Galactic Girl Grace Chapter 1

1995- Fremantle, Western Australia. 

My name is Grace Hooper and my life has truly taken a turn for the worst. For more than a year now my humdrum University existence has been overtaken by horrifying demons and galactic warfare. If this all sounds complicated beyond belief I wouldn't stress, I'll fill you in on the details from beginning to end. I'm not normally one to write in a journal but I figure that if I'm gonna come to terms with all of this, I need some proof that I actually am human after all.  

 

My tale begins in my home town, Fremantle. Fremantle is technically a city but it feels more like a small seaside town. It has all these beautiful old buildings from as far back as the 1800's dotted along cracked sunburnt roads. Almost every second building is a bar with great live music playing and the population consists primarily of hippies and alternative folk. I couldn't think of a better place to spend my late teens, if I want to go to a house party I just need to follow the sound of music down the local roads. There's a sense of freedom and youthful energy here that is out of this world.  Although it's still definitely illegal, everyone smokes weed in public and rarely faces any consequences which is another giant plus. The one place that best represents the ethos of Fremantle is Mojos bar. This place has literally become a second home for me, it's truly a safe haven for those who feel out of place and need a fun escape. It's a small venue with fairy lights strung all over the place and painted walls depicting images of Simpson's characters tripping. All the best local bands play their first gigs here and the coolest indie kids alway use it as their main hangout spot. It's nothing short of paradise. 

This is where I was on the night everything changed...

 

God I love being dramatic. I was having a truly awful time earlier that night because I had accidentally bumped into my old high-school bullies while buying groceries. All I wanted was to buy as many 50c packets of noodles as humanly possible when I heard their familiar snide remarks. They were laughing at the fact that I still had pimples at 19. Normally what they say doesn't affect me too much but that one particular comment hit too close to home. I've been insecure about my pimples for as long as I can remember and no matter how hard I try they always manage to stay. I've bought all of the expensive products, I've laid out in the sun and even rubbed toothpaste into my skin on multiple occasions. Nothing I do seems to stop the endless pimple onslaught. I pretended to ignore the bullies comments but they knew they'd hurt me, one girl in particular gave me a satisfied toothy grin as she left the store. I wanted to kick her teeth in so bad. I hate to say it but If there's one detail you need to know about me it's the fact that I'm overwhelmingly sensitive, as much as I try to hide it. I'm a bit of a mess in that regard, I'll be watching a movie with a vaguely sad scene and cry my eyes out as though my whole family had passed away. Even seeing someone else sad or having a bad time is enough for me to break down. I've gotten better at hiding it throughout the years but when it comes to people saying mean comments about me, it's almost always clear just how upset I am. Bullies exploited this to no end in high school and the last thing I needed that day was a firm reminder. I ran back home holding back my tears and instantly called up my best friend Anna. It was a Friday night and I needed to go out. 

 

 

I went through my usual pre party routine. I went to the bathroom so I could apply my make up and was shocked at what I saw. My long, unkempt brown hair was frizzier than normal and I had these giant dark bags under my eyes. I rigorously washed my hair, purposely applied my eyeliner hard and thick, lined my ears with piercings and threw on my dads old denim jacket over a faded Fugazi shirt. My thick rimmed bottle glasses completed the look perfectly. I was finally feeling confident and ready to head out. 

I then proceeded to walk down to my local bottle shop and bought the cheapest wine they had. The bottle had a blurry photograph of a kangaroo plastered across it, I almost feared that the poor bastard was one of the key ingredients. By the time I arrived back home Anna was already in my backyard, smoking out of my dads bong. It seemed she was also partaking In her usual pre party routine. Anna had a short blonde pixie cut with artful tattoos covering both arms. That night she was sporting a faded red cap and a Rites of Spring shirt. It was a simple look that she pulled off rather well. Anna's one of the closest friends I have. Unlike myself, she seems to have zero regard for what others think of her and goes about life following her own rules. She has this overwhelming confidence that would be considered arrogant if it weren't for the fact that she was incredibly empathetic and good to others. Despite being rather well liked herself, Anna viewed the social hierarchy of high-school as complete bullshit and hung out with whoever she wanted. Even if this meant being criticised by others. This is how Anna and I became close, she used to always approach me in art class and compliment my drawings despite them clearly being subpar. I was almost always drawing scenes straight from shitty 80's horror flicks. This worked well in my favour as Anna was a surprisingly big fan of these films as well. We soon found ourselves becoming good friends discussing everything from our love of punk music to our hatred of capitalism. Anna built up my self confidence in a lot of important ways and is someone I would do anything for. This is why I wasn't too mad when I found her in my yard smoking way too much of my weed. She was seated on a small wooden chair that looked on the brink of collapse. I aggressively grabbed the bong off Anna, chatting to her In the process so she'd be too distracted to care. A grin spread across Anna's face as she began to speak up. 

 

 

"I see we're going through with our usual plans this evening?"

I let out a loud sigh and slumped myself onto the ground next to her.

"If by usual plans you mean smoking so much to the point where I forgot what my insecurities actually are and have the confidence to speak to anyone but us. Sure." 

"Oh come on. You'll be just fine. Oh that reminds me, there's another house gig tomorrow night. Were you at the last one?'

I knew these house gigs all too well. In Fremantle there were few men as iconic and well known as Dave Vale. He was a 20 year old punk singer with medium length pitch black hair, dreamy blue eyes and a fashion style that almost always consisted of ripped jeans and too many piercings for his own good. He was so good looking that it was actually difficult to make any form of eye contact with him without passing out. Every few weeks he would host these gigs at his home as a way of showcasing local punk talent. These were rather exclusive and attracted people from all over Western Australia. I had no right going to any of these but Anna was always able to get me in as a plus one. This was because she always had connections. I would never tell her this out of fear of being made fun of, but I totally hoped that she would introduce me to Dave. He was 100 percent my type. I smoked out of the bong and finally responded to Anna's question. 

"Oh of course! I was at the very first one where Slave Dragon played. It was an incredible set."

Anna used her lighter to crack open a beer before enthusiastically chiming in.

"I remember that set well. The bands drumsticks had been smashed earlier for some reason, so the drummer had to use his hands the whole time and he fucking killed it! It was very impressive stuff."

 

Suddenly a flash of memories came back to me from that night. I instantly placed my head on my knees in shame, wincing from embarrassment.

"What's the matter?", Anna inquired whilst sounding genuinely concerned. 

I slowly looked up at her, recollecting my thoughts before telling my story. 

"I know exactly why those drumsticks were broken. I hate to admit it, but I also played a set that night."

"Wh- what do you mean? You can't even play any instruments or sing. No offence."

"I can't be offended by straight facts Anna, I truly have zero musical talent. But for some strange fucked up reason, that key flaw didn't seem like too big of a drawback that night."

"How do you mean?"

"After Dave finished his last Set, I jumped up onto stage and started haphazardly smacking the drums while screaming the lyrics from 'Hungry Like The Wolf." 

Anna said nothing for a few moments and just stared back at me with these wide concerned eyes.

"How on earth did you find the confidence to do that? That seems so unlike you."

"I hate to admit it but quite often I get so drunk to the point where I forget that I was even drinking in the first place. This results in a lot of misguided confidence. It worked out well in the end though, a lot of people thought that I was doing some avant- garde experimental act."

This made Anna chuckle. 

"You're lucky you were playing to one the most pretentious crowds In all of Fremantle. This is probably the same group of people that listen to loud screeching sounds and pretend that it's high art or something."

I awkwardly paused for a minute or two.

"Uh Anna... aren't we totally those people as well. I mean our favourite Sonic Youth song is literally 20 minutes of straight noise."

Anna let out a snide grin.

"Yeah but at least we're self aware about it." 

 

Our conversation was cut short by the familiar rattle of my mums keys. Nothing inspires fear in us more than that awful sound. Anna and I instantly sat up, hiding the bong around the side of my house and promptly stuffing the weed behind an old cupboard. Despite my mum clearly taking lots of drugs in her youth she has always stated that she never wants me taking part. The evident hypocrisy here will never not piss me off. Either way, if my mum catches me doing drugs I'll certainly have hell to pay. My mum was always over protective to the extreme as a kid but ever since losing Emily this tendency of hers has gotten so much worse. 

 

Oh yeah I should probably tell you guys about Emily. Don't worry, this information comes in handy later. 

 

Five years earlier my sister and best friend Emily suddenly disappeared while on her way to a party. She vanished with zero trace. The police spent weeks and weeks searching and tried everything in their power to find some clue as to where she had gone. No matter what they did, no evidence was ever found. Soon the police and city folk gave up and went on with their lives. It seemed like everyone had decided to move on and forget about the whole incident. Everyone except myself and mum of course. It's thankfully been long enough now that I can manage to get through a whole day without crying my eyes out over it. But the incident still looms over me day to day, like a ever present dull pain. 

 

Pain was exactly what I felt when I stubbed my toe on the Mojos entryway. I was trying my hardest to look cool and in control in front of the bouncer and Anna, shaking off the pain as though it was nothing. On the inside I wanted to scream out in agony and curse my own existence. The bouncer ignored my predicament and swiftly asked for my I.D. I secretly love it when I get my I.D checked, it makes me feel like I look younger than I actually am. It is unfortunately a very rare occurrence though. I passed him my I.D and rapidly felt my cheeks go red as I remembered how truly awful my photo on the card is. I was going through a phase where I dyed my hair blue and didn't shower for a week as a rebellious statement. 

 

Well now I feel like I have the explain the context behind that. Damn.  

I'll tell this story as quickly as possible, I promise. 

 

In year 9, Anna came to school with these new blonde highlights in her hair. They were instantly the talk of the school and soon everyone desperately wanted to copy her style. Within a week everyone in my class except me had adopted this new look. Within another week, I too had given it a whirl. This completely shook our schools catholic pristine image, much to our teachers dismay. A meeting was quickly called and soon having dyed hair was completely banned. The principal stated that it made us look "unprofessional and boorish". She always spoke like she was a rejected Jane Austen character. Anna viewed this as a complete violation of our rights and slowly over two months gathered at least 100 student revolutionaries. Anna has this innate ability to suck people in with her natural charm. She can convince you to do almost anything with nothing but brief eye contact and a half smile. It's impressive beyond words. 

The plan was a simple one, we dye our hair blue and don't shower until the teachers give up and give us back our constitutionally protected rights. Within half a day we were all suspended. Regardless, It's an event that has truly stuck with me. I'll never forget the energy and passion I felt standing up for what I believed in. It was truly wonderful. 

 

I felt instantly overwhelmed upon entering Mojos. There were people as far as the eye could see and suddenly I found myself feeling self conscious. I'm never used to Mojos having more than twelve people at a time so seeing the venue packed threw me off a bit. It made sense though seeing as Dave Vale himself was playing later. I instantly ran to the bathroom in an anxious haze. The bathroom was dingy and dark with a barely functioning light flashing in the background and walls littered with graffiti. Anna called out to me but I just ignored her and focused on my breathing. Throughout all this I had a random vivid memory. It was of my mum kneeling down to comfort me as I cried. I was eight years old and I'd had my first ever panic attack over Santa Claus of all things. I'd stolen a friends Star Wars pencil earlier and was worried that Santa wouldn't give me presents as punishment. My mum held me tight and re assured me that this wasn't the case. 'Even know you made a tiny mistake, what really matters is that you have a good heart. Santa can sense things like that". I miss how simple things were back then. One warm hug from my mum and all my problems would melt away. God, how does everyone else act like an adult so convincingly? Am I the only one finding this incredibly hard to navigate? Even basic social settings make me fall apart. I pulled a battered cigarette out of my pocket and took a long drag. "You'll be okay Grace, I promise. No one here is going to judge you, you're just here to have fun." I tried my hardest to comfort myself before lightly hitting the mirror and leaving. 

 

I caught up with Anna Again. I made up some lame excuse about feeling sick from eating too much that I'm sure she only half believed. We then walked down this labyrinthine hall with various torn punk posters on either side. I had to awkwardly make my way through a sea of concert goers. Or as Anna would call them, "A sea of pseudo intellectual art students". I understood where she was coming from and have admittedly made similar sentiments in the past. Yet I couldn't help but feel this strong urge to fit in with them, although I would never admit that out loud. We finally made it through the crowd and bumped into my close friend James. I've known James for as long as I can remember. He's always been this big ball of energy that no matter what always has a smile on his face. I'm eternally grateful for his constant presence in my life. Whenever I need cheering up or someone to have a meaningful conversation with, he's my go to guy. He was wearing a bland grey shirt with a red flannel over it and these incredibly out of place dark sunglasses. Before I could approach him I spotted Dave Vale and a group of his friends. They all looked cool beyond words and I couldn't help but envy them. Dave In particular looked more beautiful than ever. I watched on as he told some anecdote that made the whole group laugh and roll around. Much to my dismay, Dave out of no where stopped telling his story and glanced over in my direction. He had clearly spotted me staring at him like a total idiot and gave me a quick smile before slowly walking over to me. I could have died on the spot, my heart was beating so fast that it felt like it could burst out of my chest at any moment. I was terrified, I didn't know what to say or do when he arrived. I felt my palms going sweaty and my breath getting shorter with each passing second. How on earth was I going to be stable enough to have a conversation with literally the coolest guy I know?