| It Takes One to Know One By Jemmiah |
| All was tense and doom-laden in the Digwurt household. The lounge played host to three figures suitably lost in their own thoughts, each person seated at opposite ends of the room with about as much space between themselves as was humanly possible. Occasionally the pensive mood was broken by the drumming of fingers against the arm of a chair, or by the restless shuffling of feet being crossed and re-crossed over each other. Every so often one - or all - of the persons would cast their eyes towards the gilt edged chrono that adorned the less-than-tastefully decorated room. It was turning into one of the longest hours of Sophie Digwurt's life. "Shall I instruct the droids to prep the food unit?" The uncomfortable looking Melita Digwurt asked, playing absently with the gold chain around her neck, running an extended finger round and round the links. Her efforts to get her husband to contribute to the conversation were greeted with a grunt, which could have been either positive or negative, and as for Sophie - well, she had other things on her mind. Melita's freckled skin creased distastefully around the eyes at the lack of response from both husband and daughter. It seemed as if the waiting was getting to all of them. Sophie, with her dark hair and solid build favored her father, Secretary Jared Digwurt: a man who worked in the service of the controversial Senator Rembard. If Jared and Sophie shared one other characteristic it was an overriding propensity to take instant dislikes to places, objects - and people. Stubborn, and believing himself to be perhaps a touch more important than his job allowed, Jared would voice his opinions to anyone and everyone who happened to be nearby. And boy, did some of those viewpoints sting! As a chief member of Rembard's staff, Jared Digwurt liked to think he reflected the views of his employer. Slavery, taxes, the criteria that should go towards allowing planets to seek to join the Republic…all of the central policies debated and reviewed by Valorum and the senate had come in for a verbal tongue-lashing from Rembard. Typically, Jared Digwurt had not been far behind in reiterating those sentiments. The latest and most controversial topic had been Corellia and especially its inhabitants. Rembard and Digwurt both hated them: and it seemed that Sophie had spent a similar amount of time listening to her father's viewpoints if the unfortunate 'incident' (as Sophie had described it) had anything to do with it. Melita looked over at her sullen-faced daughter and shuddered. Sometimes she wondered if there was anything recognizable of herself in Sophie, other than the freckles on the girls' face. "Nerf cutlets sound okay?" Melita ventured, again trying to get the aborted conversation restarted. Jared glared up at the chrono. "We should have been at Senator Rembard's reception by now." He turned his heated stare upon his daughter before adding, "We would have been, had it not been for a certain person in this room." The disgraced Sophie gave a twisted grimace and then looked away. "I can't believe that we're stuck in here waiting on the school's decision whether to keep her on or not." Jared ran his fingers through the velvet surface of the chair covering, leaving furrows against the pile of the fabric. "I don't see what the problem is…" "Our daughter," Melita's voice soared up to the clouds, scaling the very heights of anger, "attacked another pupil! How can you say that there's no problem?" "Ah," The man scratched irritably at the coarse dark stubble that was starting to grow through the skin of his pronounced chin, "these things happen all the time at school. Kids get into fights, it's all part of growing up…" "She all but killed that poor girl!" exclaimed Melita, her ice blue eyes regarding her husband in utter revulsion. The man thought himself a politician, did he? If it had been anyone else other than his daughter then he would have been the first clamoring for a crackdown on school bullying…baying for expulsion of the guilty party. Why, he might even have dropped a subtle word to Senator Rembard about including it as a potential topic to remind the education committee. What kind of politician bent the rules to suit himself? Melita's mind provided the mocking answer: a damn good one. "It's because the girl's Corellian, isn't it?" She continued to pry, determined to get to the bottom of the whole sorry saga. She'd found his lack of concern frankly disgusting, but more to the point his disregard for Sophie's own disgraceful behavior had been doubly reprehensible. Didn't he care that his own child had done something so utterly outrageous? Did he want her to become a monster? "That's got little to do with it." Jared dismissed her with a flick of his hand. "You can't go mollycoddling children. They get into fights; they come back with bruises and scrapes. It's called life, Melita! It never did me any harm! For the record I do think that this has been taken too far…I mean, Sophie said that the kid she got into a fight with was the one who broke her teeth with those cakes! I'll bet that doesn't get taken into account, huh?" He shook his head, feeling the frustration of a man whose reputation was well and truly on the line. "Typical Corellians…wriggle out of everything and come out smelling of rose petals whilst leaving everyone else in the shlent…" "She's always had it in for me, daddy!" Sophie growled, trying to win her father round. "I tried to be nice to her to start with but she wouldn't have it." "So, you thought you'd just hit her instead?" Melita folded her arms, looking down her thin, narrow nose at her daughter. Her skin felt like it was crawling. Whether it was down to Sophie's sickening attitude or the pink Bantha hair cowl-neck top she was wearing, Melita couldn't say. "Is that the way you deal with people when you don't get what you want, Sophie? Because I sure didn't bring you up to think that way!" "Stunted bog-weed." Sophie muttered darkly under her breath. "I wish we had killed her! Then I wouldn't be in this mess!" "Pardon?!?" Melita rose suddenly to her feet. Had she really said…had her daughter just wished another person dead? "What did you say?" "I'm only sorry that I didn't kick her harder." Sophie's lip began to wobble fractionally at the way her parents had turned on her. Her mother didn't understand…she was just sick of the sight of her! And her father hadn't been won over either despite her best efforts or her playing of the anti-Corellian trump card. All he cared about was how he would appear to his friends if it became known that his daughter had been expelled from school for bullying. Not that it would happen…it couldn't! With a reputation like her father had, no child of Secretary Jared Digwurt would ever be banned from attending school! Safe in that knowledge, Sophie held her head up higher than ever. "I don't believe you could say such a thing! Isn't it enough," Melita hiked down her short, black skirt with one tug of her hand, "that you nearly killed someone? And even if you hadn't meant it, what if the girl died? What then? Have you even considered what that would mean? You'd be staring a charge of manslaughter in the face!" She turned to Jared, whose usually sallow skin had turned distinctly pale at his wife's words, "Our daughter! A killer! Can you imagine what would have been said? And the girl's family, what would they have said? To have to face them in court…" "She doesn't even have any real family." Sophie grumbled, picking at a congealed bright gum stain stuck to the sofa. "She stays with the jedi. So that hardly counts! Nobody would miss her." "Oh, how good would that have been? Can you imagine having an irate jedi master knocking down the doors to our home in search of retribution for what you did?" Melita turned away from Sophie, not even wanting to think about the possibilities. "I come back from a vacation to a health spa and what do I find? My daughter behaving like a murderess and the board of education complaints looking for our blood!" She pointed at her own chest with a pointed, red fingernail. "I work for the education board! What the hell am I supposed to say to that? A police inquiry investigating my own child! I…I need to take a pill." Melita grabbed around the side of her chair for her handbag and having located it spent the next thirty seconds or so fumbling around amongst its contents in search of her tranquilizers. She knew she had to stop turning to the pills for comfort…that's why she'd gone to the health spa in the first place. A chance of a lovely, relaxing time with friends without any stress…without any of Sophie's increasingly tiresome antics. Did her daughter even know of the affect she was having on her mother's health? Or was it possibly her parents' behavior that was proving so detrimental to Sophie? A mother that worked too hard; constantly stressed and ill-at-ease with all around her. A father who cared only for his reputation, his social standing and his salary. Even the lap dog they had got Sophie for her birthday had proven to be neurotic beyond all expectations. Was there a sane person amongst the family? And who in the end was to take the blame? Simply, she'd been set a bad example and the Tooni fowl were coming home to roost - in droves. "You're worrying over nothing." Jared tried his best not to appear as if he were staring at the chrono again. "They won't expel Sophie. They'll give her another chance. Although it'll be a permanent black mark against your name…our good name!" Snapped the head of the household in the direction of his unrepentant daughter. "I don't want this getting out. I have to think of my position with Senator Rembard. If you feel you have to go out of your way to get even with someone there are other ways of achieving it rather than risking your reputation beating up on someone. Subtler ways…like hiring someone to do your dirty work for you." "Jared!" As Melita was about to launch a further attack against her husbands' idea of morality her attention became diverted by the chirping of the holoterminal, the message alert flashing a vivid warning red. For a moment she stared at the pulsing light, almost mesmerized. The school had promised to deliver its decision at six standard in the afternoon - and there they were, right on schedule. All three individuals turned as one to examine the chrono. No doubting it. "Aren't you going to answer?" Jared asked his wife nervously, the cockiness having totally drained away. Melita didn't want to. Sophie's record and her husband's good name was hanging in the balance, their future largely dependent on what was said… ENTRY SEVENTY-FIVE: And just when I thought my life couldn't get better… NO MORE DIGWURT!!! Apparently Sophie's attack was deemed so viscous that she has been expelled! Bliss! Joy! Rapture! This means that I can go back to school at long last. I have mixed feelings about this. I know now that nobody will pick on me again, which is just as well for them unless they want to find bits of themselves being shipped off to Kashyyyk in biscuit tins. The thing is that I had no friends at all. Nobody wanted to know me when I first arrived and nothing has changed. I wasn't too upset to be honest because I'm used to being by myself and not with other kids. Now I have no chance of friends. It'll be social leprosy x 100. Still that's not important. What IS important is that I'll never have to see her miserable pig like face EVER again! That's not true, coz I am gonna find her one day and I'm gonna rip the stuffing out of her! Of her beloved Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's trials and tribulations Jemmiah was not the slightest bit aware, nor did she want to know what was happening for fear of jinxing them in some way, but certainly her own situation was proving puzzlingly benign. Sophie was gone from her life (with any luck forever) and the cloud of anxiety that inevitably accompanied all thoughts of her former classmate had gloriously evaporated into a blissful nothingness. There was to be no school for Jemmiah until the beginning of the week on An-Paj's instructions and at first that had suited Jemmiah right down to the ground. No work…no difficult mathematics where the numbers would jump about on the page, taunting her inability to do simple sums…no having to eat at the school's food halls which were if anything worse than the temple refectory. And that was saying something! For the first time in many tedious months Jemmy began to realize that Qui-Gon had told the truth: there was light at the end of the tunnel. It was almost a pity that he wasn't there on Coruscant to hear her admission of his being right. Then again, given the recent happenings at school it was probably better that he wasn't there after all… Jemmy sighed, but not through any real irritation. As she walked through the temple gardens trailing behind her a large, broken branch she'd found at the foot of Quillan's purple Zemini trees, swishing it around at the annoying zip-zip flies that flew too close to her, Jemmiah was left to reflect that she had absolutely nothing to do. No Quiggy to tease, no Ben to play cards with…Evla away on one of her shifts at the crèche. In short Jemmy was feeling extraordinarily bored. She should be happy to be so - and she knew it - but suddenly with her mind free of all preoccupation there was instead the rather dreadful urge to cause some kind of trouble! Perhaps she should pay Jay Abran a visit and see if he had any other ideas for revenge against Sal-Fina? "I'd like…" Jemmiah looked up at the sky, entreating the ancient Corellian gods to listen to her plea, "…something unusual to happen. Nothing bad: I've had enough of that kind of thing of late. But just something different!" Nothing obvious seemed to happen (at least there were no thunderbolts descending from the sky) and so Jemmy shrugged her shoulders and continued to walk around the grounds, marveling at the way the short grass felt under her bare feet. The gardens were truly wonderful, just the sort of place that Nadine or Rusa - or even her mother - would have enjoyed to spend a few hours relaxation in the sun. Back home on Corellia, from the little she could remember it, there had been a pretty vast garden in which her mother would take tea whilst keeping an eye out for her errant children. Jemmy could just about recollect the long grasses and twisting, gnarled trees at the far end of the estate. On one occasion her pet Vampki had gotten free from his leash and taken refuge in the branches of one of the mightiest Corellian oaks - before getting extremely scared of the drop that awaited him should he try to climb down. Most Vampkis thought nothing of tree climbing, but to the domesticated ones it did not come quite so easy as it did to their wild cousins. Poor GTP, Jemmiah thought solemnly. He'd sat up the tree and chittered and screamed and barked until her mother had called the rescue services to pick him out the tree. He'd duly rewarded the nice man with the shiny yellow hard hat, repulsar lift crane and large net by removing the top of his finger. Maybe she could ask Quiggy for a pet? She'd tried before and he'd reluctantly said no, but Jemmiah felt certain that if she worked on him just a little longer this time he was sure to agree! Hard exertion didn't bother her, nor did the thought of mucking out tanks or enclosures, but it would be nice to have something to look after and love. Hey - maybe another Vampki! On second thoughts that was maybe pushing her luck just a little…the thought of all the damage a stir-crazy Vampki could do to an apartment did not bear thinking about. "Oh, I don't know!" Jemmiah said crossly to nobody in particular as she continued to saunter across the lawn, swatting the back of her bare legs with the tree branch as she walked. "Another week of this and I'll be almost glad to go back to school! I hate having nothing to do. I want something to happen!" And sure enough, just as the words had left her lips… "Here!" Jemmiah spun around at the voice that had hailed her from behind, only to have a rather soggy looking flimsy box shoved against her stomach with such force that it all but took away her breath. Staggering a few steps, Jemmy just about caught sight of a brown blur in the shape of a fugitive padawan learner speeding rapidly away from her, darting anxious little looks over his shoulders as he went. His dark brown braid whipped at his face as he turned, waving at Jemmy for a moment to get her attention. "Look after it for me! Please!" He called in an accent not dissimilar to Obi-Wan. "Just for the moment…" And with that he ran away, his heels kicking up behind him as he bolted for the nearest temple entrance. Jemmiah cradled the large box in one arm, rubbing at her side with her free hand. What a peculiar boy! Were all the jedi in the temple terminally weird or was it just her? First of all, she'd never seen him before - so what was he doing giving her unexpected gifts? And, Jemmiah wrinkled her nose in the direction of the box, such a smelly one at that? "I'm all for receiving presents," Jemmiah stared suspiciously down at the battered container, "but a box of chocolates would have done just as well." Wait a moment! Had…had the box just moved??? With much trepidation Jemmiah slid a finger beneath one of the flaps, hoping that it wouldn't turn out to be something lethal. What she found instead just about caused her to drop the box on the ground. There, staring back up at her, were three highly disgusted looking lobsters. It wasn't exactly her idea of a conventional gift, infact Jemmy would have gone as far as to say it wasn't her idea of any kind of a gift at all. She was all in favor of finding some kind of pet but these creatures, with the wicked looking pincers and malevolent stalk like eyes were not her idea of cute and cuddly! Besides which, even if by some miracle Qui-Gon actually let her keep the wretched looking things the smell would be appalling! And then there were those sharp, jagged shears they had for hands…imagine having them under your bed all night! Between the lobsters and her intermittent nightmares Jemmiah felt certain she'd never manage to sleep again! She could leave them in the gardens…put them in the pond perhaps? But the water would not be suitable. Didn't lobsters like salt water? Wouldn't fresh water kill them? Jemmy didn't want to be the cause of their death! Force knew she had enough on her conscience already without adding the lives of innocent sea creatures to her tally. Maybe she could ask Bant…but Mon Calamari ate shellfish, didn't they? That might not be such a good idea: it would be like asking Obi-Wan to look after a box of chocolate cakes for half a day. One thing was for certain: however the mystery padawan had come by them or however much he trusted her with them, they simply had to go. But where? Jemmiah wasn't as heartless as she sometimes liked to make out. Just because they looked exceedingly viscous didn't mean that she wanted to see them thrown into the nearest pot of boiling water and placed on a bed of wild sea-slough. The force had let the problem fall to Jemmy, and it was up to her to find a solution beneficial to all. If only she could work out what a padawan would be doing with three lobsters in the first place! Well, if he knew her then that meant that he had to be a friend of Ben. It wasn't much to go on but it was certainly a start! Maybe if she could summon up a loose description of the boy then she could ask Jay Abran if he had any idea as to the padawan's identity. He could be anyone. After a while all human padawans began to look the same! More or less the same hairstyle if you were a boy, more or less the same style of tunic, boots and robe whatever gender they happened to be. How was she to discover his identity? Whatever the truth of the matter, it was apparent that even if she didn't know him by sight, he obviously knew her - and that was infuriating. Mysteries were not something that Jemmiah relished, especially when her chances of reaching the truth was so remote: there were thousands of padawans on Coruscant at any given time and she'd only been introduced to a handful of them! The lobsters waved their eyes about as if somehow disgusted with her. They actually seemed to be glaring! Jemmiah fixed an infuriated look up in the direction of the sky. "Thanks a lot." She snapped. Jemmy didn't know whether it was the tattered box she carried, grasped desperately as if some unseen force might somehow spirit it away as suddenly as it had arrived, or the salty, fishy smell that wafted indelicately through the lofty temple corridors that excited so many curious glances her direction. Raised Jedi eyebrows met her virtually every ten paces she took, to the extent where Jemmiah gave up looking in the direction she was headed and kept her eyes permanently cast down towards the box. That said, if even one single knight or master had deigned to stop her - the object of so much speculation and curiosity - and ask what she was about, Jemmy wasn't sure she could satisfy them with an answer. Where was she going, anyway? Why was she simply following her feet wherever they took her? At first she'd considered taking them to Evla and asking her advice on the matter. There was something in the way that the crèche master looked at her…always encouraging and entreating her to confide in her any problems or worries Jemmy might have…so why not give her what she wanted? Surely someone as wise and knowledgeable as Evla would have some kind of practical advice for what to do when stuck with three highly vicious lobsters? Was there not some kind of Jedi wisdom to dispense for crustacean-related issues? It was tempting…but somehow Jemmy didn't think that walking into the crèche armed with such a 'scented' gift would endear her to the carers. At least it might mask the smell of the disgusting babies. Still, if the lobsters managed to 'pincer' to death one of the youngsters then Evla would never speak to her again and so, thus resolved to think of another plan, Jemmiah continued to walk. In the distance she could hear the gentle thrum of lightsabres - and by the sound of it rather tentative thrusts and parries - from what she guessed were the youngest of the padawans. Master Yoda was probably giving them their first lessons in sabre handling, she thought with a wry smile, imagining all the mistakes and painful behinds zapped by ill-defended remote stings! Deep down she envied them their right to be able to wield their almost sacred weapon…it was like being part of a noble, ancient club rooted in a semi-mythical, romantic past: a club that Jemmiah knew she would never be a part of no matter how hard Qui-Gon tried to involve her in his life. The Jedi were beautiful people; wise, intelligent and dignified (for the most part), yet being in such exalted company only served to make Jemmy feel even uglier as a person than she ever had before, both inside and out. Maybe she could ask Qui-Gon to let her have a turn at using a lightsabre? Nothing fancy or dangerous…she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with artificial arms and legs. But if she could just learn the process firsthand it might go some way towards demystifying the Jedi and making them seem more, well, normal… Jemmiah sighed. Qui-Gon, in his effort to protect her, would never allow it and even if he did then there would be strong objections from an equally cosseting Obi-Wan. Well, she would just have to learn to be content with what she had instead of constantly yearning for what she did not. She wouldn't sulk or whine or throw embarrassing tantrums because she couldn't have her way, besides which if she proved herself mature enough then in time Qui-Gon might relent and give in! (She could at least live in hope). And then perhaps Qui-Gon… What kind of name was that anyway? Qui-Gon Jinn??? It sounded so…strange. Balancing the box under her chin as she tried to alter her grip beneath it, Jemmiah couldn't help but frown as she pondered the origins of her guardian's dignified yet unwieldy name. Qui-Gon…it certainly conjured up images of a tall, stately individual…slightly reserved, perhaps, but keenly intelligent. Yes, you could tell much from a name! And Obi-Wan, for all that the moniker seemed out of place for a youth like Ben, seemed to suggest a plain-speaking and cunning person, very much a case of what-you-see-is-what-you-get. Still, what was with all the hyphens in Jedi names? Not just Quiggy and Ben but Del-Isa Sidatu, Amu-Ned Sequedes, Menali-Jay Abran, An-Paj and thousands more beside. Maybe if she put a hyphen in her own name then the Jedi might accept her more readily? Jem-Miah…Je-mmiah…J-emmiah… Okay, she thought morosely. That just sounds plain ridiculous! Then again most of the Jedi had ridiculous names. Mace Windu, for instance? Dex Berlingside? Oppo Rancis? Not to mention the likes of Ferdi Xadaani, Rejan Egrobov… Suddenly Jemmiah stopped in her tracks. That was it! THAT was the answer! Master Egrobov! She could almost hear Qui-Gon's voice telling her that the force would provide an answer in due course…now could there be any doubt at all that he was right? Somewhere from the very edges of her memory, back in the days where she had lain sick in her infirmary bed barely able to take in all the information Qui-Gon relayed to her, Jemmiah could vaguely recollect him telling her of Master Egrobov…a man whose passion was aquatic creatures of all kinds, with vast tanks which played host to hundreds of fish and crustaceans! At the time Jemmy had nodded, passing the information off as useless, yet now she could see exactly why Qui-Gon had mentioned the eccentric Jedi master and his unusual hobby! Why, this was just the person that Jemmiah needed to see! Even after a good couple of hours wandering the temple, stopping to ask directions, her arms growing heavier and weaker by the second, Jemmiah still remained convinced that it was the right course of action. The lobsters would be happy, Master Egrobov would be happy…and more importantly she was ecstatic at the thought of getting rid of her unwanted charges who seemed to become more and more ungrateful at her efforts to assist them with every passing minute. Miserable creatures! Eventually, having been aided by the considerate and courteous Master Samir, Jemmiah finally found herself heading in the right direction - at least she guessed so. From outside, all the living quarters all seemed the same with identical doors and shiny, polished corridor floors. Egrobov lived at number one: that was easy enough to remember, and as she approached the apartment that bore the correct aurabesh marking, the strong disinfectant smell from the oft droid-polished tiles did not manage to dispel the somewhat fishy odor that permeated the doorway. Unless there was a Mon Calamari lying forgotten and dead on the floor the past few months, Jemmiah felt pretty confident she'd found the right address. One thing puzzled her: Master Samir's unexpected show of delight in helping her in the quest to find the elusive Jedi: there was something about the way he had been rubbing his paws when she'd showed him the lobsters that made her wonder about the Togorian's motives in assisting her… "Come on," Jemmiah huffed under her breath, pressing the door chime for the third time, changing the weight from one leg to another, "answer the door, sir! Please?!?" She pressed her ear to the door in an attempt to hear what might be going on inside - not an easy task whilst holding a box of live lobsters - but it soon became all too apparent that Master Egrobov was not inside. Perhaps he was away from the temple on a mission, just as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were? Maybe someone was looking after his pet fish whilst he was away, the same way that she tended Quiggy's plants in his absence? The inclination to do a good turn suddenly drained away, and Jemmy was left looking down helplessly once more at the box. Well, she'd done her best. Nobody could say different! Whether Master Egrobov was there or not or whether someone else was tending his collection of strange tank-dwelling creatures, Jemmiah would just have to leave the lobsters on the man's doorstep: sooner or later someone would find them! Prepared as always for such an eventuality (due in no small way to Evla's insistence that she carry a piece of small flimsy and a stylus wherever she went) Jemmiah fished the crumpled writing material out of her pocket, disgustedly rubbing away the bits of fluff that had stuck to the surface of the flimsy. Now, where was her stylus? A simple note would suffice: something that would get her intentions across instantly without wasting too much ink. "Hmmm…" Jemmy chewed at the end of the writing implement, ignoring Qui-Gon's much proffered opinion that marking a stylus with ones' teeth was a horrible habit to develop, especially as regarded those poor unfortunates as had to use the pen afterwards. "How about…I dunno…wait - PLEASE TAKE CARE OF ME! Yes, that will do! I'm sure there isn't a Jedi in the temple that won't understand the meaning behind those words. And when someone comes along to clean out Master Eggy's tanks they're bound to see them! Kowazzer, that's just perfect!" Jemmiah leaned in to the box, preparing to take leave of her undeserving, constantly unimpressed looking temporary pets. "Be good!" She waved a finger at them in reproach. "Coz I'd like to remind you that some species like their food crunchy!" Now, all she had to do was track down the mystery padawan and let him know that his shell-clad friends were in good hands! "It can wait 'til tomorrow." Jemmiah pulled a disgusted face, smacking her lips as if at some foul and unpleasant taste. "Something tells me it's going to take that long to remove the blue ink from my tongue! Kriff, why d'ya have to be right all the time Quiggy…" |
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