GORILLAZ FANFIC PART 3

PART THREE

“I’m fine. Do you need something?”

            I’m frozen on the spot, and I don’t know what to say to him over the butterflies in my stomach. I don’t know why he makes me feel this way, I just feel some sort of connection. I know it sounds dumb, it is dumb, it’s just that…I don’t know.

            I shake my head.

            “What’s your name?”

            “Savannah. You can call me Semi.” I falter. The nickname might be fitting with someone like Noodle, maybe, but with 2-D? Why was I so cocky?

            “I’m Stu-Pot, better known as 2-D—that’s what Murdoc calls me.”

            “Oh I—” I take a couple steps back into the wall.

            “It’s ok. It stuck.”

            I nod.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “I’m an old friend of Noodle’s.” That seems to be a good enough explanation for him. “And I don’t have anyone else—” Why am I getting this way? Why am I telling him this? Why did I tell Murdoc anything?

            “I know. I was listening.”

            “I—”

            “You don’t want me to listen, I know. I’ll go now.”

            “No, no, it’s not that, it’s just—”

            “What?”

            “Murdoc.”

            “What?”

            “I don’t know why I told him anything—it’s just like I had nothing to lose—I feel like he understands.”

            “He does.”

            “Oh.” I don’t want to talk about it.

            “Takes it out on me.”

            “I don’t take it out on anyone. I just make myself sick. And I know. I’m sorry.” Part of me wants to ask why he doesn’t just find a place far away, but then I realize. Band contracts. And it’s not like he has anyone either.

            “Nu can be a little cold at first—she’s like my sister but she thinks she knows everything. Can’t be on top of the world forever.”

            I nod.

            “You want to talk to her?”

            “Yeah.”

            2-D walks up to her door and knocks three times in a rhythm. “That’s our code,” he explains. “So, she’ll know it’s me and not Murdoc. Not that she’s scared of him. I think he’s scared of her. Don’t make her mad is what I’m saying.”

            I nod.

            No response.

            “She doesn’t come out much. Said she’s writing.”

            “Writing what?”

            “Music.”

            “Oh.” I was never musically talented, but I’ll take that over being a make-up whore any day of the week. And I always had an appreciation for a good tune. “Knock again,” I prompt him.

            “A little louder?”

            “Not too loud.”

            “Don’t worry Russ and Murdoc don’t come upstairs much.”

            “You sure?”

            “Who’s been here longer, you or me?”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s ok.” He raises his hand to knock again.

            “Give me a minute, D!”

            Ok. She’s in there. I try to breathe. Maybe she’s changed so much. Maybe she hates me. Maybe she forgot me.

            “She knows English now. Got her memory back when she went back to Japan.”

            “Oh, ok. Does she remember things from when she couldn’t remember things?”

            2-D looks confused and doesn’t respond.

            Finally, the door creaks open. “Ok.” It’s Noodle, peeking around the door. She’s grown a lot, but so have I. Her bangs are covering her eyes. She’s wearing a basketball jersey and a pair of khakis. Good. She’s not being a girly girl. Not that that’s a bad thing to be, just—

            “Hi,” she says, “Murdoc isn’t here, right?”

            “No. But I do have—”

            “Who’s this? Your girlfriend?”

            Of course, she doesn’t know me.

            “No, she’s sixteen. At least that’s what—”

            “Yeah.” I say.

            “Not that you could get a girlfriend anyway, D.”

            He looks hurt.

            “Sorry. Come in. And bring her too.”

            ***

            After Noodle closes the door behind us, I take a deep breath. Her room is a mess too, but not slimy and weird like downstairs. Messy in a cool, wacky, creative way. I like it. I feel at home.

            Her walls are lined with posters, and she has several keyboards and recording devices lying around. She seems pretty cool. And not like a girly-girl at all.

            “Noodle, do you remember me? You probably don’t.”

            “From when?”

            “The Fed Ex room. In Japan. You were speaking Japanese, and—”

            “Oh. That was you?” she suddenly looks nervous. “How did you find me?”

            “You’re famous now. The audition paid off.”

            “Yeah. You’re clear. If D’s cool around you then we’re good. He’s nervous around everyone, aren’t you, D?”

            2-D glances in my direction.

            “Actually, I think I’m nervous around him.”

            “Why? He won’t hurt you,” says Noodle.

            “I—” I don’t know how to respond. It’s just that I get butterflies. I don’t know why. I was always socially awkward.

            “Ah, ok. Just remember you’re sixteen. He’s twenty-seven.”

            “I know!” I know I sound exasperated. It’s been a long day.

            “What’s your name again?”

            “Savannah. Call me Semi. I told Murdoc—”

            “What did you tell Murdoc?”

            “Just—um…”

            “Stop being so weird.”

            “You stop.” This isn’t going well. We’re supposed to be best friends. At least that’s what I thought.

***

“Night night, fight or flight.”

            “Stop it, Noodle.” I say. It’s dark, but not so dark. I see that Noodle sleeps with a nightlight. Maybe she is afraid of something.

            “I’m just thinking of lyrics for my song.”

            “Oh, ok. Could you do that quietly?”

            “Why are you here?”

            I lie in silence for a moment. I try to adjust my pillow under my head. Everything feels wrong now. It’s all wrong.

            “I—I don’t know myself.”

            “Oh, okay.”

            “I—I don’t feel like I belong anywhere.”

            “Me neither.”

            “But you have 2-D. And Russel.”

            “And Murdoc.”

            “And Murdoc.” My stomach churns.

            “He isn’t mean to me. I could take him if I needed to.” Even though she’s just a scrawny teenage girl, somehow, I believe that she could. “He raised me…so.”

            “Yeah. I totally get it. I think he cares about you a lot. Just nobody else.”

            “Yeah.”

            “He thought I was coming to take you away.”

            “He does that. I don’t have a legal guardian. But everyone’s scared of me. Technically they kidnapped me. No adoption papers or anything. They just took an eight-year-old and raised her and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

            “Yeah. It’s illegal.”

            “I don’t want anyone to come either.”

            “You like it here?”

            “It’s familiar. And I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m not scared of Murdoc.”

            “I know.”

            “You’re new. I get it.”

            “Yeah. Me too. I really get it.”

            Noodle is quiet for a moment, then she asks, “Do you think anyone would miss me?”

            “What?”

            “If I went away?”

            “Where are you going? I just got here.”

            “I’m thinking out loud, that’s all. I think Murdoc would go crazy if I was gone.”

            “Like he isn’t crazy already—”

            “Semi! Don’t—”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “He’s not crazy. He has issues, Semi.”

            “You act like you’re a goddamn therapist and you know everything.”

            “No,” she replies, “I was just trying to be a good daughter.”

            Yeah, I think, me too. But I don’t say anything. I feel so sick.

            “I care about him. But it sucks. D and Russ don’t deserve it.”

            “I know.”

            “And neither do you.”

            “You heard?”

            “D told me what happened.”

            “Oh.”

            “He said to tell you not to be scared. Said Murdoc was aiming at him. It’s not unusual.”

            “Is all this stressful?”

            “Stop it, Ms. Therapist!” retorts Noodle.

            “Sorry.”

            “Don’t apologize.”

            “I have issues too. I want to find out who I am—my real family.” I briefly recount what my father told me about the Semitruck and the helicopter crash. “I still have the bunny,” I confess.

            “It’s ok. I sleep with the light on. Good chance my family’s dead anyway. Where’s Captain America’s family?”

            “What?”

            “Never mind.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s not like I remember anything.”

            “Me neither. Sometimes I have nightmares about it though. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

            “Yeah. I know what you mean. Like you remember things, but you can’t place it. It’s annoying.”

            It’s more than annoying, but I don’t say anything. I wish I could be chill and take things like Noodle does.

            “I wish I was like you.”

            “Sounds like you are.”

            “No, I mean, like, chill.”

            “I’m not chill.”

            “Yes, you are.”

            “No, I’m not.”

            “You are.”

            “Shut up and go to sleep.”

            “No.”

            “Okay.”

            It’s quiet for a few minutes as I see Noodle playing a game on her cell phone. Tic Tac Toe or something. I hate that.

            “Another draw,” she mumbles.

            “The computers are dumb.”

            “Maybe.” Says Noodle. “I could play Ping Pong.”

            “Have fun.” I never had a cell phone. I couldn’t afford a service plan if I wanted to. I have an MP3 player though, and I always listen to my favorite songs on repeat. My father always played Madonna. I like “Vogue.”

            I can hear Noodle toss the phone aside and get out her flashlight. She seems to be flipping through a magazine now. I wish I had a flashlight with me. Then maybe I could read my Red Dragon book. It’s the third in a series by Kelepsa Krypto, who I’m fairly certain is half space alien. I can’t worry about it too much. She’s a damn good author though. Maybe book four will be out soon.

            “Can’t sleep either?” It’s Noodle again. She’s turned off her flashlight now.

            “Yeah.”

            “It’s really dark. I don’t want to have the lamp on to keep you awake.”

            “It’s ok. Do you want the bottom bunk?”

            “It’s fine, just.”

            “Noodle?” I ask, “Remember how I said to hide from my dad in the mail room?”

            “Yeah. And I only did it because I didn’t want to get you in trouble. I wasn’t afraid of him”

            “You’re not afraid of anything.”

            “Stop it.”

            “Well, I think he tried his best. Really shouldn’t have picked up a kid on the highway.” I sigh.

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Murdoc shouldn’t have excepted mail delivery.”

            “I wish people had to get parenting licenses. It’s sickening.” I have to remember what happened to Tania Schwarzenegger at my old school, with her Uncle. As mean as my father could be and act out, it could always, always be worse.

            “Noodle?” I ask. “Are you scared of the dark?”

            “Let’s try to go to sleep now, ok? I’m going to put some music on.”

            “Something quiet.”

            “Right.”          

            I am awfully tired. “You didn’t answer my question.”

            “Good night.”

            “Ok.” I try to listen to the soothing piano and turn off my thoughts. “Good night.”