Snapshots Chapter Five: The Eleventh Hour

Well, I've finally got the fifth chapter finished and typed up. Since I had to put a warning up on DA about it, I decided to put it here in case anyone wanted to read it who isn't a member on DA. Just make sure you read the other chapters before this one...

Chapter One: The Leather Book
Chapter Two: Deliberate Ambiguity
Chapter Three: A History Lesson
Chapter Four: Sharpe's Dark Secret

MPAA Rating: Mild PG-13 for character death by suicide.
Characters: Sharpe, Jonathan Liu, Michael Liu, Jennie Alton, others
Word Count: 4920
Summary: The fifth chapter in Snapshots...

A boy sat at the top of the stairwell, unable to believe what he had just heard. Had his ears betrayed him? Or had what he thought had happened actually come to pass? Either way, Michael realized that someone had some explaining to do and for once, that someone was not his best friend. He slumped down and let his head fall to the more comfortable position of resting on his arms as he tried to ignore whispers from his parents that were coming from downstairs.

When he finally could not handle things anymore, he jumped up. This merited the attention of both his parents, as Jon exchanged nervous glances with his wife. He was just starting up the stairs when Michael turned and bolted in the direction of the school room, grabbing a blue and grey stuffed animal as he passed by the room he and Andy shared. Andy, who was still patiently working on transposing music, paid his older brother little or no attention.

The door to the school room would have slammed shut had Jon not arrived in time to prevent that from happening. As he glanced down at his son, he saw the face and body of a livid teenager. Michael’s normally pale cheeks were red and his eyes narrowed in anger. One hand was clenched into a fist at his side and the other was holding the stuffed manta ray by one of its pectoral fins.

“Michael, please,” Mr. Liu held one of his hands up in the air in a placating gesture. Ironically enough, this was the same stance that Michael often assumed when mediating arguments between Scott and Samantha Adams. “Just listen to me.”

Michael hardly moved a muscle. For nearly five minutes, he stood there, rarely blinking and barely breathing. There was a tension mounting in the air, but Michael outwardly appeared immune to it. Silence prevailed for that period of time until he finally spoke. “Why was he here?” His voice was perfectly calm, but serious and almost deadly.

Jon drew in a sharp breath of air. “Please, Michael,” he began. “Let’s both go downstairs, have some tea and I’ll answer your questions, okay?” He sent up a silent prayer that Michael would oblige. The boy considered for a brief moment, but nodded and followed his father out of the schoolroom, still holding the poor manta ray in one hand.

Once Jon had poured both himself and Michael tea, he sat down on the couch. Michael was sitting in the chair that Sharpe had occupied only moments before, wrapped up in a flannel blanket that rested on the back. He showed little interest in the cup of tea; instead it sat on a coaster on the coffee table in the center of the living room.

Jon sighed. He knew he would have to take the initiative; if Michael did, accusations would follow. He could see into his son’s eyes that the boy was a simmering combination of angry, hurt, upset, confused and frustrated. This was a dangerous combination in almost any human, but especially someone who kept so many of his emotions typically hidden. “Mr. Sharpe decided to come by to make sure you and Sam arrived home safely.” At this statement made by his father, Michael arched an eyebrow. So Sharpe had been following them earlier. “He wanted to catch up on old times for awhile, so that’s what we were doing. We went to high school together.”

Michael leaned back, clearly unimpressed. “He mentioned that,” he replied in a non-committal voice. “Several times, in fact.” There was a short pause and Michael’s fingers ran along the seam of the blanket. “Why was he here? I know Mom gave him dinner.” Although the Liu family was gracious to their guests, Michael hadn’t expected his mother to feed Mr. Sharpe dinner.

Mr. Liu frowned slightly. “Just how much did you hear?” He took a sip of his tea and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together.

Michael shrugged. “Enough to know what happened.” His voice was level and calculating as he spoke, as if he was testing to see how his father would react before he said anything else. “After so long, I thought you or Mom would’ve realized that I often pretend to sleep.”

Jon’s glance fell to the ground suddenly. “Michael, please tell me exactly how much you heard.” His voice was level as he matched that of his son, but there was a deep pleading undertone within his emotional signature that betrayed him. He was very uneasy of what would happen next and this frightened him.

Michael hardly wished to respond and he kept fiddling with the blanket in his hands. “I know that Mr. Sharpe gave you something that he intended for me to have. And yes, I heard almost everything.” An eyebrow quirked upwards as Jon’s face paled slightly.

Jon, who was still almost white, pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Michael. It was slightly wrinkled along the corners, but Michael ripped it open and removed the piece of paper inside. It was a handwritten note and probably the handwriting of a teenager, he guessed, and transcribed onto spiral-bound notebook paper.

[[Michael, if you’re reading this, please don’t shoot the messenger. He’s only doing it on my request and that’s it. If you want to send a reply, please trust him to get it to me. But that’s not what I was going to talk about anyways. I really wanted to you to know that Sharpe’s a good guy and I’d like to invite you to visit me sometime. Maybe pick up a game of chess? He mentioned that you play... so do I! Or just hang out... or whatever. It doesn’t really matter to me.

I wish I knew how to say this to you, but you’ve really been a good friend to me. All the times we’ve talked and Sharpe’s told me that you really do care about your friends. I’ve never heard him say that about anyone else, except probably your dad. He’s a good guy, too, I think. Maybe I’m wrong, but I have a hunch he knows more than he says he does.

Which is why I’m actually writing to you. He really has a soft spot for some of his students and I’d like to ask you a favor. Has he told you anything about a guy called Kiyoshi Sato? I know they used to know each other. I asked Sharpe last time, but he wouldn’t say anything more. Weird, huh? That and his family are the only things he never talks about.

You probably won’t trust me on this. Sharpe told me to put proof in the envelope. Silly guy. But there’s the camp pic of you, the twins and red-head down at the archery range. The flash that he thought was lightening was my camera. Sorry ‘bout that... and thanks.

I look forward to seeing you again soon.
Signed, The Black Rook]]

Michael read the letter once and then again. One of his hands held the picture. Surely enough, the photograph clearly showed Scott and Nate arguing in the background. Sam was preparing to shoot the arrow and Michael had been standing next to the two cousins, deciding whether or not to watch them argue or to step in and play peacekeeper.

“Michael,” Mr. Liu’s voice was clear. “Mr. Sharpe was very insistent that you had that. In fact, he was sure you needed it. I don’t know why; you’d have to ask him.” He glanced down at his son. Michael’s face was carefully crafted into that same stoic expression he had nearly mastered that revealed almost none of his feelings. The only sound coming from the living room was the soft chime that signalled that it was 10:30 PM. Upon hearing the chime, Michael jumped up. “What’s–” Mr. Liu started to ask, but Michael cut him off before he could say anything.

“I... I need to go somewhere.” Michael threw the blanket back down on the chair. Because he had not actually gone to bed yet, he was still wearing the same clothing he wore at school: a blue turtleneck and slacks. He slipped on his tennis shoes that were lying on the floor next to the front door over the socks he wore. He also grabed his long trench coat and shoved the letter and picture into a pocket. He shut the door before his father could stop him and he was gone.

---------

“Who is it?” A voice called from inside and a girl opened up the door just a crack. The girl was easily a few years older than Michael was and she sported a casual purple sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers. Her long brown hair was pulled back loosely into a braid. “Oh, hi Michael! I... uhm, didn’t expect you here so late, but please, come in.” She smiled and moved to the side, allowing Michael entrance to the house.

Michael followed Jennie into the living room. The house was remarkably like his own in so many ways. Plush blue carpet covered the floor of the room in which they stood and a few chairs and the couch had been arranged around the room in roughly an elliptical shape. Jennie took a seat, but Michael remained on his feet, far too uneasy to sit down and stay still.

“Michael, you okay?” Jennie glanced over at him. “I’ve never seen you out this late.” Even at church functions, Michael had been well-known amongst his peers for getting home at a reasonable hour.

Michael shrugged. “I need to talk to Mr. Sharpe,” he stated after a moment. His voice was shaky; he was still pacing back and forth along the carpet. He clasped his hands behind his back and stopped for a moment.

Jennie placed her hands on her left knee. “Okay... let me know why you need to see my brother,” she replied, her voice equally as apprehensive as Michael’s had been. She was not concerned that Sharpe would be asleep; it was still early enough that the thought passed through her mind. She was well-aware of the fact that her older brother stayed awake far into the night on a regular basis.

Michael’s hands came unclasped. “He... he said something to me and I wanted to ask him what it meant.” There was a short pause. “It’s Latin and I need to ask him about the translation.”

Jennie opened her mouth slightly. “Let me call him and see what he says,” she answered. “While you’re waiting, we made cookies this afternoon if you want some.” She spent part of her time working at Riverdale High and many of her afternoons were spent volunteering at the community center with kids who had special needs. Fridays were usually devoted to fun projects, like cooking. Apparently more cookies had been made than they were able to eat or take home.

“No thanks,” Michael shook his head. Between dinner and the odd things that had happened that day, he was hardly hungry anymore. After a moment, Jennie grabbed the telephone and took it into the other room. Michael drew his lips into a tight frown. Very few things were running through his mind and the only main thing was concerning Mr. Sharpe. Nearly five minutes later, Jennie emerged from the kitchen.

“My brother agreed to let you come over,” Jennie smiled, holding the phone loosely in her right hand. “I’d walk you over myself, but Mom and Dad want me home.” She wrote and address on a piece of paper and sketched out a quick street diagram. “This is what he told me to do, so here. I trust your ability to follow directions is better than Scott’s?” She smiled slightly and handed the paper to Michael.

Michael nodded. Scott was the kind of person who would get lost giving instructions from his house to school, despite the fact that it was only three streets away and the trio had been going to Riverdale for over two years. Michael glanced down at the paper. The address read 313 B Janus Avenue. With a split second thought, Michael knew exactly where that apartment complex was located; it was only a short distance from Riverdale High. In fact, Tyler Martin had used to live in the same complex with his mom and younger sister Emily until they had moved just a few months before.

As he walked down Chestnut Avenue, the wind whipped around his body, blowing his coat in all directions. The boy pulled in closer into his body as he kept putting one foot in front of the other. His dark eyes blinked a couple of times as he made his way down the street. It would be a long walk; that much he was certain of.

While he was walking, he contemplated the letter he had received. He was certain he knew the person who had sent it. Perhaps it had been someone from Sola Scriptura, the summer Bible camp that he, the twins, their cousin Nate, Tyler Martin, Marie Wilson and Kiran Shasthri had all attended the summer before their sophomore year. It had been a wonderful time. Michael had made some close friends that summer, like Nate Winters and Hideaki Sato and Kiran Shasthri, who had later stayed with the Liu family for a semester as an exchange student. All the teenagers spent time not only in worship, but also intense Bible study. The smaller group that Michael had been in had studied Job. As memories of Sola flooded his mind, he smiled; maybe the walk did not feel so long after all.

The apartments on Janus Avenue were not far from Riverdale High. Michael kept walking along as he realized that it made sense for Sharpe to live there if, as he said, he did not own a car. It would take Michael approximately five minutes to walk from the apartments to Riverdale; he assumed it would take Sharpe slightly less than that based on the fact that the chemistry teacher had much longer legs than he. The teenager entered the apartment complex and wandered around for a few moments. It was a nice feeling to walk around in peace... the lonely atmosphere contrasted with his home, which was ever bustling with people.

After about ten minutes of walking, he came to realize that the A apartments were on the first floor and the B apartments were on the second. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, eyes darting around into the distance. He came upon the apartment marked 313A and his glance shifted upwards to the heavens. For just a moment, he marveled at the majesty of all that was happening. Despite the foul weather, the night sky was absolutely amazing: he could see the small flecks of light that were really stars, all of them many light years away. Though he couldn’t find any of the constellations, he knew that the closest star other than the sun was approximately four light years away. A gentle smile touched his lips; the heavens had not yet seemed this close to him since he and a small group of friends had gone star gazing at Sola.

[“Isn’t that amazing?” One of the teenagers marveled as he looked up at the night sky. The moon was only a small sliver that night. “Hey Michael, look up there. The Big Dipper... or Ursa Major as Dad calls it.”

“Hmm?” Michael arched an eyebrow towards the other boy. He had been counting specks of light for the past few minutes. “What did you say again?”

Hideaki smiled. “The only vacation Dad took me on was camping and we spent lots of time watching stars.” His dark eyes lit up and he held his hands out to get them warmed up by the fire that was barely smoldering. “They’re so far away... Alpha Centauri’s the closest and we can’t even see it here.”]

Michael cherished that memory – like all the others – that he received from Sola and he smiled. It gave him both the strength and courage to climb the stairs to Sharpe’s apartment. His hand hesitated when he reached to knock on the door. He couldn’t follow through. As much as he was curious about what Sharpe had said to him and how he got the letter, the sensible part of Michael’s mind urged him to give up right then.

He would have left had the door not opened right at that moment. “Mr. Liu, I presume.” Long fingers opened the door from the inside as the cold voice spoke. So many times had Michael heard this voice; to him it sounded both caustic and slippery, like one of the alkaline bases they used in the chemistry lab. “Come in. We have been expecting you.”

---------

Light streamed from the inside of the small apartment as Michael blinked a few times. He could hardly believe he was in the apartment complex, much less that he was entering the room. The man ushered him inside quickly and firmly shut the door, not allowing the wind to enter or to exert chaos upon the sparsely decorated room. Michael followed Mr. Sharpe inside and removed his tennis shoes, setting them beside the door. As he looked around, he took in every detail he could. The walls were a light grey and the thinning carpet was dark green.

“Sit.” Sharpe motioned towards a computer office chair. There was a grey striped cat sitting in the seat. As Michael began to sit, the cat lazily jumped down and pranced across the carpet and into the kitchen. “Nernst is hardly used to anyone being here.” Sharpe followed the cat across the room and allowed his long legs to carry him towards the dining room with little effort. “As am I.” He grabbed two ceramic mugs and brought them to the living room, offering one to Michael, who gladly accepted.

Michael swished the contents of the mug around and smelled the liquid. It was a smell he would recognize almost anywhere and it belonged to Jennie and Mandie’s apple cider. Every Sunday during the cold weather, Jennie would make it for the kids in the youth group at church. He silently gave thanks for something familiar around here; the whole day had just been too odd for him. The boy was pensive for a moment as he saw, waiting for the steaming liquid to cool. Apparently the contents of Sharpe’s mug were less hot because the chemistry teacher was able to drink. There was an awkward silence that built up inside the room. Michael was contemplating how the day had begun by walking out of homerooms and letting the door slam behind him. The series of events that followed had led to this: being out of his house after curfew hours and sitting in the apartment of the very teacher he had been determined to hate earlier that day.

“When my sister called, she said that you had a question that you needed to ask me,” Sharpe’s voice had the slightest hint of a drawl, which Michael had never noticed before. The middle-aged man set his half-emptied mug down on the small table near his own chair.

Michael nodded. “Who’s Kiyoshi Sato and what does he have to do with me?” Michael’s eyes narrowed. This was a good question to begin with and he was well-aware of the fact that Sharpe was probably going to avoid fully answering his question; he had overheard just enough of the conversation before.

Sharpe folded his hands and took a deep breath. The ambient lighting, though dim, still seemed bright on his eyes. He resolved to fix that, but it would have to wait until later. “Kiyoshi Sato was a classmate of mine when we were in high school,” Sharpe began. He chose his words carefully; now was neither the time nor the place to speak more than was necessary. “He and Emiko Takahashi’s father were close friends. They happened to be in the same year that I was and both delighted in giving a certain amount of grief to their classmates.” Sharpe’s angular nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly at the very tip. “Your father and your aunt were both acquainted with him. Why do you care to know?” Sharpe arched an eyebrow, choosing to ignore Nernst, who had pranced back into the living room and was now rubbing up against Michael’s leg.

Michael shrugged and his glance dropped to the cat. “It’s just something I was thinking about., that’s all.” Michael was lying through his teeth and he knew it. He was also aware that Sharpe probably knew this, but he didn’t care. “Could I pet him?” He glanced down at Nernst, suddenly changing the subject.

Sharpe frowned slightly. “If he lets you, then you may pet him.” He watched as Michael bent down and Nernst jumped into the youth’s lap. The man took a long sip and set the mug back down. “That is not everything you were going to say, was it?”

Michael shook his head. “Is Mr. Sato still alive?” He stopped paying attention to the striped feline long enough to ask the question. After remembering the crumpled paper in his jacket pocket, he resolved to inquire about the contents of that later.

“No,” Sharpe let out a sigh. “He died sixteen years ago as a direct result of a decision he made.” Sharpe’s voice was about half an octave lower than it normally was.

[Sharpe was silent as he moved through the alley way. It was a dark and cloudy day in the middle of March, much like what one would expect to find in Seattle, not the sunny Bay Area in California. He had nothing better to do; there were no assignments due for any of the classes the college junior was taking. Even Dr. Shasthri – a difficult professor if he’d ever encountered one – had not assigned homework for the advanced thermodynamics class she taught.

This may have not been the best idea he had, but the twenty-one-year-old decided to duck into an abandoned alleyway. He hardly had reason for doing this, except that a police car was about half a block from where he stood; he did not want more of a headache than he already had from the sirens and flashing lights of emergency vehicles. In the shadows, he saw something that would make his headache much worse: Kiyoshi Sato. Sato’s narrow features had grown even narrower in the past year and a half since Sharpe had seen him last.

He heard a cry coming from the basket that Sato held under one arm and he gasped aloud, barely reaching his hand up in time to muffle the sound. It was the cry of a small child. He’d heard it once before, many years ago when he was in the hospital for his own surgery, but he’d paid little attention then.

“What’re you doing here, coward?” Sato’s scathing voice addressed Sharpe. “I know you’re here, so y’might as well show yourself.” Sato set the basket down on the ground next to an old trash bin and turned around, looking for Sharpe to appear.

Sharpe decided to step out from the shadows. “Ah, Sato,” his voice was sickly sardonic as he answered Sato’s accusations. “And who is the coward this time? Impregnating a girl three years younger than you? Running away so you don’t have to face her parents? Taking one of the children with you?” He paused for a moment, pointing a long stick at the ratty basket and the torn blanket that draped over its edges. “And who was the true coward before? Bullying someone who’s half your size? Insisting that the fight is five-to-one? Now, if I were you, I’d put that knife down on the ground. Oh yes, I know you’ve got a knife in your pocket…” Sharpe nodded towards the front right pocket of Sato’s jeans.

Sato seethed though his clenched teeth. “You…” he hissed. This was followed by a string of expletives. “I don’t have time for this!” He removed the knife from the pocket of his jeans, opened it up and thought for a moment, debating at whether to lunge at Sharpe or to slit his own throat open. He decided on the latter. He brought the knife up to his own carotid artery. Sharpe stood frozen, unable to do anything. Instead of going through with his plans, Sato used his knife to slice the side of his neck. He screamed out in pain and fell to the ground.

Sharpe hurried over and held his – former – enemy in his arms. “Here,” he said, holding up a vial to Sato’s mouth. “It’ll work faster… and not be as painful.” The contents of the vial were poisonous, but it would allow Sato to die without so much pain. After all, that was what he obviously wanted. Sharpe knew Sato was a coward; what about the infant? However, Sato’s breathing stopped just before he swallowed the substance.

As soon as he had realized what happened, Sharpe wove his way around the trash cans to reach the infant. He immediately noticed an envelope in the basket. Opening it up, his dark eyes skimmed the contents.

[Attention: J. Victor Sharpe
If I am to die here and today, please take the child into your care. His name is Hideaki.
K. Sato]

The date and a signature were placed on the side of the note and Sharpe frowned, his lips drawing themselves into a thin line. As carefully as he could, he picked up the basket. The young child inside was about a year old and looked almost exactly like his father did. Sharpe knew he couldn’t bear to look at the youth every day for the rest of his life. It would bring back too many memories of being teased and pushed down into the mud day after day. Even if the boy stayed with the Altons – Sharpe was sure Josiah and Sherry would take him in – the memories were still too strong.

He shook his head. He would have to take the boy into a foster care center instead. With that choice being made, he set off towards home, carrying the basket under his arm.]

“Yet that holds little concern for either of us now, Mr. Liu,” Sharpe’s voice had reverted back to its typically cold tone. “And tomorrow, things will be made clearer.” An eyebrow arched upwards as his hands clasped the warm mug.

Michael glared at the older man defiantly for several moments. Down the hall, the clock ticked and Nernst rubbed his head against the side of the chair. “Alright...” Getting Sharpe to answer his inquiries about this Kiyoshi Sato was clearly not working, so he decided to take another route. “You went to high school with Emiko Takahashi’s father, didn’t you?” This question was merely one of curiosity; earlier Sharpe had mentioned Takahashi being a bully.

Sharpe set the mug down on the table that was at the left side of his chair without regard to use a coaster of any sorts. “We were both on the interscholastic chess team.” Absently, Sharpe reached into his pocket and pulled out an old chess piece. It was carved from a wood that looked that almost black in the dimmed lighting of the room and judging by the general shape and the cross on the top of it, Michael assumed it was a king. After a moment of twiddling it in his thin fingers, Sharpe placed the piece back into the pocket of his pants. Maybe it had been too long since he played a game of chess... that is, played and lost a good game. “If you had been listening to what I said earlier, you would have been able to deduce that.” He glanced over at Michael, observing the Asian boy with a dark glance. “I know you are brighter than people–” The last bit of Sharpe’s sentence was cut off by the ring of the doorbell.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Sharpe pushed himself into a standing position with quite a bit more effort than Michael would have expected for someone with his scrawny stature. Soundlessly mouthing words, he made his way towards the door, limping ever so slightly. The Asian boy noted the anomaly. He had never seen Sharpe limp before or if he had, Michael had never actively noticed it before.

As Sharpe opened up the door, his normally darker skin paled to the color of light parchment. A woman in her early fifties stood outside the door, wearing an oversized travel coat. From the inside of the apartment, Michael could see that her skin was dark and the only remarkable aspect of her appearance – other than the fact that she looked somehow familiar – was a blue and purple cloth wrapped loosely around her head, neck and shoulders.

tbc in chapter six...

Substitute Teacher, Part I

In Snapshots (chapter one), I make the reference that Sharpe was out of school and missed a staff meeting. Here's what happened on the day he was sick...

MPAA Rating: Mild PG for language
Characters: Sharpe, Alton, later on this will include the usual culprits surrounding RHS including staff and students alike...
Word Count: 699
Summary: Right before Snapshots Through Time, Sharpe is forced to stay home sick and chaos ensues as there is a different substitute for each class. There's also the issue of the staff meeting after school...

Sharpe tried to stand up but only a moment later he was sitting back down, the tips of his fingers resting gently on the side of his head. The side of his head was throbbing and if he did not lie down, it would only get worse. He should be leaving for school in less than ten minutes, but the thirty-some-odd-year-old man sincerely doubted he would make it in today. He bit his tongue slightly in an attempt to concentrate better and figure out the last time he had been absent from classes. It had only happened a few times since his university days; the chemistry teacher did not get sick easily and nor was he one to stay home if he knew he was not contagious.

“Damn.” Sharpe leaned back and fell onto the bed, letting his head hit the mound of floppy pillows he had set up. He had no choice other than to call Josiah Alton and request a substitute teacher be sent in. In all the years he had been teaching at the school, he had only been absent a grand total of twice. Once was an incident involving a close acquaintance from high school and the other time, Josiah Alton had insisted upon him staying home. Unless he was contagious or somehow a danger to other people, Sharpe adamantly refused to get someone else to teach his classes.

In his mind, few people were competent enough. Surely Josiah Alton would be able to handle the material, as would Laura Clarkson, but could either of them keep his classes in order the way he did? Likewise, Hugh Avery had a firm grasp on the thermodynamic principles he was covering in his sophomore chemistry class... and he could supervise the AP lab. The few people who Sharpe viewed as able to discipline his classes would likely not understand the subject material; he put some level of trust in Shaun Ackerman to keep classes in order. There was a strong doubt in Sharpe’s mind that the history teacher knew about enthaply and entropy and how to explain that to a bunch of sophomores and juniors.

He managed to sit up enough to reach for the phone and dialed the Josiah Alton’s cell phone number. When he placed the phone within a few inches of his ear, he was greeted with Josiah’s warm, but level voice. “What’s going on?” Josiah seemed surprised to be receiving a call from Sharpe.

“Could you find a substitute for me?” Sharpe would have spoken more formally and completed his thought, but he was having a hard enough time thinking right then; he did not see it necessary to maintain his usual sense of dignity. Around him, the dim lights in his apartment flickered a couple of times and he made a mental note to have them fixed as soon as he could manage to climb up on the ladder. As if that would be happening any time soon.

“Sure. Everything alright over there?” There was a certain pause in Josiah’s voice that conveyed his concern. He knew it was unlike Sharpe to miss school for anything; the current chemistry teacher had been like that even as a teenager.

“Fine.” Sharpe clipped his answer into a one-word response; to anyone who had met him before, it would be blatantly obvious he was lying, but right now, he could hardly care.

On the other side of the line, Josiah scribbled a quick note down on a piece of paper and frowned. “If you’re sure...” With his other hand, he stroked his salt-and-pepper colored beard a few times. He knew Jedediah wasn’t likely to take care of himself very well; after all, he and Sherry had raised Sharpe from the time he was fourteen onwards. “If you need anything, call Sherry. And I mean it.” Alton found that his sentences were truncated also. After that thought, Alton hung up the phone.

Sharpe set the phone down on the receiver and climbed back into bed, rubbing his left temple. It would be best if he could rest; he could already tell that today would be a very long day.

Whom Should I Pick On Next?

I've decided that I like my fictional characters a lot better than real people right now because I can tell my fictional characters to shut up and that will not have any consequences irl. I can torture my fictional characters for my own pleasure and get away with it. Let's see... who to pick on next? >.>

Brief Snapshots Update

So, I've worked on continuing on Snapshots. I decided to combine chapters five and six into one chapter because they're both short and they flow together with only a few quick edits. I finished the chapter and hopefully I'll get it typed up and edited so that it makes sense.

Yes, it will be rated between PG and PG-13 for one of the flashback sequences. Everything else is pretty mild as far as rating would be concerned, so that's a relief. I'm really excited to be working on this again because in this chapter (and in the next one), you find out a lot about what Sharpe was like when he was younger.

Which means I need to write another side piece with him and Dr. Shasthri first, just to see how they interact and their history. I was walking around campus earlier tonight because I needed to think (big novelty there, eh?) and a scene kept playing through my head. Sharpe was talking with (or yelling at?) someone, so maybe I'll just write that scene. That someone could have easily been one of two people and one of those is Priya Shasthri. The other person it could have been is Alton, but I doubt it. I don't think Sharpe would get upset enough to yell at Alton.

But I need to re-write the prologue sequence I drafted awhile back and work that into one of the flashbacks (which earns it at least a PG rating). And I also found out something interesting about Tetsuya Takahashi. He and Sharpe were on the Interscholastic Chess Team together in high school for at least a little while... or that's what Sharpe says.

Character Featurette: Callisto Verity

Through the rest of this year, I will be going and making mini-character Featurettes for characters whose birthdays fall on a particular date. For the sake of some of my characters who happen to be twins, I may have one character featured on their birthday and the other featured the day after or something.

So today's character to be featured is Callisto Verity.

Full Name: Callisto Jasmine Verity
DOB: January 9, 1993 (Most of my stories take place ~2004, where she would be about thirteen years of age.)
Family: Damien Verity (Father), Nora (nee Wallace) Verity (mother), Ali and Lara Verity (sisters), Daniel Verity (brother)
Place of Birth: England
Place of Residence: England

Series: Alcantha
Character Connections and Relationships:
Ali Verity: Ali is her (younger) twin sister and the two of them get along passingly. Ali's a lot more outgoing and girly than Callisto is.
Emrick Page: Emrick's one of Callisto's best friends. He comes from a wealthy family and Callisto, Ali and Hana often go over to his house to hang out over the summer. He is the fourth of six brothers and sisters.
Hana Rei: Not only is she Callisto's best friend, but she's also Emiko Takahashi's half-sister. For every bit that Callisto is argumentative, Hana is sincere and apologetic.
Donovan Isaacs: Donovan's three years older than Callisto and is the cousin of Emrick Page. He and Callisto have a mutual dislike for one another.

General Info: Callisto is quite pugnatious and she tends to get into arguments a lot with other people. She also studies quite hard and frequently has a book with her when she's not surrounded by them. But she's not your most well-behaved teenager... she tends to break some of the rules at Alcantha, just to see if she can get away with doing that, something that lands her into a whole load of trouble with the Monitors.

She originated in the AU, so she's not quite... normal, shall we say? Like her hair is naturally lightish brown, but it was dyed purple on accident. She's also at that stage in her life (during the main stories) where she alternates between thinking that "boys are cute" and the "boys are icky and nasty and have cooties". So she's interesting in that aspect, as well.

I'm really not sure what else to say about Callisto other than she's just plain wierd. If you have any questions about her, you can ask and I'll try to answer them, I suppose.

Last of the Hollidailies

So today is the last day of Hollidailies, which is kind of a sad thing. I've been writing a lot more commentary than I'm used to and I think I've actually been writing a little more than I usually do. Last night when I was in bed, I had the most random idea for a story, so I think when I finish Snapshots, I shall write it. The idea was basically what would happen if Michael went for a walk on Christmas day and happened to run into Sharpe. I don't know what it is with writing those two characters together in scenes; I should've figured out by now that it doesn't work very well.

Outside my window, it looks like Narnia. No really, there's snow and icicles everywhere! And... I'm sick, so I might not be posting here for a few days. :(

More Snapshots Updates

So not only does Dr. Shasthri come into Snapshots, but other previously AU characters come into her encounters, as well. Like Seneca Argentium, who is a research assistant at the labs owned by Nicholae Kwaitkowski. Seneca's... interesting... for lack of something better to call her. Sharpe used to work at one of Kwaitkowski's research labs before he was fired, so that's the connection... and now Seneca works there and she's the one who helps Dr. Shasthri. Not that she was there when Sharpe was, but she is very much involved in the gossip that happens around the workplace.

I've also established the residence Dr. Shasthri goes to... and who lives there. I'm happy about that because I've sent Dr. Shasthri there and she just arrived, so we'll see how that encounter actually pans out when it gets written. Luckily, she isn't super-suspicious about people or this wouldn't work. I love writing new characters because you can manipulate them to do whatever you want until they start to get personalities of their own.

Major change of topic here... as far as Once Upon an AU goes, I still want to know what Ackerman knows! Obviously he knows something that will upset Peter's regime at RHS (and that's what gets him killed), but I really want to know what that something is!

Snapshots Update

I finally figured out where I think I want to go with Snapshots and it's great because it'll tie into the chess story I've been playing with in the back of my mind for quite some time.

Chess is kind of a recurring theme throughout my stories. Hideaki Sato is known online as the black rook, Sharpe was the Interscholastic Chess Champion for three (out of four) years in high school and it's quite often that the fellowship members are seen playing chess while hanging out. Usually it's Michael and Evan... and sometimes Tyler. It's also stated that Hideaki teaches Emiko how to play chess.

So that got me thinking... how do I bring this theme into Snapshots? This morning, I came up with a logical answer and it answers two of my questions at once! The other question was (of course) what is Dr. Shasthri doing at Sharpe's apartment at some unearthly hour?

I figured that the only reasonable answer was that she needed him for some reason. Most likely, he had requested something from her before he graduated and left university. I decided to run with this idea... with no thoughts as to what he had asked her for. This morning, I got my answer: a chess piece.

When he was a student at Maplewood, Sharpe bought a used chess set at a garage sale. A few of the pieces were missing when he originally bought it, amongst them a white queen. Somehow, Dr. Shasthri is able to find the person who sold Sharpe the chess set (something I don't want to reveal until later, as major spoilers are contained within) and he was able to find some of the missing pieces. Originally, only the white queen and two black pawns were missing, but I am changing that so it was the white queen, a black pawn and one of the black rooks.

So she is able to get this and the man is fairly reasonable. He claims he would deliver it himself, but he doesn't remember to whom he sold the set or how to contact said person when Dr. Shasthri tells him. Now that she has the piece Sharpe requested, she's tried to hunt him down. He doesn't leave a forwarding address or anything when he leaves university, so she has to go see where he applied for work and then contact them. By some amazing coincidence, she talks to her niece on the telephone and Kiran gives her the necessary information she's been missing all along: where Sharpe works. From that, she is able to find out where he lives fairly easily.

And thus she shows up at his apartment at an unearthly hour. She would have come earlier, but she was hosting dinner and a movie for some of her chemistry and physics students.

Now I know and all is good with the world. Okay, not really, but Snapshots is back on. I also happen to know who gets which chess piece, so that should be fun to work with. As to be expected, Takahashi still holds the white king; that wouldn't change. I've modified it around a little bit according to what happens in Once Upon an AU and some of the other brief stuff I've written since originally thinking of the idea. ^_^

Character Featurette: Seven McAllistair

I fail at posting when I'm at home. Anyhow, I thought I'd do a brief character feature because it is someone's birthday today! Apart from being JRR Tolkien's birthday, it is also Septimus (AKA Seven) McAllistair's birthday. So happy birthday to him. I sound so wierd, saying happy birthday to someone who doesn't even exist. Seriously.

I don't know a lot about Seven, but here's what I do know. He was born to William and Clarissa McAllistair as the seventh of eight children. William is a professor of classical studies (Latin and Greek) at WSU in Seattle. Clarissa teaches music and plays in the Seattle Symphony Orchestra. His family isn't particularly rich, but they have enough to live on. Seven went to the local public schools throughout primary and secondary schooling.

Nothing about Seven's appearance stands out as particularly unusual, except for his eyes. He has slightly paled skin (due to being inside all day) and straight hair the color of light mud. His eyes are a sort of grey-orange color; the closest natural color one can describe them as is amber. He usually dresses in hand-me-down clothing and he almost always wears a pair of black fingerless gloves he knit himself. Yes, he does knit.

I'm still trying to pin down Seven's personality. On one hand, you see a geek. He's kind of... awkward, for lack of something better to call him. He's that geeky kid who knows the answer to literally every question a teacher asks (having a photographic memory kind of helps!). His speech is so incredibily stilted that it isn't funny anymore. He doesn't use contractions. At all. On the flip side, he believes in using any means necessary to achieve what he needs. So he could be pretending to be kind of clueless and awkward, but I really don't know... I guess the only way to answer that would be to write him more!

His hobbies and activities include knitting, lots of computer work, violin, tech work for local stage productions and lurking in the library behind a really BIG book.

Lastly, a quote that I think does exemplify Seven's attitude, specifically towards his moral compass... "Never let your sense of morals get in the way of doing what's right." It's an Isaac Asimov quote, but it does fit Seven...

Snapshots, a Brief Scene and Seven...

I finally figured out the catalyst I need for Snapshots because Michael and Sharpe have been sitting there for the longest of times and it's getting more than awkward. So, someone's going to knock on the door to Sharpe's apartment... and I know who that someone is!

I've also been toying around with the idea of writing a scene between Sharpe and probably Michael where Sharpe tells Michael to choose his words carefully because they are as influential as one's friends. And then, Michael could snap back at Sharpe about how he thinks Sharpe doesn't choose his own friends carefully enough. Sharpe would totally hate that. He chooses his allies strategically. Sometimes, it's based on duty (like Tem... long story there) and sometimes it's more personal, like how he chooses to cooperate well with Amy Kerrington.

Seven McAllistair's character has also recently intrigued me. He grew up in Seattle with six older siblings and one younger one. His father is a professor of classics (like Greek and Latin, but especially Latin) at WSU (the one in Seattle) and his mom is a music teacher. He is somehow related to Sophia McAllistair (probably cousins or something), but they've never met. This much is about all I know for sure about his character background and there's so much I haven't explored with his character yet. He's kind of wierd... I mean, he has amber-grey eyes that look almost orange. Yes, that's natural for him.