Open Vote Jade: "Proud to Serve Your Children."

[Jade Hart]

Spoiler: Context

Concerning the Kashyyyk Incident and the ensuing reckoning

A school in a city on Verona…​

Standing room only.
That meant no emergency exits or first aid kits.
Or panic buttons or bank vaults.
And definitely no automated external defibrillators. Not that that would help.
Box fans humidified sweat into tropical mists. The floor was sticky. The ceiling was drippy.
The panic was real and you could read it in their eyes.

In this classroom, at an L-shaped teacher’s desk behind a force field, sat the five members of the local school board. They were here ostensibly to do a Q&A with parents about the upcoming board election. Normally, this was a quick, routine, check-the-boxes procedure.

Normally.

Now there was controversy. There was drama. This would be the most competitive school board election ever, and it was all because of their newest lightning rod of a member.

Jade Hart bobbed a toddler on her knee, smiling her smirky smile, hair-sprayed, perfumed, in a black dress and white blouse. The two-year-old pointed at the Vote Jade posters plastered on the wall. Jade beamed. “Yes sweety, that’s good, that’s very good.” She put his hand on her cheek and melted in his touch.

As various concerned community members crowded in, the parents got to sit at little kid desks in little kid chairs, babbling little kid words at her. Jade cupped her ear as if hard of hearing. The tweaked force field let no less than semi-complete sentences through to her table. No cursing. No slang. No late-night, holiday special rantings from your uncle.

“Look, Mrs. Jade, were you a Jedi or not?” shouted a dull-eyed man at the front.
Jade tore her eyes from the child. “What is your name sir?”
“Harold’s my name. Harold Dodders.”
“Well Mr. Harold, good of you to come.” She cleared her throat. “I was once an initiate of the Jedi Order long ago.”

Mr. Harold slapped his knee. “I knew it. Y'all Jedi blew up the space station.”
“I had nothing to do with that, Mr. Harold. The Jedi kidnapped me as a child.” Jade teared up, sniffing. “I had to say a pledge of allegiance to the Jedi flag every day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
A misinformed parent: “I heard they kicked you out?”

Jade gazed down at the bundle of love on her knee. “I wanted to have kids, and the Jedi Order wouldn’t allow it.” She wiped away the tiniest tear. “I’m sure they aren’t behind the destruction of our space station”—she shook her head hard ten times—”strike it from your minds my fellow Veronans, it’s too brutish and blundering, too incompetent, and when have the Jedi ever been incompetent? That’s why we need educated, young minds to sniff out the truth.”

 

[Jade Hart]

The crowd muttered along.
“Jade! Jade! Answer me this!”—a wild-eyed woman pushed her way forward—”Two years ago before you were on the board, were you teaching your kindergarteners magic?”

The crowd responded:
“It’s not magic. It’s the force!”
“Those allegations are bullshit. That kid just slipped is all.”
“My boys will not be soldiers in your crusade!”
“Good! Kids should know self-defense.”

Jade put up a hand. The noise ceased.
“Some of my kiddos came to class highly anxious from bad home environments and I taught them breathing exercises.”

She straightened up. “Anyway, let’s talk results. By year-end, every student in my class read above grade level, exceeding expectations on district testing. That’s why you voted me on the board two years ago, to take my methods district-wide. Because I get results.”

“Yeah, but those school books you’ve ordered are very violent.”
“That keeps the little ones engaged.”
“Why are the Jedi so evil in these stories?”
“There are good Jedi too. We’re being fair and balanced.”
A blue-skinned, bug-eyed alien in the back raised its voice above the cacophony. “Why did a parent file a complaint you gave her daughter a midichlorian test?”
Jade wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been over this. That parent was deeply confused. Her daughter reacted badly to a vaccination by the school nurse.”
“What about reports you choked out those two fighting kids?”
“Absolutely false. I never, ever touched them. To quote a late, great Jedi Grandmaster, a woman I’m proud to call my mentor: I do not pass judgment without first seeking to understand. I do not punish without reason…and never as a first resort. That is not my way.”

More noise. Jade’s motherly voice carried across the room like she was the parent of these parents. “Friends, families, you know me, your children know me. Teaching young minds to read is my passion, my life, whether as kindergarten teacher or board member. My life is an open book.”
Her smile became a sneer. “Or you can vote for the impressive Mr. Harold or our blue friend over there.”
There was laughter and grumbling. The child pulled on her earlobe. She took its little kid hand and made it wave. “Well then, I look forward to serving a second term on the board, helping thousands more kids to read, bringing light to the darkness.” The other board members sat stiff beside her. Jade whipped her gaze back and forth.

“Unless there are any more questions?”

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Naturally, this wasn’t much of a meeting without some refreshments to greet the inhabitants on the other side of the force field. For one of them, however, it was more like a meal. “Donut?” The Togruta politely offered to whoever was standing next to her at the snack table in the corner. “Donut.” She claimed her own either way.

While the grown-ups were busy discussing the election and the merits of the candidates, Leh’Min’Ayd was busy stuffing her face. A cookie followed the donut, a cinnamon biscuit followed the cookie, and she washed it all down with a hearty swig of deliciously rich coffee.

With her back turned to the developments of the elections as parents entered the conversation, Leh'Min just listened. “Oh mah gah.” She heard ‘Jade’ this. “Mmf so good!” ‘Crusade’ that. “Oh my goodness how did I miss the lemon cakes!?” She sang.

“Ah-aw-uh-eh-ih!” She turned to face the crowd, hand raised.

“Excuse me?” Asked a board member with a boring face.

“Sorry,” she offered after swallowing. “I’ve got a question!”

“And you are, miss?”

“Leh’Min’Ayd!”

“It’s right by the tray where the lemon cakes used to be.”

“Hum? Oh! No! That’s my name! Leh’Min’Ayd!”

“Okay. I am Dr. Crasier Frane. Go on. I’m listening.”

“A question for Jade.” She waved, a genuine smile on her face, and both faces would be rather familiar with each other. Last time Leh’Min’Ayd saw Jade was on a beach in a contest that ended with them dancing. Jade had been a fun fighter and a dancer.

“Why is a former Jedi even applying the Force in this school, as a taught concept or as a tool?” She was serious, not sarcastic, though her tone was much more conversational, and her question was backed up with a croissant to chew on in thought.

@Taygood

 

[Jade Hart]

On hearing Leh’s voice, Jade’s eyes parted the crowd like a tiger dashing between trees. She knee-bobbed the kid, maintaining her perky smile. “Welcome, Lemonade was it? Friend of Jedi.” Cleared her throat. “Though I admit I’m a bit confused. We have space stations blowing up, school board elections underway, and now Jedi running around… eating all our good food. Interesting coincidence.” Jade paused for the slower folks to catch up. History had made her a very patient woman.

The parents scratched their heads as cardboard boxes of pastries—donuts, cakes, croissants—were passed around. Jade dished out her best yearbook-smile as she slowed down and ‘twanged up her speech. “Let me re-it-er-ate: We don’t use no such force in our schools. What is that even? The power of positive thinking alone suffices. I’m just trying to provide a little order for our planet, a little good ol’ fashioned ped-a-gogy.”

She kept nodding and making eye-contact with the parents while telepathically opening a private line with Leh’.

~

Yo Leh'! Hey girl!
Great you could make it! The universe has a way of working out.

But you have rotten luck… As your former dance partner, I feel duty-bound to inform you that some of the pastries you’re enjoying, which were meant for the more troublesome parents, are laced with nightshade, a deadly poison. Maybe you already ate one, and maybe you didn’t. The effects are delayed!

Such a shame. Just how many vulnerable young women are the Jedi going to lose? Ah well, after what they did to me can I really be blamed? Revenge ain’t cheap, honey.

But it’s cool—I have the antidote if you want it.
Or would you rather flip a coin?

~

@Die Shize

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Spoiler: Music OOC

“Leh’Min’Ayd, Leh’Min, Lem, long as it isn’t Lameonade or Lemmy or Lol—”

Jade cleared her throat and continued as Lemonade deliberated whether ‘friend of Jedi’ was an accurate term for her. She ever asked herself if she was a Jedi to begin with, and if yes then is she still one? Even if in name, was she Jedi at heart? A friend at best? In that same vein, what was Jade?

As Jade re-it-er-ated, Leh’Min’Ayd scratched her head. Her lekku got itchy sometimes. Amid the audience, parents sat perplexed, this person and that one wondering whether Jade Hart had the best heart to represent them if elected.

There was yet a reason for Leh’Min’s question and a method to the madness. At least, that was her intention. Then the candidate mentioned pedagogy. Lem hastened to swallow a big bite of coconut donut and licked the crumbs from her lips.

“I dunno what a ped-a-gogy is—is it like a pagoda for pets?—but people of this forum hear me hear me for it is my testimony— Hum?”

Jade’s voice again, only this time it was in her head. Lem stared stupidly at a parent as she listened. Telepathy was of course nothing new to her. Some of her best conversations were mentally generated between her and Lin.

Yet, in this situation, Jade’s words almost slithered across the girl’s brain, curled over her like shadowed tentacles from the deepest darkest pit of the entire universe, and burned.

Nightshade.

Lemon gulped, involuntarily swallowing cheesecake that had somehow found its way toward her face. POISON!?!? Jade mentioned that the effects were delayed. Then again, Lem had eaten a whole lot more than one at any rate!

Revenge.

Lem should have seen this coming. In the end, Jade always was a bit of a big fat meanie head. Whether this was just some witch’s trick, Leh’Min’Ayd ate her last bite, turned to Jade and became the face of the Jedi with a flame in her eyes.

She said nothing, just calmly took a napkin to her mouth, her hands, crossed her brows and pulled out an object from her pocket. -PING!- She flipped it.

Heads: You give me the antidote.
Tails: I take the antidote from you.

The coin landed on the floor between Jade and Leh’Min’Ayd. A parent peeked down and called out with a confident voice. “Tails." Oh well.

@Taygood

 

[Jade Hart]

Jade smiled at Leh’.
OK. Here's your antidote. It's all yours.

She removed a pill from her pocket and set it on the table and switched off the forcefield. The pill seesawed on the table in little half-circles, rolling with the grains of wood before settling in a groove. It was a blue, powder-filled, soft-shelled capsule. The child reached for it and Jade immediately pulled back their little hand.

That was it. No threats or demands. No insidious schemes or grand bargains. Just an OK and a head nod based on the honor system.

Jade acted like everything was normal, answering questions from parents and whispering to her fellow school boarders. She drummed her fingers on the table. Stole glances at the pill. Minutes ticked by. Dumb questions multiplied. Sweat fell off her chin. Parents got up—stretched, yawned, fanned—passed pastries around. One very picky man poked a sweet, sniffed it, held it up to the light. Nibbling its edges, he cried, “My compliments to the baker!” This was the finest baked blueberry muffin he’d ever tasted.

Jade kept looking at her watch; her dainty, barely contained smile like a time-delayed grenade.
The pill laid there. Waiting.
While all those hearts kept ticking.

@Die Shize

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Hum. Well, that went easier than expected but, then again, would this chick have actually given into violence in the midst of these parents and children? Jade was no chicken but Leh’Min’Ayd was going to get that antidote one way or the other, granted, hence the flip, yet the turnaround was pretty quick. What are you up to?

Not a telepathic question. The sentence sets in Leh’Min’s head as she inspects the pill pulled from the pocket. She had watched as it rolled and settled, so small and simple, like that child who tried to tackle it before being kept still.

It was just a coin and a pill to everyone else and just as well. Maybe some of these fine folk believed in the Force, actually believed in it, but the little Lemon didn’t sense any Force-sensitives so it was evident that only Jade and Leh’Min’Ayd were able to communicate via their minds as Jedi.

Wait. Lem debated as she gazed at that table. Sweat lined her forehead. Jade’s smile was like bile. I don’t feel sick. What if it’s just a trick? Jade did mention the effects may be delayed.

Worst came to worst, like that antidote being a dud, Lem could draw upon the Force to an extent but what about the others? That wouldn’t be revenge against the Jedi. It would be mass murder!

Parents? Children? No, surely even the mother of Bush Jade wouldn’t risk poisoning these pastries when it came to these sweet kids! Wookiees on a plane were one thing but this business, seriously!?

Do I call her out? Lem looked around. Might be risky! She’s tricky! Maybe she rigged this place to blow if she’s exposed but I got no time to play games and I ain’t here for nature shows!

“PAH!” Lem bit into a blueberry muffin and spat it out immediately. “This is soooo gross.” She grabbed a strawberry jelly donut. “EW!” Another one down. “I think the humidity has ruined these pastries everybody!”

At that, the Jedi Padawan cast Force Trash as she promptly yoinked pastries from people’s grasp. “Don’t worry! I just placed a comlink order for Fluffy Fluffy! Free cookies for everybody! YIPPY!”

Leh’Min’Ayd smiled wide and held up the peace sign for Jade. While sweat slides from her face.

@Taygood

 

[Jade Hart]

As Leh’ threw the pastries up a woman fell down and threw up. She kicked and flailed, her carpet marks both jagged and surreal. An oreo donut stuck to vomit in her hair. Parents circled her and one even tried CPR.

At the table further back, Jade sang in the child’s ear, “Count the Mommies and Daddies like fish sticks. One, two, three… All those bodies so warm and meaty!”

She got up and wormed through the parents, elbowing past Leh’. “Give the poor lady some liquids. Maybe the Jedi can bless it?” Jade stymied a laugh, wore her Serious Face mask. She emptied a water bottle onto the downed woman who gasped, opening and closing her big bubbly goldfish mouth.

The panting hot walls close around parents who carry on and mutter Heart attack! and Heat stroke! and force-whispers of The Plague! slither through the crowd and Jade lays flat the body on the ground and over a puddle slips another with donut in hand.

Two gone, thirty-two to go.
Last chance, Leh’.

And now gripping some pour soul’s skull, the Jedi exile stares down the Jedi exotic with the frowniest of smirk-smiles because she’s praying, oh lordy, praying hard that Leh’ still has two mitochondria enough to understand her dilemma, for J’ wants Leh’ to see that unlike those very combustible Wookiees the fuse to her atomic smile has not yet been lit, but that if pressured, the psychopath Jade Hart may literally blow up the school board in order to save it.

Or is it all bullshit?

Picture:
a parent-packed room
Jade and Leh’ front and center
the school boarders in a corner
the kid in a chair

Now picture one final character…
Amid all this fish stick babble, the pill stays perfectly still on the table.

@Die Shize

 

[Leh'Min'Ayd]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Oh no…

Well now. This is a bit different. Leh’Min’Ayd had her fair share of experiences with chit like this. She liked the light, yes. Yet she had danced with darkness in more than one instance. In that sense, she wasn’t too different from Jade.

Yet Leh’Min’Ayd doesn’t know who trained Jade. Who trained Leh’Min’Ayd? That remains to be shown. Although, it isn’t someone the public is ready to meet anyway.

Yet, he had trained his student to be dangerous. He had aught the Lemonade how to swing a blade. How to fight. Survive. How to live. How to die. So why, O why, was her judgment so broken at this moment?

In the end, despite her encounters with Jade Hart and Bush Jade, O heartless Jade and artless Bush!Jade, did Leh’Min have a soft spot for this wicked chick? Not admiration. Not friendship. Maybe it was…simply pity.

Whatever the case, Leh’Min’Ayd’s realization of current events as they happen all around her in instants came too late. And the Lemon was paying for it.

Didn’t matter whether she ate one of the few poisoned pastries. Didn’t matter that, if she did, the antidote wasn’t a dud but her cure.

Nothing else mattered except for the fact that two parents were dead because Leh’Min’Ayd hesitated.

You BITCH.

No mercy for the witch.

Because, whoever and whatever Jade is, Leh’Min’Ayd is No One. A Jedi in name. But just a weapon. Just a blade.

Mental note made to stave off eating further pastries for the following weeks.

Stop this. Now.

Leh’Min’s clenched fists.
Eyebrows arc like sharp scimitars.
Eyes like shurikens.
Gaze at Jade.

Or I put you down.

Like the fight at the beach.
Only this time, permanently.
Jade’s plan to blow up things?
Purple blade will end her quickly.

@Taygood