Love Song

by Jaz Johnson

  “They’re going to be suspended. And based on Song’s testimony, most likely expelled.”

  That put a hold on Marceline’s nerves. At least it wasn’t a tap on the wrist. Marceline was still ready to rant, but noticing the tremble in Song’s body pressed against her made her hesitate. She was suddenly embarrassed.

  That was the first time Song had seen her be that violent – and that wasn’t even violent. There was a chance that it reminded her of what had just happened. Marceline’s shoulders slumped in defeat as she grimaced. At least she had gotten there in time to stop it.

  “And as much as I’m glad you were here to … break this up, I still can’t allow you to stay on campus.”

  “Song, I’m so sorry I was late. My friends were holding me up,” Marceline pleaded with Song as they walked down the streets to get to her house.

  The majority of the walk had been silent, Marceline having to cool down from what she had seen, and Song having to recover.

  Seeing that Song had not tried to respond, Marceline slowed to a stop, making Song do the same, though her eyes remained averted.

  “Song …”

  Song subtly nodded, but couldn’t look up at her. Marceline frowned, stepping in front of her in desperation.

  “Please … Don’t hate me, Song. I wasn’t gonna hurt that girl. I just … I wanted to scare her. I just don’t want them to bother –“

  Marceline was cut off by Song’s sudden embrace. Her arms squeezed around her torso, her face burying into her chest. Marceline froze, caught off by the sudden contact. But her arms wrapped around her nonetheless. She felt Song shaking her head, and was confused for but a moment.

  “You’re … not angry?”

  Again, Song shook her head. Marceline sighed, looking up and resting her chin on top of her head.

  “I’m sorry … I’ll never be late again. They held me up, I just –“

  Song’s head shook again. Marceline paused, her stomach dropping as she interpreted.

  “What?”

  Song didn’t respond. She knew how this was about to look, but she didn’t have the time to explain it, or to argue.

  Marceline moved her hands to grip her shoulders and push her back in order to look at her face, laced with sorrow.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  Song winced, shaking her head again. And though she was slightly confused, Marceline was acutely aware of what was happening. And it was making her body tense by the second, with an overwhelming sense of doom.

  Song made no move to explain herself as she looked into Marceline’s eyes. But before Marceline could get out another word, Song reached up onto the tips of her toes, planted a gentle kiss against Marceline’s lips, and moved to walk around her.

  Marceline didn’t kiss back; she didn’t have time to. Song had moved away just as quickly as she had reached out. And in the next moment, she found herself staring forward with the beginnings of what felt like a gaping hole in her chest. Half a moment more went by before Marceline turned around in panic to see Song turning the corner to the street of her house.

  She ran for her, nearly tripping over herself when turning the corner. But when she reached out to grab her wrist, Song turned around, stopping Marceline in her tracks with nothing but the look in her eyes. Marceline felt her heart crumple at the expression they held. Song’s face was pinched with despair, and her entire being seemed to be saying ‘don’t follow me’.

  Marceline’s hand slowly retracted as Song turned back around to continue towards her house. Marceline could hear her heart pounding in her ears, her breath caught in her throat as the realization set in.

  Not so much as two weeks in to the fragile relationship.

  And Song was breaking up with her.

  “Song?” Marceline called out in a soft whimper. “I’m sorry …”

  But Song didn’t respond. She kept her back turned as she approached the front steps of her home.

  “Song?”

  Song opened the door and stood a second longer, as if letting the reality of what she’d just done sink in. A moment later, the door was closed, and Song was gone.

  Why did Song leave? Was it really because of the bullies, or is there something more? What will Marceline do with her new-found love walking away from her? And more importantly, what will she do to get her back?

  Find out in book 2: Unspoken Lyrics.

  Thanks for reading!

  Visit jazjohnson.weebly.com to see what else I’m writing/doing.

  Enjoy the following previews!

  Unspoken Lyrics (book two) Sneak Peak

  “What’s up, Marc?” Greg asked as he sat down beside her on Todd’s living room sofa.

  Marceline had been aimlessly flipping through channels for the past twelve minutes, and it was getting pretty obvious that she wasn’t all there. So Greg, being the healer of the group, decided to try and find out just where she was. Marceline barely acknowledged him when he sat down, her thumb still pressing away at the remote at a solid pace.

  “You’ve been really quiet lately. And not the stoic quiet that you usually are. But like, sad quiet. Scary quiet.”

  Marceline’s thumb stopped. She didn’t want to have this conversation. The intervention. She knew it was coming. She had done a pretty shitty job of pretending to be okay for the last two weeks, and she knew it was only a matter of time before one or all of them called her out on it. She figured Greg would be the first to try and break the ice.

  “I’m fine,” was Marceline’s blatant lie.

  “Course you are,” scoffed Jess, who snatched the idle remote from Marceline’s hand before plopping into the loveseat sofa to the left of them.

  Marceline glared in Jess’ direction. She was getting pretty fed up with her attitude. It was her fault anyway that she was late in picking up Song. It was essentially her fault that she’d lost her.

  “Did you and your friend have a fight?” came the sudden question from Greg.

  Marceline’s eyes widened at the sudden target of conversation, her head spinning back towards him and thereby giving herself away.

  “What?”

  “That’s it,” Todd scoffed, sitting down in the arm chair to their right with a beer from his fridge.

  Cracking it open, he took a few gulps before wiping his mouth and shaking his head, keeping his attention on the channel Jess had settled on. Marceline grimaced as Greg’s expression switched from curious to compassionate.

  “Is that it? What happened?” Greg asked.

  Marceline cringed. She hated being rude to the sweetheart of the group, but she could have thought of at least one hundred things that she’d rather talk about. One being punching Jess and Todd in the face.

  “Wait,” Jess interrupted. “You mean the only reason you’ve been hanging out with us more is because you’ve been hanging out with her less?”

  “I haven’t been hanging out with her at all,” Marceline snipped in correction.

  “So, I’m right. Lame,” Jess scoffed in annoyance. “I don’t want your pity, Marc. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “At all?” Greg interjected. “What happened? Did you guys get into a fight?”

  “I don’t know,” Marceline sighed with a solemn shake of her head.

  “Who cares?” Todd barked in irritation. “We’ve gone months without talking to each other before, and you didn’t give a shit. Why are you so upset about some random chick?”

  “She got hurt because I was late,” Marceline argued.

  “Oh, boohoo, you couldn’t be Captain Save-A-Hoe. She’ll get over it.”

  Marceline felt heat flare up around her neck as she bolted up from the sofa. Greg jerked back from her sudden movements, looking up at her with wide eyes as she stormed over to Todd and laid an open-palmed slap clean across his face.

  Greg gawked in shock while Jess maneuvered herself out of her comfortable position to spectate. Todd, on the other hand, holding his now free hand to his cheek – his beer having dropped – was
not amused.

  He shot up from his seat to face off, standing almost a head taller. But Marceline didn’t back down. She was ready to tear him apart. And with a stinging cheek, Todd was ready to do the same thing. Greg shot from his seat as well, seeing the look on Todd’s face. Todd was known for not giving a damn when it came to female violence.

  “Todd …” Greg warned cautiously.

  “Marc, what the fuck?!” Jess shouted, obviously just as surprised as the rest of them, though not able to match Greg’s concern.

  “The fuck is with you?” Todd growled, eyes blazing. “What are you, in some kind of lesbo relationship with this girl?”

  Marceline’s hands clenched into fists in silence. That’s in fact what it was, but somehow, hearing it said in such a way irked her. But again, she gave herself away by not immediately answering. Todd gave a harsh laugh.

  “So, that’s it. You’re scissoring this chick.”

  “Oh, gross, Marc,” Jess whined.

  “And what if I am, huh?” Marceline snapped back. “What if I am? You jealous, you piece of shit? You mad because I never hooked up with you?”

  Todd frowned, his brows pinching over his nose as the others’ rose in surprise.

  “You still pissed because I walked out on you and that tiny dick you call an ego?”

  Todd took a threatening step forward and Greg immediately stepped up to pull him back and keep him where he was while Marceline took a step away. He struggled in Greg’s grip as Marceline continued.

  “Stop. Stop!” Greg urged, doing his best to keep him restrained.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what,” Marceline choked, her throat tightening with the threat of tears. “So what if I am? Knowing her for the time that I have, she’s understood me more than any of you have. She’s said more meaningful things to me without a word, than the lot of you have in a decade.”

  Marceline wiped her face of the tears that had fallen, sniffling as she fought to continue.

  “And I love her. Dammit, I love her with everything I am and it’s your fault,” she said, turning her attention to Jess, who inched back in caution. “That I lost her. You people are so blind to see how much I care about her, or you just don’t give enough of a shit to try and work around it like fucking human beings,” Marceline scoffed, wiping her eyes again.

  The group remained silent during her rant, the sheer display of emotion enough to floor them.

  “And I’m talking to the two of you specifically. The both of you never gave a damn and I’m sick of pretending like it’s okay. So if that’s all you’re good for, then stay the fuck out of my life!”

  And with that, Marceline turned around and shot out of the house, leaving the group with the aftermath of her departure.

  Other works by Jaz Johnson

  Saphora vol.1 Retention (Fantasy/Scifi)

  Meet Saphora, the first survivor of a forbidden and powerful breed, and heir to the Kiran throne. During the first Kiran war, she and her guardian (Guardians: A shapeshifting breed, ally to the Athenian race (Athenians: born residence to planet Athena)) are shipped to Earth in her childhood. They hope that she will then have enough time to grow in age and enough power to return and win the impending second war.

  During Saphora’s landing, she is separated from her guardian who is captured as displayed as an eighth wonder as a result, and loses her memory of her home and power. Through a botched ‘normal’ life, and target of a hand-picked assassin from Ares’ army, Saphora desperately tries to remember her past and family through therapy and self-exploration.

  Nearly twelve years later, help is sent from her mother, in dire need to have her return and fight the second war. Bit by bit, Saphora discovers more about herself and her power, her body now developed enough to contain and control it.

  But with great power, comes greater problems. Her therapist, and now the authorities, are no longer convinced that Saphora's case just needs a little more time. Now that she finally has the chance to return home, Saphora must now turn on the only race she's ever known in order to get back to the one she so desperately wants to remember.

  VIRGINS (Humor/ Coming of age)

  Ten women, young and old, are interviewed about their virginity. They're sent a list of questions, and asked to record themselves while answering them. The responses are heart-breaking, heart-warming, and brutally honest. They touch on everything from waiting, to fear, to gender and sexual identity, to just plain not being able to get laid. Take a look at these women's stories, and let them move, inspire, and entertain you.

  Saphora vol.1 Retention Preview

  It was a Saturday evening, atop a winding hill in an old abandoned house. It was pouring and hardly anything was visible in the onslaught of water, which made for the perfect cover up to the crash-landing. Something – someone had landed in this unsuspecting home. Everything was damp. The roof of the kitchen had caved in, the windows were shattered, the tiles were cracked and covered in debris, the cabinets had been crushed, the pipes were bent and leaking water, and all that was left standing was an island marble counter. On top of it, lay the child that came crashing through. Her body lay limp, and her mind was settled in an unconscious state. She was an odd being, what with her pastel mint coloured hair, and her ruby coloured eyes, hidden behind closed eyelids. Her long hair curled slightly around her neck and chin as she breathed long, smooth breaths. But that peaceful slumber would soon be rudely interrupted by a man who had been ordered to bring her back with him – dead or alive.

  Tebias was a man of power. A man of defiance. A man of severity. A man to be reckoned with. He wore an attire of stealth, allowing him to move through the night without a trace, and to be feared by anyone who dared lay unwelcome eyes on him. With each step he took towards the entrance of the kitchen, his thick combat-fitted boot crunched down on scattered debris from the dismembered roof. And with each crunch, it shook the child’s sleeping mind further towards consciousness. It wasn’t long before she began to stir, her body making faint, but noticeable movements as a whimpering groan left her parted lips. With eyebrows pulled together, her eyes slowly fluttered open, the pupils dilating and taking in their new and unknown surroundings. Her dim ruby eyes squinted, as they glanced about while her limbs began to trudge about the counter top, making movements to sit up on the cold, damp marble. Tebias stepped into the doorway of the kitchen as she lifted herself up with weak arms to lay eyes on the man unknown to her. A knowing grin tugged at the corners of his thin lips as he looked over the vulnerable child who looked onto him with wonder and confusion. He took a step towards her, shaking his head in amusement as he took a look around the decrepit room.

  “My word, Saphora. Look at the mess you’ve made…” he mumbled to himself, kicking a wooden plank out of his way. The child flinched and looked down at it as it was moved, before looking back up at him, wondering who he was. He was in fact her hunter – hand chosen. Saphora stayed silent as he continued to grow closer to her, moving with careful and planned actions. He raised an eyebrow, carefully examining her expression.

  “… Why do you not run, I wonder,” he said to her, tilting his head, his slicked back red hair shifting in his ponytail. Saphora moved her head back as he drew closer.

  “Run?” she repeated, obviously not comprehending. With raised eyebrows, Tebias was taken aback by her response, before the grin that had been tugging on his lips finally broke through.

  “Could it be…Do you know who I am?” he asked her as he would a child. She timidly shook her head no. He let out a chuckle and shook his head, giving a glance to the ceiling, before returning to meet her confused eyes.

  “What fun. And tell me. Do you know who you are, child?” he asked her, leaning forward with an extended hand. Her chin lowered at the question, her eyes darting to the side for a brief moment before answering.

  “…I am, Saphora?” she asked, more than answered, having heard Tebias address her as such. He nodded and smiled, looking down at the cracked tile.

&nbs
p; “Indeed you are. And do you know…what you are?” he would question her again. This time her brows pulled together as her lips parted to answer. But nothing came out. She did not know.

  “That’s quite alright. You don’t need to know. Just come with me,” he said, almost demanding it. But Saphora was hesitant, as she should have been. She gently shook her head and began to move back. But the moment that caught the eye of Tebias, his hand slammed down on the counter, making her flinch and yelp, her eyes going wide.

  “Now,” he breathed, his grin fading into a hard line. After swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she sheepishly began to slide forward, but was immediately stopped by an urgent voice ringing in her head.

  “No, Saphora!” it yelled in a whisper, stopping her completely. The woman’s voice rang in her ears as her eyes darted about, while Tebias’ hand gripped the edge of the counter in frustration. His temper was not one to be toyed with.

  “Don’t listen…”

  “Is there a problem?” Tebias asked with a snarl, making Saphora refocus. She wasn’t sure of what to say. She was still trying to figure out what, and who she had just heard, and if she had in fact actually heard it.

  “Move,” Tebias demanded. And once again, Saphora began to move forward. But again, she was stopped by this ringing voice of a woman, strangely familiar to her.

  “You mustn’t go with him, Saphora. Listen,” she echoed into her ears. And then with a grunt, Tebias reached forward, his patience having been worn.

  “Alright then,” he said, going to grab her by the wrist. She gasped as she was yanked forward by it, her face scrunching up in pain and discomfort. She pulled her wrist back, only to have it yanked on again, this time dragging her across the counter-top.

  “No!” she shouted in protest, shaking her head and pulling in resistance again, to no avail. Tebias pulled again, a frown forming on his face as he pulled Saphora onto the floor, and proceeded with dragging her out of the kitchen. Saphora’s bare heels dug into the floor as she desperately tried to use her own weight as an anchor against his force. She clawed at his gloved hand that was tightly secured around her wrist as she was continued to be pulled. And then the voice rang again.