Beginnings are hard.
It's five in the afternoon. School ended hours ago. Marky Wu lounges on the living room couch, daydreaming about cupcakes. Red velvet with ube-frosting... nice.
Suddenly a tall figure bursts from the hallway behind, snapping Marky out of his trance, muttering under his breath angrily. His gray business suit and black collared shirt clash terribly with his blue tie. "Kids screwing up the damn laundry... running away from home... Marcy!"
He awaits a response for a few moments, tapping his foot impatiently. Nothing comes. He heaves a sigh before switching his attention to Marky. "There you are! Wait never mind you're the other one. Where's your sister?"
Marky shrugs. His father motions with his hands as he goes off, "What do you mean you don't know!? Surely she would've told you something! You two are always scheming! Now my tie is ruined, and she was the last person to wash the load! Mixing the colors with the whites, I swear we taught her better! So oblivious!"
He runs a hand through his disheveled jet black hair and rests the other on his hip. "And this was my only white tie. Marcy! Where is she!?"
Marky raises his pointer fingers and moves them together, baring his unnaturally sharp teeth to be understood clearly.
"Yes, I remember we argued. But she wouldn't just run away, this is Marcy we're talking about. She doesn't hold a grudge. And even if she did, she knows she wouldn't survive a week alone."
Marky raises a hand and spells out a name before pulling it to his nose and back down to his chest.
"Anne's birthday? Ah, shoot, you're right. She would run to her friend's house for comfort. And a birthday party is great cover. Thanks."
His son gives a thumbs up before slumping back down the cushions. Mr. Wu digs around in his pockets until he finds his phone. He brings it out and dials his daughter's number. It rings for a few seconds.
"Heya! So sorry, but I can't pick up right now. Leave a message!"
He furrows his brows, taking the device from his ear to check if it's working correctly. Not once has Marcy missed a call. But as they say, there's a first time for everything. So Mr. Wu shrugs it off and tries a second time.
Voicemail. Again.
Now this is weird. He could understand if Marcy was simply looking for her phone the first time and happened to take too long, but twice? Third time's the charm. If this doesn't work, then panic.
Voicemail.
Welp. Panic it is. The worst possible situations begin to play in his head on repeat.
She could be lost. Why did he let her go alone? She could've been hit by a car. She is clumsy. She could've been raped. Again, why did he let her out alone? She could've been attacked. Maybe he should look into a child leash. She could be dead. Please not that one.
Mr. Wu calls for his wife. When she appears at his side, he takes her hand and leads them both out the door before she can protest. Marky's groggy smile drops to a confused frown. This won't end badly, will it?
The Boonchuys are just as confused as them.
Their daughter is gone too. She never even came home to them. According to Ms. Waybright over the phone, her daughter didn't either. These three are best friends. They do everything together, which means they must be together right now, wherever they are.
Not one of them are answering any calls from anyone. And the calls aren't being denied, just left to voicemail. The two sets of anguished parents call the police to report them missing before filing outside to look for their kids.
Mr. Wu looks at their school, Mrs. Wu checks the entire neighborhoods of all three, Mr. Boonchuy searches the park, and Mrs. Boonchuy scours the mall. No one finds anything. It's as if they all just vanished into thin air.
They meet back up at the Boonchuy's place.
It's decorated as if there was a party meant to be thrown today. Ah, right. It's Anne's birthday today. That's... hm.
"How did this happen!? What're we gonna do!?" Mr. Boonchuy, Bee, grips his hair so tight his wife fears it might just rip out.
Mr. Wu, Zihan, fights back tears. He turns to his wife with a desperate look in his eyes, "You have to tell Mark.."
"We," Mrs. Wu, Fai, corrects out of habit. "It'll be okay. Sasha—let me finish before you say anything—is a good kid. I'm sure she'll protect Marcy and Anne—" she gives an apologetic glance to the Boonchuys, "—if anything happens."
Zihan waits patiently for her to finish. When she does, he explodes, "Sasha! I knew we shouldn't have let her around that... that street rat! She's corrupted my baby girl, stole her away, and now they're off doing who knows what! Do you know what they could be doing?!"
"Well," Fai starts, but he doesn't let her finish.
"Oh no!" He wails, covering his eyes as if that'll stop his mind from conjuring anything else. "I got an image! Fai, I—"
He collapses into her shoulder and sobs. She rubs circles in his back, hugging him closer and silently crying with him. Glancing over to the Boonchuys, she finds them clinging to one another just the same.
"Zihan," she whispers, "we should go."
"Maarcyyyy.." Zihan replies.
His state makes her want to curl into a ball and weep her heart out. Instead, she simply continues, albeit struggling. "Our friends need time to process. And we have to tell Marky."
"No! Not my boy, he's too..." He chokes.
Fai loops her arms under his armpits, gently pulling him towards the door. Bee peeks at them, flashes a halfhearted smile, and then goes back to staring longingly at a specific point on the floor. Probably where some special memory of Anne took place; perhaps her first steps?
The thought is depressing. She trudges further down the street, dragging her broken husband behind her. Their house is just three buildings down. The close distance is why Marcy and Anne have been such close friends for so long. Since they were in diapers and slept in cribs.
Sasha never came into the picture until first grade. Fai scowls. As much as she adores the flattering blonde and everything she might be able to do for her daughters confidence, she can't help but think her husband might be onto something.
Marcy never talked back, until Sasha. She never swore, until Sasha. She at least attempted to keep her room clean(ish), until Sasha. She should've pieced this together sooner. Unfortunately, she was too supportive. After all, she could tell Marcy has had a crush on the blonde for a while now. She didn't want to break her daughter's heart.
But it would seem that that's exactly what she did. Earlier today, they had a fight. They told her that they're moving to Connecticut. She... she'd never seen her daughter so angry. Marcy looked at her like she was holding back a left hook. And, being Marcy, her anger translated into tears. She ran away. That was the last they heard from her.
For all they know, she could be dead now. And it would ultimately be their fault. She walked into the house with tears staining her cheeks.
Marky perks up, expecting to be greeted with his little sister's smiling face.
Instead, he gets a disheartening display of his mother, eyes full of tears, dragging his limp, sobbing father inside. Marky's smile drops.
"Marky, come here." His mom set his dad down, never breaking eye contact with Marky. In return, Marky did everything but look in her eyes. What? It's hard..
He slowly slides off the couch, shuffling over to her while staring at the ground. All the bad feels course through his veins, slowly getting more and more bad with each step he takes. His mom smiles sadly. Marky feels like running for his life.
"Hey. Do you remember Goldie?" She asks.
Marky gives a tense nod. She's bringing up the damn goldfish from four years ago. The one that died within a day of owning it. She has got to be kidding. Well, it isn't funny.
She sets her hands on his shoulders. "And do you remember how you felt when Goldie... ah, got lost?"
The damn fish died. It did not grow legs and hop states. It died. It was a goldfish from PetsMart, they die in a two degree temperature difference. She better not be using the damn fish as a metaphor to make him feel better.
Marky doesn't remember feeling a thing for the fish, honestly. Marcy was upset about it for a grand total of two days. He nods anyway.
His mother sniffles. She brings her hands up to cup his cheeks. "See? We still remember Goldie, and we mourn Goldie, but we moved on."
Marky absolutely cannot believe this utter blasphemy. He does not mourn the damn PetsMart goldfish. And yet, this stupid ass metaphor starts to get to him. His hazel eyes glisten with tears, lower lip quivering ever so slightly. He instinctively bites down on it, drawing blood. That helps, honestly.
"That's what we're going to have to do with Marc—" her voice breaks. "...your sister."
Marky brings his hand up, but she takes it and holds it down. She glares at him. "No. None of that. You'll be okay."
He chokes. That's not fair! She can't do that! He finds himself being pulled into a hug, but it hardly matters. Where's Marcy? She could help. She would be perfect. Right now.
Suddenly the thought of her is so distant. Her bubbly laugh, the single dimple that would show up whenever she did(same as him), her small obsessions, and her big ones. For all his life, Marcy had been his little sidekick. Or maybe the other way around. They just clicked.
Maybe it was the shared autism. Maybe it was because they were hardly apart. Perhaps just because they shared the same blood.
Whatever the case, Marky knows one thing for sure. Marcy is his favorite little sister. And she's gone.
1765 words.
Surprise, surprise; my dumbass made another one.
I know I'm still doing Life is a Calamity but this shit has been stuck in my head and I don't wanna forget it 'cause it's been giving me immense serotonin. Like the description says, It's got no schedule. Just depends on how I'm feeling.
This chapter isn't much of a chapter, more of a little thingy to set some basic things up. The rest of the book will be better than this, I swear ;-;
Also, this is completely my hyperactive imagination. And you know what that means!
Get ready for some super highschool level gay.
And I know that's what you're here for you touch starved little homos. Love ya<3
—Jazzy