Fight Song Chapter 12

Last week on Fight Song, Callie got both a bit of help and a bit of advice from an unexpected source— Starlight herself! This week, she discovers that sometimes, part of what you're looking for is right under your nose . . . and eats bacon, because it's delicious, and honestly, she deserves it. 

As always, if you have thoughts, questions, or critiques, feel free to post them in the comments! I'd love to hear what you have to say!

Chapter 12: Bacon and Revelation

When I woke the next morning, unexpectedly bright sunlight filtered through my window, and my silent alarm clock read 8:47. I blinked at the red numbers, trying to figure out why that seemed off. Then, in a flash of realization, the answer struck me: Sunday! Last worship practice! Should’ve left twenty minutes ago!

I threw off the blanket and launched myself out of bed, only to wince as my cuts and bruises from last night protested my speed. Still, I couldn’t stop. I was late already; maybe if I hurried I could still make it for the last bit of practice . . .

I rushed through a shower, threw on a pair of nice jeans and a sunny yellow blouse, and bundled my wet hair into a bun, one eye trained on the clock. At 9:03 sharp, I stepped out of my room— and that’s when the scent hit me. I’d recognize that symphony of delicious anywhere: bacon, eggs, toast, and cinnamon apples. I hadn’t smelled its like since break— and, wonder of wonders, Uhjin was doing the cooking. Not that Uhjin couldn’t cook, but normally I didn’t see her on Sunday mornings until she got to church.

Uhjin glanced up as she transferred a skillet full of scrambled eggs to the table. “Good morning, Callie! Join me? The eggs are a little brown, but I think they’re ok, and I got the bacon nice and crispy.”

What in the world was going on? “Uhjin, I’m already late— I need to get to church for the last worship practice before the service—”

“No, you don’t.” Uhjin set a plate piled with bacon beside the skillet of eggs. “I called Taylor and told him that you weren’t feeling well and wouldn’t make it to practice this morning— that you might not make it in at all. And he said that’s fine and that you should feel better soon. Come on. Sit.”

“Uhjin— I can’t just not show up—”

“Sit.” Uhjin pointed to our second chair. “I’ve been saving this bacon for a special occasion, and I got up early to cook for you. You are not allowed to let my sacrifices go to waste.”

“Oh, fine. Thank you.” I sat down and waited for Uhjin to do the same. We both bowed our heads in momentary prayer and helped ourselves to breakfast. The food was good, surprisingly so. Usually when Uhjin cooked, it tended towards the exotic and spicy. Still, much as I enjoyed a homemade breakfast, I couldn’t totally relax, not until I knew what Uhjin was up to. There had to be more to this than just her trying to be nice.

Sure enough, just as I was biting into my second slice of bacon, Uhjin dropped her bombshell. “I know what you’ve been doing, Callie.”

I froze, running through my activities of the last few days. What does she know about? My search for Welsh? My powers? Please not my powers. I swallowed hastily. “What? What do you mean?”

“I know what you’ve been doing. You’re trying to hunt down a murderer who no one thinks is a murderer. I’ve seen your files; you keep leaving your computer open when I’m around. And I’ve seen your posts online.”

Not my powers, then. Probably not, anyway. Thank you, God. Still, I groaned.  “I was trying to keep that quiet. Does everyone know what I’ve been doing? I thought I was being careful.”

“Not enough.” Uhjin shook her head. “I’m worried about you, Callie. You’re trying to do something good, but . . . your search is why you came home all beaten up last night, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slowly. “Yeah, it is. I know who did it, and he knows I know, and . . . yeah.” I stared at the half-empty skillet. “So what are you going to do? Tell me I’m crazy? Because I’ve heard that one before. Or tell me to stop? Because I’m not going to. I’ve put too much work into this to give up. And if I don’t fight for this, who will? There are only three people who know who Welsh really is— what he does.”

“Four.” Uhjin’s voice is soft, almost a whisper. “There are four people.”

“No— wait, what?” I looked up, met Uhjin’s eyes. “Uhjin?”

“Four people. There are four people who know what this man— you called him Welsh— can do. Not just three.” Uhjin took a deep breath. “I know you’re not crazy, Callie. Or, if you are, so am I.”

This is not going in the direction I expected at all. All my defensive energy now has nowhere to go, and I’m left staring in confusion. “Uhjin, maybe you should back up. What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m saying is that I’ve seen what this man, Welsh, what he does.” Uhjin picked up a piece of bacon and started breaking it into little pieces. “My sister and I— I was sixteen. She was seventeen. We both worked in our uncle’s store out in California. We were on the closing shift one night, killing time until we could clean up and go home. And then this man walked in, a businessman. He was wearing a suit and a hat and a big fancy ring. I remember that. And he walked like he was in pain. I remember that too. He asked for help finding . . . something, I don’t remember what. So my sister went with him and left me at the register. Then they didn’t come back for too long, and I was scared, so I went to find them.”

Uhjin let the last two crumbles of bacon fall from her fingers over her eggs. She didn’t look at me as she set her hands on her table, fingers curled into fists. “I don’t know how I knew she was dying. Don’t ask me. But I came around the corner and I saw them. Mishil was on the floor, on her knees, gasping. And the man had his hand on her neck and was bending over her, and his ring was . . . it was doing something. It was wrong. He didn’t see me, so I ran back to the counter and called 911. But I couldn’t figure out what to say, and then Mishil came back and looked like she was ok, and so I thought I’d been wrong. I thought I’d been imagining things.”

She paused, her whole body going very, very still. “She died three days later. I was there for that too. Once moment she was walking with me to school. The next moment, she just fell over. Dead. I don’t think anyone but me made the connection, but after that . . . I kept wondering if I could’ve saved her. I even watched the security tapes to make sure I saw what I saw and try to figure out what I could’ve done differently, and I did that over and over again until I couldn’t stand it anymore because it hurt so much. That’s when I started partying, trying to forget— I thought that if I couldn’t fix it, maybe it was better not to remember at all. But I still know what I saw, and I know what happened to my sister. And so I’m not going to tell you to stop doing what I’ve been too cowardly to do. But please, Callie, be careful. And— and if I can help you, if I can do anything, so help me, I will!”

For a moment, all I could do was stare. I’d never seen Uhjin so desperate before. And looking at her, I saw myself, what I could’ve become. The both of us have seen what no one should, and we saw it in a way that makes us doubt if we did see it or if we’re just crazy. But Uhjin lost someone dear to her, while I only lost a coworker— someone I’d grown up with, but so rarely spoke to. Maybe that, well, that and the fact that I had powers and Uhjin didn’t, was why I’d been able to fight back, while Uhjin had been so broken that she’d tried to forget.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said, unsure what else to say. “I’m sorry for what happened to you and your sister. I really am. And thank you, for telling me and taking care of me last night and doing breakfast and for putting up with my secrets. I don’t know how else you can help. I . . . I don’t even know what I’m doing for sure yet. But if I think of something, I’ll tell you.”

Uhjin managed a half smile. “You’re welcome. Thank you for listening. And as far as looking out for you goes, what are roommates for? Anyway, someone has to look out for you. All the heroes in the movies have someone to do it for them. Why not you too?”

Her words suggested what more she might know, and I gave her a wary glance. But she carried on, perfectly innocent. “You’re sure there’s nothing else I can do? You’ve just been collecting evidence or something so far, right? Could I help with that?”

“No. Not really.” I picked up my fork again and shoved my eggs around my plate. “Jonathan and I— Jonathan’s a reporter, he’s helping me out— have just been talking to people, but we’re running low on anyone else who’d know anything. And we need more proof than the confused testimonies of a couple college students and a dying lady and a dozen-odd character witnesses. We need something that can’t be ignored or written off. I just don’t know what. But as soon as I figure out what it is, I’ll let you know. And I guess that if you want to try to think of something like that, that would be nice.”

Uhjin nodded seriously. “I will. And if I come up with anything, I’ll tell you.”

“Thanks.” Despite my initial reservations, I found myself grateful to Uhjin nfor her interference. It was nice to know that someone else had been in the same situation I was, nice to know I wasn’t the only one who’d had to live with those kinds of doubts and fears and sorrows. And it was nice to not have to keep secrets, or not as many, anyway. I still wondered if Uhjin knew, or suspected, something about my powers, but if she did, she kept it quiet and so I just had to trust her.