

I try to inconspicuously do an eye-roll, but she catches me when my pupils are about halfway from full rotation.

"Wow, Nia, I'm trying to help you here and you have the guts to roll your eyes at me?" Kat raises her voice with matching hand gestures. Her thick, long dark hair sway as words continue to come out from her mouth, but I'm not comprehending. It's her signature — nearly-yelling almost all the time and hand movements — and mine has always been all-black clothing and eyeliner.

"Um," I start to say, simultaneously trying to think of an excuse but fails. I just can not think properly right now, especially after what happened. She knows this, so she raises an eyebrow at me as sly grin forms at a corner of her plump lips. "Okay, okay! Geez. You're the one who knows everything!" I cover my ears, not wanting to hear anymore of it. "It's plain ridiculous, if you ask me," I add.

It is true, as a matter of fact, that she knows everything. Kat is an A student right off the bat, yet it does not imply she is all about academics. Well, it is kind of true hence she lacks in physical performance. If a zombie apocalypse, or anything that would involve running, ever occur - she would surely be left behind. I wouldn't be surprised if she dies first!

"Seriously speaking, though," she says, reaching out for my hand. Her medium complexion stands with my pale skin. One Pacific Islander and a Caucasian. "Let me, let us, help you to — what's the word?"

"No, I don't think that would be ne—" I start to say, withdrawing my hand. It makes me uncomfortable whenever she gets all sentimental on me. I'm allergic to it.

Kat cuts my sentence off. "Oh, right. Ask for help when you need it!" She presses on words, hard, through gritted teeth. With her startling mood, a person would think she is angry but no. I know better.

"Uh oh, Nia, what did you do?" With that, someone comes out of nowhere to chime in into our conversation. Short blond hair. Baby-faced with his vibrant green eyes. Light-skinned. Not-so-athletic-guy-yet-is-still-better-than-Kat who is standing five-feet-eleven inches; just an inch taller than both of us girls. Meet Newt Lawrence. Kat's adopted brother. Actually, he once tried to go out with me but I dumped him, and it still surprises me that he's staying to be my other best pal. Though, he just jumps into an argument once he perceives he is truly needed. Most of the time, he makes it worse.

It has always been this way since we met and became best pals years ago. In middle school, where one usually find month-long or until-high school friends. As for me, I think I've stumbled upon my life-long companions but, of course, people tend to wrap their minds around the nearest yet unrealistic belief they could come across in order to carry along. Therefore, I don't really count on anything, but I'm still crossing my fingers. Maybe it would be different for me.

"I'm just trying to enlighten her that going to a stupid gig isn't going to solve any of my current predicaments. I mean, how could watching some band I've never heard of play onstage would help me in any way?" I tell both of them, defending my perspective. "I appreciate you guys coming to my aid, but honestly, I just don't think this would work."

"How on earth have you never heard of them?" Newt asks, not believing what I said. It sounds like he has been supporting this particular band we're about to go see. "That's plain offensive."

"I know, right?" Kat agrees, nodding at his comment. "We know for a fact your mom produced one of their singles, that's why they're becoming more and more famous. Well, not really but they're getting there. Didn't you know that?" she asks, obviously anticipating for a different response she is already expecting from me.

Unfortunately for her, I don't ever associate myself much with my mom, who is one well-known music producer, nor any of my family members who are filled with prudence and pride. I am not in luck for several reasons; 1. I'm referring to every single one of them because 2. they all excel in their careers that leads to 3. they happen to be one of the most popular in their own areas of expertise, which leaves me to 4. eliciting high expectations from them and from people who personally know them, whose opinions — by the way — shouldn't count hence they are not related to me in any way.

Not just that; the last time I met one of mom's artists, it didn't end up well.

I shake my head to prevent further reminiscing. I simply do not want to think about it now. "No, Kat, I've never seem my mom nor any of them for two weeks now," I say, "they are all busy minding their own business. Therefore, I know I should just mind my own."

Kat and Newt share this same look on their faces. I don't precisely know what kind of expression it is, but it's either A. No one could stop them from whatever mischief they are planning or B. I just gave them an idea. A bad one. Either way, I am certain I wouldn't like it.

Knowing it would be pointless to argue more, I let them execute their stratagem. We then go to the gig they are referring to and watch. Well, they are having fun as they sing along with the band as I look around in curiosity. I know it is the only way to distract me from threatening thoughts on the back of my mind, which I always consider as bad due to reasons I can't explain right now. Besides, they never notify me I ought to go along with whatever they have planned, so there is a flaw. In fact, I absolutely have no idea what it is!

I'm not planning to pay any attention to the show because, well, what's the point? As I have aforementioned, I've never heard of them which implies to few things. 1. I don't care, 2. I don't know any of their songs and 3. I don't care.

Though as I am currently looking around the small amphitheater, it never occur to me of how small it really is. Maybe it's slightly bigger than the ones they used to play at before my mom produced their single? Plus, the area isn't even crowded. People are still capable of walking around and even have a picnic if they want to. The stage is not what I would call spacious, neither. It is sufficiently big for all four members of the band, and there are still amplifiers they need to worry about. I'm so into keeping myself busy observing my surroundings that I did not perceive I am looking straight in front of me. Straight into someone. Into his eyes. How is that even possible if he is so faraway from where I'm standing?

My eyebrows furrow in trying to decipher why he is smiling despite the situation at hand. Why being in such a small place does not bother him from playing his instrument.

I become curious, which grows more and more with every second that passes. Soon becoming intrigued of how dare such a happy human being exist behind those drums. How would he be so satisfied if he's all the way at the back, where almost no one could see him? Not to mention the overall problem of their venue.

There, I know I have to unravel the mystery myself. No matter how long, where and what it takes me.

Even if I have to get hurt again and again.