Chap. 6 - What About Tomorrow
Published Aug 26, 2011

Written By



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Welcome to What About Tomorrow - Chap. 6
Entitled: "It's happening: Vamprie-ageddon!"

But not really. Lyn has an interesting first Friday at her new school and by that I mean the Chess Club floods the cafeteria and school is promptly, or impromptu, closed for a long weekend.
Remember: the first rule of Chess club is to NEVER talk about Chess club.
Hope you Enjoy!

Welcome to What About Tomorrow - Chap. 6
Entitled: "It's happening: Vamprie-ageddon!"

But not really. Lyn has an interesting first Friday at her new school and by that I mean the Chess Club floods the cafeteria and school is promptly, or impromptu, closed for a long weekend.
Remember: the first rule of Chess club is to NEVER talk about Chess club.
Hope you Enjoy!
It was the Friday of Evelyn’s first week of school and it was cancelled for the day because someone, possibly someones, had flooded the cafeteria…
When Evelyn arrived at school that morning there was a huge crowd of students milling around. Even some teachers. But most everyone looked confused, except for the chess club, who all seemed to be snickering loudly at their own personal joke.
Not long after that Principal MISS Thorn came out and announced that there would be an investigation into the incident, and that the student or students behind the whole thing would be expelled. The chess club went stock still with varying forms of shock on their faces—but no one who would’ve turned them in was paying them any attention. The principal continued on, saying anyone who confessed within the next five minutes would only get a months worth of detention, but if not…definite expulsion. She waited those five minutes; I figured SOMEONE would say something, but I was impressed to find that no one said a word. But there WAS an outburst from where the chess club was standing but—I don’t think anyone bothered to notice. In that huge crowd Ace managed to locate me, Pilot by his side. Ace gave a wave both in hello, and apparently, goodbye: “I’m going to try to find Markus and Lukas, don’t wait up, or do—your choice.” And he disappeared back into the crowd. Pilot stayed though, but he looked incredibly antsy, glancing over his shoulder and shifting his weight from foot to foot, rubbing his neck, and tugging at his collar. “No worries,” I told him, “Now everybody is going to be too focused on the flooded cafeteria to worry about you.”
“You make that sound like a good thing…”
“Well isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I mean, until someone remembers again, then…” He drifted off.
“What is this—why does everyone hate you?”
“It’s not me they hate, per se, it’s just more convenient to hate me, and I don’t think they’re without cause, sometimes I hate me sometimes, but—urgh! I mean, it’s just convoluted and…” He drifted off again.
“Let’s walk…”
“What—wait, what about…” He motioned to the school and the throng of students.
“Trust me, no one but the janitors and the Principal are getting into that school…” And upon further thought: “And maybe a private investigator, or two.”
“Do you really think she’ll go that far?”
“I can’t say, but I’d rather not be around to find out, truthfully, I’d rather just not be around.”
So we walked—I tried to get him talking again, but failed in the attempt.
After what seemed like a while we ended up at my house; then he left me at my front porch and headed back down the street.
Then twenty minutes of just…nothing. After that I grabbed a telephone book from our bookshelf and flipped through it until I found a certain name. However conveniently, underneath the phone number was the address, and with a little help from Plumbob maps I was comfortable enough with the directions in less than five minutes. So I headed out—to the front porch to tell my mom.
She was reading the newspaper a worried from across her face.
“Hey,” I introduced myself and sat down.
Her expression immediately softened and she asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“I was wondering if I could go to a friends house—please?”
“Why not?” My mom smiled. I sprung up from my chair—“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I ran from the porch just excited to have something to do.
“Be careful!” My mom called after me, if I would’ve looked back I would’ve saw the slight worry on her face as she turned back to her newspaper.
It took me fifteen minutes to reach his house. And five for me to call forth the courage I needed to ring the doorbell. An old woman answered she immediately asked, “Are you one of Ace’s friends?”
I nodded; mute.
She motioned me in and pointed to a door.
“Thanks.” I muttered and headed to and eventually through the door.
I stepped into the middle of an intricate scene:
The redhead sitting in the beanbag roared: “Did I just tomahawk MYSELF!?”
The bleach-blonde girl on Ace’s loft bed snickered: “Only you could find a way to tomahawk yourself!”
And Ace also in a beanbag, looking aggravated: “Jeez, Mark, stop jumping around—this isn’t Gloriole*! Luke—talk some sense into your brother.”

Luke?—seated at a table underneath the loft-bed, on a computer, spoke but not about what Ace had suggested: “Guys—change the TV back and turn on channel 6!”
Mark—the redhead on the beanbag—snatched up the remote quickly and pressed a few buttons.
A news anchor appeared on the screen, “…the police have determined that the two incidents are related as both victims almost died of blood loss, from puncture wounds on their wrist…”
“Wait! Blood loss, which can only mean…”
The girl on the bed said, “Oh, god not the—.”
Luke broke in, “I can handle this, Dawn. Just because two people almost died yesterday of blood loss doesn't mean—”
“Vampires!” Mark exclaimed, dramatically.
“Hypothetically, ‘Vampires’ can’t go out when the sun’s out, and the first incident was at no later than five in the afternoon.”
“Screw your ‘Hypothetical’ spewage! It’s happening—Vamprie-ageddon!”
There was silence for a moment.
“These are crazy times,” Ace said omnisciently.
“Mmhm,” Dawn didn’t blink, “One of my neighbors—the insane inventor one, thinks that they’re ‘Plumbobs’ over our heads, and that they very in color depending on our mood and—”
“Wait,” Lukas interrupted, “Plumbob like the search engine?”
“Ah, yup-yup.” She nodded.
“Crazy times indeed…” Mark commented.
“—Now, on to more serious business—Our band name?” Ace steered the conversation on to a different topic.
“Are you kidding me; two people died—almost—died and you want to talk about band names—Mark and those people who play instruments behind him: that’s what our band name should be!”
Dawn disdained: “That’s way to wordy—and anyways: we’ve got a visitor.” And that’s when they noticed me.
“Ooo! I like that: We’ve got a visitor.” Mark was showing off his flighty side.
“Lyn! When’d you get here?” Ace questioned good-naturedly.
“Only just.” I admitted.
“Well, you’re just the person I wanted to see—do you, or do you know anyone who can—”
“Hey! Remember us?” Mark and Luke said simultaneously. “From Chemistry.” I drew a blank. “You remember—hydrochloric acid: everywhere—” Markus admitted.
“—Except in the beaker…” Lukas face-palmed.
I immediately started laughing: “You two got housed from head to foot!” Needless to say: most of the class thought it was funny as well. “Yeah, that was us…” Mark stated resignedly.
“…Don’t remind me.” Luke groaned.
“Boy, am I sorry I missed that.” Dawn could envision the whole scene. “ANYWAY—Lyn, do you know anyone who can—” “Play the guitar…” The twins were in sync. “I can think of only one person…”
“Score! Our band’s all set!”
“Who?” This time it was Dawn and Ace who spoke simultaneously.
“Wait a second,” Lukas’s voice was the equivalent of a stage whisper, “Do you smell that?”
“Yep…quick—make a distraction while I run for it!”
“—Hey—Ace! Did you get a new shirt? ‘Cause that shirt looks new—!”
But we’d already followed Markus out of the room.
He was sitting at the counter while Ace’s grandmother placed a platter of cookies on the counter. He was saying, “Ms. Eric, if you ever need a food tester, just call me!” “Why thank you, I hope you enjoy them—I’ll be in my room if you need me…” And she left the cookies. “I think you should know?” Lukas started, “We come for the video games…”
“But we stay for the results of your grandma’s kick-butt cookie recipe.” Markus finished from his seat at the counter.
And we jumped on them—
“Oh, no!” Mark’s voice was a commandeering mix of a whine and shock. “This is the last cookie, I guess there’s only one thing left to do—”
He devoured the thing in half a second.
By that time all the cookies were eaten and the plate was STILL steaming. Afterwards I found myself surrounded by them. “Were going to have to test you.”
“Sorry, but we can’t let a no-skilled noob into our band—we have to keep up appearances.” Dawn admonished. “—No offence.”
“None taken, because I’m not a ‘no-skilled noob.’”
“In that case, we have to warn you—”
“Only five people know about this place, and if you come—”
“You’ll be the sixth; you must promise to not tell anyone, ever—whatsoever.”
“Not even Pilot’s mother—”
“Step-mother—” Dawn interrupted.
He didn’t skip a beat, “knows about it—but that’s only because she doesn’t bother to look…”
“…So, do you promise?” “Uh, sure—I mean, yeah I promise.”
“That’s what we like to hear!” Ace smiled, “Let’s go then.”
Twenty-minutes later, a large stack of hay was in front of me and I had just voiced my confusion.
“How else are we supposed to get over the wall?” Dawn response was snapped.
“Isn’t this trespassing?” Again, my question seemed to annoy Dawn.
“Not if—”
“This is Pilot’s house, let’s just say he’s extended a twenty-four hour pass for our band.” Ace’s voice was reasonable and soothing.
“Oh—okay.” And I joined them on the hay. And followed them up and—
Dawn dropped first. Then Ace, and Markus. Lukas grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him.
“Whoa, this is Pilot’s house?”
“No,” Dawn snapped, “It’s his step mom’s house. Mark—Luke: make like a good lookout and look out. Ace—come on.”
“Just because you have the best voice, doesn’t mean you get to boss us around with that amazing voice of yours.”
“Doesn’t it?” But by now both were focused on a wall, while the twins were “looking out.” Dawn was messing with the stone façade, while Ace was pushing on it; and the wall idled back.
Inside it was white. Everyone piled in and through my amazement I managed to follow. The door shut behind us. They headed toward the staircase leading down, and then they all filed down. The twins slide down the banister, and I followed their lead.
Once I hit the bottom; they were waiting for me. Dawn gestured to the guitar, “Let’s see how good you are.”
I fidgeted as I stepped onto the stage and snatched up the guitar. I looked at them; Ace looked encouraging, Mark curious, Luke interested, and Dawn judging. I looked down, and strummed until I forgot about them entirely and got caught up in the melody.
—“Okay, okay. We get it you’re good.” Dawn smirked slightly.
I made to put down the borrowed guitar, but Dawn stopped me:
“No, stay up there. Come everybody—let’s go!” They joined me onstage, she glanced at me: “Try to keep up…” then she started to sing and Ace, Mark and Luke started to play. It did take some effort to “keep up,” but eventually I was aware that we sounded…good. And eventually I was aware that we were playing loudly, very loudly. So loudly in fact that I was sure that any minute now someone would come down and tell us to shut up or quiet down. Someone did come down, though he was smiling faintly—the music stopped instantly and everyone rushed to the newcomer. I however was little slower “Pilot!” Ace declared: “How’d you know we’re down here—this room’s supposed to be sound proof.”
“It is—I felt the vibrations through the floor. You guys sound great—you found a new guitar player, I hear—Evelyn.” His voice changed slightly when he said my name.
I hoped down and asked, “Good, aren’t I?”
“Good—great! You all are!” Pilot enthused. Though I sensed in undercut of sadness to his tone. “Guys you don’t have to stop on my account, by all means keep playing…”
“Sure—” Ace started.
“Nope—I wanna hear you play, Pilot.” Dawn ordered.
“Me?” He swallowed nervously, “You don’t want to hear me…”
“Oh, I do—come on Pilot, please.”
“Okay.” He nervously wandered over to a Baby Grand Piano in the corner.
That was the first time I heard Pilot play the piano, and the magnificent way he played it—the magnificent sound he encouraged from the ivories, made me hope with all my heart that it was far from the last time I’d hear him play.
I don’t know how long his piano solo lasted but I wanted it to last forever, then Dawn sat next to him and touched her fingers to the keys—the illusion was shattered—for a second but their joined notes made up for it. The result was beautiful, though Pilot didn’t seem as comfortable as before.
Everyone else had similar reactions. And I briefly wondered why Pilot wasn’t in the band: even if you put it nicely Lukas was in no way more skilled than Pilot when it came to playing the piano. Dawn was no slouch with a piano either, but I felt like her voice was so much better than her piano performance. And after being lost in their song once more I realized that him—Pilot—must’ve left the band because students were tormenting him about…something.
Something he wouldn’t tell me. Hot curiosity flared through me: I had to know; I would get him to tell me. And it was night by the time I had my opportunity. We’re all walking home, except for Pilot who was basically tagging along, when he could’ve just stayed at his house. But no, he came along. And that’s when I figured the moment was upon me, when the others were walking ahead (mostly Dawn) chatting about how much practice they still needed to even consider signing up for the talent show, and how they needed a band name. All of this went over my head, so I stopped Pilot and asked very bluntly, “Why does everyone hate you—”
“I was wondering when you’d bring that up again, I figured it was only a matter of time…” His voice sounded slightly amused, but his face was very sad.
“I just—It’s been bothering me.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
“It can’t be that bad, right?” I was looking to be reassured.
This is what I found, “Right.” His voice was as skeptical as mine.
“Come on, tell me.” I pressed.
“You remember the Wilhelm Hunter trials—they were on TV a couple weeks ago—”
“Yeah!” I said with un-holstered vigor, “I want that scumbag to rot in jail, then hell, for all he did to…” This time it was ME instead of Pilot who drifted off.
“That scumbag—he’s my dad.”
“Oh,” I heard myself say, “Oh…”
He face visibly fell, he began walking away, but I stopped him. “You know what: it doesn’t matter—”
“You say that now, Evelyn, but what about tomorrow? You can hate me if you want, I’m used to it—it’s alright…”
“No.” And the steel in my voice surprised even me, “it is NOT alright, Pilot. I could never hate you—”
“We should get you home.” He said firmly and drifted off down the sidewalk before I could stop him again.
Later that night I laid in bed and thought: about Pilot—no to tell the truth I thought about Pilot’s dad: the ever infamous Wilhelm Hunter. The man and the name that had committed several robberies, money laundering, and who was indirectly or directly responsible for the fact that many people are, as of this second, grieving their invaluable losses. The man and the name that did all of it for money and power, not for some twisted greater good, or because he thought he was saving lives in the long run—no: he openly admitted that the only things that drive him in life are money and power. The man and the name that is to rot in jail for life, now—fifty times over (with no chance of appeal). The man who is Pilot’s father; the name that belongs to Pilot—Pilot Hunter.
“I mean I knew the jerk had kids, but I never expected…” I was talking to the air, and felt reality solidify around me when I didn’t get a response. After another moment of waiting, I promptly fell asleep.
So there it is, Pilot’s not-so-secret and coincidentally the second time he has said the title. Pilot=2; Rest of the “What About Tomorrow” Universe=0
Anyways, Hope You Enjoyed.

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6 Comment(s) so far

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#1rosenstrauchAug 27, 2011

Amazing \:\)

#2spladoumAug 27, 2011

Oh dear, Lyn. Things seem to be get better and worse all at the same time. And poor Pilot \:\( Being the child of a notorious criminal is a terrible burden to bear \:\( The two plots seem to be converging ... very interested to know what's gonna happen next!

#3Foxi_iveyAug 27, 2011

\:Dgreat story-but one question.  Lyn has the vampire tattoo, but her eyes don't glow.  \:o it just confuses me a little.

#4fruitopiaVIPAug 27, 2011

\\\I have a feeling that Lynn will find out who she really is.  Great chapter.

#5hntnjoAug 28, 2011

im interested

#6eviSep 3, 2011

I like it\:\)

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