"Hello, mother? Mother, I know you're there. Please pick up the phone. Mother, please, pick up the phone. I know you're standing right there, listening to me. Please, I need to speak with you, just for a little while. Why won't you answer? Mother, it's been six years since I've seen you. Please talk to me. ...Dad's there, isn't he? Tell him to pick up, please—anybody! Mother! It's been six years! Why won't you—" Beep. The answering machine cut her off. Hitomi Madsen stood frozen in place, left with an empty audience, clutching her phone. She gradually put it down and hung up, feeling lonelier than ever. She held herself, sighed, and sat back down on the bed. A hand came out and touched her. "No luck?" She turned around and caressed Abby Keeping's pretty face. "No." "I'm sorry, honey." "I know." She laid back down next to her girlfriend, and surrendered to her embrace. Keeping hugged her friend close, powerless to do anything except comfort the woman she loved. Nobody knows Just why we're here Could it be fate Or random circumstance At the right place At the right time Two roads intertwine And if the universe conspired To meld our lives To make us Fuel and fire Then know Where ever you will be So too shall I be Close your eyes Dry your tears 'Coz when nothing seems clear You'll be safe here From the sheer weight Of your doubts and fears Weary heart You'll be safe here Remember how we laughed Until we cried At the most stupid things Like we were so high But love was all that we were on We belong And though the world would Never understand This unlikely union And why it still stands Someday we will be set free. Pray and believe When the light disappears And when this world's insincere You'll be safe here When nobody hears you scream I'll scream with you You'll be safe here Save your eyes From your tears When everything's unclear You'll be safe here From the sheer weight Of your doubts and fears Wounded heart When the light disappears And when this world's insincere You'll be safe here When nobody hears you scream I'll scream with you You'll be safe here In my arms Through the long cold night Sleep tight You'll be safe here When no one understands I'll believe You'll be safe, You'll be safe You'll be safe here Put your heart in my hands You'll be safe here The Protest "Part Two: Rally" Janine shivered in the early November morning. A frost had already settled on the grass, and the freezing wind that whipped past certainly didn't help. She was one of the first girls at the scheduled early-morning rally and had wanted to show her support, and at first she believed more people would show up. So far, there were only about fifteen or seventeen others, and school would start in an hour. She had not gotten up so early since her days as a cheerleader, and she had never been made to practice in such cold weather (she knew it would only get worse as the year aged, but this was irrelevant). Her vast wardrobe afforded her a sweater, a coat, a scarf, earmuffs, gloves, long johns, thick socks, and a wool hat, but she still felt like she was in an ice box. She tried distracting herself by muttering a few lines from the musical and play, which she was participating in, and which would start in a few short weeks (it would run until near the end of November). Her friends all had somebody to cuddle up with to keep them warm: Gabrielle with Lilian, Blake with Mira (Usha was, of course, off somewhere preparing her speech), Victoria with June, and even Olivia seemed to have a friend. Was it the new transfer student? Janine walked over to see. "Hi," she said, waving a fuzzy hand. Olivia smiled back. She quickly introduced Janine to the new girl, who bowed very properly. "Jean, this is Mihoshi Kogure, from Japan. Yuki, this is Janine Bautista, my longtime friend." "I am honored," said Mihoshi as she bowed. Janine smiled and returned the gesture. "If you please," said the girl, "call me Yuki, as this is the name I am best known for." "Yuki? All right. You can call me Janine or Jean." "Janine-san it is, then." Janine smiled, though she wasn't used to being addressed formally. Mihoshi—that is, Yuki—was aptly named, for her hair had been dyed a milky white color, save for the very tip of it (which was red), and most of her clothes were a similar color; she even looked more pale than usual, and starkly contrasted Olivia's darker skin. She was average in height and very skinny, nearly anorexic; she exercised a lot and ate very little. She really didn't know Olivia that well, or anyone else at the school, but today it seemed she was hanging around any nearby familiar face. "So why is she here?" asked Janine. Olivia shrugged. "Best way to make friends is to go to all the special events," replied Yuki. She rubbed the top of her head and added in a low voice, "Although I admit, I do not know which special event this is." "Be patient and you'll find out," said somebody nearby. Janine recognized her as Nomi Nakatori, whom she shared math class with. "Hey Nomi. Here to support our local firebrands?" "Mm, Washim made me come. I'm indifferent either way." "She's Arabic, isn't she? Then I guess she'd definitely be against the war. Where is she?" "Somewhere," she murmured, looking around here and there. The crowd was getting a little thicker, although it wasn't as big as hoped for. Janine said farewell to Olivia and Yuki and went to find one of her friends that wasn't occupied. She felt somebody touch her deliberately from the back and saw that it had been May. "Hey," she said, smiling. May was dressed for wintry weather as well, although her clothes were not quite as piled-on as Janine's. Janine smiled and hugged her hello. "You here as well?" "Yeah, I'll be eighteen soon, and eligible for the army. I once thought about enlisting, but now that the war's on..." "I know, I know. I wouldn't advise anyone to do it." "I hope they don't reinstate the draft," said May, shivering a little. "Boy, it's cold. It doesn't feel like November, does it?" "No. So how are we on the play-slash-musical?" "Uh, I've got all my stuff memorized, and a few other lines as well. June's been helping me." "Oh." "But not with the, ah... the... kissing stuff." "Oh. Uh, yeah, uh, about that..." May frowned, took a step closer, and lowered her voice. "Can I speak frankly?" she asked. "Does it feel, like, real to you?" "You mean the kisses? May, please. I don't want to think about it." "I want to know. Because... sometimes... when we're practicing, I make it... sort of... real." "May, please." "I just—" "Ssh!" The girls were hushed by someone as the rally's speaker stood up on a platform and got everyone's attention. It was Usha, followed by Jocelyn of course, but now they were joined by Hero and several others that neither Janine nor May could recognize. The girls drew near, warming the area up with their combined body heat, and underneath the flag they held their first rally. "Welcome, everyone," said Usha, her voice thick and grim through the microphone. "I'm afraid I have some rather ill news for this early-morning meeting. We've just received the latest word from Washington: President Bush, who has recently won the election..." and here she paused, as if the hurt was still there, and continued with great effort, "is seriously considering a reinstated draft proposal." At once the crowd voiced their disapproval by booing and calling out. Usha nodded, understanding their objection, and waved her hands to calm them. Both candidates had seemed against the draft during the campaign, but apparently, one had not been against changing his mind. Of course, campaign promises for the second term in office probably did not apply for the first term; Bush had two months to consider this movement, so it seemed he was going to use the opportunity. Usha explained this and continued. "The draft means that each of you, with some exception, may be called on to serve our country. While I and my comrades are not against patriotism in any way, nor even armed services, we are strongly against the forced recruiting of our young people to fight, and against the fighting that has gone on well past its breaking point. It's not enough that our leaders in Washington can't give us an honest answer concerning the war's end or even if it's doing any good—now they want to push people into it, and jail those who resist! Are you going to submit to what they want?" "No!" came shouts from the crowd. "No! No!" Now Jocelyn stood up, not bothering to hide her pregnancy. She had been a common girl not half a year ago, but cruel circumstances had turned her into a beaten, burning hot firebrand, a speaker against the war, and the president, and the order which claimed her lover. "Many of you know me," she said, wrapped in warm clothes. "You know my story, you've seen me talk against this draft, you know how far I'm willing to go. I don't want my son or daughter to grow up in a world that is still engulfed in the same war that killed his or her father. I want it to end, peacefully and quickly, without further cost of life. Say this draft goes into motion. How many of your loved ones—brothers, boyfriends, sisters, girlfriends—how many of them will be taken away? Would you forgive the country that split you apart from the love of your life?" "No! No! No!" Few did not answer. Those who did not couldn't say for sure. The minutes were going by quickly; more students were coming into the area, some joining the crowd, some wedging through to get inside the building. Teachers began to arrive and many stood by, watching. One or two stood by their students and added their voices to the mix. Several disapproved and grumbled as they squeezed into the school. The Headmistress was nowhere to be found. "Does America really have any business being in Iraq any more than they've already been?" demanded Usha, taking over for Jocelyn just as she had for her. "I know that many of you were upset about nine-eleven. I was, too. I prayed as well. Even I sought vengeance. Diplomacy cannot cure those wounds, it cannot solve those problems. I know this. But how long are we going to interfere? Will this turn into another Vietnam, or maybe a World War three?" "No, no!" "Will they continue to fight when your children are old enough to apply for draft?" "No, no!" "Will they have the right to send your loved ones to die?" "No!" "We have to protest this draft immediately, Stantonites!" cried the two girls in unison. Now Hero took over; she had gathered her friends and contacts together and had formed nearly a third of the total crowd. She ran up, chubby and looking bigger from the heavy jacket she wore, and nearly screamed. "Every one of us is at risk! Do you want to fight a war you don't believe in? No! Do you want to sacrifice your own plans, your family, your loved ones and everything, to carry a gun and kill people all your life? No! Do you want to graduate from this school only to face the terrors of the middle east? No! Do you want to go? Hell, no!" And then, a moment happened—a moment which brought goosebumps to everyone. A moment that made Bernadette Marbel, observing from afar, stand up and clutch her heart in amazement. The moment that brought nearly every girl in the school, and more, together as one. "Hell no," said Hero, "I won't go. Hell no, I won't go. Hell no, I won't go! Hell no, I won't go!" Again and again she chanted, and soon the crowd began to chant along with her: "Hell no, I won't go! Hell no, I won't go!" Again and again, louder and louder, every girl there adding her voice to the mix: "Hell no, I won't go! Hell no, I won't go! Hell no, I won't go!" Fists shook, hands clapped, feet stomped, banners were flapped and flags were hurled in the air: "Hell no, I won't go! Hell no, I won't go! Hell no, I won't go!" "Amazing," whispered Marbel, her voice ghostly. "Absolutely amazing." "Make love, not war!" screamed Zane, and people chanted along with her now. "Make love, not war! Make love, not war!" "Hell no, we won't go! Make love, not war!" "Peace on Earth," murmured June, clutching Victoria's hand. "Peace on Earth, peace on Earth." "End the war! End the war!" "The draft is daft! The draft is daft!" "Hell no—make love—peace on Earth—end the war—the draft is daft!" The chorus became loud, and confusing, and horrible in its strength, its beauty. Marbel wondered what they were going to do next. Would they keep chanting until school started? Would they ignore their classes and stay out here all day? Would they be stopped by the military? Beaten? Imprisoned? Marbel shuddered at the thought: she would not allow the hell that she went through during her own days of protest to happen to these girls. Even if it cost her a job, she would protect them and make sure their voices were heard. But first she had to calm them. Even Usha looked too pumped-up to silence them; it would take a veteran speaker, one who had experienced far worse troubles than a mere threat of a draft. "Déjà vu," she whispered as she approached the crowd. The girls were now in a crazed frenzy, and might've attacked Marbel had she not the protection of other teachers. She quickly jumped onto the platform, raised her hands, and blurted into the microphone so she could be heard. "Attention, students! Attention students! Ladies, may I have your attention! Quiet, please. Please be quiet." Slowly, the students settled down, and now focused on the graying, aging woman before them—some in reverence, others suspicion, a few in dislike. "Thank you. Let me first say that watching your stand this morning has made me proud, and filled me with emotions that have not stirred in years." They cheered, but she continued. "Standing up for what you believe in is all well and good, but you must exercise responsibility. I don't want this rally going out of control. I don't want you all walking about in a mad state of frenzy, ready to speak your mind without carefully considering the consequences." There was murmuring; she resumed. "And I don't want this turning into another Vietnam-era massacre. I know what those are like; I started and participated in many rallies such as this, difficult as that may be to believe, and like you, I had a passion for my beliefs. Unfortunately, America was a different nation back then, and for saying and believing what was in my heart, I was cruelly beaten and even imprisoned many times." "(Ah, so that's why the woman's so tough,)" muttered Kula. "Now I know things have gotten better since the sixties and the seventies," she resumed, "but I do not wish for any of that to happen to any of you regardless. Yes, protest; yes, stand up for what you believe in, but do it peacefully, responsibly, as the Constitution permits and entreats us. Chanting wildly is not the way. I challenge every one of you to construct a unique, peaceful, and powerful means of expressing your belief by this time tomorrow. If what I see pleases me, I vow to do everything in my power to get a news van over here. Maybe then," she said amongst cheers, "we can impact more people, and spread our message further. Thank you." The girls applauded, many of them surprised at Marbel's reaction, or her history. They had expected her to open up the proverbial can of whoop-ass, but she lauded their activity and could even identify with it! And the challenge she gave spurned many of them to rethink their strategy and formulate newer, better plans. Hero, Jocelyn, and Usha resumed their positions at the podium and thanked the matronly woman. "I suppose our activities can adjourn until tomorrow morning," said Krishnan. "Until then, I agree with Miss Marbel: we should find a new means of expressing ourselves. Jocelyn, Hero and I, along with all our friends and representatives, will be taking ideas all of today, so please feel free to reach us. Namaste." She bowed and let Hero conclude the rally. "And as my girlfriend's cousin's friend would say, ‘Later, love ya, bye'!" ......... "So what do you make of this?" asked Victoria as she helped June to her first class. The wheelchair-bound girl drummed her fingers on her legs in thought. "I agree with them, all of them. Usha and Jocelyn are right about the draft, but Miss Marbel's right about us having to find a new way to say what we mean. I mean, I personally won't be affected by the draft because of my legs, but my sister..." "I know." Victoria combed June's hair absently, and kissed the very top of her head. "I wouldn't want any of my friends or my brothers and sisters to enlist without consent. Jean, Liv, Gab, Blake and I are probably going to fight this because of each other, and their friends and loved ones for them, and so on and so forth. We may even have the whole school on our side by this time tomorrow." "One can only hope." Victoria stopped right in front of June's first class, bent down to kiss her girlfriend good-bye, and left with the promise of seeing her later. The day resumed on business-as-usual hours, with Yuki wandering around acquainting herself with everyone, Usha busy with her work and her girlfriends, Jocelyn taking ideas, Hero making calls, et cetera. Erica Fox felt lonely and useless as her friend buried herself deeper and deeper into this thing; her sister came by and said some comforting words, for once. "I'm sure your loyalty and love will be repaid in time," she said. "Joss needs you to make her life easier, and that's not a bad position to be in. You know, rub her feet, answer her calls, tell her nice things, scratch her back, that sort of thing. Maybe... a little nookie on the side." Erica rolled her eyes. "Oh, please." "Hey, it's about as obvious as the sky that you love her. You may as well say it." "Alisha, she's my best friend." "Nothing wrong with falling in love with your best friend." She cackled and jumped away as her sister swiped at her, and ran giggling before she could cause any more trouble. That made things worse: now that she was alone, Erica was seriously wondering if she had indeed fallen in love with Jocelyn, or if their bond was truly a matter of sorority, nothing more. She had to stare at herself in the mirror a long time to find out, but the reflection only gave her the truth. You are what you are, and that's all I can show you. The question is, can the "you" decide if the "you" is in love? ...... Erica Fox helped Jocelyn McKeough carry her papers and her work, not wanting to burden her friend more than she already was. Truth be told, Jocelyn felt deeply indebted to Erica already, and knew that it would take more than her lifetime to repay the kindly young lady. Erica's love for her was strong and selfless; she worried over her, and herself, and felt almost jealous. "You shouldn't burn yourself out, Joss," she said as they walked home. The bus had dropped them off midway between both houses, and since Erica wanted to avoid the lewd stare of her sister, she went with Jocelyn instead, as she had many times before. "What with the baby, your homework, and now this protest you're conducting, it's a wonder you can still walk." "Erica, I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine, really. This is just something I have to do. If I don't protect my baby and my friends...... Erica, what if you were drafted?" It was a rhetorical question, and she was meant to dwell on it, to wonder What If, to see things as her friend saw them. She moped. "I feel... useless, like I'm being put aside. I feel like I'm just being left behind while you're going on ahead." "You know I need you, Erica. I'm sorry I make you feel that way. I need you now more than ever, actually." Fox stopped and turned to face her friend head-on. "Look, I'm here for you, but I'm getting worried. I'm also a little jealous." "Because you think I spend too much time campaigning and fighting?" Erica nodded bashfully. Jocelyn frowned. She had indeed, but it was for a reason, and she didn't want to back down now just because her friend—even her closest friend—felt neglected. "Sometimes I wonder," she whispered, sounding hurt. "Sometimes I really wonder if you're with me because you believe what I believe, or if it's just because we're friends." "I do believe it," insisted Fox strongly, "just... not as much as you do. I'm sorry, Jocelyn, but I don't. I mean, I do agree with you, and I'm sorry for all your losses, but personally... the war just makes me feel indifferent. I'd like for it to be over and done with, but I'm not overly concerned with it." "Because you're two years away from the recruiting age." "Because it doesn't matter to me. It's a pain, but all pain goes away." "So why are you even there?" she wondered, now sounding angry. Erica sadly approached her friend, hugged her, and caressed her face with one free hand. "The other reason," she said. "Not because I believe it, but for you, just for you. I said I'd be there for you, and here I am. I was... hoping you'd understand." "I... do." She kissed her briefly. "So you're really only in it for me? Why? Even the best of friendships know boundaries." "I do it..." She paused, wholly and completely, and contemplated upon her destination. She had to face the truth, and Jocelyn needed to know. "I do it... because I love you." And she smiled, they both did. "I love you too." "No, I mean......... Jocelyn, I'm in love with you." The reaction she got was as expected. McKeough said absolutely nothing. She did not even react. And she stayed that way the entire walk home.
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