Fame (Animorphs, ka_verse prompt #29)
Title: Fame
Author: callispi
Prompt: Set 3, #29 Superstar
Fandom & Character(s): Animorphs, Jake
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000
When Jake got off the bus in front of school, he could immediately tell that something was different. Perhaps it was the sudden decrease in the volume of hallway chatter when he entered. Or perhaps it was the way heads covertly turned in his direction. Girls who had never glanced before at him turned to their friends and whispered as they walked past him.
Jake pretended not to notice a thing as he turned the dial of his locker. He was good at keeping a straight face, and his mother had verbally pounded into his reflexes a straight yet easy composure. But, unlike Tom, he’d always been very aware of what was going on around him-not to the degree of Marco (that guy had a social radar installed in his brain or something)-but enough for him to avoid too much attention. Jake did not like being the center of attention, and the painfully obvious fact that he was made him feel like an exotic animal on display.
“Yo, Jake!”
Jake finally managed to wrench his locker open and tossed his tattered history book in before slamming it shut. Marco approached him and slapped him hard on the back.
“I can’t believe you did it. I mean, I still kind of don’t, but man this may the smartest thing you’ve ever done!”
Jake looked at Marco, torn between annoyance and curiosity. “What are you talking about, Marco?”
Marco smirked, nudging him in the belly with his elbow. Jake punched him on the shoulder. Marco was not fazed. “Don’t play stupid, man. I know you’ve had it against Connor for a long time after he fouled you during tryouts. But I never knew you’d run against him for class president!”
Jake blinked, letting the words sink in. Connor was a basketball player, the only one in their grade who not only made the team but also managed to get a varsity letter. Jake didn’t mind him initially, but he had later thrown the jackass against the wall when he called Rachel a number of nasty names after she bluntly told him that she would never let some meathead loser buy her lunch. Connor was tall, but Jake was bigger. The two hated each other since.
“Marco, I didn’t sign up to run,” Jake finally said.
Marco paused. “Shut up.”
“No, really, I didn’t sign up.”
Marco peered closely at Jake’s stony face. He blew out a low whistle. “Well, I guess you’re more popular than you thought. More than I thought too,” Marco added.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Thanks, best friend,” he said dryly, walking to class. “But I wonder who nominated me.”
Marco shrugged next to him. “Beats me. You know, you’re going to be a thousand times more popular with the chicks if you are president. Connor is the man and all, but no one would vote for him over you except for the jocks. And maybe a few of the cheerleaders.”
They entered the classroom and took their seats. Jake sat behind Marco and pondered the possibility of being class president.
Marco craned his neck back. “All up to you whether you want it or not, big Jake.” He smirked slightly and then turned around as soon as the teacher walked in.
For the duration of the class, Jake could only think about the pending elections. Jake knew to trust Marco’s instincts, especially on things like this. If Marco said he was going to win, it was enough of a guarantee for him to stake money. But Jake also noted his sudden change in Marco’s tone when he figured out that Jake had not purposely chosen to run. Marco knew that Jake did not seek glory, and Jake himself wondered whether he would accept it.
That night, Jake dreamt of the stars. He was soaring through space, and he saw colors far beyond the infrared and the ultraviolet range that his eyes in reality would never have been able to discern. His body, formless yet substantive, tingled with an energy as of yet undefined by Earth’s physicists. The universe was alive and pulsing with color, and he was embedded within it. He felt all life and heard the music of time, each passing second vibrating in the fabric of space like the strike of a piano key.
Then, Jake saw what he was meant to see. A shattered spacecraft and the listless bodies of the dead floated in emptiness. The young commander of the fleet wept in death. Jake felt his grief and his desperate worry for his family, who would never know that he died. Would anyone remember? Would anyone know?
Jake remembered, and Jake knew because they had fought for him. They would always remain with him, tucked away in the deepest part of his memories, and Jake would honor them when he was tested in the days to come.
When Jake went to school the next morning, he withdrew himself from the election at the start of his lunch period. Jake entered the cafeteria and headed over to the table where he and Marco usually ate together.
“So you’re not running?” Marco asked, right before biting into his burger.
Jake shrugged, opening his bagged lunch. “It’s not my time,” he said without thinking.
Marco raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jake furrowed his brows. “I don’t really know.” He took out his sandwich. “I guess it doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t hurt to have a bit of face time, you know,” Marco remarked, dipping his dry cafeteria fry in ketchup. “And you’d do an okay job, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Jake shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess I have better things to do with my time. And you know me-I’m not really interested in stuff like that.”
Marco snorted. “You’ll never become famous.”
Jake laughed. “I’d prefer it that way.”
Deep inside, though, Jake felt his time would come. And when it did, he would see it through.
Author: callispi
Prompt: Set 3, #29 Superstar
Fandom & Character(s): Animorphs, Jake
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000
When Jake got off the bus in front of school, he could immediately tell that something was different. Perhaps it was the sudden decrease in the volume of hallway chatter when he entered. Or perhaps it was the way heads covertly turned in his direction. Girls who had never glanced before at him turned to their friends and whispered as they walked past him.
Jake pretended not to notice a thing as he turned the dial of his locker. He was good at keeping a straight face, and his mother had verbally pounded into his reflexes a straight yet easy composure. But, unlike Tom, he’d always been very aware of what was going on around him-not to the degree of Marco (that guy had a social radar installed in his brain or something)-but enough for him to avoid too much attention. Jake did not like being the center of attention, and the painfully obvious fact that he was made him feel like an exotic animal on display.
“Yo, Jake!”
Jake finally managed to wrench his locker open and tossed his tattered history book in before slamming it shut. Marco approached him and slapped him hard on the back.
“I can’t believe you did it. I mean, I still kind of don’t, but man this may the smartest thing you’ve ever done!”
Jake looked at Marco, torn between annoyance and curiosity. “What are you talking about, Marco?”
Marco smirked, nudging him in the belly with his elbow. Jake punched him on the shoulder. Marco was not fazed. “Don’t play stupid, man. I know you’ve had it against Connor for a long time after he fouled you during tryouts. But I never knew you’d run against him for class president!”
Jake blinked, letting the words sink in. Connor was a basketball player, the only one in their grade who not only made the team but also managed to get a varsity letter. Jake didn’t mind him initially, but he had later thrown the jackass against the wall when he called Rachel a number of nasty names after she bluntly told him that she would never let some meathead loser buy her lunch. Connor was tall, but Jake was bigger. The two hated each other since.
“Marco, I didn’t sign up to run,” Jake finally said.
Marco paused. “Shut up.”
“No, really, I didn’t sign up.”
Marco peered closely at Jake’s stony face. He blew out a low whistle. “Well, I guess you’re more popular than you thought. More than I thought too,” Marco added.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Thanks, best friend,” he said dryly, walking to class. “But I wonder who nominated me.”
Marco shrugged next to him. “Beats me. You know, you’re going to be a thousand times more popular with the chicks if you are president. Connor is the man and all, but no one would vote for him over you except for the jocks. And maybe a few of the cheerleaders.”
They entered the classroom and took their seats. Jake sat behind Marco and pondered the possibility of being class president.
Marco craned his neck back. “All up to you whether you want it or not, big Jake.” He smirked slightly and then turned around as soon as the teacher walked in.
For the duration of the class, Jake could only think about the pending elections. Jake knew to trust Marco’s instincts, especially on things like this. If Marco said he was going to win, it was enough of a guarantee for him to stake money. But Jake also noted his sudden change in Marco’s tone when he figured out that Jake had not purposely chosen to run. Marco knew that Jake did not seek glory, and Jake himself wondered whether he would accept it.
That night, Jake dreamt of the stars. He was soaring through space, and he saw colors far beyond the infrared and the ultraviolet range that his eyes in reality would never have been able to discern. His body, formless yet substantive, tingled with an energy as of yet undefined by Earth’s physicists. The universe was alive and pulsing with color, and he was embedded within it. He felt all life and heard the music of time, each passing second vibrating in the fabric of space like the strike of a piano key.
Then, Jake saw what he was meant to see. A shattered spacecraft and the listless bodies of the dead floated in emptiness. The young commander of the fleet wept in death. Jake felt his grief and his desperate worry for his family, who would never know that he died. Would anyone remember? Would anyone know?
Jake remembered, and Jake knew because they had fought for him. They would always remain with him, tucked away in the deepest part of his memories, and Jake would honor them when he was tested in the days to come.
When Jake went to school the next morning, he withdrew himself from the election at the start of his lunch period. Jake entered the cafeteria and headed over to the table where he and Marco usually ate together.
“So you’re not running?” Marco asked, right before biting into his burger.
Jake shrugged, opening his bagged lunch. “It’s not my time,” he said without thinking.
Marco raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jake furrowed his brows. “I don’t really know.” He took out his sandwich. “I guess it doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t hurt to have a bit of face time, you know,” Marco remarked, dipping his dry cafeteria fry in ketchup. “And you’d do an okay job, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Jake shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess I have better things to do with my time. And you know me-I’m not really interested in stuff like that.”
Marco snorted. “You’ll never become famous.”
Jake laughed. “I’d prefer it that way.”
Deep inside, though, Jake felt his time would come. And when it did, he would see it through.