JANE WOKE UP IN THE EARLY HOURS when she had her monthly-period flows – and was horrified that her teen-self was ‘not’ prepared, who didn’t have her stock of tampons… and she was having heavy bleeding-flows, with severe-cramps. She was also ‘in-between-worlds,’ when she cursed ‘herself’ at that moment, as her ‘foster’ mother was still asleep…

… she had used ‘whatever’ clothe, that she got her hand-on…

… and-now her anger was diverted to Peter who was ‘not’ in her Venus’ Dreamworld, in the Garden of Eden last night, but he had done a crime over-there, of killing innocent cupids – and dumping them in the pond-water.

Jane was waiting to tell about ‘this-incident,’ once-when her-counterpart, Paul woke-up in his-home, in this Public-holiday morning. And, she also remembered her mother had told – that they would go shopping today, for a dress-for-the school’s gala-ball, to ‘match’ her expensive necklace-gift, from the Zimmermans.

<>

PAUL WOKE UP FROM HIS DREAMLESS SLEEP, with pleasant thoughts of Jane Wilson. Somehow, she had ‘not’ crossed into his-dream realm, although HE WISHED she would-so – even ‘not’ in his-own-Perth…

… she had ‘not’ a ‘shared’ OBE, to crossover into his-half. But…

… they HAD SUPERPOWERS-THEN – they could fly and have done their joint-missions together… that WAS THE CLOSEST of the positive-emotions of close-proximity, that he had felt with his girlfriend.

His positive-thoughts paid-off when Jane-called, when he was still in bed…

… but she sounded ‘troubled,’ when she was narrating about the Venus’ matchmaking of her and Peter TO BE HER-SOULMATE… and Peter was ‘not’ in the Garden-of-Eden…

Paul updated her, that Peter had ‘moved-out’ from the Dicksons, last evening – and was staying with his ‘new’ girlfriend, as the ‘new’ PFC in town… IN HER UNCLE’S HOTEL – and that was why… he had ‘not’ videocall Jane last night, as he was with Caroline… who was crying, of losing her-son overnight, to someone, he had-met only-for a day…

Jane was quiet a moment, as Peter was her-ex… and they WERE THE PFC in their-Perth…

“… good-riddance… now, Peter is that girl’s problem…”

They both laughed… Jane was then serious again…

“… but I’m still mad – he killed 2 cupids, in the Garden-of-Eden…”

Paul was ‘lost’ again – as he had ‘not’ encountered such-entity as cupids… or unicorns… or whatever that had dwelled, over at the Gardens. She was now telling him about ‘Bollywood.’

“Hollywood?”

“No-silly, Bollywood – it is Indian… err, like Mr Muthu Ganesan… did you saw his-forehead? The red-dot – that is a 3rd-eye… the same-one I had-too, over ‘there,’ as a B-girl.”

They both chuckled to the shared-feelings, that they had in-mutual over-at the ‘other’ Perth.

“What about this-Bollywood movie all about…?”

“The Hindu Gods-and-demons were shooting a horror movie, over in the Gardens.”

“Horror movie – wow! How did that go – scary?

“Yes-Pauly, blood-cuddling… I even had to close my eyes, and ‘not’ look…at the violence.”

Jane narrated the storyline – where a Goddess was happily singing and dancing in the garden, with lots-of cupids flying around her. Then-the bad-demons came and raped her – she had a ‘jump’ into an aggressive-dark-skinned 4-armed, mad-naked woman, who took her revenge by chopping the demons-up with her machete – she-then dressed herself-up with their body-parts… like their intestines as her-necklace…

“Eww, that’s totally gross…” Paul responded…

“But I like the moral of the story…”

“Horror-movies… do have a story moral…?”

Jane continued telling the story – where the mad woman’s vengeance was so great, that she threatened TO END-THE-WORLD, and defied the effort of the good-Gods – to calm-her-down from her toxic-negative-emotions. She even ‘killed’ her God-husband, when he tried to stop her… and after her husband ‘died’ – only-then the Goddess had calmed down and came-back to her ‘senses,’ but by then – it was too late, as the worst ‘damage’ was done…

… the moral-of-the-story was that – the Goddess was then-banished from the heavens – as a consequence of her UNCONTROLLABLE NEGATIVE EMOTIONS OF RAGE AND BLOOD VENGEANCE, that had even brought someone of the status-of-a-God – TO GO-DOWN.

… Paul realized where Jane’s story moral was ‘coming’ from – where…

… he-himself in the ‘other’ Perth, was filled with high-level of inner-negative emotions, triggered once Alicia was ‘ASSAULTED’ AND WENT INTO-A-COMA – and he then-hungered-his vengeance, to implement his-Plan-B…

… to kill both Jim Hatcher and also-his twin-brother…

Paul was grateful that, he had Jane as his-moral compass – where she had-came as StarGirl to ‘prevent’ his act-of-revenge, on the rooftop of Graylands Mental-hospital, where he took Jimbo to be ‘questioned’ of his-crime…

… and-since then, Paul came to his ‘good-senses’ – he took a conscious-decision of ‘not’ killing Peter, on the day-of the PFC tennis rematch…

Jane broke-his reveries of MISTAKES-MADE AND LESSONS-LEARNED of his-other life as a tween, when…

… she asked-casually…

“Pauly, what are you wearing during the school ball?”

“Err, dunno… maybe something presentable, in the ‘other’ guy’s closet, I guess?”

Paul still felt he was ‘not’ used to his new-abled-body… coming from his crippled-self – where both of his-demeanour too varied – so-much-so, he refrained by using much of his teen self's ‘belongings’… let alone, interacting with ‘his’ parents…

“My-mummy is taking me shopping later, to buy a dress.”

“That’s awesome – new hairdo, new dress – you’ll be a Beauty, that tomorrow evening…”

Jane blushed…

“… thank you, Paul…”

… but she did not’ tell to him, THAT YESTERDAY – SHE GOT A NECKLACE GIFT, from her teen’s boyfriend’s mother.

Paul laughed…

“Guess what-Jane – I’ll be joining the talent-competition that evening… I’ll be dancing on stage…?”

Jane was rapt, in delight…

“Really-Pauly! That is the best news since we came ‘here’… Ali had told me before that you were a great dancer and won a trophy…”

Now-Paul too blushed…

“… ‘not’ so great, just-good… yes, I won the trophy, when I was 10 – before the car-accident … that trophy is in my former-bedroom, in my ‘other’ house…”

“I’m so blessed-here to have my eyesight – to see you dance on-stage… and Samuel too, he would be singing that evening… ooo, I’m soo-excited…”

“Hahaha… hope, ‘not’ to disappoint – it’s been ‘7-years’ in this world…dancing take practice, to hit-a groove to the moves…”

Jane soon ended her video-call, and Paul too got off the bed for brekkie.

-O-

Paul was on top of the world, with positive-emotions after the video-call from Jane. He came downstairs in his shorts, counting his blessings in every step he took, that he can walk again. It was a Public holiday today of being Good Friday…

… he did ‘not’ know what day or date, since coming to Perthland 2 days ago – as he doesn’t have a calendar in his bedroom, and only got to know about it, when it was announced in school, WHERE THE NEXT DAY, SATURDAY – was the 131st-anniversary ball-celebration of SHS – attended by…

… VVIPs whom, his twin-Peter was dating and living with, since yesterday.

His mind and body were craving coffee – a must-drink hot beverage when he was in his-Perth – but during in this Perthland for 2 days, he had got none…

… where the Dicksons-here, drink tea.

Coffee was divided-choice in the Walkers-household there, where he and his mother drank it – but Peter and his late-father did ‘not.’

His stepfather was at the dinner table, cleaning his and his wife’s service pistols, placed with pieces-apart, on an oil-cloth. Paul saw him and acknowledged by greeting him, good morning – Joe nodded. Caroline was at the back, doing laundry.

He went over to the refrigerator to check what he could have for brekkie – the content of the Dickson’s fridge was ‘not’ like theirs back home, where it was filled with smoked meat-slices for fixing a quick-sanger, with various-cheeses…

… over there, at the Walkers’ fridge, it was filled too with Cokes, RedBulls, chocolates, lollies, snacks, ice-creams – because they don’t cook and ordered their meals…

… but over here at the Dicksons, the fridge was stocked with no-snacks – but full-of healthy cooking-produce, and Joe’s beers.

He found butter and vegemite, and eggs – he decided to make himself fried-egg sandwiches. Paul was glad to do his ‘own’ cooking – where back-there, his mom, would ‘not’ let him, because he was wheelchair-bound, where the stove was higher. While the inducing-plate stove was heating-up, Paul searched the drawers for teabags – and was in-luck, as he stumbled upon a couple of 3-in-1 Mocha sachets-packets…

… he was excited, that Mocha was chocolate favoured coffee. He turned to find a coffee-mug – and smiled when he saw coloured mugs with the Dickson’s names etched: Joe, Carol, Peter – Paul grab a blue-mug with his name… used the kitchen-scissors to cut 2 sachets, and filled the Mocha-content in his mug, with boiling water to dissolve, mixing with a teaspoon… into a ‘thick’ hot beverage.

… and realized that he wasn’t known as ‘Poe,’ in this realm…

-O-

He sipped and the beverage which was too sweet, so he added more hot water. The electric stove had heated-up, and placed a sauté-pan on it and forked, a couple of lumps of butter in it – it sizzled and smoked.

… Caroline stepped into the kitchen, and exclaimed-out, turning the stove-knob down…

“Hey, you’re burning my pan-up – what are you-eating…? I’ll do it for you!”

“2 Fried-egg sandwiches, ‘Mom’ – thanks…”

He came sat the table-of-4, seated opposite to Joe – who had took-apart the guns’ parts, and was meticulously cleaning its barrels…

… the last time Paul had encountered guns, was when the Perth’s most-wanted criminal, Hajji POINTED A GUN AT HIM – wanting to kill him at the SHS gym, during the PFC-tennis-rematch – but he survived the shooting that day, where there was a commotion of 4000 panic-driven fans who came between, the line-of-fire, where 5 spectators were injured…

While Caroline was frying the eggs, he sipped his hot-Mocha and looked at his iPhone – ‘nothing’ interesting there… Paul then-looked up, and to notice there was a Catholic-calendar hanging on the wall – the one that had dates ‘boxed’ of every church-celebrations, and days of every Christian-Saints…

… Paul peered to look closely at ‘today’… GOOD FRIDAY…

… which was on the 13th of the month…

‘… was that bad-luck?’

He brushed that negative-thoughts off his mind, and replaced with thoughts of the positive – that Good Friday was when the blooded Lord-Jesus on the crucifix – did His ultimate-forgiveness of pardoning his murderers, before becoming the sacrificial-lamb – and even He called-out to His Father-God, to forgive them too…

‘… forgive-them-Father… for they do ‘not’ know ‘what’ they are doing…’

-O-

Caroline served a plate of his 2 fried-egg sandwiches – Paul took a bite… it was ‘perfect’ with the yolk-semi-done – runny-when bitten…

… then his iPhone got a loud-notification, in the quiet-kitchen – that startled him… and also Joe and Caroline…

… it was Kirk Kiperman’s WhatsApp Group…

‘10 PM 😊’

He ignored it… and so did Joe and his ‘mother’ – where the lighted phone screen turned-black after 20 seconds. Paul finished his first sanger, and picked-up his 2nd…

… then-the responses of the Group’s participants blasted continuously when it flowed-in – and his iPhone was loud-again… seeking attention… Joe and Caroline looked at him in panic – licking his messy-fingers, before he offed-his iPhone…

‘… yea, I got ‘this-one,’ folks…? move-on, there ‘nothing’ to see, yea…? got to make my PAST-MISTAKES ‘RIGHT,’ YEA…? reckon-they would go-away in Perthland, yea…?’

<><>

ON HIS PUBLIC HOLIDAY-MORNING, SAMUEL was on the floor, playing sport-games on Wii, on the big-screen telly. Kitty, his dog was lazing with her-head, on its Master’s lap… keenly-watching him race sportscars, in a virtual-circuit in Monte Carlo.

His father, Anthony was ‘not’ around – and heard-that, his-Sis and Mummy were going uptown shopping… while-his girlfriend, Aka had-called him just-now… telling him in Swahili that she was ‘bored’ at home, during the Public-holiday.

And, earlier Shelley-too asked her son, if he wanted to follow them-shopping – but Sam declined… telling her that he-would rather stay-home in the holiday, and ‘play’ his videogames.

His elder-sister came down-the-stairs. The lanky-legged Jane wore a jeans-shorts, and red-Adidas-runners, a dark-green SHS sports-track-jacket-top, and a yellow Wilson-sports-cap. She stood at the rear of the living room and watched the dog-and-brother engaged in, the visual of cockpit interior of Ferrari, and was racing and overtaking, other-sportscars…

… which reminded her of-to the country-club ride, for tennis-practice – in her teen self's BF’s Lamborghini Aventador.

His mummy came next downstairs… and told Sam, that they would return during lunchtime. After exchanging goodbyes – the Mazda SUV drove from the porch…

… after 10 minutes ‘alibi,’ Samuel switched off the Wii-game on the telly – he took the keys of Jane’s Ford Taurus – and tween left home with Kitty, to sneak-out to see his girlfriend. He had to be very careful on the road because of his-Sis’-the odd-choice colour of striking-orange… for her car… which could be-later spotted-by his-mummy in her-SUV, on the road.

Meanwhile…

… pop-rock Heart’s ‘Barracuda’ was playing in the SUV’s stereo – Jane was noticing her ‘young-at-heart’ mummy in her sunnies, both her index-fingers drum-tapping the Mazda’s steering-wheel, as she nodded subtly to the beat. The smiling, Jane put on her Oakley, and enjoyed music with her mother, driving through the traffic-less Perthland, during the public-holiday. In no time, the mother-and-daughter were visiting stores in the Garden-City district.

Back-from where she came from – Shelley Wilson, her-mother always shopped in Gucci…

Quietly she followed her ‘mother,’ and was challenging herself, whether she had the ‘right’ one with-her guessing – now-that she had learnt to ‘read,’ by putting-alphabets together… she was looking at every storefront sign – for GUCCI…

‘… was it spelt – Goo-chee…? Or … Gu-chi…?’

She followed Shelley into a store, with the sign – Z-A-R-A…

Jane didn’t like the choice in the store, because they were of an adult-taste and ‘not’ of teens. And, furthermore, it was expensive dresses for a ‘silly-school-ball,’ for her mother to afford – as her mother-of this-realm was working-doctor… and ‘not’ like her mummy over-there, who ran a business practice as a partner, with Dr Ruth Mercy… of their ‘Mercy & Wilson’ clinic.

“Maybe we should go to Gucci, Mummy… maybe it is cheaper there…” Jane suggested.

“No worries dear…. just choose a dress.”

“I don’t know… what to wear…you choose...”

Jane remembered an argument in the Gucci store with her-own doctor-mother who ‘dictated’ her B-girl to wear dresses… when she wanted to wear ‘what’ fashion of her BFF Alicia wore.

“Here, try this…”

Shelley gave her a black mini camisole dress, off the rack with a sign ‘Latest arrival.’

In a closed changing-stall, Jane tried the dress – she was horrified as she saw in the mirror, that it was a spaghetti-strapped dress, that showed too-much of her ample-bosoms. The opened the door… her hands covering her cleavage…

“Mummy, I don’t like it – it’s too ‘revealing,’ for a school student.”

Shelley chuckled and she stepped-into the cramped stall, with the blonde teen…

“Nonsense, it looks beautiful on you…try celebrate life, Jane… you are not’ a little-girl anymore – you are now a young woman, love… be proud of your body, and – don’t be ashamed of your ta-tas.”

Standing behind Jane, facing the mirror – the excited Shelley placed her palm, on Jane’s upper chest…

“The necklace would go beautifully in ‘here’ – in your-lovely dress – Douglas will love it!”

Now, Jane had regretted telling her mother of the gift-necklace, which she got from Dougie’s mom – even her doctor-mother had-teased by ‘matchmaking’ the blond-boy with her B-girl, back in the ‘other’ Perth. IT WAS AN IRONY of similarity in this-Perthland, where-even Martha Zimmerman too, wanted her to marry into the family, of wealth and influence.

At the cash-register, Shelley used her credit card and paid $700, for the elegant black dress. The cashier put the folded-outfit in a branded thick paper-bag etched ‘Zara’ – and gave it to the teenager, and thanking for, shopping in the store.

Then Shelley paid another $200, for Paris-fashioned high-heeled Christian Louboutin shoes, to go with the dress.

Next, the mother and daughter stepped in the Estee Lauder store for cosmetics – where, Jane had ‘not’ used any makeup before in-her-life, as she had transformed and became a teenager ‘overnight’ – from a blind-tween girl…

Jane sat on a high-stool, while a beautician applied blushers brush, to cover her freckles – and gave the teenager a 101 basic on cosmetic application tips. She applied eyeshades and tried several shades of lipstick – Jane chose the colour maroon over pink, as it gave her a fuller lips-look, over her fair-complexion, in the round-mirror.

Even the beautician acclaimed that, Jane looked like a teen-model, with her blond-dreadlocks – and that remembered her of Paul’s video-call last night, who told her that she looked gorgeous in the PFC hairdo.

Mother-daughter further bonded, when they went together and got their manicure-done, in a nail salon. Jane had her nails coloured, to her favourite pink.

She saw Shelley really was in a spending-mode – as she had-already paid more than $1000, on her problematic-teen, who was suffering from depression, and was on meds… as a way-out – to impress the rich Zimmerman’s only-son, who was in deeply in love with her daughter…

… but she was ‘not’ interested in Dougie… or even-the dreadful Peter – but ‘only’ in his twin, Paul – whom she had a STRONG-EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT, since coming to Perthland 3 days ago. She even-BOUGHT A GREETING CARD with lots of hearts, for Paul, with her last $10.

-O-

It was already noon, they both went to a Japanese restaurant for Teppanyaki lunch – Shelley called-up her-son, and told him to order a pizza, as they were coming home late… at the other-end, Samuel said-okay…

… and, he hung up his phone, in the front seat of the orange Ford Taurus… and continued ‘lunch-spread,’ of-him passionately kissing his girlfriend – with the tongue-hanging Kitty, watching-over her-master, from the backseat.

<><>

AT THE STAMFORD HOTEL, Jezebel just had her shower and was preparing to meet her grand-uncle for lunch. In her towel, she returned to her bed – where under the covers, was the naked Peter fast-asleep, with the comforter-over his head. Sitting on the edge of the King-sized bed, she shook her shoulder-under the cover…

“Peter… Peter, wake-up. I’m going for lunch… do you want to join me, and uncle?”

With one-eyed shut, Peter was with a terrible hangover – as-grunted to her, from under the comforter…

“What happened to you, Peter…? You are all bruised…”

There are several-bodily bruises – like HE WAS ‘TORTURED.’

“I don’t know Belle… I feel lousy inside… must have fallen…from the bed, I…think…”

All he can remember was the fresh-dream that he had – WITH HIS DEAD-DAD…who left Christianity to be a pagan…

“It must be the Gochi… it’s a terrible drug at times… which give one the urge… to self-inflicted injuries… is that what happened last night, Peter?” Said the concerned Jezebel, touching-on his battered skin.

“… don’t ask me, Belle… I seriously don’t know…what bloody happened to me, last night… glad I didn’t OD…”

The troubled and anxious Jezebel hugged him… kissing his every blue-and-black injury…

“… thank-God, you’re alive… I don’t know what I’ll do if you had died…”

… she sobbed and hugged him tightly… and continued saying…

“… I don’t know what it is… but I think, I’m falling deeply in love with you… like I finally found my true soulmate…”

But…

… Peter had his serious-doubts… Jezebel has one-too-many lovers…

“… I love you, Peter… say-you love me too…”

… Peter thought of Janey… of how she had ‘betrayed’ his love…

“Do you love me, Peter…?”

Peter did ‘not’ respond… like if he did-so… it would-be cursed-to ‘not’ happen…

He grabbed her hips and pulled her over him, and her towel slipped – both the amour teens embraced tightly, and kissed overpoweringly … and had a quickie…

… her long wavy hair, all-over his body – Jezebel cuddled with her head onto Peter’s chest… hearing his slow heart-beats and his shallow breath until – her iPhone alerted a notification…

“… it’s Uncle Ford… I’m late for lunch… do you want to come with me…?”

“… Nah, you go on ahead… I’m still feeling lousy, with a bloody hangover… let-me sleep it-off and heal-my sore… promise… I’ll meet your Uncle Ford tomorrow… at the 131st…”

“Okay.” She kissed his lips.

The naked girl got off the bed and slipped into a dress. She brushed her wet long hair… smiling at the snoring lover… and left him to recuperate.

<>

MEANWHILE, IT WAS LUNCH-TIME at the Dicksons. Since brekkie, for 4-hours Paul had been online on his ‘other’ teen’s laptop, watching YouTube videos on competitive solo dancing – for the school’s contest tomorrow-evening…

… it had been a long time since he had last competed – and the world’s dancing-scenes had evolved to some ‘advanced’ hip-hop since… he needed to ‘learn’ some new-moves and win-the competition, that evening – just-to impress Jane Wilson.

Since it was Good Friday-today – where it was a no-no to loud-music for this-one day… a day of abstaining and refrain, under the Catholic Dicksons roof…

… so, Paul practised his dance-moves, with his-earbuds-on… as a sign of respect.

-O-

He came down for lunch – and got to realise that both Joe and Caroline had been fasting all day – and hey broke fast during lunch, with vegan tofu-based dishes. Paul felt guilty that he did ‘not’ join them fasting – and had a hearty-brekkie of fried-egg sangers instead…

… back in his-Perth, he observed Lent-Season in their Walker household and fasted on every Fridays. His mom was strict and made him and Peter fast and abstinence during the season – and go for Confession during Good Friday, to absolution in-time for Easter Sunday… to celebrate the Lord-Jesus ascending to Heaven…

‘… how can I forget to fast today…?’

… since he ‘arrived’ in Perthland, everything was disarray, upside-down and in reverse… with dead-people-walking… immortal-visitors… losing-girlfriends… too-many odd-coincidences, etc, etc…

… and now forgetting-to-fast on Good Friday…

Paul sighed aloud unconsciously – it got the attention of the Dicksons at the table, who made eye-contact… and Paul made a tacit-apology, as he dished some Chinese mock-meat tofu in thick-soy sauce, to his couscous. He spooned the food into his mouth and looked up, seeing – the Dicksons were holding hands and saying a silent-grace-prayer. Feeling the 2nd-guilt of judging the Dicksons-yesterday… Paul stopped chewing… and waited for them to eat.

They all ate – Paul was surprised that the vegan couscous tasted good, and was recalling whether his-mom back-there had made that dish dish-before, as he can’t recall that she did. He had an ear fixed on the table conversation, when he ate a spoonful of the couscous, biting the butter-flavoured crunchy carrot and bell pepper-bits in it – Joe was telling his wife, about the Good Friday’s church Mass that evening. The teenager intervened…

“I want to come too.”

The parents were taken aback. Joe responded…

“I thought you and your brother, were a bunch of atheists – you both don’t go to church…”

“I do-now… may you get a medal from the angels, for bring me back to the right path, Joe.”

Joe was astounded, but the stoic Caroline’s lips curved into a smile… it melted Paul’s heart when he saw it, as she had ‘not’ been mom-friendly to either of her sons since their ‘arrival’ … and furthermore, his mom-back-there, appreciated his humour.

“Okay, the Mass is at 5… but we are going earlier for Confessions – be ready by 4:15.”

“Thanks-Joe – I’ll be ready…”

Paul sat and had a 2nd serving of lunch while eavesdropping the Dicksons’ Easter-plans, where they dropped-names of Joe’s relatives, whom he doesn’t-know, who would be arriving for the Sunday-lunch. Paul had noticed there was no mention of his-twin, Peter – who had moved out from their-house-to-live with his new-girlfriend, in her uncle’s hotel…

… after a heavy-lunch, Paul headed upstairs… to continue his dance-practice.

-O-

In the tall mirror, Paul saw his self-image of an overweight-dancer – but that didn’t deter him, as he had over-self-confidence of his past-contest winning, of his-Perth…

… he was 10...

... where his twin-Peter won his war-in the tennis-court of big-time finals, by winning the school’s junior championship for Stamford High-school – while at that same year…

… the slimmer Paul-then-too won the school’s dance-war competition… where he had choreographed and ensembled various dance-moves like ‘robotic and mime,’ into his own-version – of his Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal – in the finals of the competition…

… and had won his trophy.

Paul could-now WALK AND ‘NOT’ A CRIPPLE any-more, in Perthland…

… and was in top-notch in sureness, of his plan-of-execution – as he further watched ‘slimmer’ teens of his age, doing their solo-dance breaks-and-moves in the YouTube videos… where Slow-Mo body-snaps was popular – and he was mentally choreographing that discipline…

‘… the fatty-fats won’t go away overnight, mate… BUT TRY THE BEST, to emulate ‘those’ moves as Grade A, as possible…’

His iPhone rang, and it was Jane…

Paul was taken aback, and his heart skipped-a-beat, when he switched on the video-call – seeing the transformation of-facelift in Jane’s face, in cosmetics…

“Wow-Jane… look-at-you… you are as beautiful as some-angel, who-come from-the heaven-to-earth…”

… Jane was giggling and blushing when she saw the animated-Paul on the Samsung-screen – who was generous with his compliments of her-beauty and compared with something of celestial-beings of heavens…

… the gauge of compliment MEANT A LOT to her… as she was a blind-girl before.

She told that she had just returned from her shopping at the Garden-City… and was showing off the very-expensive Zara’s $700-dress and heeled-shoes, that her mummy bought for her for the 131st-school celebration-ball evening. Paul was even more-wowed, by the chic-dress from the stylish-brand paper-bag…

…but she joked that her modish black-dress was too ‘revealing’ for-school, and would use a long-scarf to cover-up her modesty… as-she knew boys like him, would-always don’t make 100% eye-contact with her in conversations, that she had-made on both-Perths…

…but Jane did ‘not’ mention about Dougie’s mom, Martha Zimmerman – who presented an expensive gift necklace, behind her ‘own’ Mummy’s big-spending… to match-up the social-status…

Jane diverted the topic...

“Have you heard-from Peter?”

Paul excitement-halted, when she asked about-his twin…

“No… err, I’ll be following the Dicksons to church, later for-Good Friday.”

“Okay.”

It was a short-answer coming from Jane – whose family were atheists…

…how-he wished that Jane… could join the family-table, for Easter-Sunday lunch…

“So, what you been-doing, Pauly?”

He was thrilled again…

“… been practising my dance moves…”

“Show me!”

… responded the eager-voiced blonde-teen. And, Paul chuckled…

“Nah, you wait till tomorrow, doll-face… why ruin the surprise…”

He was telling her about the solo-dancers’ YouTube-videos, that he had been indulging all-morning, and Jane keenly listened… their latter video-call conversations were then trivial, of what they ate for lunch…and Jane ended-the call…

“… call-you later, Pauly… love-you…”

Momentarily, Paul was on Cloud-9 WHEN HE HEARD ‘THAT’ – as the screen went-to-black… then the iPhone was blasted, by a couple of incoming-notification from WhatsApp…

… he had ‘not’ told Jane about HIS-SECRET – of the plans of animal-activists-group, who were going to crash-in South Perth Zoo, later that night at 10 PM – breaking-free the monkeys tonight… just like HER-SECRET OF HER-OWN, of the received gift-necklace…

‘…10PM… tonight…’

… it was almost 2 PM -now… another 8 more hours-time-to go…

‘… too-little… too-late…’ he sighed.

<><>

AROUND 2 PM, JEZEBEL RETURNED FROM HER LUNCH with her grand-uncle. She found Peter was still sleeping in her penthouse. She ordered a bowl of chicken-soup from room service, and then changed into a hotel’s bathrobe, and waited for the food.

When the food arrived, she woke Peter-up, and forced him to eat despite he had refused, saying he had no appetite…

… the last meal he had was more than 24 hours-ago – at Maccas, where he had a big-brekkie with Terry Donovan before the duo came to school after they were ‘smoked-up’… and, crystal-meth suppressed-hunger.

The frail teenager still with last night’s hangover, slurped his hot-soup in the bed. Jezebel suggested that they go to the hotel spa for a body-massage – despite Peter told, he wanted to catch-up with more-sleep.

After his-lunch, Jezebel forced him to accompany her to the spa – and the 2 of them, in their bathrobes, was escorted by her-personal bodyguard, Ian McNelly and another bodyguard to the 8th floor – where the hotel’s Health Wellness & Therapy Centre was.

As they came out of the lift of the 8th floor, they passed a half-crowded-gymnasium and walked along the corridor to the spa. They were ambushed by a couple of reporters, who posed as hotel-guests, and-were there to photograph the socialite famous-celebrity.

Ian McNelly shielded Jezebel from the paparazzi and entered the spa-entrance door – while the 2nd security detail, restrained an enthusiastic woman reporter from following them. The sneaky cameraman was shadowing Jezebel from the rear…

At the door, Peter grabbed-fast-on and tugged the strap of the camera, around his-neck – the man choked and fell, dropping on his back, onto the floor…

… the teenager stomped his face with his foot-thong… and knocked-off 4 of his front teeth…

“You mongrel! Which part of ‘respecting one's privacy,’ don’t you dogs, don’t get!!?”

… 3 hotel-security guards rushed-in, to contain the ‘situation.’ One of them told Peter…

“We got ‘this,’ Sir… you-can go-on inside… to the spa.”

“Oh-yea, is that-so, mate…? Why is that, am I doing your job here?”

… Peter walked in… and saw the Head of security-McNelly at the door inside. Jezebel spoke…

“Where were you, Peter?”

He saw McNelly going out, to guard the entrance. Peter saw 2 male-masseurs present with Jezebel. She dropped her bathrobe down… Peter was appalled to see that she was stark-naked – as she got onto the massage table, and laid on her belly, with no reserve.

“What are you waiting for...?” She said, turning her head at him…

‘…oh-yea… yes, this is your uncle’s hotel… do-whatever you want, Belle…’

Peter wore his briefs beneath the robe. Speechless at her public seduction-antics, he too got onto the next-table, as ordered… he saw the masseur pouring oil on her tanned-body and lathering… it all-over for a smooth-surface, with his palms…

Peter sighed in disappointment softly – when hearing she was moaning in pleasure nearby… to the rhythm of the staff’s skilful kneading into her back. And, before-long Peter ignored her… as-he too-was in his world-of-his-own, when his masseur applied pressure, to his aching-body…

… after 10 minutes of throbbing uneasily to the pain… he was soon-relaxed… and was snoring at the table…

He didn’t know how-long the passage-of-time was ‘lost’ – when he felt Jezebel’s whispers… and her playful nibbling his right-ear, to wake him up from the pleasant-nap. He opened his eyes and realised the massage was over, with both masseurs gone… with only them-both in the room…

“… Belle… what time is it…?”

“Who cares…?”

She took him by-the-hand… to get off the table…

“Come, Peter…”

He got into his feet, with wobbly-stance… the residue side-effect of the hallucinating Gochi was still-in-effect… and buzzed his head, like a hornet’s nest…

“Where are we going?”

“… to my secret place… you will love it…”

They both walked naked to the door at the dim-end of the room… to another steam-filled side, where the-area had bubbling jacuzzi bath-tubs… but-with no-other guests…

‘… oh-she booked the facilities for herself… well, any-way… it’s her uncle’s hotel…’

But they did not’ get into any-of the hot-tubs… as Jezebel led him by-the-hand to another antechamber nearby, where he saw 3 female Japanese spa-employees – in modesty, Peter immediately covered his private-parts with his free hand…

… as he held her hand, feeling like a lost-lamb being led… the 3 staff bowed their head respectfully to the naked-employer with her lover, who both came-up to an open wall…

… Jezebel placed her hand on a panel in the wall… Peter was astonished to see a secret grey-door slide-opening… that was into a short dark-passage, which-led to a flight of stone steps, like into a dim-dungeon, with random cased-walled yellow-tungsten-lights, for illumining to the passage-bowel... with the mist of steam, as its enclosed-atmosphere.

A sad-opera recording of a woman’s voice sang melancholy in eerie echoes…

Waiting below the stone-steps was a man… Peter came-down and notice he was a handsome Persian, with a well-short trimmed beard – who was a butler, who held 2 glasses of Champaign to descending naked teenagers.

Jezebel sipped her bubbling-wine… and led Peter leisurely into the dark-and-damp interior, that was wet-and-warm like a womb…

“Peter… that is Montserrat Isabela Cher-Crowley’s voice… she is my mother…”

“She sounds ‘grand’… do you sing Belle?”

She giggled, shaking her head… “…no, I sound like-more like a banshee…”

They both came to a passage that was spurting-out hot vapours of steam… they entered a dark man-made cave, with rock-low ceilings, with crystal-stalactites hanging from above… some of it had joined with the below stalagmites, to form pillars… where the naked-teens held-on, to get into its-bowel of a steam-filled, hot-spring…

“This is my secret place…”

“Wow-Belle… it’s sublime…”

… they puddled into the knee-deep of warm water, where the jacuzzi pool-floor was also glassed – and lighted by random rainbow-coloured bulbs from below, which was transcendent to the enclosure, of the small-pond fissure.

Peter sat down in the chest deep-water – his whole body melted-away into deep-relaxation, after the oil-massage… with his half-eyes closed, and he was-admired the standing long-dark haired, nude-beauty, who was finishing her drink, from her tall-glass…

… Jezebel then-came down on him, mounting herself at Peter’s hips… as she went-on to satisfy her carnal-appetite – while the helpless Peter, surrendered-wholly to-her… as her voluntary sex-slave.

<><>

HE WAS BIDDING AT AN ONLINE SITE for a China-made sneaker, which had LED lights, like the ones some solo-dancers had used, in their dance-videos, in YouTube. Paul was wanting this add-on, as props – to impress the judges… during his dance performance, in the school-talent competition, tomorrow evening.

The bid was escalating @$53, from $25…

… he cursed the other bidder who was upping the ante, for the last hour – as he was running out-of-time – as it was already 3:47 PM – and he got-to get ready for his church-going…

… with THE DICKSON AT 4:15…

He took a quick shower, and was dripping-wet in his towel when he came back-to-the laptop to continue the close-bidding – the-time was-already 4:11, when Paul had-won the bid @$69 – and jumped in joy, on the spot… giving a Rocky-stance… until Joe knocked on his door, and Paul’s towel dropped-down when he heard… his stepfather hurrying-him from outside…

… Paul quickly dressed up, as he visualized his LED-sneakers delivered tomorrow afternoon, by-courier – just-in-time for using-it at the grand-evening. In-no-time…

… the teenager was the backseat of the Holder Commodore, as he followed the Dicksons to the church.

The beige-sedan approached, as the eager Paul was comparing ‘both’ the churches, from his world and Perthland – to spot any differences… like he had learned his SHS-school, over here was more than a-100-years-old… then, he spotted a difference in the church…

… the statue of wide-winged, Archangel was in the parking lot of the parishioners… where else, the same statue was in the interior of his-St Michael’s church back-there – where in-the-heights of his twin-Peter’s ‘possession-powers,’ he had mentally ‘broke’ the angel’s sword… to despise-and-intimidate him.

But PAUL HAD MET his Guardian-Archangel in-person before, in his Egypt-mission with his demon-counterpart, Mercury – in their Cursed-trio’s task -attempt to foil the evil-Asmodeus, to walk in his-Perth… where St. Michael HAD PLAYED A KEY-ROLE, by ‘unlocking’ an enchanted spell, by striking his sword in the desert-sand…

… it was where the Cursed-trio HAD PENETRATED THE ENEMY’S compound of Dark Tower… where Jane had destroyed THE BLOOD-VIAL OF PETER, to free…

… his possessed-soul…

‘… but how-is-that… Jane told that HE HAD BEEN RE-POSSESSED – as a sex-fiend incubus…?’

-O-

In the carpark compound, the parish-priest Father Augustine Brown, with a purple-robe, had a chained-thurible smoking incense, when he led the congregation in the Station of the Cross processions of Good Friday, accompanied by his altar-boys carrying a cross-on-a pole and Holy-banners…

… Paul followed from behind the Dicksons, singing the ‘Nearer my God to Thee’ like a funeral-Mass when Father Brown blessed each of the 14 holy-stations of the cross… symbolizing the events of the Christ, leading up to his death on the cross.

Then the St. Michael’s congregation stepped into the church, where the holy-statues were covered with purple covers – where some worshipers went to their Holy Confession…

… and Paul joined the queue, and was in the confession-box and was faced with a French-priest ‘not’ his parish priest – Father Brown – whom he once had an ‘issue’ with him in his-Perth when he asked him some ‘forbidden’ questions of the Church, which the parish-priest felt was blasphemous…

… so, Paul had ‘not’ much to tell to this French-priest… other than he DID ‘NOT’ FAST today, for Good Friday as he had forgotten – and had was left off easy, in his penance.

Soon the Mass started, with an opening hymn that was Paul’s favourite called the ‘Old Rugged Cross’ where he sang with earnest… while sharing the hymn book, with Caroline. It followed by Father Brown’s reading of the gospel at the lectern, and proceeded with his lengthy sermon… by-then Paul’s mind switched off, by thinking – of his dance-moves of his practices, in YouTube…

… then came the highlight of Good Friday, where Jesus shared his ‘body-and-blood’ to mankind – and to do so, one should ‘be-forgiven,’ where worshippers would say to each other – ‘Peace Be with You’ – Paul said it to his stepfather… and he sensed by ‘his’ body language it was… forgiven but ‘not’ forgotten.

The long and solemn mass was over, with Father Augustine Brown’s announcement of the coming Easter midnight-Virgil tomorrow. The mass-parishioners were dispersing to go home, so did Paul – who was observing the crowd, to see some ‘familiar’ faces…

… there were ‘some,’ but they had reversed-aged, either they had gone older or younger… but the majority…

… were total-strangers like the rest-of-his-classmates of SHS.

And, he concluded that this-place is ‘NOT’ HIS-PERTH, but the evil Asmodeus’ reality… being his ‘own’ movie… as the casting-director of a movie-set, he had these-strangers – as non-speaking ‘extras.’

Paul’s heart pounded-up, as he spotted someone significant to him, in his-Perth – it was his UBER-DIVER, GARY MORRISON – who had been really friendly and very-helpful, by transporting and picking-up his-crippled-self – to-and-fro from school over-there.

… Paul had the urge to acknowledge him and maybe engaging him-again in Perthland… where he had difficulties commuting to SHS, by the unreliable public buses.

Paul trailed behind a slow-moving obese-old couple, in-aisle with the large crowd of dispersing worshippers… and by-then, Gary and his family were at the main-door. He caught Gary again in the church parking compound, where he and wife and twin-sons were walking over to the Nissan Almera – that had an advertisement in his Uber ride car’s door-sides – of Perthland’s Tourism Board… featuring coloured picture images of attractions… King’s Park and South Perthland Zoo.

Paul trailed behind the Morrison family – and noticed his both sons, George and Francis had GROWN TO-BE TWEENS…

… they were only 3 years old in his-Perth, AND THE-TWINS were Gary’s pride-and-joy, as he talked about them a lot… when he drove Paul daily to school.

Paul caught-up with Gary, who was unlocking his car. The driver had aged – from his mid-20’s to late-30’s…

“G’ day Garr… err… Mr Morrison…”

He saw the man was upset to see him – by the reactions in his body-language… and there was fear in both the tween-George and Francis’ eyes, who stood beside… before their father, Gary Morrison rudely responded…

“You keep away from my sons… and don’t you ever bother them again!”

… Paul was instantly flabbergasted, with his mouth gaped… until fear struck his heart, by a 2nd voice from his-rear reciprocating…

“Paul, what is happening?”

It was Joe – HIS STEP-FATHER, who was racing up to the angry Uber driver…

“Mr Dickson, your son here has been pestering my boys to join his Facebook-group – of rescuing abandoned-pets thrown-away in the streets of Perthland… but my-boys, are both too young to be some-bloody animal activists right-now when they should be spending their hours studying instead… let alone they have bloody poor-grades in school, instead of bloody-wasting their time, roaming-around in the street…

“…while I’m – driving around for long hours in my e-hailing job, trying my-hard to provide a decent living to my family – with Paul here, behind my-back… has being a bloody distraction to my boys’ studies…”

… Paul stood shocked realising – his teen-self had been an aficionado to his Animal Rights-cause, by his recruitment-efforts… and-by watching the 2-fathers interacting – it brought-BACK MEMORIES OF Solomon Walker’s angry reaction to Peter-and-him at the doorstep of his house, THAT HAPPENED THE DAY-before-yesterday…

“Paul! GET BACK to the car!”

Paul turned back and walked to the Holden, looking down… from the staring-eyes of the gawking church-goers, that were on-looking the commotion that had-just happened. He reached the car, and faced Caroline, standing-outside, staring ‘again’ in disappointment…

… his efforts of getting into her-good-books have-been shattered ‘again’… despite tying his very-hard to gain her trust-back, since his ‘arrival,’ 3 days ago…

Paul got into the backseat – and was looking through the windshield, at the nearby 2-fathers in conversation, a few parked-cars away. Caroline was still standing outside – while trepidation then-sunk into Paul…

‘… Poe-you fool… the RESCUE OF THE MONKEYS-would-be later, tonight at 10…’

His half-baked idea of a plan – was to make an anonymous phone call to the police at 9:30 PM to tip-off – and, they come in surprise-and-arrest the ‘drongo’ perpetrators into their rescue-act… THEN-CASE CLOSED…

… a good-deed done for Good Friday… or was it?

‘… now Joe knows I’m involved too… and his suspicion of me, now-knowing that I’m an ANIMAL ACTIVIST TOO…

… it would-be A COINCIDENCE, if the police made their arrest tonight…’

If the police made an arrest tonight – they would go into the cellphones of the criminals – and before-long, they would stumble into Kirk Kipman’s WhatsApp Group of animal-activist…

… and trace-up PAUL’S PHONE-NUMBER… and-into his involvement…

‘… Poe-you-retard galah-bird… what were you thinking!!? Why didn’t I ‘not’ get out of the ‘Hateful-8’ Group, when bloody-Kirk informed the ‘hit’ was @10PM, yesterday??? Instead of the STUPID-YOU MESSAGE BACK…

… along with others, with a BLOODY-THUMBS-UP…! That was so-very dumb, right… you cripple-brains!!?

“… now face the music… and the moral of the sermon of this-Good Friday is that – do unto others, what ‘others’ bloody-do unto you… and thank you very much… your karma’s has been served… in a polished silver platter… to reflect you-Judas-the-betrayer!!!’

He felt like kicking-hard in his own-butt – for ‘not’ thinking his-plans thoroughly, of every possibility of failure, like he had been meticulous in planning-of, his ‘missions,’ while back in his tween-Perth… but-now had ‘SCREWED-UP’ BIG-TIME, in teen-Perthland…

‘… Poe, you-bloody-fool… you were bloody distracted by the bloody-dance competition… and all-that to IMPRESS JANE WILSON…

‘…may they give you your bloody-dancing-shoes… when you go dancing-into the-prison gates!’

Through the windshield, Paul saw the 2 FATHERS SHAKING-HANDS… before Gary got into his Nissan, with his family… while Joe marched-back, to his car with a sour-face. And, outside, Caroline spoke of ‘WHAT’ HAD HAPPENED… Joe got into the driver's seat, and told his wife of her son's involvement into animal-activism, instead of spending his time to study.

Right-after the ignition of the Holden Commodore was started, and all through-out the journey back home was THE ‘TALKS’ ON THE FAILURE of raising their rebellious sons well. Joe then foreshadowed all-such possibilities… spoken if though Paul was ‘invisible,’ in the passenger’s backseat…

… there were also mention of his-twin – the drug-addict Peter – and the would-be facing possibilities of him getting-into bad-trouble… since he wasn’t under ‘their’ roof, anymore – and the likelihood he would-be arrested sooner-or-later, if he somewhat did sexually harm, his new-found VVIP girlfriend…

… and the number of HUMILIATIONS AND DISGRACE… the double-trouble notorious Walker-twins – would-then collectively bring, to the Dicksons doorsteps, in the near future.

From the backseat, Paul heard the quiet Caroline sniffling, as she heard-her husband rabbling about her-sons…with their poor-grades and would ‘not’ graduate… and they kicked off the Dicksons’ house when they were 18…

… Paul felt deep-guilt – as he was RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS BLUNDER… and it had caused unhappiness and hurt, and pain in this teenaged self's mother – and he felt he had to ‘own’ it – BY CONFESSING THE ‘10 PM CRIME,’ before it happened…

… but – judging by the parents’ enforcement-background, and this stepfather’s hatred to his stepsons… Paul felt it WOULD ‘NOT’ GO DOWN-WELL, as the whistle-blower…

… so, Paul decided that ‘LET NATURE TAKE ITS CAUSE’…

… with the animal activists’ cause to happen tonight… as envisaged and anticipated, and expected… provided nobody got caught and THE DIGITAL-FOOTPRINT WOULD ‘NOT’ BE-KNOCKING, on the Dicksons’ front-door.