When I was young, possibly 8 or 10 years old, all the kids in my school but me used to watch this show called 'Yo Gaba Gaba'. In one episode, My Chemical Romance played a song called 'Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You)'. People were talking an awful lot about that episode, and eventually, I made up my mind to check it out.
To this day, I don't understand how four grown-up men could impersonate kid-friendly furballs so well, but as a kid, I couldn't care less, rather, was very impressed by their performance and started watching the show for them, then gave it up since that was their first and last performance in it.
That show was what introduced me to the band. That's why, even though I never watched it again, I owe it quite a lot. I couldn't think of anything else for three days after I looked them up on YouTube: I became exceptionally quiet and got no work done and passed my days in a haze. It was crazy. People would think from my grave expression that my mood's off for some reason when inside, a tornado of chaotic thoughts was whirling on; all seemed meaningless against the true revelation of My Chemical Romance.
From then on, I knew what genre of music is fit for me.
I couldn't decide whether it was their music that turned me on, or the fact that these men are a bunch of complete hoes. Especially Gerard Way, the lead singer. It went to the point where I began to build mushy feelings for him. There's one particular memory.
I came across a random video of the boys. Something got into them that day, and the song they were playing was chaotic itself, which might be the trigger there so... yeah, it was nuts. Everybody was in psycho mode 101, raging away on stage, and guess what Mr. Way did? He did weird tongue flicks, thrice, grabbed his crotch once (and who knows how many more times, it's just one clip), screaming and moaning, 'moaning', mind you— and this, this is the best part: he finished off with a kazoo noise by popping his microphone in his goddamn mouth. Um, well, even I don't know what happened to him. After the video ended, for a coupIe minutes, I sat in silence, stared at his paused face, jabbed my finger at him and spat, quite aggressively, "I like this guy."
Watching the snowflakes drizzle tonight brings back the band memories. Makes me smile thinking how much I loved them; there was a time when I'll bust their songs out at every given opportunity. I still love them, just can't play the songs anymore.
Listening to them is associated with my forbidden friend.
I hope the book is safe, back in its place. Hopefully Mom won't know it was brought out of its abode. Like this poor fella, My Chemical Romance, too, is banned from my life.
I glance down at the open bullet journal on my lap. Wish I could listen to Gerard singing. Wish I could travel back to all those pleasant times.
At the sound of lock clicking, I lift my head to see Franny walk out of her bathroom in a pair of teal pajamas, her blonde, freshly waved hair bouncing off her arms gripping a NuMe curling wand. She asks me, "Ada's not done yet?"
"Nope."
She sighs. "Lemme go check on her. Wanna come?"
"Of course not." I smirk.
She rolls her eyes, leaving me alone to stare out the window again. I hear her calling, "Mom, how much longer, I'm starving! You guys doin' good?" as the flop flop of her flippers drifts off.
I let out a sigh. Hanging out at friends' places is a very normal thing. What isn't, though, is that I'm having to come here more often. Having to. I get it, Halloween celebration, tonight's case is different. Regardless, nobody wants to hang around at her friend's place literally every single day, right?
Now it's not that I don't want to spend time with her. It's just... I don't know, something is so very wrong with Franny and she has complicated it too much by not talking to me or Ada about it. I don't know how long I can take—
Thudded footsteps are returning. Turning, I see Ada tiptoeing with a large white tray in her hands, Franny skipping right behind, beaming. As Ada places the tray on the small coffee table in front of me, a warm, savory aroma fills my nostrils. I inhale contentedly, and opening my eyes, a blue bowlful of fettuccine Alfredo greets me, with chunks of shrimp embellished in rich, pristine white sauce.
Brows raised, I shoot Ada a glance. "Well, I'll be damned."
She takes one glimpse of me, and swivels toward Franny. "Fran, what the hell?"
Naturally, my brows pull together. As if to make sense of it, Ada tells me, "This woman wanted to bring the tray but almost dropped and smashed it into pieces! Good thing I caught it just in time. She was digging her nails into her arms looking all flushed up!"
Now I take a much closer look at her. Franny, hair lying in waves against her red cheeks, resonates a deer in headlights, fearing to be told off. Watching her face, I end up feeling bad instead, and ask her in a soft tone, "You sure you're okay, Fran? You can tell us... if you need any help, or..."
She lifts her head, color drifting back to her features, and forms a half-smile. "No, uh... I just hurt my arms today. Doing some hand exercises... not wanting to leave the embroidery half-done. So I can, y'know, finish one fucking thing for once." She shrugs, hugging one arm with the other over her chest. "Just wanted to help Ada, after all, she did all the cooking by herself. And well, I've always been weak anyway."
She stops as soon as her eyes fall on our bewildered expressions. That cheesy, stretched out smile pops on her tightened lips in an attempt to ease up the mood.
"Don't sell yourself so short to the point of not redeeming it again out of humbling insecurity, Frances," the words tumble out sterner than I wanted them to be, a mild frown painted across my face.
My remark doesn't affect her. She keeps on smiling like a sweet little 2 year old and pipes up, "Let's get back to business with our tummies full this time!"
Ada shoots me a worried look from the corner of her eye while Franny jumps to grab a bowl and ladle huge spoonfuls of pasta into it. It's only when she speaks up that I snap out of my trance.
"Don't blame me when Sir Fettuccine is over," she says without looking up, still pouring the food.
Ada grabs her fork. If only Franny told me what in the world happened to her, just once. Not even Ada knows a thing. How can I figure it out on my own? Is this a sick test? She knows I'm not so clever.
With our bowls, we resume from where we left. In the lavender scented candlelight, which, Franny insisted, is for the sake of setting the mood, I heave a sigh at the sight of the scribbled points in my bullet journal pages. First week activities, dorm plans, study rituals, basically a rough draft of my college routine. I'd like to be prepared than being a lost little girl in an unknown place full of party-loving lunatics.
I peek a glance at the other two. Ada is filling the eighth gap of her 28 numbered template of a fairyland-ish garden with viridian oil pastel, fumbling for her fork every now and then, while Franny shovels pasta in her mouth with each stitch she creates on her purple linen dress. She has been working on it for weeks now. This is how our time goes by most of these days, and instead of going for trick-or-treat or whatever, it's what we're doing on this October's Halloween night as well.
'Cause if Ada or I don't agree to come and do these, Franny's shoulders droop almost immediately and her lips form a threatening pout that indicates she's about to tear up. She looks so sad, it becomes hard for me to say no. "We don't have any studying to do, not like you do something important at home. We can do some awesome bestie-bonding, What's the problem, y'all?" she'd say this. At this point, I'm too tired to explain to her what really the problem here is.
After what feels like half an hour, Franny's mom, Mrs. Forrest calls out, making me sigh in relief, "The pasta's great, right, girls?"
Franny nods as I give Mrs. Forrest a quick glance over my shoulder. She returns it with a smile and says, "Ada would've nailed it without my supervision anyway. Thank you for preparing it for us tonight, sweetie, it's delicious."
Ada responds, "No problem. But you're exaggerating it."
They all laugh out, all except me. There's something familiar I spot on Franny's mom's expression. Something that matches with her daughter. Not the hair or the eyes.
It's that panic.
The bells ring clearer when she frowns at Franny and gives a little wave of her hand, the kind of gesture people make to ask if they're okay, and gives her a little once-over. "Don't eat too much, okay, honey? Be generous with it, remember..." she trails off.
"Mom, we don't talk about it right here, right now!" Franny chirps and pouts in frustration, but goes stiff as soon as she realizes where the attention has been brought to. Eyes widened in an unknown terror, her eyes move from me to Ada.
I slowly turn to face Mrs. Forrest, who resembles her daughter's expression; eyes wide, face pale white. "Talk about what? What's going on?" I inquire.
She gives an abrupt start. "Diana, Franny's been like something has happened to her. For some weird reason she's hiding it from us," I go on in hopes it might calm her enough to talk. "I know I shouldn't've interfered, but I find it necessary to inform you if you didn't know. But now... seems like you know."
She doesn't respond, defenselessness showing in her frown. "What has happened to her?" I ask again, getting desperate. "Could you please tell me? Please, say it. I swear we'll try to help her, Diana. She's our friend. She's my friend."
I take a quick glance at Franny, and my bottom lip instantly curls downward. An arm of Ada is wrapped around Franny's shoulder. She's staring, with an edge in her eyes that fears something nasty is about to happen, at her legs, which are trembling along with her whole body. Her eyes are wider than ever, like they're about to pop out of her sockets, her face colorless, her breathing strained. Ada calls Franny's name in a faint whisper. This obviously doesn't bring any change in her reactions.
Panic attack.
Or a fit?
Something is going down. My thoughts begin to get jumbled very quickly. Bottom lip quivering, I throw my head back at Franny's terrified mother.
"What's happened to her? Please tell me!" I scream at her. "I probably look rude right now that I'm still wanting to know even when she's being like this, even when I shouldn't but I can't take it anymore! Please tell me!"
Face scrunched up, Mrs. Forrest looks to be seconds away from crying. All of a sudden, she shoots her head up, her pained gaze landing on Franny, then on me. Eyes locked with mine, she opens her mouth like she wants to say something. Through that panicked stare, I try to find something, a single clue; she wants to tell me but can't, maybe because of Franny, yet wants to convey her emotions. I try and fail to decode it, because within seconds, she swaps her expression, closes her eyes, takes a sharp breath and speaks, "It's just post-exam stress."
I get shell-shocked by her composed voice. "She's just worried if she's going to get into Stratford's, sweeties. Nothing to be anxious about," she adds, tight-lipped. "She just... needs a little time with people so she forgets about it, and of course, I can't give her as much of a fun time as you can."
She gives me a small smile, almost sad. "I try to be by her side, but sometimes, things just slip out of my hands," she slowly says, and exits the room.
It hasn't helped at all. If anything, it has only deepened my web of thoughts, not unravel it, complicating this newfangled game of jigsaw puzzle.
Confusion over confusion. My mind is going blank, and I think it's better. I turn forth, and in the blink of an eye, someone dives at me.
All these happenings have already started numbing me. But this. This feels like I'm a corpse— I can't feel a thing right now. Franny has trapped me between her slender arms before I knew it, her fingertips digging into my velvet Halloween tunic, head sunk into my shoulder with her wavy locks spread out in a disheveled manner as she crumbles into tears that reach close to muffled screams of agony. I'm turned into a sculpture, a sculpture of shock, who can feel nothing, limbs and muscles frozen solid. I can't move, not even hold her back nor utter one word.
In the midst of everything, only one thing replays in my head like a record stuck in radio.
Why is Franny crying, why is Franny crying, why is Franny crying, Franny, why're you crying...?
My half-closed eyes find Ada place timid hands on Franny's back when she, too, is dragged into the embrace. Feeling one of Ada's arms pull me closer, my arms act on their own and tighten around both of them. Being the tallest, I lean my chin on top of theirs.
And I realize I'm not a corpse. Yet. I'm breathing.
But is it how it is to be alive?
I don't know. I don't think I can think it through. I want to hold on for dear life. For our dear lives. If it means I have to do it alone for them, so be it. So I do it. We just sit there, holding onto one another, just like that in a hollow, deafening silence.
Feels like hours have passed by. Like, we're frozen in time? Is this called being frozen in time?
It's when my toes start to tremble that some sense pours back in me. The trembling turns faster, and a faint breathe restores my voice to bring my lips down to Franny's ear.
"Franny. Are you... okay?" I whisper to her.
My whisper was soft, yet it was enough. Franny shifts her weight off me within seconds, face down, shaking her head slow while wiping her face. Before I can speak again, Ada turns Franny towards her and cups her cheeks up.
"What is it, Franny?" she hisses, her voice cracking through her sniffs, her glossed lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "What is it?"
Looking at their reddish, mascara-streaked faces, my heart wants to tear free out of my chest, but I can't worsen things. Franny stares at Ada for long moments, saying nothing. When she turns at me, her red, swollen eyes gape wide open through mine, emitting an unnatural emptiness. Then, she sighs.
"I'm such a stupid crybaby," she mutters, wiping the last bit of her tears. Ada and I exchange a puzzled look.
"Are you alr — I mean... what just went on?" My brows draw tighter as I tilt my head at Franny.
To my utter horror, she breaks into a light chuckle, shaking her head once more. She wipes the hand she used to wipe her tears on her dress and speaks in a normal pitch, "Frankly, it even isn't anything. I just..." she looks up at us with a genuine smile that angelifies her features, "I just wanted to let you guys know how much you mean to me. You're one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and as stupid as it sounds, I never really got to tell you that. Like, literally never. That's how stupid I am.
She pauses to snort at herself. "But I'm so happy you and Ada are here with me. We're running out of time. We're always running out of time. So... better use it up while we can."
For a while, I just stare at her without a word. When I look at Ada, I see my expression reflecting on her face. Next minute, she gasps, "Oh, Franny," promptly pulling Franny in her arms. Franny peeks up Ada's shoulder at me. Her eyes aren't voided anymore. Those eyes churn a whirlwind in my heart, and at that moment, I feel the happiest girl in the world to have Franny in my life and I don't think I need anything more than just her. With a deep sigh, I go for a second time, enveloping them in a bone-crashing hug. In happiness this time.
"You gold girl," I mumble in her ear.
Ada hums in agreement while soft giggles emit from Franny's body, her arm pulling me as close as it can.
Even after breaking the hug, I feel the warmth in and around me. I hope they can too; their eye-crinkled grins give me hope they can.
Then, out of the blue, all three of us burst into a roaring laugh.
The kind of laugh that radiates happiness. The kind of laugh I have missed for a while now.
"Okay, to hell with all this sad vibes, I swear it's gonna make me poop." I dissolve into a second round of laughter at my own words with Ada and Franny.
"Our roughie-toughie honeybee finally cracked some wise words," Franny chokes to slow down, attempting sarcasm. Not so fast, girl.
"Last time I checked, Fran, you two's bums were saved by this girl," I poke a finger at me, to which they simultaneously blow me a kiss and wink.
We break up another round of hilarious-sounding giggles, just like we used to before, well, all this. But I don't want to think about that right now. Screw it. So I just laugh and laugh till my throat goes sore.
"But seriously, c'mon, we need to do some fun, hot girl shit." I blink dramatically.
"Oh well, we're having so much fun already." Ada jabs her thumb towards her paint by numbers painting book.
"Hey, working on our hobbies in a quiet environment is super soothing and good for the soul, my doctor's told me!" Franny retorts, pouting.
I give my eyes a lazy roll with a sigh. "We're gonna talk all evening about anything and everything. Be it a deep conversation or stupid stuff, we're gonna chat and laugh and spend time the right way. We might be a bit too old for trick or treating, but we're never too old for a good talk."
I unfold my legs and sprawl them out, leaning forward. "So let's get started. What d'you guys wanna talk about?"
Their faces light up like the brightest Christmas tree; with sparkling eyes, they quickly crawl near me, making me chuckle at their excitement.
"You tell us." Ada looks at Franny.
"Ada's right." Franny cracks a smile at me. "It's always us who blabber around you. Today you will say, we will listen."
I smile. "But what will I say?"
"Whatever your heart desires, Cam," Franny tells me.
I surf my brain for an idea, and it brings me to a bizarre choice I thought I wouldn't ever make. "You guys heard of this band named 'My Chemical Romance?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, there was this one performance, where-"
"Oh no, wait a sec! Are you a fan? You're a fan, right?"
Oh, for God's sake.
"By the end of this conversation, you'll know, babes. Okay, where was I? Oh, so in this concert they were playing..."
~~~
"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?"
"Frances Ciel Forrest, this is the fifth time you've used bad language! Stop now or you're grounded for the next 24 hours!" Mrs. Forrest's angry yell attacks us from the kitchen once again.
"Sorry, Mom!" Franny yells back.
At last, after that concert snippet, the gazillionth video compiling Gerard's holy doings rolls to an end. We remain huddled around Franny's laptop for a while in silence, until she opens her mouth, "Worth it."
I chuckle. "Told you, the proof's on YouTube, honey."
"Yuppie yup. And..." they both aggressively point at his face on the screen and shout, "He's a psycho!"
I raise my brows as they keep their finger steady at him.
"We like him."
I laugh out loud.
Four freaking hours of endless chattering, a few more videos, including My Chemical Romance (which they seem to dig now), Buzzfeed Unsolved Network by 'Ghoul Boys' Ryan and Shane, and a delightful session of creme brûlée. I don't suppose I ever talked this much, and it's about the time now. I'll go as insane as Mr. Way if it goes on for one more second. However, Franny's clearly not satisfied.
"We'll be having a sleepover tonight!"
"But it wasn't part of the plan." I groan.
"Talking this much wasn't too! And, not everything has to be planned. Now hop in, missy! Oh, we'll make a pillow fort, and have pillow fights, do some karaoke, and ooh, I've these super cool nail polish designs..."
And thus, in 10 minutes, my defeated self makes a phone call to Mom and enters the bathroom carrying a pair of Franny's trousers and a white tank top. Hope they fit me.
Locking the bathroom door, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Franny was glowing with excitement when I agreed to stay; when I agreed to stay on my own wish. The way she was running around to grab her pillows and blankets for the fort. God, this girl. A large smile blooms on my face as I shake my head.
I go ahead and search for her cleanser. Damn, the amount of products this girl owns might get her a L'Oréal commercial deal. My head is pounding— maybe it's drowsiness. Was it there for a while? Maybe, I didn't notice since we were talking the whole time. The night's not even over and the waves of joy are already starting to lull me to the dreamworld. Does it happen if you eat too much? Laugh and talk too much?
While rummaging through her stuff, I knock something off, catching it seconds before it hits the ground. My heart almost drops, making me slap my forehead. Ugh, this tiredness is going to kill me. Get woke, Camilla, what the hell? I give my head a good shake, blinking so my stupid brain stays awake a bit longer and standing up. But the bottle I was about to destroy isn't of a skincare product.
It's a small white bottle. Written on it is Erivedge (vismodegib) capsules.
What is it for?
_______________________________________________________
Hmm. What is that bottle for? 🤔
Hey there, lovelies! I'm back with another chapter! I hate to keep y'all waiting but you know what the deal is. College is the worst nightmare. Ever. There are times when I just can't bring myself to write. Being mentally exhausted and still forcing myself to write isn't for me, it only stresses me out more. But I finally finished chapter 22 and here it is. Hope you guys enjoy it, and if you do, please do click on that lil star and share your feedbacks to make poor author's entire day! 🥺 Anyway, really hope you love it, happy reading! ❤️