Author's Notes: Patriots are World Champions!
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Chapter 1:
How does it feel to lose innocence? When do you lose innocence? I did a lot of soul searching and realized that my friends and I lost our innocence a long time ago. During our younger years when we desperately seeked approval from those around us, we were victims of the harshest rejection imaginable. The physical and psychological punishment we-- and I mean we as in everybody-- endured, molded us into warriors who didn't even blink when they came across immense pain.
No matter how young we were.
When I was an eighth grader, my teacher once made us do a report on a play. She had a bunch of playscripts in her closet and I didn't quite know which one to pick. So, I simply closed my eyes, stuck out my hand, and picked the first one that I touched. It was a script called "Defying Gravity".
The play was about a little girl, whose mother was going to be an astronaut. On the day that her mother was embarking on her mission, the little girl reaches into her pocket and pulls out a cherry Lifesaver. She places it in her mother's hand and hugs her. The little girl knew that her mother wanted nothing else than to go into space and wasn't going to beg her to stay. Rather, she gave her the Lifesaver in the hopes that it'd protect, and maybe even save her life. So, the mother takes this little Lifesaver and departs for her mission the next day . The last thing the girl said to her mother before she left, was, "Come back to me".
Sixty seconds into their mission "STS-51-L" the Space Shuttle orbiter they were on, "Challenger", exploded, killing all seven astronauts on board.
The daughter grieved, the mechanic who worked on the Challenger was crushed with guilt, the world watched the entire ordeal with shock and then... life moved on.
I always wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger, but it took my teacher explaining the story to me to really think about it. I wondered how it felt to be on that shuttle, hurtling towards space to defy gravity and explore the last frontier. To be able to glance down on their ugly, brutal, racist, yet beautiful world, with a new completely new perspective.
Did they know that something was wrong moments before the explosion happened or were they still giddy with excitement? Was it instant or did they suffer?
The San Francisco Riots ended only two days ago. It was all I could think about for the past week. It lasted seven days and involved thousands of people. Widespread looting, arson, and murder were rampant all throughout that long week and over a billion dollars in damages were racked up. It took calling in the California National Guard to put everything to an end; local police being unable to handle it themselves.
In total, 1,700 people were injured and 20 people died.
It kind of puts things into perspective, doesn't it? My life was already as complicated as it could be, and if you multiplied that by twenty... that's twenty people who had their own lives, their own feelings, their own stories to tell. They had people they loved and people that depended on them and now, they were... gone.
I liked to think that everyone was out and braving the cold, doing what they did for what they believed in -- the end to the DTOSA -- but I doubted it. Some people were probably just there to cause as much mayhem as possible. Some people just want to watch the world burn.
I stared at the TV in the kitchen, mindlessly stirring the pan of stir-fried vegetables. They could've been burnt to a black crisp for all I cared. I was somewhat numb to all feeling, watching the footage of the aftermath of the San Francisco Riots. The camera was panning throughout Pacific Mall, homing in on a burned-out store that was a shell of what used to be. Rubble and trash were strewn all over the street, and workers were picking through the remains, trying to repair whatever they could.
"Honey, you're burning the vegetables," My mom gently chastised me, turning my attention back to the pan. I swore, the smell of burnt snap peas wafting into my nose. I turned the heat off, taking the pan off the stove.
"Sorry, mom," I apologized.
"It's okay, sweetie," She replied, gently rubbing my back and taking the spatula out of my hand. "Let me take over. I don't want you destroying our lunch. Is everything ok?"
"Yes... no... yes," I struggled to answer before simply sighing and pinching the bridge of my nose. "No, not really. I've been cooped up in my own house for a week and I'm feeling cramped. I can't even go out on runs with Stasi, or even just running in general anymore."
"I know and I'm sorry, honey," My mom sighed. "But you know your security detail is taking your safety very seriously, especially after what happened to that centaur. They don't expect his legs to ever recover. In his own home, too." My mom's eyes trailed down to the counter where my phone rested. She reached for it, pressing the home button. The screen lit up, revealing my wallpaper. Stasi's smiling face stared back at her, her crystal blue eyes and fangs sparkling, and raven hair clinging to her face. "Is that truly it, though? You just feel cramped?"
"No, I just... I...."
"Annie." My mom finished.
I sighed and nodded, placing my face in my hand. "I don't know if I'm just being too clingy or whether I'm obsessed or just plain annoying. When she's not here, it's like my heart is being squeezed down a tube and I can't breathe." I admitted.
Stasi and I hadn't seen each other for over a week. Of course I could handle not seeing her for days at the most, but a week was just about the maximum I could take. It all started ever since we came back from our daring little rescue mission. We weren't caught (thank God), but we might as well have been. Our parents both agreed to put us under "house arrest" so we wouldn't go out rioting during the week, and to keep us from getting attacked in the street. Of course now that the riot was over, that was probably going to end soon, so I was looking forward to school starting back up and seeing her again.
I didn't regret a single thing. I'd do anything for the people I loved; I'd dig to the center of the Earth if it meant saving them, I'd move mountains for them, and I'd rather die than have them be hurt. Yet, what's the whole point of that if I can't even see them?
It just wasn't fair.
I could only be placated by so many calls, so many video chats, so many text messages, and so many multiplayer video games, before the agony of being separated became too much to bear. I heard her voice, saw her face, but missed her presence dearly.
A metaphor for our relationship was like a set of puzzle pieces: Without each other, we weren't whole, we weren't complete. But when latched together with no space between us, we created something beautiful.
My mom smiled softly, patting me on the cheek. "I know, honey. Trust me, I know how it feels. It's the same with your father and I. Every time he leaves for work, it feels as if someone stabbed me through the heart... but then again, we do work in the same place, so that only lasts for half an hour at the most," She laughed. "It may sound pathetic to feel that way about someone, but trust me, there is nothing more beautiful."
While I mulled over her words, my phone buzzed. We both looked at the LCD screen. It was a text from Stasi.
"Why don't you go upstairs and get ready for dinner?" My mom suggested. "Maybe I'll see what I can do about inviting the Sokolov Family over for dinner."
"Really?" I gasped, incredulous.
"Really." She confirmed, warmly. "I know how much you miss her and it'll do the both of you some good to be able to spend time together. You two were practically glued at the hip growing up and we forced you two to separate without so much as a warning. It was cruel."
