Hi guys! Back again with the fourth book of ‘The Jr. Pop Diaries: Year 3’. Enjoy reading!
1. Silence.
I’m going to let the story go.
No sense getting caught up here.
You know how this goes.
2. I Just Do, Angie
Narrative Continued by Angela
Trevor was a wreck when he found out. We all were. And, I mean, it was different from when she moved away. She was healthy and Trevor still stuck with her. But this was different. She had fainted, appeared to have been unconscious for two days, and both of them had broken up. It was understandable for him to be so regretful and sad.
I was sitting next to him on his bed and rubbing his back. Mom had an arm around his shoulders as he buried his head in his knees and cried.
“It’s okay, honey,” Mom whispered.
“She’ll be fine,” I said.
He sniffled. “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” I ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. “It never was.”
We consoled him a little more for some time, and he stopped crying. But Mom had other ideas for me.
“Angie, how about you go and hang out with your friends for a while?” She said.
“But Mom—”
“Please, sweetie. It’ll be alright. I’ll handle this.”
I reluctantly agreed. “I’m headed to Isaiah’s. Maybe the smell of machines and grease will be nice.”
Mom cracked a small smile, and I left.
I hopped the subway and headed to the downtown suburbs, where Isaiah lived. I knocked on the door of his house, and it opened to an equally devastated Isaiah himself.
“I wanted to hang out with you awhile.” I clutched the straps of my bag tightly.
“Not a problem.” He closed the door and opened the garage. I followed him inside. He moved around, checking if the machines were in good shape, and then headed to the worktable.
“I haven’t been building anything new, just working on improvements and planning to clean up.” He sighed. “Not sure if I should anyways…”
I looked at my hand from where it got shocked from the electric gloves we were repairing weeks ago. There was barely any mark, which was a good sign enough for safe and sound.
We got to work. We grabbed a cleaning kit and a toolbox, and we scrubbed the machines, repaired them, and then went about replacing their positions. As we worked, Isaiah kept looking at me, even though I deliberately focused on whatever I was doing. After I was done scrubbing rust off a bolt, I turned to him.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
He sighed. “I know we haven’t been friends for very long, Angela, but I can tell you’re worrying about Trevor. I bet you came here because you wanted something to do so that you could take your mind off him.”
I looked down. “Yeah.”
A hand was on my shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”
I teared up. “How do you know for sure?”
He squeezed my shoulder. “I just do.”
I wasn’t sure whether to trust him on that account. But he sounded so certain… and I wanted the certainty.
“I just do, Angie,” he said, and we both hoped that he did.
3. ‘Hot Soup’
Narrative Resumed by Trevor
Punch the issue on the nose. I was terrible.
I broke up with Tana.
And what’s next?
Those horrid Wells nearly killed her.
And she ended up in a hospital.
And I couldn’t protect her.
I was so bad to her…
I couldn’t stop it from happening…
All of this I said to Mom as she kept comforting me, assuring me it would be alright.
“She’ll die,” I cried, wetting my knees with tears, drool and snot.
“She won’t, Trev.” My mom rubbed my back as I sobbed.
“You don’t understand, Mom.” I sniffled and looked up. “She meant everything to me. I… I abandoned her…”
She sighed. “Let’s try it this way, honey.” She patted her knee, and I gave her a small smile. I know this trick. If I ever have a bad dream, Mom puts my head in her lap and sings to me until I fall asleep again. But I hadn’t ever had nightmares since I was eight, and after a long time, she was doing it again. I just obliged, though; I never got to spend much time with her. And I needed her support.
I laid down and placed my head in Mom’s lap. She smoothened my hair and sang softly:
“Last December, got here on the wrong day
It was too late, the soup had gotten cold
And the phone rang, hearts and smiles from my home
With the story I wish that you could know
And I
I miss you
And I
I miss you…”
Mom paused, and I let the music echo in my head. I always wondered who I got my singing talent from, or whether I discovered it on my own. But then, at that moment, I realised it’s Mom. She’s an excellent singer, and she can turn any song into a lullaby. I always felt comfortable around her, when she softly hummed to me as a kid, and even at that moment, where I felt so vulnerable and scared and guilty.
“I forgot the lyrics,” Mom was saying. She laughed softly. “Do you know the rest?”
I flipped onto my back and stared up at her, continuing:
“Memories stay walking with me
Like you did every day to school
Now I wonder if you'd be proud
That I made the soup on my own
And I
I miss you
And I
I miss you…”
“I miss you…” Mom repeated softly.
“I miss you…” I whispered.
And I fell asleep, just like I used to all those years, back when things weren’t so complicated, back to when it was just me and my sister and my mother. Back to when it was just me and my family.
4. ‘2 Much’
Narrative Continued by Elijah
I sat at the electric piano, hands poised, ready to play. I had felt quite down after hearing the news about Tana, and no book could really be a source of comfort. It was up to the music for me, at the moment. I sighed and didn’t delay. I played the song in my mind, with the chords appearing side by side. I heard Martin Luther King Jr.’s quote in my mind:
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere!
How true. I played the F# minor chord. Then D major. Back to F# minor, and I started:
“Maybe I stare too much, maybe not long enough
Funny how I forget to blink…”
As I sang, as I played the chords, memories flooded my brain. It was all about my whole life leading up to the scene of the piano. I remembered the plush Appa in Wylie’s backyard, and how I gave it to her from the back door. We were no more than three years old.
“When you let down your hair, dancin' like no one's there
I know I'm where I'm supposed to be…”
I remembered Wylie sticking up for me in front of bullies who kicked me for reading books all day, which made me seem like a ‘sissy’, according to them.
“Say, ‘I love you’ under my breath
More times than you can digest
Music every time I hear your name, oh…”
I remembered Wylie deeming us as ‘Team Weird’. We were four, and officially best friends.
“Your head's layin' right on my chest
Sun's up, but I still ain't got no rest…”
I remembered wondering aloud to Wylie whether we’d jump over the audition hurdles for Jr. Pop. We were seven.
“Don't wanna close my eyes, I'm scared I'll miss too much…”
I remembered doing a third-grade dance duet with her in a performance, and how the audience had cheered for us afterwards.
“When I can't feel you, I feel out of touch…”
I remembered our singing loud and clear until our voices got hoarse. We were ten.
“Two seconds without you's like two months…”
Then the bad memories went through my head like slow-moving cargo ships. I wished that they would move faster.
“Don't wanna close my eyes, I'm scared I'll miss too much…”
I remembered not seeing Mrs. Wilson growing some lovely flowers in her wonderful garden when I passed by Wylie’s house.
“Don't wanna fall asleep, I'd rather fall in love…”
I remembered Wylie’s tears when she said that Mrs. Wilson had cancer. And those very tears, magnified, when she said that Mrs. Wilson had died.
“’Cause eternity with you ain't long enough…”
I remembered holding her hand tightly at the funeral.
“Two seconds without you's like two months
And that's too much…”
I sighed and played the last chords before pausing. In sixth grade, we finally grew into close friends again.
“Love the way you love your mom
Take on all your friends’ problems
Still somehow stop the world for us, oh-oh…”
I remembered EliTreLie’s shooting days, when Wylie was always super excited before and after we were done.
“I still relieve that second
I made my biggest blessing
Prayed for you, look what God has turned…”
I remembered the look on her face when she pressed the Polaroid of twelve-year-old Mrs. Wilson in my hands.
“Say, "I love you" under my breath
More times than you can digest
Music every time I hear your name, oh…”
I remembered when she came out in that new crop top and those pants, and how I wondered whether she’d changed too much for me.
“Your head's layin' right on my chest
Sun's up, but I still ain't got no rest…”
And I realised she hadn’t. She was still the old Wylie, who stood up for us and who always found a way to keep us joyful. All while handling her fresh and painful grief.
“Don't wanna close my eyes, I'm scared I'll miss too much
Don't wanna fall asleep, I'd rather fall in love
When I can't feel you, I feel out of touch
Two seconds without you's like two months…”
I remembered my feelings for her developing in the third year of Jr. Pop. And I remembered my spark of jealousy when I noticed Sean spending time with her.
“Don't wanna close my eyes, I'm scared I'll miss too much
Don't wanna fall asleep, I'd rather fall in love
'Cause eternity with you ain't long enough
Two seconds without you's like two months
And that's too much…”
I breathed out and played the last chord, B minor. I also heard the tread of someone coming to the room. And my instincts were correct.
Wylie poked her head inside. “Hey, duder. Great singing.”
I smiled. “Thank you.” She grinned back, and left.
Things still hadn’t changed. I still felt for her the same. I felt for her, like Aang felt for Katara.
Love isn’t blind. Rather, the right love helps you see.
And I had such a kind of love for this blond girl with ocean eyes.
5. The Jasmine Dragon or the Pro-bending Match?
Narrative Continued by Wylie
Sean and I had spent a lot of time together as friends. Going to the movies, having fro-yo, maybe even the occasional sparring match for some strength-building fun. I always felt weird around him, but usually, I shrugged it off and had fun. But something extremely colossal occurred one day.
After dance rehearsal, he said that he wanted to talk privately. I let him in the dance room—no one was around. When he closed the door, he took a deep breath.
“So, what is it that you wanna talk about?” I asked, rocking my feet on my heels.
“Yeah, um…” He sighed. “I don’t know how to say this.”
“You can be straight about it.” I shrugged. “I can handle it.”
“Okay.” He took another breath. “And, here’s the deal: I really like you.”
I know what you’re thinking: I couldn’t handle it. But I was more confused than embarrassed, actually.
“Wait, you mean like as in, as friends? Or is it… like like you?” I asked, turning red.
Sean blushed. “Yeah, it’s the like like you option…”
A hundred different things were turning around in my mind. On one hand, I finally didn’t feel like an outsider when it comes to this stuff, but on the other hand, well, face it: I didn’t know I was ready.
“Um… yeah, Sean, I like you too…” I stepped back. “But, you know what? I’mma think about this, and get back to you.” I broke into a run and headed outside, leaving him alone in the dance room, possibly confused and maybe a little sad too. I think.
“…and that’s it! I really don’t know whether to say yes or no. You gotta help me, Tam. I mean, I would ask Tana, but she’s recovering and Mr. B said that we can’t exactly ask her this stuff due to her—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tam said, reaching a hand out to stop my pacing. “Wylie, slow down. Let’s assess this first.”
I sighed and stopped. Maybe I should listen.
“So, you’re saying, Sean likes you, but you don’t like him back.” Tam leaned back in her chair.
“No! I mean, I’m confused.” I sounded like an idiot saying that, but what could I do? I had to tell her how I felt.
“Okay…” Tam clucked her tongue. “Maybe… I dunno, try it out?”
“Um, I hope he isn’t one of those guys who likes you then dumps you the next second. No, I don’t want that. I gotta be sure about it.”
“Then just say yes. I mean, come on, Wylie. He’s nice. And you kinda like him, too.”
I sighed. “Okay. I’ll text him. I think I’ll pass out if it’s in person.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself, girl.”
As I was typing, I just secretly wondered: was this gonna turn out like forever at the Jasmine Dragon tea shop in the finale of ATLA, or was it going to be a one-month thing like at the pro-bending arena in LOK?
6. Trevor Sanders: The Album
Narrative Resumed by Trevor
I had called Elijah over a few days after my breakdown. I felt much better, but not just because of Mom’s singing. I had a crazy plan that came up a day after that, and to make it work, I needed my best friend’s help.
When he came, he gave me a quick bro hug. I didn’t mind. I squeezed back. I was still a little shaken. When he pulled back, Elijah nodded, then sat in my chair.
“So, what is the word?” He asked.
I raised an eyebrow.
He sighed. “What did you call me for?”
I nodded. “Right. I called you because I had a plan in mind.”
“Let me guess: you wanted to take down Tana’s biological family?”
I widened my eyes. “No, but I’ll consider thinking about it.”
Elijah looked nervous about my response, so he moved a little sideways. “Apart from that?”
“Uh, yeah.” I sighed. “I’m gonna make a solo album.”
His jaw dropped. “Solo? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“How?” He asked.
“Look, it’s not gonna be that hard.” I pointed to a sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him. “See that? Those are the songs I was thinking of doing.”
Elijah glanced at it, and his eyes went wider than wide. “Twenty songs? There’s no guarantee you can finish them all.”
“Look, I think if we work double time, we’ll finish eighteen. The other two…” I looked down. I didn’t wanna say it.
Elijah looked at me. “You are doing eight songs as a collaboration. And two songs are with Tana. And you wish for Tana to recover as soon as possible to do them with you.”
I looked down to hide my tears. “Not just that. I… I miss her so much… and I made a mistake with her. A mistake I won’t ever repeat.” I swallowed them down and looked at him. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it.”
Elijah gave me a small smile. “I know you will. Now, to business.” He tapped the table. “I know what you want to me to do. You want me to edit the lyrics.”
I snapped my fingers at him. “Exactly.”
He rubbed his chin. “I shall see what I can do. Perhaps I could finish most on time. Especially the Justin Bieber ones.” He got up. “Simultaneously, let’s focus on Jr. Pop.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He bumped my fist and left. I just sat there for a while. A hundred thoughts raced through my head. Only one seemed to stand out.
I took my phone and opened a picture of me and Tana. It was our first year, at our first concert as JPKs. I traced my finger along Tana’s hair, like I always did.
“I miss you,” I whispered, and laid the phone across my chest, looking up at the ceiling. I swallowed through another lump in my throat. I felt melancholy, but bucked myself up to head downstairs to the garage and pick up my guitar.
For then, at the very least, I was out of the danger of crying.
7. Redemption and Stars
It wasn’t easy work to make a solo album, but, to my surprise, we finished five songs within a few weeks. They were ‘Wonder’, ’24 Hours’, ‘You Let Me Down’, ‘2 Much’ (with Elijah), and ‘I Like Me Better’. ‘Monster’ was added to the tracks. I guess we either got lucky, or we were working hard. To record the songs, we’d do it at Future Music, with Sean’s help. It was also after hours of Jr. Pop, usually late evening. No one really knew about the making, but it wasn’t long before someone had found out.
As usual, I headed to YT Studios at 6 pm, then walked to Future Music. I knocked on the recording room door, which was left open, strangely. I shrugged and assumed maybe Mr. Callahan wanted to get something from the room. I walked in and adjusted the lyric sheet of the next song. I was getting ready to do some vocal warm-ups, when someone interrupted me.
“Hello, Trevor.”
I shouted and turned around, obviously shocked.
“Mr. B?”
Mr. B’s bushy grey beard and brown eyes came into view. “I had expected you to be here, like John had always said.”
“Oh. Um… Mr. Callahan told you?” I clutched the sheet stand.
“Indeed.”
“Hoo boy.” I sighed.
Mr. B took his place in a chair near a table, and motioned me to sit next to him on another chair. I followed and sat down. After a quiet moment, he asked, “What is this I hear about a solo album?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s nothing, really,” I stuttered.
He looked me in the eye. “Is it?”
I looked at him, and sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m making a solo album to take my mind off stuff, and Elijah and Sean are helping me.”
Another moment of quiet followed. At that moment, I realised I had feared facing Mr. B since Tana’s hospitalisation. The reason? You know why.
Mr. B didn’t ask me further about my album. Instead, he asked an entirely different one: “Do you miss Tana?”
My breath caught, tears forming in my eyes. “Yeah,” I whispered. I looked at him. “How’s she doing?”
Mr. B looked at his hands. “Quite well, actually. Her cuts are healing, she’s getting enough mineral and vitamin supply, and her mental state is stable. We got lucky finding her. Otherwise, there would’ve been no hope if she was brought to ICU a day later.”
I closed my eyes. “You must hate me.”
Mr. B sounded shocked. “Why?”
I opened my eyes and sniffled. “I left her to die.”
He put a hand on my back. “Son, it’s okay. I never blamed you. I know there are ups and downs in relationships. I also know that Tana misses you as much as you miss her. She doesn’t blame you, either.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “We have a bigger threat now. We’re going to do everything we can to keep all of you safe.”
I nodded.
“And, if this cheers you up, I wanted to tell you: Tana will be out soon.” He smiled.
I looked up at him. “When?”
He smiled back, tears in his eyes too. “Very soon. It will be near the end of February, but she’ll be home very soon.”
Something swelled in my heart, like it had many times before.
I later realised it was new love.
Ten minutes later, I was set inside with my microphone and headset, and Mr. B and Sean were outside with the station. We were ready.
The piano music started, and I sang:
“Look up at the stars
They're like pieces of art
Floating above the ground…”
With a huge smile on my face, I continued:
“It's a Friday night
And the streetlights are all saying your name
They always say your name
Before you go home
I should let you know
I'm so glad that you came
I know that we went late…”
I looked up at the skylights above me, and imagined they were stars. I imagined the feel of Tana’s hand in mine.
“But look up at the stars
They're like pieces of art
Floating above the ground
You know we could fly so far
The universe is ours
I'm not gonna let you down…”
Pause, then the sound of rock drums boomed in my ears. I launched into the verse:
“I am feeling so lucky (lucky, lucky, lucky)
The sun shining down on me (on me, on me, on me)
Got these angels all around me
I'll never be alone
Look up at the stars
They're like pieces of art
Floating above the ground
You know we could fly so far
The universe is ours
And I'm not gonna let you down…”
My favourite part of the song, the second verse, came up:
“Finally we met
Now the lights are set
It's taken us 'til now
To be together in this town, yeah
A couple of years we've been making plans
Somehow you always seem to understand
So let me spend the day in wonderland with you
I am feeling so lucky (lucky, lucky, lucky)
The sun shining down on me (on me, on me, on me)
Got these angels all around me
I'll never be alone
Look up at the stars
They're like pieces of art
Floating above the ground
You know we could fly so far
The universe is ours
And I'm not gonna let you down…”
When I finished, and the music stopped, Mr. B looked at me and beamed. I grinned back.
Life was getting so much better.
8. Hidden Traits and Talents
Narrative Continued by Elijah
I noticed Wylie looking very much in good spirits. She was humming and hopping from one foot to another when I passed her in the hallway. On asking her the matter, she responded with, “I got a date.”
The old red flame sparked again, and this time it was tinged with green. Green for jealousy. “With whom?”
“Sean.”
I coughed. This was alarming. “Sean?”
Wylie shrugged. “Yeah, we’re both—“
“—dating,” I finished. “You did not have to voice it.” My voice turned into one of contempt.
“Elijah, what’s going on?” Wylie looked a little hurt.
I crossed my arms and grumbled, “Nothing.”
Wylie flared up in anger. “Well, don’t mutter about it. I’m enjoying myself whenever I can. Goodbye!” And she turned on her heel and left.
I sighed and slapped my forehead. Stupid me. She probably didn’t understand my true feelings. Sporadically, this was hard.
For a change of scenery, I left YouTube Studios and took a walk up and down the street. I looked at the kids walking to and from school, and the adults busy in their world.
I wish I had something to chronicle this all.
And it hit me. I knew how to do it.
But… was it possible?
Could I… write songs?
All day long at home, I mulled it over.
Songwriting, writing songs, putting lyrics from your mind down on paper. I knew all the synonyms.
But was it possible?
I had been pacing like Reynie Muldoon in ‘The Mysterious Benedict Society’ for quite a while in my room, with all of these thoughts. I stopped, and looked at a diary on my table. It was a neatly lined notebook with a leather cover. I picked it up and ran a hand over the stitched ‘Journal’ on the cover. I sighed, then told myself to try.
I sat down, pulled a pen, and opened the journal. I tapped the tip of the pen against the table.
What should I write about?
Then I thought of Trevor and Tana.
I thought of Wylie and me. And Sean, forming a love triangle with the three of us.
I nodded.
This was a good topic.
I pushed the pen against the page and began to write.
“Hey, Eli!”
Egan greeted me with a clap on the back, and he smiled. I beamed back.
“So, how’s Trevor’s album and Jr. Pop coming along?” he asked.
I nearly dropped my jaw. “How do you know about that?”
He shrugged. “Mr. Callahan told me. How’s it going?”
“All right. We have ten songs struck. It will be a masterpiece.”
“Well, since it’s Trevor we’re talking about, it sure will.” He walked inside his common room, and I followed him. After getting settled in some comfortable chairs, he asked me, “What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”
I nodded. “About that.” I pulled my journal out of my book bag and handed it to him, the page bookmarked. “How do the lyrics sound?”
He opened it and read through them slowly. His eyes widened with every line, and he looked at me. “Elijah, this is amazing!”
I was surprised. I didn’t expect such a reaction. I gave him a short bow. “Thank you.”
“Do you have a name for this song yet?” He asked.
I shook my head.
He rubbed his chin, deep in thought, then snapped his fingers. “I know what we should call it: ‘Dramatic’.”
“That’s a good name.” I nodded.
Egan paused, then spoke again. “Eli, I’ve been thinking of something now. Do you wanna write songs for me and the Corduroy Sisters?”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times. Writing for EganB LLC. should work. I just need to be able to balance Trevor’s album, Jr. Pop, regular life and other things. In that respect, maybe Tana would have better points at it than I, but I was ready to give it a try.
“Okay.” I nodded again. “But I’d rather keep it light, if it’s all right.”
He bumped my fist. “Deal.”
I tipped an invisible hat. “I shall see you again, Egan Boristeps.”
He grinned. “So will I, Elijah Milne.”
As I walked out, excited to have my first chance at songwriting, I bumped into Trevor. From the considerable gulps he was taking from his bottle, he probably had a gruelling recording session.
“Good morning, friend,” I said.
He nodded back, closing his bottle. “Hey.”
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“Yeah, just had a recording of ‘As I Am’ with Sean. Took us a while.” He wiped his mouth.
“Oh, him?” My voice was laced with envy.
Trevor’s eyes widened in perception. “Sounds like you have a grudge against him.”
I groaned inwardly. Occasionally, I forget to remember that Trevor was a good judge of emotions. “It seems like he and Wylie are in a relationship.”
“Oh, I see.” He shrugged. “We’ll, I don’t know if I can help you there. I mean, considering the number of middle-school diaries you’ve read, I feel you got more info about this than I do.”
I looked at him. Maybe the only way he would understand would be if I told him the whole story. The story, which didn’t have a definite beginning and end. I should give the beginning.
“I’m afraid I don’t think you know the truth, Trevor.” I leaned against a wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. Trevor sat down with me. “I’ve known Wylie a long time. And by long, I mean before sixth grade.”
He widened his eyes. “Before? Before the three of us met?”
I nodded. “Wylie and I first met when we were three years old. Back then, my father used to go out a lot for directing movies, and my mother was a doctor, so they weren’t home very much. Hence, they sent me to a home-run daycare that was two houses away. And that daycare was the very house that Wylie lives in.”
Trevor stared at me, but I kept talking.
“Wylie’s mother, Mrs. Wilson, used to take care of seven or eight kids every day as a babysitter. You can probably imagine the scene. And one day, I was getting bullied terribly by a few of the older kids, when Wylie noticed and stood up for me.”
I smiled to myself, imagining the old days. “And I did the same for her. When we both were four years old, some of those same boys threw Wylie’s plush Appa bison out of the window, and she had started crying because she loved Appa very much, you see. And I had noticed, went out the back door, retrieved Appa, and handed it to her, and she stopped crying.”
“Our friendship grew. We made it through many years, but the real hit arrived when we were nearly ten years old. Mrs. Wilson—Wylie’s mother—was diagnosed with a severe case of cancer.”
Here, I took a deep shuddering breath. It was always hard for me to talk about this part. “I loved Mrs. Wilson as much as Wylie did. She wanted the both of us to be Jr. Pop Kids and knew it was our dream. And when she died…” My voice trailed off. Trevor squeezed my shoulder.
I continued. “Wylie was much more devastated. In fifth grade, we never spoke again after that fateful day. We never even looked at each other until sixth grade, where—well, you know the rest.”
“I do,” Trevor whispered.
“Wylie is hope for me. She may have been brave back in those days, but she’s braver now. And she’s a new person, but even she misses Mrs. Wilson as much as I do.” I looked at him. “And now, as teenagers, and with all these feelings emerging… I need to let her know, once. I don’t mind if she doesn’t like me back. I just want to tell her.”
Trevor was quiet for a while. Then, he spoke. “Eli, I didn’t know this.”
I looked down. “Perhaps I never told anyone.”
“Now I get why you’re so jealous of Sean. Your secret bond with Wylie is what you want to grow.” He patted my shoulder. “You’ll get there, dude. You’ll be able to tell her.”
Just then, Mr. Bowers ran towards us, panting. “Trevor! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Trevor got up. “Everything okay, sir?”
He nodded, and I noticed that massive smile on his face. “Everything’s okay. Actually, everything’s even better.”
“Better?” Trevor asked, and I could see a similar grin on his face.
Mr. Bowers nodded again, tears shining in his eyes. Trevor’s eyes widened, and he jumped up and down. “Wahoo!”
I was confused. What was happening?
“You got something?” Mr. Bowers was asking Trevor.
“Yep. Angie’s been helping me with it. And—oh!” He checked his phone. “It’s 6 pm, Times Square. It’s ten minutes on foot from here.”
Mr. Bowers nodded. “That’s all right.”
When he left, I looked at Trevor, who’s eyes misted over. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. And I knew that look. My jaw dropped, and I scrambled to my feet.
“Is it true?” I asked.
He grinned, laughing, and I laughed in happiness too. We both threw our arms around each other and bro-hugged.
Things were finally returning to a point of normalcy.
9. I’m So Glad You’re Back
Narrative Resumed by Trevor
I paced around near a bench in Times Square, waiting. And while waiting, I pondered the feelings rushing through my head and my heart.
What would it be like to see her after so much had happened?
Would she forgive me?
Would she still like me the same?
As usual, Times Square was busy with vehicles, people, and the neon lights and signs. But I could feel a change in the air. I looked in the direction I just arrived from.
And I saw her.
Part of her was the same. Black bangs, almond-shaped eyes. But there was a bandage underneath her left eye, and more covering her fingers.
Something broke inside me.
Her lip trembled.
And she ran hard and fast, and I ran a few steps before she threw her arms around my neck. I hugged her closely and tightly, and spun her around, smoothing her hair, crying freely. After a moment of tears, I whispered into her ear.
“Tana, I’m so glad you’re back.”
We sat on a bench, quietly wiping our faces. We couldn’t speak. I mean, perhaps what happened a couple of moments ago was just spontaneous, but… what was really gonna happen next?
After a while, Tana said, “I’m sorry.”
I looked at her. “For what?”
“I should’ve listened to you. You were right. The Wells…” Her hands shook. “They’re horrible.”
“Hey.” I touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. And what I said about not wanting to do anything with you…” I leaned in. “I didn’t mean it,” I whispered. “I never did.”
“I know you didn’t.” She squeezed my hand.
I sighed, looking ahead at the lit buildings. “These things… are gonna happen. We may fight, we may argue. But—” I curled my pinkie around hers. “We have to stick together. Through thick and thin.”
She smiled at me. “We will.”
I took a deep breath. “So, what have you been up to?”
“Physical recuperation is over, but the doctors think that my mental recovery is still unfinished. It looks like they asked my dad about my thoughts and feelings, and if anything that led up to my hospitalisation were interconnected to those.”
“And?” I asked.
“Well, they said that cultural identity is the key to recovery. They think I’m of Asian descent,” she answered.
“You’re from Asia?” I never had thought of Tana’s ancestry before because from what I thought, she probably had a long list of criminals in her family tree, and maybe she wanted to avoid finding out. But when I took a closer look at her, the doctors’ assumptions were sorta right. She looked Asian, like she said.
“Technically, I’m Asian-American. I don’t know where in Asia I’m from.”
“And they think you need to find that out,” I finished for her.
“Yeah. They’ve been having me watch films or TV shows either made in or based in Asia, read Asian books, experience bits of Asian culture, all sorts of things. It’s a little tiring. But out of all of those, I like watching anime shows. I think Wylie will be pleased to know I finished both series of ‘Avatar’.”
I laughed. “She probably will.”
“There’s more, though.” She looked down. “They’ve scheduled a DNA test for tracing my bloodline. And for medical purposes too. It’s next week.”
“Oh.”
We were quiet for a while. Tana laid her head on my shoulder, and I put an arm around her. I gently stroked her hair.
Big questions were being pondered. About identity and family and ancestry. Things that didn’t make any sense back then, but was significant at that moment.
But all this important stuff is too much.
All of us needed a break from it.
We really needed it.
10. What Does That Mean?
“Guys, I have some news,” Mr. B said when we arrived in the studio the next day. “Our tour may not be physically held this year.”
“Physically?” we asked. What did that mean?
“By ‘physically’, I mean…” He sighed. “You won’t be able to perform in person to all the fans this year.”
“Wait. Why?” I asked. Maybe we were on the run too much, but it wasn’t that kind where we’d just drop out of the world and never be heard of again.
“Safety’s side. With the Wells in the picture, it’s too risky to travel. And what’s worse, they’ve got another accomplice.”
“Easy,” Wylie said, crossing her arms. “The Monites. Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nora and Tony broke them out of jail.”
Mr. B shook his head. “It’s not just them. There’s a third person. I don’t know his identity, but from what the best forensics the police lent me today, they’re not after Tana, but someone else.”
“Out of…” Julianna gulped. “One out of the eight of us?”
Mr. Bowers nodded grimly.
Tana looked at me. “Can you tell who?”
I looked everyone in the eyes each. Nobody betrayed any signs of revelation about themselves. But the doubt was thick in the room.
I turned to Tana. “I really can’t tell. Maybe we didn’t know this ‘third person’ for most of our lives. It’s a possibility any of us could be in danger.”
Elijah stepped forward. “Whatever happens, we need to be brave. Let us focus on Jr. Pop and our lives, friends. We have enough experience in the unexpected. We can handle this.”
As everyone nodded and left, my brain felt weird. Then, I realised why; the same voices were back, but in whispers. I put a hand to my head.
Tana touched my arm. “You okay?”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “Just a bit of a headache. Will be okay by the time we get to dance rehearsal.”
But it wouldn’t. My weaknesses were showing too quickly. And the third person thing was worsening it.
Maybe Elijah said we could handle it. But, I had a question of my own.
Could I handle it?
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