Crazed

Part 1

Part one (2024) Without the hum of the soft rock that this store pumped out daily, my post-school homework sessions would feel incomplete. Although I've never been a huge fan of the genre, it just seems to make my favorite place on earth that much greater. As I fixed my old Seattle Mariners baseball cap over my long brown hair, I thought of today's algebra homework. I felt too lazy to do it, but I knew I had a whole wallet of caffeinated possibilities. As I thought of the many possible ways of procrastination, I opened my phone. As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, I saw some posts with the tag #CaffeineCrazed. And every post under this tag featured at least a Starbucks cup, if not a Starbucks shrine. People were suddenly massively in love with Starbucks, again. I mean, I know it was big from the seventies through the nineties, but this was the twenty-first century. It had been twenty years since anything like this had happened. Was the release of a green tea Frappuccino really that revolutionary? I pondered this as I packed up my stuff and got ready to leave. But before I threw my cup away, something caught my eye. The barista had spelled my name, Hollie. I've heard of a lot of people getting mad because their names had been spelled wrong on Starbucks cups, but really if you're going to get mad about something Starbucks-related, why not get mad about the infamous dark roast that earned them the nickname Charbucks? I continued along this line of thought as I left. I remembered that I had read somewhere that in the 1990s, a Starbucks in Portland, Oregon had been firebombed just weeks before it opened. The conglomerate had learned its lesson years prior and used reinforced glass in all of its locations, so the bomb did little damage and burned up on the pavement. As I walked down the street towards the apartment I shared with my aunt, I thought about other things of minor importance. My aunt knew that I had a low key obsession with Starbucks and that I used it as a quiet place to do homework and other stuff of high priority. But then, It started to rain, and I longed for the cup I had thrown away just a few minutes before. But suddenly, many people started moving in the direction I had just come. I was like a fish swimming upstream. It was becoming increasingly difficult to move in the intended direction, I was vastly outnumbered, so I just didn't fight it. I let myself get swept away. After a minute or two of this, I finally stepped out of the flow. I was about 200 yards from where I first had been. I noticed that there was suddenly a huge line snaking out of the Starbucks I had just been in. I continued to the opposite sidewalk and on to my apartment. Once I finally reached the street, I breathed a sigh of relief. That afternoon had already been crazy enough, I just wanted to lay on top of my bed and read the book I was currently in love with. But of course, it couldn't be that simple. Never. The universe just kind of felt like throwing a wrench at my face as much as possible today. As I walked in, what I saw was completely and utterly expected. Balloons and confetti coated every known surface in the vicinity. Oh yeah, it was my birthday. I had grown to despise this day every year, not because I don't like people giving me free stuff, I loved that part, but because my aunt made such a huge deal of it. I just want to get in, eat my cake, get my free stuff, and get out. Every year this was what I strived for, and yet I never seemed to achieve it. Maybe it was because people thought I was great and amazing, et cetera, et cetera. But just maybe, it was because my aunt was a complete social butterfly and felt the need to flaunt that side of herself whenever possible. It was definitely the latter. She was a good person, loved me with all of her heart and a half, but I kind of think she seriously needs to tone down her social life a few notches. I found a note on the fridge that read the following; Be back soon, just had to pick something up from the office. Present's on the table, pick one to open now, but wait till I'm back for the rest. Leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry. Love, Aunt Mae. I decided to take her up on the offer of presents and walked over to the table. Before me lay an assortment of gifts, all wrapped neatly, until I took a closer look and saw that they were all wrapped in my aunt's favorite invention of all time; Slappy Wrap. It was a type of reusable wrapping paper that worked like a slap bracelet. My mind quickly figured out that I could unwrap everything and re-wrap it, just so I could know what she got me, but I felt like that would be pointless, as I would learn soon enough. I decided to settle on a small pink bag about the size of a medium-sized book. I picked it up and instinctively shook it to get a clue as to what it held. I couldn't hear anything that wasn't muffled by the hideous pink tissue paper. I have never been a pink kind of person. A tomboy, one could say. But I just don't like the color, never have, never will. The present was pretty light, so I couldn't tell much from that. As I began to tear into the present, I suddenly loved my aunt more and more. In it were three things; a Starbucks gift card, a pair of Bluetooth earbuds, and a set of five Mariners' tickets, so I could take my friends to a game. This was a great present for so many reasons. First, the gift card would allow me to obtain more caffeine, because apparently I'm addicted, and not totally loiter in Starbucks every time when I didn't bring my wallet. Second, Bluetooth earbuds would allow me to listen to music without getting dirty looks from random people for walking around with my phone playing loud rock music. And third, my friends would love me for taking them to a game. It was a win-win-win. But I was still concerned with what I had seen outside. What had been wrong with those people flooding in the direction of the Starbucks. There wasn't anything of any interest down that alley beside the Starbucks, so where else could they have been going? I mean, I know there's some guy selling happy leaves on the corner, but he hasn't had that much traffic for as long as I can remember. So people probably moved a notch or two down to the next most widely available drug: caffeine. With that in mind, I still can't answer the question of why it happened. I would bet that half of those people weren't even coffee drinkers, much less Starbucks addicts like myself. But even I'm not in love with it enough to rush down the street at an approximate time every day, well, I am but we don't talk about that. My obsession is low-key, but what those people had, it went way beyond the need for an energy and mood boost. It was freaky. As I thought back to all of the mind control related movies I had watched, I had an epiphany. It sounds crazy, but it just might work. What if Starbucks had been incrementally stuffing their already drug-filled product with way more harmful drugs, thus making a sort of modern-day MKUltra. Project MKUltra was a government-run mind control program implemented by the CIA in the sixties. It was, at times, very illegal, as it used human subjects. At that time, the subjects didn't know anything was happening, thus making it non-consensual, but this would take that to a whole new level.If this was government-sanctioned, it could be a huge scandal. Or it could just be Seattlites being as weird as people give them credit for. That was probably it. But there was still a chance for the former. It was small, but it was there. I needed to clear my head. It was racing faster than a Formula 1 car. I walked into my room and shut the door behind me. If I was going to think, it was going to be in a closed environment without any distractions.I walked over to my desk and picked up a notebook I hadn't yet soiled with the poor excuse I called art. I flipped to the first page and wrote "What I Know" across the top. I was tempted to write the word nothing diagonally down the paper, but I thought better of it. Instead, I drew rough sketches, one might say diagrams, of what I had seen and experienced earlier. Nothing too elaborate, just little stick figure renditions of the "human flood", as I called it, from different angles. As I was about halfway through what I wanted to finish, I realized why I wasn't working as quickly as I knew I could. I needed music. Simple as that, my brain just refused to fire on all cylinders without music. So I got onto my phone, synced it to my speaker, and started playing alternative rock at ear-bleeding levels. As soon as it began to set in, I immediately started working better. I got at least one sketch from every possible angle I could think of, but it still didn't feel like enough. I didn't know what was missing, but I knew something was. I knew it. I knew what was missing. The song that was playing sucked. I got on my phone and looked through my music library. After a few minutes, I finally decided on a playlist I hadn't listened to since when I guessed was before my last birthday. It was loaded with really upbeat songs I used to love that I know found really comforting. This was music I had grown up with, grown up to. I knew that if one thing was going to get me out of my slump, it was going to be this. Just as it seemed to be working, I heard a knock at the front door. I wonder who that could be, I thought sarcastically. I knew who it was. Heck, the whole block knew who it was. It was my aunt, home from her job at the local humane society. She wasn't exactly the quietest human being in the world, actually quite the opposite. I contemplated acting like I wasn't home, or acting like I didn't see her keys on the kitchen counter. I decided that both of those options would land me in No Presents Land for a few days. As my brain made this realization, I bolted to the door. I opened the door just as she texted me to get my ass up. Let's just say, she wasn't as happy as she should have been to see me on my thirteenth birthday. But we don't talk about that. I saw her holding a gift bag in each hand, and one could say I perked up substantially. I welcomed her into her home as if she was the guest and I was the host, not the other way around."I can explain. I was playing the guitar, and then you showed up, and I was finishing the song I was playing." I said as defensively as I felt the need."Why hello to you too, young lady. You're in big trouble." My aunt said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and a British accent, "I don't really care. As long as I'm inside now. But what were you playing? Something new, I assume." That's why I loved my aunt, she was really laid back and chill, and she supported my dreams and aspirations, which currently had me playing electric guitar. "Your assumption would be correct. 'The end of the game' by Weezer. It's a challenge, but it's a fun song." "Didn't the album come out, like, four years ago? It seems too old for you to be playing." Again with the sarcasm."Oh, shut up," I said, playfully, as I lightly punched her in the arm. Mae thought that I had some defect that meant I couldn't play a song that hadn't come out in the last year. Don't ask me why, because it truly was a mystery. Not larger than the one I was currently trying to unravel, but close. "It's a good song, I used to love it, but still, why?" She said as she set the presents down on the table. I tried to speak but she wouldn't let me, "Anyway, are you start opening these presents, or are we just gonna let them collect dust on our dining room table?" "I would like to open them, if that's cool with you," I said, trying to hide my excitement. She then motioned for me to have at it. I gave her a thumbs-up as I grabbed for a present. It turned out to be a stack of books for learning guitar, all based around different rock bands I know and love. "Ohmygod thank you so much!" I said with more enthusiasm than I think I have used in the past month."You're very welcome. I know you are interested in your hobby, and now I'm invested, so if this doesn't pan out, we're both screwed." Mae said as I let out a laugh. "What? I'm serious." she said, barely keeping a straight face. The next present I picked up was a few mystery books I had been wanting for a while. Most of the other presents were nothing out of the ordinary, just some socks in a Pop-Tarts box, stuff like that. But the final two presents were what I was really excited about. The first was a vinyl record player, which I was extremely happy about. And the second, well, it went like this.The record player was the last physical present, but Aunt Mae assured me there was more. She told me that she had scored six tickets to Weezer's Final Farewell Tour's last stop at Green Lake Park in a month's time. Upon hearing this, I screamed with joy. I knew exactly who was their opener for that show, and I was overjoyed. It was The Band CAMINO, a rock band that I was absolutely in love with. This all seemed too good to be true. Perfect, even. It made me wonder what the catch was. "What's the catch?" I said, a little too suspiciously. Almost like everything good I had experienced today had all been a dream. Man, it would really suck if this was all a dream. I don't think I would be able to live with myself if everything that was now happening all went away with the dawn of tomorrow. "I knew you would think something was up." Mae said, almost like it had been prophesied, "Look, there is one small catch. But we'll both come out on top if you make the right decision. So, y'know the little pink bag, the one I assume you opened before I got here?" I nodded as she put on a semi serious face, "Well, the catch is, you need to make a choice. You can take your friends to the Mariner's game, or you can take them, and me, to the Weezer concert. It's your call." "Can I think it over?" I just needed time to process this. This was a pretty big decision, and I didn't want to make the wrong choice. "Yeah, definitely. But I need to know sooner rather than later." She said, hesitation in her voice."Uh, thanks." I said, my voice rivaling her level of hesitation. After that experience, I ran over to my room. I actually had been learning that song, and it was pretty fun to play. Granted I wasn't the best, far from it, actually, but I still loved to play it. I loved my guitar in general. It was a replica of the lead singer of Weezer's guitar, a modded Sonic Blue Fender Stratocaster with a black pickguard and non-stock pickups. It also has a custom lightning bolt strap. The sad thing was that it was Chinese made, and it played like crap. It truly was my prized possession. It costs about two thousand dollars, and is the most expensive thing I own. And I love it with all of my heart and a half. It's the one thing that goes with me wherever I go, whichever next of kin CPS decides to send me to next. I find it sort of comforting knowing that even though both my parents died in a car crash about 5 years ago, I know that I will always have Rivers. Yes, I named my guitar. It's not as abnormal as you would think, lots of musicians do it. Granted, since it is a near exact replica of Rivers Cuomo's guitar, I might be a bit biased when it comes to the realm of names, but still. I keep thinking about this as I sit down on my bed with my guitar. I know it's tuned, so I'm forced to walk ten feet to pick up my amp. Have you ever felt that feeling where even the smallest amount of physical activity feels like a marathon, even if it is a marathon? I suffer through the altogether twenty foot journey from bed to desk and back, and start messing with my guitar. I pull out the music books I just received and look through them. I settle on one full of My Chemical Romance songs, and start playing. I start out playing some of my favorite riffs, then I venture into trying full songs. I play like this for about an hour before Mae knocks on the door. She asks me where I want to go for my birthday dinner, and I shrug. I say I don't care and that wherever she wants to go is fine. We end up going out for pizza. After we're finished, we go out to her car and start driving. I'm about to ask where we're going when she sees the confused look on my face and starts to speak."I thought that you might want some more records for your new record player." She explains, quite dully, "But we don't have to if you don't want to." she quickly adds."I kind of just want to get home," I say, kind of fidgety,"I have a project I need to work on." I have no project. Well, not from school, at least. But my project is of utmost importance, more than any school project would be."Oh, that's okay, I guess." She says, sounding sort of defeated. We make it home without any more conversation, which is more than fine with me. As soon as we pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex, I jump out and bolt to the door. I don't know why my body decided to do this, but it did. "You seem eager to get to work." Mae said, as she climbed out of the car and locked it."No comment," I said over my shoulder. My aunt was right, I was almost never this eager about projects, and usually if it was school related, forget it. It's probably going to get done in the next week-ish. Those were the rules I had learned to live by, mostly. Don't get over-involved, and the project won't over-involve you. As soon as she opened the door, I was practically in my room. I was tempted to start messing with Rivers, but I knew this was more important. I grabbed the notebook and threw myself into my desk chair. I grabbed a freshly sharpened pencil and started making the sketches more and more elaborate (adding more detail, adding extra variables, color, et cetera). I worked at doing this for about twenty minutes until Mae came to say goodnight.After she left, I decided that I had worked enough for one day, and started to play Rivers. I tried to play "The End Of The Game" a few times, but my mind just wasn't in it. My heart was, but that wasn't the problem. I was just too preoccupied with what the literal h-e-double toothpicks was going on. The event was too streamlined to be a coincidence. But what other viable option was there? Mind control? That was physically impossible, even with science advancing at the rate it currently was. A cure-all "wonder drug" came out three years ago, but that only cures birth and self-inflicted disorders. This was something else. Something, planned. It couldn't have been any other way. How many people are just suddenly going to say that at, like, five in the afternoon, that they want their coffee, and they want it now? Part Two In the morning, I called my friend group and briefed them on the situation. They thought I was crazy. Frankly, I thought I was crazy. But I knew what I saw, and I knew it was weird. Naturally, they had more questions than I had answers. We decided to meet up at a small coffee shop pretty close to all of our houses. The untold truth was that I was scared about revisiting the scene of the crime. We all knew it, I just didn't want to admit it. I'm not the kind of person to come out and say that I'm wrong right off the bat, I take some finessing. At about noon, I hopped on my bike and headed to the address. I've never been there, but with all the speed modifications I added to my bike, I should be there in about fifteen minutes, tops. Cruising along at close to seventy miles per hour, I was there in ten minutes, GPS on, of course. I also equipped a "bubble", which is basically a 360-degree windshield that's closed off at the top. Though it added wind-resistance, thus slowing me down, it saved me a lot of energy by allowing me to focus on the road in front of me, not hopping seven lanes over to get behind a car. Once I arrived, I parked my bike in front of the shop and headed inside. I scanned the shop, looking for a familiar face. I came up empty, so I grabbed a table and waited. A customer walked in about every three to five minutes, I watched every single one until I my eyes came upon one I knew. I recognized Chlo's face almost immediately and stood up to call attention to myself, which isn't really something I excel at. Proving my point, I stood up and nearly fell back down, forgetting that I had both feet on the table leg. Once I regained my balance, posture, and dignity, I decided to call over to her. But she saw me first. As she was walking over, I pulled out a chair next to where I had been sitting. "Hey," She said like social interaction was effortless. I mean, it probably was for her. Chlo just seems to float above everything and everyone else in the room. Sort of a music on, world off kind of vibe. I knew her taste in music could do that to a person. Most of it was this kind of surf, pop, electric mess she listened to more than she actually listened to the people around her talk. Thankfully, there were no earbuds insight. "Hey" I responded, not even close to her aura of cool. It was like when you went to see a band perform, and you thought it was amazing, then you went and saw a cover band of said band, and it gave the appearance of sucking. "What's up?" I added, trying to get her talking before the others arrived. "Nothin' much, just the usual. Y'know, really creepy situations; like hundreds of people suddenly yeeting on over to the nearest Starbucks establishment for their daily cup o' coffee, at, like, four in the afternoon." After she said this, a foolish grin swept across her face and seemed to extend into her long blonde hair. "Wait, what do you mean, nearest? I thought it only happened where I was." I said, truly confused. "I'll tell you when the others get here." She said, getting a small, two-ring binder out of the tiny backpack she had been wearing. I shrugged and asked if she wanted a coffee."Medium hot chocolate would be great. Here, let me give you some cash." "No, it's all good. I can cover it," I said over my shoulder as I turned away and headed to the counter. I ended up getting the same as Chlo, and it cost more than it should have. I walked away from the counter with two of the most expensive cups of I don't even know what that I had ever purchased. And that was saying a lot, considering I had bought some pretty stupid expensive stuff over the years. Emphasis on the stupid. Including a giant stuffed bear named Finn. Whilst I was getting the notebook out, Connor and Sander walked through the door. I always questioned why, whenever we met up, they both walked in the door together. Always, and without fail. It was kind of concerning. Especially when I saw the twinkle in Sander's eyes. Don't get me wrong, I was totally for whatever they wanted to do with their young lives. I wasn't one for judgement. It was just kind of startling. Once they sat down next to each other on the other side of the table, Britt walked through the door. She sat at the end, and I officially started to debrief them on the situation. I mentioned everything I had texted them earlier, and the little that Chlo had told me before they arrived. Once again, there were questions, but they seemed more manageable now that I was surrounded by familiarity. They questioned me like that for about ten or fifteen minutes before they realized that we were in a coffee shop and got up to obtain caffeine. Once they were back, I asked each person if they had anything to add to the conversation, or lecture, or whatever this had become. It turns out that question shouldn't have been asked. Another ten minutes went by with people scrabbling around, grabbing for the notebook. It was a special kind of chaos, the kind that only we could create. After that, we decided to meet again at the same place sometime next week. Everyone passed around the notebook, and all made one more contribution. With that, I headed out and rode home. When I got back, I let myself in and discovered the Mae wasn't currently inhabiting the premises. I decided that I had nothing better to do and tried to do something different. I tried to play the kind of music Chlo likes on Rivers. It turned out quite badly. But, y'know, it was bound to happen. After all, it was my first time playing the freakin' genre. I decided that I needed a Hallmark movie, so walked into the living room and flopped onto the couch. I turned on the television and put Hallmark channel on. It was some crappy Christmas movie that that one actress that seems to be in all Hallmark movies was in, I kind of had to expect that, but I was still surprised that they hadn't been running Christmas movies earlier. It was April, for gosh sake. Granted, it normally happened around March-ish. Over the years, they had proceeded to run them earlier and earlier. In 2020, they started in September, 2021 in August, so on and so forth. My theory is that they are trying to revive the "holiday spirit" into a country that celebrates more for the gifts and food, rather than religious purposes. After all, there's probably a reason Mae calls it the "Christmas Spirits". A few hours and a few too many movies later, Aunt Mae knocked on the door. I walked over to let her in and what I saw scared me from here to Tucson. At the door, there appeared to be two men in black suits and blacked-out sunglasses. The sort of thing you would see in Men In Black, not in a residential apartment complex near downtown Seattle. I gotta say, the baggy sweatpants and Pearl Jam shirt wasn't an appealing look. But nonetheless, it was the one I was currently rocking."Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you a few questions." One of them said, the one on the left, I think."Do you mind if we step inside?" the same one asked. Before I could answer anything, they plowed through me and into the living room. I was suddenly embarrassed by what they saw in the form of the Hallmark movie that was currently on the tv and surround sound. "Where were you one week ago today?" the one on the right, the one who hadn't said anything yet, asked. It was more of a demand than anything. Just flat out, 'where were you?', not asking like they wanted to have a leisurely chat over coffee and Biscoff. To some, this may have been a bad omen, to me it was just like any other Tuesday in mid-April. Some don't understand my sense of humor. They say that it's "convoluted" and "twisted". I find their remarks to be somewhat contradictory. This is America. Even though our freedom of speech was demolished two years ago with the rise of the Soviet Union, (whose official animal was now a phoenix I might add, It is quite cool), we could still say most of whatever we wanted about our politics, just not the Russian's. I guess that's why "Russian Reversal" jokes were outlawed. And Russian roulette was a thing now. It was now the national sport of Cambodia, which I will admit, was a bit scary in itself. It's probably why their population has dropped dramatically. But on to a subject something that won't give me nightmares. Probably.Considering the previous facts, I was extremely surprised to get simultaneous texts from Connor and Sander, both containing the same picture and sentence. The picture was of them hugging and the caption was "Yeah, so something kind of happened after you left..."Don't get me wrong, I was happy for whatever they wanted to be, although the fad wore off about four years back. People still did it, were gay, I mean, but not as openly and definitely not as spontaneously. I thought about that as I returned to the "MIB". If they were an item, what would that do to our friend group? It would probably blast it into total oblivion. Like, nonrecoverable, that sort of thing. Speaking of blasting into total oblivion, I saw something the other day that scares the ever-loving crap out of me. About four years ago, SpaceX launched a Tesla CyberTruck onto the surface of Mars. Two years before that, they launched a Tesla Roadster into space with a mannequin in it. It seems like you couldn't get stupider than that, but they achieved it. They stuffed the CyberTruck's bed full of the little three eyed aliens from Toy Story. Enough said. But anyway, back to the thing. It was another account of weird happenings around a Starbucks. I saw it on the news. So, there was this guy, he walked into a Starbucks at, like, noon and asked for a tall dark roast. Nothing too unusual there. But what happened after was what was really surprising. He walked away, and up to his wife, I assume, and took a sip of his coffee. Again, nothing surprising. But then, he proceeded to pour a sip from the cup INTO his wife's mouth. Almost like regurgitation, without the mama bird. I saw it and immediately called for an earlier meeting. This wasn't anything too serious, but it could get worse. Shortly after seeing this, I called for the meeting, and never followed up. A week or two passed, and nothing happened. And then, something massive struck everyone in the city by surprise, and devastated many. One man had drank a cup of Starbucks dark roast, and committed suicide. He had gone into his local Starbucks at about three-thirty in the afternoon, and at four-fifteen, he had done something that scared the city more than anything that had ever happened to this great city. This was a sort of Seattle-style, Atlanta bombings. That man had contracted something now known as Kurt Cobain disease. Doctors believe that was what had caused him to take his own life. And almost everyone believed that it had something to do with Starbucks. Doctors also knew that this was likely to be contagious. Not contagious in the conventional flu-like way, but something much more sinister. The conglomerate was yet to respond to this recent event, and for good reason. They knew that if they responded, and glorified this situation, that they would be so far past shut down that they would all be living in their mom's basements. They were screwed. But something else caught my eye. None of these newscasts were pointing any fingers at Starbucks. Not one. I personally found that just a bit suspicious. I knew that I had the means and the validity to make a mockery of this corrupt, see all evil, speak all evil, do all evil, wasteland that was Seattle. I got on my bike, rode over to Chlo's house and knocked on her door. "What the h-e-double toothpicks are you doing here?" she said, half asleep and gaining. Whatever I needed to say, I needed to say fast. "Major break in the case. You need to get your butt onto my bike. I'll explain when we get there." I said, as urgently as I could manage. "Fine." She responded, obviously ticked. And just like that, she emerged two minutes later, in black jeans and a daphne blue t-shirt. Love that. It's a reference to my favorite song, 'Daphne Blue' by "The Band CAMINO". She knew that. How could she not? It would have to be a pretty big coincidence. Which I doubted it was. "What's with the outfit?" I said, just confirming this whole scenario. "This whole thing's got me off track, got me thinking abstract. Just seemed like the perfect outfit. Am I right, or am I right?" "That's fair. I just didn't think you liked my taste in music." I shot back, lamely. It just puts me in that spot where your best friend quotes your favorite song, and you have no clue what to say, so you just come up with some lame response that doesn't add or detract from the conversation. It just kind of induces this sort of awkward silence you can only break with a joke. But this subject was not a joking matter. Quite the opposite, actually, We hopped on my bike and I drove us out to our favorite spot in the city. It's in a park with a lot of natural beauty, and it's even more beautiful at night. It seemed like the perfect setting to propose to someone. I made a note of that, just in case I got lucky in the next few years. When we got off, I walked off towards a nearby park bench and sat down. Chlo followed my lead. "What would you say, if I said that we could break this case wide open, solve it, and put millions of people at ease?" I asked her, genuinely wondering. If we could solve this case, everyone's lives would be better. Not just those immediately affected. We could make this world better for those who squirm in their chairs at the sight of TV violence. We just might be able to make this world a better place for those who don't have much longer to enjoy all the wonders this life provided them with. What if we could let those who were grieving just hold onto that one little glimmer of hope? Would that be all that bad? "I would say let's frickin' do it!" She responded. I knew she fathomed what effect this could have on our world. Just a few months ago, Chlo lost her aunt to cancer. I can't even begin to imagine the pain she felt. Still feels.I read somewhere that those kinds of things never leave you. They just kind of hang around your body like spirits in an old house. They never fully leave, just move to different areas. "That's all I needed to hear," I said, extremely hard to contain the smile on my face. As we rode back to Chlo's house, I was beaming so much that we almost didn't need headlights. After I dropped her off, I headed back home. It was nearly midnight by now, and Mae was probably wondering where I was. But when I got home, she was nowhere to be found. It seemed weird, but who was I to judge a social life by their human? I walked into my room and fell onto my bed. I slept for about thirteen hours, waking up at about 12:55. When I woke up, Mae was in the living room and all was good. I decided to call for the meeting to occur today, because, if we were right about everything that was happening, then we needed to break this as soon as humanly possible. We met at the same coffee shop, but had a much greater outcome. We decided to go out to the scene of the crime, and see what had developed. Not much, we soon learned. The storefront was blocked off with duct tape. I kid you not. There were thousands of rolls put into it, just covering the entire front. It couldn't have been legal. It probably wasn't. I would bet that it was vandalism, but who was I to judge. Once we got over the shock of seeing more duct tape than Wal-Mart could supply, we attempted to regroup and get to work. It didn't go as well as it could have. I gave the rest of the group the spiel I had given Chlo the night before, and they responded well to it. Let's just say, half of us wanted to beat them into the ground, and the other half wanted world peace and crap like that. Once the other half came to the realization that world peace was so far gone that it had moved on to another world by now, they happily joined our side. Proving once again that vengeance and violence were always the right solutions. We devised a plan of attack that would have made even the greatest foreign war strategists proud. I would find Howard Schultz's phone number, call him, pose as a journalist, and ask him about the current situation, and what it was going to do to Starbucks as a company. My guess is that he calls my bluff, and gives me false information. Because that's the only logical thing for him to do. But, let's just say he doesn't. Let's say that he gives me all true info, and enough to, say, land him in jail. If he puts his lifeline in the hands of a thirteen-year-old girl, then what do I do? I might be able to turn him in, but the main goal is to gain enough information to turn over to the authorities and see Shultz go down. It's only logical, right? I can't even begin to imagine the effect this will have on the world. We might be honored as heroes, we might be shunned as villains. It's a fifty-fifty chance. Either way, we would be making this world a better place. Despite what the general public would think. Taking that into consideration, we were ready to put the plan into motion. We didn't have anything else planned out, but we semi-knew what to expect. We would most likely get turned away by Schultz. Let's say, theoretically, that Starbucks has nothing to do with this. He'll probably take offense to it, call us 'meddling kids', tell us to get the heck away from him, never call him again, and we would be back to square one. But, maybe, just maybe, the universe was looking out for us. If the stars align, we catch him, bye-bye Starbucks.And despite what everyone wants to think, the world will become a better place without it. It's competitors will still be there. And they have cult followings. But Starbucks' fans won't just switch cults. It's just not gonna happen. Can you say caffeine withdrawal? This story is going to be big. We won't remain anonymous for long. We can uphold that fantasy for as long as we want, but it will be just that; a fantasy. But with this whole situation on the brink of exposure, anonymity was the least of our problems. We found Howard Schultz's number on Starbucks' website, and we plan to call him later today. Oh god, I'm so nervous. I am not the person you would want in this scenario. I'm not social, good with people, or anything else you would expect someone in this position to be. I was, dare I say, the wrong person for the job. But everyone was counting on me. I couldn't buckle now. I would be turned into an outcast, which I definitely don't want. Surprising, I know. I just realized something that made me smile, and I texted the group, to ask if they were free on Friday. Yeah, so, the thing that I remembered was the concert. I was really hyped, and I couldn't wait. My friends responded almost immediately. They all wanted to go. I can't stress nearly how excited I am. Let's just say, the meter is up there pretty far. But back to the matter at hand. We would call Schultz and play it from there. I know, it isn't much. But the best thing about something being as non-complex as possible, is that it will work well. Mostly because there are less things to screw up, but let's not take away from the success, however small it was. I still don't understand why I was chosen for this job, granted I had figured this all out, and it was probably only fair that I broke it. That doesn't mean I wanted to, but rather that I had to.Have your parents or an adult in your life ever asked you to be a "role model"? Maybe to a younger cousin or sibling? That feeling was basically what I was feeling. But on a much greater scale. Not gonna lie, it was slightly intimidating. But if I was going to be a role model, I was going to be the best one I could humanly be. And let's take into consideration, I'm not doing this for the glory, I'm doing this because I actually think this is my calling. I believe helping people is what I excel at, and what I love to do. Whatever that help presents itself as. Maybe it's music, maybe it turns out to be derailing a mind control pyramid scheme. Whatever it is, I will always be ready to help. The concert was in two days, and my goal was for it to be a victory celebration. Our plan could go horribly wrong, or it could work to perfection. It was a fine line. I watched the clock until it was finally time for the call. I called the group five minutes before to get a confidence boost and not weasel out now. They all said that I would do great, not screw up, et cetera, et cetera. Y'know, the usual, you're about to do the most important thing of your young life. But beneath these false layers of confidence and happiness, I knew we were all hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. But what could I do? Tell them that I could guarantee that I wouldn't mess up. We all knew it was quite a possibility. When the time came, I said goodbye to my comrades, all of them wishing me the best of luck, Chlo asking to meet her at 'the Spot' later. I hung up, and found Schultz's number and started to dial it. Someone picked up after the first ring. "Hello?" A deep, confused sounding male voice said from the other end. I had no reason to believe this wasn't him. But then again, I had no reason to believe it was. "Hi, uh, my name is Holly Taylor, and I'm doing an editorial for the Seattle Rain. I was wondering if I could conduct an interview on Howard Schultz. It'll just take a few minutes. Do you think you could point me in his direction?" I said, careful not to tread too far. "This is him, but please make it quick. I have a meeting I need to make." He responded, more openly than before. I felt like Jeff Daniels from Dumb and Dumber, saying 'So you say there's a chance!'. I honestly didn't think we would get this far. But now it's time for me to do what I do best; improvise."Does Starbucks have any response to what has recently happened concerning your Seattle locations?" I asked, having more confidence than previously intended. But I think it worked."Yes, actually. We believe that the press should get their nosy little butts out of our business." He said, quite smugly. It seemed like he was just trying to take shots at my cover. I would bet money that he was skeptical of this whole situation. "Can you elaborate any further? It's not like you can lose your job at the company you own." Not legally, he can't. Elaborate or get fired. Either or, probably both. I knew the drill."Like I said, meeting. I can answer that question off the record if we meet in person. I'll have my assistant be in touch. I will see you when I see you, say, tomorrow? Are you free around noon?" He asked, generally wanting to help, I assumed. "Tomorrow's good. And I can go off the record if need be. I can text you some coordinates for us to meet. It's not going to be in a dark alleyway, I promise." I said, both of us poorly hiding a chuckle. "Alright. That sounds good. I'll see you there, Holly." I was a bit worried though. I planned to send him the coordinates for the coffee shop, my friends and I had been meeting at. It was kind of a sketchy part of town. Eh, what was I worried about? He would have security detail, Probably."Alright. Thank you for your time." I said, genuinely meaning it. He was posing as a huge help. I just hoped he meant well. Part three When I got to the location, sure enough, he was waiting outside on the pavement, looking worried. Probably assuming he got stood up. I honestly can't blame him, I wouldn't exactly trust half the people my age that I know, let alone a total stranger. But once I walked up, the look disappeared from his face, quickly replaced with a look of relief. "I legitimately thought you were either catfishing me, or prank calling me. Both of which happen a lot." He said, with a laugh. I had a feeling he was going to be a big help. "I'm not that advanced," I respond, with a light chuckle. And with that, we headed inside. I found a table and sat down. He soon followed suit, and we got down to business. I spent about an hour interviewing him, I had enough information to definitely lock him up. I thanked him and headed home. I called my friends and told them most of the information. Chlo called the actual Seattle Rain, and we got a reporter scheduled to break the story. I met up with the reporter, her name was Jennifer, and she seemed nice enough. I gave her the information, and she wrote it all down. After about an hour, Jen called me back with a rough draft. I okayed it, and she began work on the final. She finished in about two hours, and I told her to publish. The article went viral and got huge recognition. And the best part was that it gave us full credit. An hour after the story launched, we were there to see Schultz get taken away. I felt oddly proud, but not satisfied. I knew something was wrong, I just couldn't put my finger on it. The concert was later that day, and it was serving as a victory celebration. But had we really won? To half the world, we were their saving grace. To the other, we were satanic. It really depends on what you subjectively believe to be right. There are those who are willing to turn a blind eye to the issue, and the others who just go about their lives, not caring enough to act. Some may call it cowardice, I prefer to call it laziness. I believe that one of the reasons that our story will live on is the fact that we never gave up. Faced with hardship, faced with wrenches thrown directly at our foreheads by the universe, we never wavered. As we went to the concert, I finally figured out what was missing: a definite explanation. We had been told that Starbucks was planning on going world-wide with this project. They were calling it (Reach for the Stars), which, I might add, is extremely tacky. Basically, for those of you who haven't been able to follow our story, Starbucks is evil, you can't trust anyone, and, most important, exactly forty-seven percent of the world hates us, and the other fifty-three praises us. When he was arrested, Howard Schultz was charged with several life sentences. Two for mass genocide, one for harassment, because apparently, that's a thing, and two for resisting three life sentences which, I might add, had definite evidence. Lots. Of. Evidence. When we got to the concert, It was packed, as you would expect. But there was something else. Something that was making me happy. Which, I hate to admit, was something that was in high demand, and low in stock. I was wearing my Weezer Raditude shirt, which has a doggo on it. It is quite great. Chlo was wearing her usual, black jeans and a daphne blue t-shirt. And we had front row seats. About a half-hour into the show, Rivers proposed to the crowd that he was going to bring someone up on stage to play the final song, The End Of The Game. But after that, he refused to elaborate. Two songs before, he scanned the crowd and picked someone. And this is where it gets interesting. He initially picked someone a few rows back, but oddly, they refused. He then scanned again, and you'll never guess who he picked; ME! My happiness skyrocketed from that point on. I came up after the next song, Say It Ain't So, and was almost overwhelmed. I had so many feelings going on at one time, it felt like too much to take in. But alas, when the time came, he asked me if I knew how to play guitar. After I told him that I had been practicing this song for months, HE HANDED ME HIS GUITAR. A beautiful, sonic blue Warmoth Stratocaster. "Well, let's play, then," He looked into my eyes and said. I was floating on cloud nine. "Alright, let's do this," I replied, trying to contain my excitement. Weezer hadn't done one of their trademarked "Hootenanny" shows for at least a decade, and this was extremely special. He cued the drummer, and just like that, we started with the opening riff. His Warmoth felt amazing to play, just like the brand claimed, it was the best instrument I had ever played. We played the song as a duet, he picked up another guitar somewhere along the way, and it was amazing. I can't compare anything to it, because nothing can compare. It was like my birthday, Christmas, and some other holiday wrapped up into one day in the middle of springtime. After we played the song, I thanked Rivers and tried to exit the stage. "Hey, kid. I never got your name." He said, behind my back. I quickly turned around and answered. "It's Holly, Holly Taylor," I said kind of surprised this was happening. "Well, Holly. What's your birthday?" he asked, sounding curious. "Uh, it was a week ago. Why?" I asked, a slight stutter appearing in my voice. "Can you come here for a second? I think the band and I would like to give you a present," My adrenaline was pumping. I was really excited about whatever it could be. I walked towards him until I was about a yard away." We would like to present to you, Holly Taylor, a gift, from us, from me. As you all know, this is our last show," Rivers said over an entire crowd of people booing," We are planning on selling most of our equipment on Reverb. And the stuff we're not selling is being kept by either us, or mega-fans like yourself. And the one thing that I cannot bear to see go into the wrong hands is what I will present to you. After playing with you tonight, I know that you will treat her well, and love her." As he finished his speech, he picked up his guitar from the rack behind him and told me to hold out my hands. "Holly, I would be honored to bestow upon you, my pride and joy. My baby, Sonic." As he said this into his mic, he placed the guitar into my hands. "Go ahead, play her some more." He said, the joy apparent in his voice almost rivaled mine. I went ahead and played some rock riffs to the applause of the crowd. He disappeared backstage for a minute and reappeared with a Fender hard-shell strat case. The only thing odd about it was that it was completely covered in gig date stickers. All Weezer. I would assume that almost every show had a sticker on it. "Sir, thank you so much," I said, trying to choke back tears. I was unsuccessful. "I honestly cannot thank you enough. Are you definitely sure that you want to part with it?" I asked, wondering if this was all some sort of cruel joke. "First of all, please don't call me sir. Call me Rivers, that's what all my friends call me, why should a stranger be any different? Second of all, I'm not completely sure, but if I have second thoughts later down the road, at least I'll know it's in a good home. Please love and take care of her, I need you to promise that you will, or else I'll have to pass it on." He said, serious again. "I can promise you with all of my heart and a half that she will be in great hands," I say, not even trying to hold back the tears. At this point, they were just cascading down my face at glacial paces. "Thank you, now come here. I hate to see people cry, especially because of something I did," He said, as he wrapped me in a huge hug. The entire crowd cheered. This truly was the very best ending to a fairy tale story like no other. Well, I hope you enjoyed my story. Now all that is left is to ride off into the sunset, right? Wrong. Although my story may be over with a happy ending, I can assure you that not everything ended up sunshine and rainbows. Not all stories end up like Hollywood makes them out to be. But that's a story for another day. Now all that's left to do is play it out with a totally fitting song. Y'know, one that fits the situation so well that it almost seems fake? Well, this story won't end in that fashion, but my own will. I found out that Starbucks implemented mind-controlling drugs into their coffee, thus creating Kurt Cobain disease. None of those people were acting upon their own free will. They were all controlled by one master computer at the company's headquarters. Seattle was the beta test. And we can only begin to imagine what could have happened had it made it into the alpha phase.