| It Takes One to Know One Part 7 - by Jemmiah |
| ENTRY THIRTY THREE: An-Paj said I have to keep taking my medicine but that I was definitely improving and that I can return to school tomorrow. I never thought I'd be glad to go back to school but even Sophie 'Grunt-face' Digwurt is better than Sal-Fina's thin and contemptuous expression. I can't stand the way she looks down on me… "I can't think what he sees in you." Sal-Fina declared suddenly, cutting the already strained and stilted atmosphere to the quick. "Force knows what it could be. I certainly can't work it out for the life of me." "Maybe he's got more imagination than you." Jemmiah huffed back at her. Ten minutes of silence had finally been broken between them, and not in a way that either of them should ideally have wished for. Content to ignore the tall jedi, Jemmiah had thrown herself down - much to Sal-Fina's disapproval - on the couch and began to read one of the flimsy leaflets that An-Paj had given her on her departure from the infirmary. She wasn't really reading the words at all; her eyes scanned the black aurabesh letters yet never attempted to translate the figures into coherent thought, gazing blankly at the pages whilst trying once again to ignore Sal-Fina's withering gaze. Why did she persist in this staring match? For someone who supposedly had nothing to recommend her, the master sure was doing a lot of looking… "You'd certainly need a good imagination." Quipped Sal-Fina breezily, wandering over to the refrigeration unit in search of something to drink. "More vision then." Jemmiah snapped, not looking up. A befuddled, snickering noise issued forth from Sal-Fina's lips. "Vision? Qui-Gon Jinn?!?" She exclaimed scathingly, hands upon hips. "I can't think of any three words less suited to being placed together in the same sentence! Qui-Gon has all the vision of a brick." "He's a nicer person than you'll ever be!" Jemmiah glared back, folding the flimsy leaflet shut and placing it down on the table. "And what's really wonderful is that you know it's true!" "I don't appreciate being spoken to like that in my own home." The master's waspish words appeared to go right over Jemmiah's head given the impertinent face the Corellian girl pulled by way of a counter attack. "I'd have thought your ultra-nice and wonderful Qui-Gon would have taught you some manners…although I guess we can't expect too much from him, can we? And I suppose when you're brought up in the gutters," she smiled icily at Jemmiah, "slum-talk about all you can hope for." "I'd rather have an evil mouth than an evil mind." Jemmiah raised an accusative eyebrow, knowing that Qui-Gon would almost certainly not approve of the way she was so openly baiting the woman. But hey, Sal-Fina deserved it! Insulting him like that…stealing Ben's things! Making her out to be a worthless piece of trash! Would Qui-Gon have just stood there and taken the insults? Actually, she had the feeling that he would. He was that kind of person. I wish I could be more like you, Quiggy. She sighed, wondering how both master and padawan were coping without her there to protect them and make sure they were okay. I'm sorry if I get angry and make you ashamed. But Sal-Fina's the limit! And I won't have her insulting you and Ben like that! If she says anything like that again I am soooooo going to get her! Sal-Fina, it seemed, was not paying attention. Tying her golden hair back from her head in two great scoops from each side, twisting it into a nerf tail, the Jedi's eyes had taken on an amused, somewhat shifty appearance. It was almost as if she were gloating at some private joke…or a distant memory. "Qui-Gon was always a sucker for a hard luck story." Sal-Fina turned her back on Jemmy for a moment, stopping to look into the mirror on the wall so that she might preen herself. "That big, bleeding heart of his will get him killed one day. Everywhere he goes - he finds something new to fuss over. It's just the type of person he is." "Well, doesn't that make him good?" Jemmiah demanded, levering her shoes off against the corner of the breakfast table. Qui-Gon wouldn't have approved of that either - but then she would never have dreamed of doing such a disgusting thing in his apartment. And it was the little, annoying things in life that made a difference. If she couldn't get under Sal-Fina's miserable, thick hide by calculated insults then she'd have to work it so she just plain irritated the stang out of her! Sure enough, the woman's lips became thin lines of pure irritation. "Do you think the council likes it when he comes back with some new project? Some charity case better off being left wherever he picked them up from?" Sal-Fina shook her head, utterly bewildered. "I don't understand him. He could be on the council if he wanted: it's common knowledge. A respected position…important decision making…a place in the temple's history. And what does he do? Cast it all away…" She illustrated the point by making a rough throwing gesture with her arm. "…Just so he can pick up more strays! It's ludicrous, really. The council will never take him on if he persists with playing up to this stupid rebellious image of his." "I doubt the people he's saved see it that way." Jemmy said quietly. "You needn't think you're special." For a moment, when Sal-Fina turned back to face her, Jemmiah was about prepared to swear she saw the first flicker of honesty - of concern - she'd seen on the master's face since she'd moved in with her. There was something mildly upsetting about the earnest way Sal-Fina was regarding her, almost as if the woman was genuinely trying to warn her of something. But that was just silly! She was just needling her, the same was Jemmy was needling the jedi. "He picks up people at the blink of an eye. Then he leaves them to look out for themselves. I've seen it happen with my own eyes." She placed a hand flat against her own chest. "I've heard talk of other cases just like you, no more or less deserving, who he's ignored once the notion has left him. So be warned," something in her face softened just a fraction, "because he'll do it to you, too." Realizing she might have spoken too much, Sal-Fina's face began to redden fractionally. "So you see, he's not to be trusted. That's all there is to it." Her voice rose once again, speaking louder in an attempt to save her own face infront of a virtual stranger to whom she might have revealed more of herself than she would have liked. "He's a man. End of story." "I suppose." Jemmy's shoulders sank. Before Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had come along, she couldn't think of a single good man. Maybe Sal-Fina was right? Perhaps there were no good men? And what if…what if she was just a fad? What if Qui-Gon abandoned her? One in a long line of cast-aways? But no…Quiggy wouldn't do that. Not him… Would he? "He could have been a great man." Sal-Fina sighed. Jemmiah immediately launched herself to her feet. "He IS a g-great man." She stammered slightly, nervously attempting to overcome the doubts that Sal-Fina had, intentionally or otherwise, placed in her already confused mind. "And I'll always be grateful to him, no matter what happens in the future. I don't care what he's done to make you angry: I owe him my life. And what's more," Jemmiah tossed her head disdainfully, just so that Sal-Fina would get the message, "I think you are just jealous of me and Master Jinn!" So saying, Jemmiah headed straight for the door to the spare bedroom, no longer wanting to be in the same room as the supercilious Sal-Fina. She didn't want to hear her…she didn't want to breathe the same air as the woman! Because now, more than ever, Jemmiah's doubts with Qui-Gon, with Obi-Wan and the Council - and most of all herself - had began to gnaw away at her like an aggressive canker. It was unimaginable that Qui-Gon would bring her all this way just to shove her aside like Sal-Fina said he would…but then again, where was he now? How glad had he been to get away? Who were all these 'others' that Sal-Fina had spoken of? And, if they existed, where were they now? What had become of them? And bitter, twisted Master Falmar: was she one of those that Qui-Gon had cast aside? Was that why she detested him so much? Whatever the truth, she'd be damned if she'd let Sal-Fina how much her words had disturbed her. Jemmiah paused at the open door and rested her hand on the hinge, lowering her head like a Reek about to charge… "So there!" She yelled, slamming the door behind her. Fortunately - or unfortunately from Jemmiah's point of view - the following day did not seem overly long in arriving. Looking about her as she sat in class, taking in the same flimsy pictures on the wall and the same graffiti covered desks, it seemed to Jemmiah as if she'd never been away. The first thing she had done was to make sure there were no water bombs behind the door waiting to welcome her back in the time-honored tradition, or that there had been no tampering with her chair so that she ended up smack on her rump; humiliated in front of the entire class. It had happened before to other kids that Sophie had taken a sudden dislike to and, much to her dismay, Jemmiah felt ashamed to recall that she had laughed when it happened. It was not so nice now that the boot was well and truly on the other foot! The fact that there were no such booby traps left Jemmy feeling mighty worried for how the rest of the day might go, because that suggested Sophie hadn't even bothered thinking up something on a small scale. All of this led Jemmiah to the conclusion that her rival had used her absence to plan, plot and scheme on a different sort of level altogether, and that would only mean one thing: pain. Lots of it. The fact that the pictures she had drawn had been covered in red paint (no doubt to make it look that little bit more gory), stabbed full of holes by weapons unknown, with the words "DIE DISGUSTING CORELLIAN" underneath them, only added to Jemmy's feeling that she wasn't exactly in for the smoothest of times… Sophie herself hadn't even bothered to look in her direction, not so much as a glower! The sad excuse for a humanoid sat, resting her round face against her hand whilst working at carving her initials into the supposed "non-scratch" metallic finish desk top with what looked rather like a wickedly sharp scalpel! Well, thought the rather shaken Jemmy, at least that answered her question as to who and what had damaged her pictures. Not that the former was really ever in any doubt. Whilst it made a change not to be subjected to the same barrage of accusatory stares that Sal-Fina constantly treated her to, Jemmy's bad feeling continued to grow. She knew Sophie too well…knew the type of person that she was. In order to make herself look important she'd have to subjugate and dominate all around her until everybody scraped and bowed - anything for a peaceful life. At the back of her mind Jemmiah was reminded of Nadine, who had repeatedly told her that such vile behavior was due in no small way to an inferiority complex. So, was Sophie insecure? Kriff, thought Jemmy - she sure hid it well! If Sophie had left her alone from the start then Jemmiah would quite happily have ignored her. Certainly, she was the first to admit to having a searing hot temper but still, if people didn't give her a reason to use it then there was hardly a problem. Sophie - vile, despicable Sophie - had made it her business from the start to antagonize her where possible. She'd insult her jedi connections, insisting that the temple dwellers were little more than crooks and con-merchants, or at best over-grown children's entertainers who should get a real job! Not even the thought of tangling with someone who could bring the entire wrath of the order down on her shoulders seemed to impress the horrendous Sophie. Worse still, she'd make fun of the fact that she was poor and parentless, neither of which could be helped! It was all a bit of a shock to Jemmiah to discover that snobbery was rife on Coruscant, especially amongst the older, more reputable families. Forget holo stories which made out that being an orphan was a romantic thing. Forget the images pumped out be the media of delightful, tomato-haired urchins with freckles and rosy cheeks, singing and dancing their way into some rich billionaire's heart: it didn't work that way. The only things that mattered on the capital were money, looks and family connections. Jemmiah had none of these, so what hope was there for her future? And if Sal-Fina was right, and Qui-Gon maneuvered her to the side of his life? She would truly have nothing… Now that Jemmy thought about it, Sophie was not the only one who wasn't looking at her. Something was definitely different here. Had the entire class gone over to the dark side and sworn some sort of allegiance to Digwurt? There were no muted "hellos" or "glad you're still alives"…no nothing. It was as if somehow she'd ceased to exist! All around her the other kids were chatting, arguing - throwing things at each other. There she was in the middle, sitting on her own, feeling more and more vulnerable with each passing moment. And then, on opening her desk drawer, she saw it. A note: a letter written on plain flimsy in Sophie's big, childish and untidy hand. Jemmiah stared at it for a moment, wondering if she should open it there and then or wait until she got home that afternoon. Did she really want to know what it said? If it were from her enemy it would hardly be an invite to the Coruscant State ball! Maybe it would contain something really nasty, like itching powder, or something that would take the skin off her fingers on opening it up? Why was a mere letter causing her such trepidation? And why did her personal vow not to let Sophie get the better of her suddenly seem like so much bravado and hot air? With a hurried flourish of defiance Jemmy's fingers tore at the letter, unfolding the sheet so that she could read the words within. "If you want to know why you're all alone," Sophie's report seamed to scream at her, "it's because I told them that you are contayjus. They don't want to get your horrid disease or your mutated Corellian jerms. And the reason your jerms are not normal is because you are so ugly and skinny! Nothing about you is normal, and you deserve every jerm because you are so bad to look at, stunted bogweed! I hope you get really sick one day and don't come back ever!" Jemmy raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "She can't even spell." The Corellian glared witheringly towards Sophie's thick skull. "Who does she think she is, throwing insults at me when she makes grammatical errors like that?!? Everyone knows that Kontagious is spelled with a K!" Swiftly she turned he flimsy note upside down and began to write on the other side, taking her time in an effort to show up Sophie's untidy scrawl in comparison to her own neat, clinical hand. "If we are rating illness in terms of ugliness, you should be dead. Gamorrean pig-face!" Jemmy grinned; knowing the insult would really get on Sophie's nerves. She chewed on the end of the stylus for a moment, before adding: "How are the teeth, Digwurt?" Sophie could take that anyway she wanted: an unsubtle reminder of her past defeat at Jemmiah's hand, or a veiled threat that more of the same would be forthcoming if she continued to pick on her. So long as the message got through - to go away and leave her alone - that was all that mattered. Feeling satisfied with her work, Jemmiah carefully folded the flimsy into the shape of a dart, fingers bending in the creases so that she could get the sharpest point imaginable, then aimed it straight at Sophie's head. Unfortunately for Jemmy, it seemed that Digwurt's skull was so darned thick that she never even felt it until it bounced off her hair and landed on her desk. On reading the reply, Sophie turned around at last to face her, at a loss for a coherent reply of any kind, but her eyes spoke all the words that she was ever likely to need. They promised a slow, lingering roasting…a painful disemboweling…an unhappy hanging from a makeshift gibbet. Oh, yes - Jemmiah had seen that look many times before in her life. This time Sophie meant it. And for once Jemmiah was genuinely afraid. ENTRY THIRTY-SIX: Sal-Fina's up to her old tricks again. I caught her trying to sneak a look over my shoulder when I started to type so I stopped what I was doing and gave her my best outraged glare. She didn't so much as bat an eyelid! The woman has no shame… I think she was raking through my bag earlier to try and find my diary because all my stuff was displaced as if grubby fingers had been poking about. I bet she wants to see what I have written about her. Well, SHE WOULDN'T SEE ANYTHING GOOD if she did! Scabby old reptile… How dare she snoop around my personal belongings?!? Quiggy will sort her out one day soon. Anyway, I keep my diary with me at all times now just to make sure. I got back from school (after another day pawing the ground with Sophie Pig-face) only to find I'd been locked out! I spent an hour waiting outside the door but when nobody turned up I just hung around in the gardens again. Master Quillan keeps giving me the evil eye. The gardens are my second home and I think he's suspicious that I'm planning to do something horrendous to his sacred Corellian Orchids because I loiter about so much. He's the gardener, see? So, here I am. Stuck amongst the plants and insects again until someone can bother to let me back in.... |
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