Chapter Thirty-Two (Part One)

Marla approached Melody just as she walked back into Aldrich. "How was it?" she asked in her sweet, cheery voice.
"How was what?"
"The dinner."
"Heh, you don't want to know," Melody replied.
"Try me." Marla managed a chuckle. "Was it that bad?"
Shaking her head, Melody answered, "Well, it wasn't necessarily bad, just different."
"What do you mean by 'different'?"
"Depends on your point of view, actually."
Marla shook her head. This was typical Melody, she decided, not revealing anything.

Meanwhile, Chester had gone back to his apartment. He suddenly realized his final exam was just hours away. He didn't need to cram, he'd already turned in his term paper and all his assignments. So he decided that in lieu of sleep, he wanted to fix one of the broken computers on his lot. Suddenly, though, an odd screen appeared on his lone functioning computer, with a strange series of numbers and letters. Unable to think of anything else, he pressed the speed dial on his cell phone and called Melody.
"Hey Mel," he said, "I think you should come see this."
"I'll be over in a few, I want to check something out first. Don't touch anything, I'll be right there."
Chester looked again at his screen. "The sequence has changed, it seems like someone is trying to talk to me in some arcane language."
"I'll be over there in a few."
True to her word, Melody arrived a few moments later and shook her head as she cleaned up Chester's fly-ridden dinner plate. "You know you risk all those flies ganging up on you, don't you?" she muttered to herself.
Chester took the steaming mug of coffee from Melody with trembling hands and gulped it down quickly. This was the last thing he wanted to see right before his final.

But Melody shoved him aside. "Here, let me have a look." she said, squinting at the screen. Her serious frown suddenly vanished and she smiled broadly. "I think I've cracked it!" she said suddenly. "Judging by the repetition of many verbs and adverbs, I'm sure that this is a jumbled form of Latin!"
"How do you know all that?"
"Simple," Melody smirked proudly, "from books."

"Figures.... but hey! Isn't that a dead language?"
"Yep, only used in the medical, religious, and scholarly communities nowadays."
"Circe!"
"Actually, no.....it's more of a plea for help."
"I wouldn't help her if she was on fire!"
"Chester!!!"
"No, seriously, she's one evil person -- if you can call her that -- she's totally inhumane, just like her husband --"
"Loki Beaker, that scientist in Strangetown -- yeah, I've read about him. He dabbles in some really dangerous hard-core stuff, using live subjects for his experiments."
His voice trailed off and he looked thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder if they're true?"
"What's that?"
"The rumors."
"Huh?"
"Apparently they're supposed to have a 'creature' locked in the basement of their castle."
"A creature?" Melody was intrigued. "Do you mean they're holding a person hostage?"
"He isn't the first, I'm sorry to say."
Melody's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"I was lucky to escape their clutches by coming to college, lest I would be the next victim."
Leaning forth with decided interest, Melody asked, "Do you know who he is? I mean, have you seen him?"
"No, I haven't exactly seen him, at least not that I know. But when I used to pass by the Beakers I used to hear noises coming from their basement."
Melody continued to read what was on the screen. "A fronte praecipitum a tergo lupi," she read. "A precipice in front, wolves behind. It's supposed to be cryptic. Whoever's talking, they're not really talking about wolves, they used it as a metaphor. It means they're in some kind of trouble."
She decided to sit at the terminal and try communicating with the entity sending messages through Chester's computer screen. "Quid fit?" she asked no one in particular.
"What did you just type?"
"Oh, it's a Latin greeting, something like 'what's happening?'" She waited a few seconds for a response. And she got one. "Sentio aliquos contra me conspirare."
"The person is saying some people are plotting against him," replied Melody.
"Are you serious?" Chester asked.
Melody shrugged. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Sighing heavily, Chester stole another glance at Melody. "I'm not liking the looks of this," he said. "How much Latin do you know?"
"Enough to get around Ancient Rome if I ever needed to." She laughed. "I took it in high school. Lots of Simlish is based upon it."
The person asked Melody if she spoke Latin, and she typed, "Sane, paululum linguae Latinae dico. Id legi modo hic modo illic. Vero, Latine loqui non est difficilissimum." (Sure, I speak a little bit. I picked it up here and there, but really, it isn't that hard.)
Chester looked over at Melody with longing and took a deep breath. Sure, he liked Jessica, but the woman he truly loved was in his presence right now. And he realized she was making a mistake.
The notion had been gnawing at him for awhile, eating at the very fiber of his being. "You can't do this," he said.
"Do what?"
Chester turned deadly serious. "You can't follow the path of Loki Beaker. You just can't. It's not you."
"What do you mean, follow the path of Loki Beaker?"
"I understand you love science and all, but there's a limit. You've cultivated that plant in the back of Aldrich and now look, it's already claimed a life."
"C'mon, Chester, he had no business being there in the first place, and he paid the price. Besides, Loki isn't my guide. I've got no desire to go into his line of work."
"If you ask me, you're already in it."
Shudders scooted down Melody's spine as Chester spoke. He was her best friend, how could he be saying these things to her? Why didn't he support her?
"It's just not you, Mel. I know you a lot better than that, and it's not you. It's not the woman I've come to know and love."

"My plan is to follow the paths of the Goths and the Curious brothers," she said, unsure if Chester was listening.
She turned to face Chester, her lips pressed tightly together, forming a pale line, determination written on her face.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her resolve fading as she read the pained expression on Chester's face.
"What?"
"Why are you, all of a sudden, trying to stop me from following my predestined path?"
Chester took a deep breath and turned away from her.
"It's because I care for you," he muttered, unable to meet her challenging glare. "It's because -- because -- I'm really worried for you."
At that precise moment, Chester was very aware of his hands, and began to pick at his fingernails, awaiting Melody's reply. There was a stunned silence as the gravity of his words began to sink in. Melody opened, then closed her mouth, as words failed her.
It was then that Chester finally turned and looked at her, his eyes locking with hers. Of all this time, he'd never once challenged or stood up to her, allowing her free rein to do as she wished.

But now, he knew he had to intervene. He'd recognized the fervor in her face, the flush in her cheeks and the manic glint in her eyes as she worked on her experiments. And he wasn't the only one who noticed this.

Could he be right? she wondered. Had she gone too far with her experiment? And had she reached the point of no return?

Wanda Tinker dreaded her upcoming elder transition. She knew it meant her mortality was near, and that one day soon she would join her husband in that unmentionable place. All she'd ever wanted was to become a mother, and now all she wanted was a bright future for her daughters. She worried about them constantly -- the one who was in college and the other who was in diapers. After all, it had been her job as a mother, to worry about them. And yet... and yet.. she constantly feared that she'd failed as a parent. She'd failed at the one thing she'd ever wanted to do. What she wanted, above all, was for her daughters to forge an unbreakable sisterly bond. Upon her departure, she knew, they were all they were going to have left.
If there was one thing her daughters had inherited from her, it was their stubbornness -- a trait each expressed in different ways. She hoped they would somehow get to know each other better. Now, pressing on her mind, was the fact that Harmony's transition was coming up soon, too, and that would bring a new set of challenges. How would she, as an elder with far less energy, take to raising a child who would be teeming with it?
She decided to dial Melody at Academie Le Tour in hopes of convincing her to return to Bluewater over spring break to attend Harmony's transition party. She decided Harmony would have a quiet transition, with Melody and Florence as the only invited guests.
What she didn't know was that Melody was dealing with her own issue, namely her bloodstained hand as a result of the death of the cow mascot. It was the last thing she wanted her mother to hear about.
When Wanda picked up the receiver, she got a recorded message, "This is Melody's answering machine, leave a message at the tone. Bye."
Wanda took a deep breath. "Hey sweetheart, it's me, mom. Your little sister's birthday is coming up, and I'm hoping you'd come home for that. You can bring a friend, too, if you like. But I'll understand if you don't return to Bluewater, after all, I can't say you're exactly on anyone's favorite persons list here except mine and maybe Flo's. Call me back when you get a chance, love. Talk to you soon."
She looked at the grandfather clock in the living room. Where could Melody be at this time of the night? Surely she knew her oldest daughter was a night owl but hoped that she was at least in the relative safety of the dorm.

Wanda realized that all that mollycoddling she gave Harmony, would soon end, as this little bundle of mischief would soon grow up into an independent little girl, and then what would happen in the future? Would she turn into her sister and alienate herself from the family?

Interrupting Wanda from her reverie was a phone call from Jennifer Burb, who'd moved in the empty house across the street with her husband John and young daughter Lucy. She'd told Wanda she was a paralegal at Lawson and Lawson, the firm that was handling Malcolm Landgraab's affairs. This meant, Wanda thought, she knew all about the attempted takeover of Tinker Toys by Malcolm.

Wanda made attempts to grill Jennifer, but Jennifer wouldn't divulge any information. "Listen," Jennifer replied tartly, "I understand that it's in your best interests, but it's my job and reputation on the line here. It's taken a lot of sim hours to get where I am today. And I'm not prepared to lose it all. Sorry."

Lisa Ramirez had parked her silver and black Lexus in the parking lot of Amelia's Closet, the swanky clothing store in Bluewater. It was the last gift that Checo had given her, and now, she wouldn't be without it. It represented a token of her former life. After a great deal of thought, she realized it was one of Checo's guilt gifts, just to keep her happy.
She had just returned from the grocery store. There was no food in the house. Thanks to Checo's furniture business, she'd never known what it was like to be hungry. She and Tessa never wanted for anything. They'd lived the good life.
While at Amelia's, she spotted a woman who seemed familiar to her, but somehow also seemed different. Her brown hair, which used to be blunt cut and covered with a dumpy black hat, was now loose and full. Gone was her long housedresses and stooped posture. She'd even dropped thirty pounds. Lisa had to admit, she looked great. It was none other than Wanda Tinker.
Wanda was flourishing, no doubt about it. And yet, here was Lisa, struggling with two jobs to make ends meet. Already she'd had to sell off some of her more expensive pieces of furniture, and the clothes she wore had seen better days.
It occurred to Lisa to approach Wanda, to try to apologize. Would Wanda accept? Would Wanda even talk to her? After all, so much time had passed, and so many things had happened.
Lisa was now destitute. She hardly saw Tessa because she was working so much. Checo had vanished without a trace, and while she was thinking about walking toward Wanda, she caught a whiff of perfume. Her perfume. The special perfume Checo had always bought for her. And now, some other woman had breezed past her wearing it.
Lisa looked up. It was none other than the scarlet woman herself -- Dina Caliente, the curvaceous blonde her husband had the affair with. She was picking out designer wear for herself. It took a lot of restraint for Lisa, flushing with rage, for her not to walk over and slap the woman in the face.
Her perfect little life had fallen apart. But was it really perfect to begin with? Was it all a lie?