Fiction 

Jasper knew from the age of twelve that something wasn’t right. Each decision he made and each step he took, something watched him. Something lurking in the shadows. 

He had heard of it before through stories. It was a creature that had existed alongside people since the first human. He knew it was called the Yteixna. 

It changed form frequently, making it difficult to describe its appearance. Sometimes it had a mouth and hands, sometimes it had neither. It was different everyday. Some days it was tall, its body so paper thin the slightest gust of wind could knock it down. Some days, it was short and stout, and smiled an awful, yellow toothed smile that sent shivers down Jasper's back. But every single day it wore a black cloak that covered most of its body, save for the mouth, if its form had a mouth that day.

When it first appeared, it was quiet. It was a distant thing that watched from afar, but Jasper still felt it, he still knew it was there, and he couldn’t shake the Yteixna’s gaze. He didn’t know how to make it go away, and everytime he tried to catch it, it would slip from his grasp. It peered over his shoulder during English and glared at him during History. He felt it staring at him in Math and it scoffed at him in Science. 

He tried ignoring it for a while, hoping it would leave him alone if he didn’t acknowledge it, but he still felt it watching him. Sometimes he closed his eyes, remembering a peaceful time when the creature didn't follow him. A time where he simply lived, not worried and not scared.

He buried himself in sports and activities and work. He became captain of the soccer team, he joined the French club, and he joined the art club, not coming up for air; not letting himself be alone with the Yteixna. He thought if he didn’t give it a chance to bother him, it would go away.

But it didn’t go away. It came back with even more intensity, and the Yteixna chose the worst time to emerge. 

Jasper was taking the penalty shot for his team when he saw the creature from the corner of his eye. His stomach dropped and his heart started to race. Why was it here, on the field?

It stood on the sidelines, watching him as he got into position to take the shot. It shucked its dark cloak and reared up on its hind legs, making an awful sort of shrieking sound. Its eyes were buggy and it had slimy skin that oozed and made squelching noises as it moved. Closer and closer the creature moved until Jasper could smell it's hot, noxious breath. Jasper kicked at the ball and felt his face heat up. He missed the goal entirely. He had kicked out at the ball in fear, and he had let the Yteixna get the best of him. 

As the buzzer rang signaling the end of the game, he saw the creature slink away, a disgusting sharp toothed grin on its ugly, gelatinous green face.

His teammates asked him what had happened. Why the captain missed the shot that would’ve made them the winning team, or why he hadn’t been paying attention. He didn’t have an answer, and he knew that was unfair for his team. He quit soccer after that. His coaches had asked him why he, one of the greatest soccer players on the team, wanted to quit, but Jasper didn’t have an answer. He knew people wouldn’t understand. 

Jasper went home that day with the sinking feeling that he couldn’t escape the Yteixna. He was angry. No, he was furious. Why him? Why was this happening to him? Why did this creature never leave him alone? He wanted to scream, he wanted to break things, to smash things. He wanted to get rid of the creature. He wanted to chase it away or maybe even kill it entirely, but the problem was he has not the slightest clue how. He didn’t even know how to begin. Was he just going to have to live with this? Was there really no way to vanquish this foul creature that pitied his existence? That taunted him and cackled in his face? He refused to believe he couldn’t do anything. 

He plotted for days about ways to vanquish the creature, but it was to no avail. Everytime he tried it slipped away, laughing at his feeble attempts to get rid of it. Everytime he tried, it simply cackled in his face and disappeared, its laugh ringing in his ears. Every time he took a swing, it found a way to escape.

He pitied himself as he walked home from school, the grueling week, finally over. Everyone at school was panicking about graduating soon, which didn't help Jasper. He felt lost in this world of darkness and misery.

The sky matched his mood. It was cloudy and gray, and it let out a few rumbles every now and then. It only made Jasper pity himself more. Now he was going to have to walk home in the rain. 

When he reached his house he dumped his backpack on the floor and plopped down onto his bed. He leaned over to his nightstand and grabbed a comic: Spiderman, 1994 edition, issue 103. He thumbed through the pages. Reading his favorite comics was the only time he didn’t feel like he wanted to claw out of his own skin, and slaughter the Yteixna on the spot. He was on the part when Spiderman was going through a rough time. He was living on the streets and he wasn’t using his powers for good, and his life was at a low point. But Jasper knew that in about 10 pages Spiderman gets his life together and starts fighting crime again. 

‘He’s a good guy, good guys always win, and everything turns out okay in the end.’ He thought before he turned off his light and pulled the covers up, too drained to even change out of his school clothes. 

* * *

It was finally graduation time. Jasper looked at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t feel like himself. He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt this way, nothing was that different. He had gotten a haircut the day before, and he was wearing freshly ironed clothes, but it wasn’t anything to make him feel this way. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When he opened them again, he saw the Yteixna behind him, its cloak covering it completely. Jasper's stomach clenched and he could hear his heart beating fast and he felt the fear pooling in his stomach. 

He saw the Yteixna’s smile. Today, its smile looked oddly human. Jasper found it repulsive and foul. He felt his fear rushing to his head, becoming hot, blood boiling anger. He shot a look of disdain at the creature behind him. The Yteixna shucked its cloak, revealing itself. 

The Yteixna was him.

It had the same short brown hair and tan skin. His long arms and legs, his pink lips and pointed nose.

He was breathing heavily. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to calm himself down, but his anger did not waver. 

“Do you think this is funny?” He said to the Yteixna in a low voice. He had never talked to it before, he didn't think it could speak. Surely if it could it would have already spoken to him. 

He heard nothing from it. It just stared at him, its expression blank, almost sleepy. 

“Do you think this is funny?” He repeated, this time his voice was louder.

It looked at its short nails, ignoring him on purpose and trying to appear nonchalant. It only made Jasper angrier.

“Well lemme tell you. It's not funny.” He said, his voice menacing. 

Jasper saw the Yteixna stop picking at its nails and take a couple steps closer in the mirror. He whipped around to face it as it came to a stop right in front of him. He took a deep breath. He was not afraid, he would not back down. 

To Jasper's surprise the Yteixna opened its mouth. Its breath smelled like the same minty toothpaste he used. The accuracy of the creature was scary in a different way than the fear he normally felt. It looked like him, it walked like him, and it acted like him. It was an eerie duplicate of him. 

“Well lemme tell you, it's not.” It said, mimicking him in its own gravelly voice, like metal scraping on metal.

“Why do you follow me around? Why won’t you leave me alone?” 

The creature stared into Jasper's eyes. Jasper stared back, not wanting to be the first to break eye contact. 

The Yteixna cackled in his face.

“Poor boy, so scared.” It croaked, smirking at him, stepping closer. Jasper stood his ground, not moving despite how close it was getting.

“I’m not scared, I’m angry, and I’m sick of being scared.” Jasper said to the Yteixna. He watched its face, noticing the way its lip was curled and the hatred pooling in its dark eyes. 

“Foolish boy. Still don’t understand.” It laughed bitterly. 

“No, I understand. I understand that you… you harass me. You don't let me sleep and you barely let me breathe. You follow me everywhere, walking next to me or watching from the shadows, judging and laughing at me. I don’t get a break.” Jasper was yelling at it now. Its smirk flickered out. 

“You are always there. I can’t do anything without you there, and I can’t get rid of you. Believe me, I’ve tried.” He laughed bitterly. 

Both him and the Yteixna were silent. He looked down at the ground and noticed the Yteixna was even wearing the same Air Jordans he wore. White with the black Nike symbol and red trim. He let out a soft sigh, feeling satisfied he finally let the creature know how he felt.

“I don’t leave because I am you.” It said, sounding slightly dejected. It looked up at his face and Jasper saw its blank look. Jasper was at a loss for words. 

“I…” he started, not knowing what to say. He had to say something, he couldn’t leave this unresolved. 

“I am you.” It repeated as it picked its cloak up from the floor and put it back on, fastening the small clasp in the front as it slinked towards the door.

* * *

Jasper heard his name being called and snapped out of the trance he had been in. He walked up the stairs and onto the stage, meeting his principal in the middle who handed him a paper that had been rolled up and tied with a ribbon; his diploma. 

He looked out at the mass of clapping people sitting in the rows of chairs and located his mom and dad and older brother. He grinned seeing all his loved ones in the crowd. 

He noticed something in the distance that caught his eye. 

‘No, it couldn’t be,’ 

In the back of the auditorium leaning against the wall nonchalantly was a tall, slender figure in a black cloak. 

It was the Yteixna. 

He froze on the stage, looking at it wide eyed. Why was it here? He felt the blood rushing to his head as went down the stage steps quickly, keeping his head down as he rejoined his family in the crowd.

* * *

Jasper stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from his shower. He wiped the stream of the mirror and looked at his reflection. The bathroom was well lit, and his eyes looked lighter than usual. He had always hated how plain his eyes were. Just a normal shade of brown. Not dark, but not light either. Sighing, he opened the door and stepped into his room and saw the thing of his nightmares sitting on his bed. 

It looked like him again, and it wore a blue long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black basketball shorts. Jasper noticed it only had socks on which seemed strange to him. 

How long had the Yteixna been there?

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice low. 

It didn’t say anything. It just looked at him blankly.

Jasper rolled his eyes. The Yteixna was going to be the death of him.

“Sit.” It rasped. Jasper looked at it suspiciously, but shoved aside his feelings and sat beside the Yteixna.

“I…” It started. Jasper looked at it impatiently. 

“You… did good today. At graduation.” It croaked in its metallic voice. 

“All I had to do was go up the stage and get the diploma.” 

“Yes… but… I had nothing to say. Usually I have something to say about what you do, but… not today.” It said, it looked up to meet Jasper's eyes.

“I… am sorry… for always having something to say.

Jasper stared at its face. Really, he was staring at his own face. The creature had the same slightly rosy cheeks and the same pink lips. The same nose and the same short, straight brown hair.

“I… forgive you. For everything.”

Because Jasper realized that it wasn’t just the Yteixna. It was his Yteixna.

Alternate ending

‘No, it couldn’t be,’ 

In the back of the auditorium leaning against the wall nonchalantly was a tall, slender figure in a black cloak. 

It was the Yteixna. 

He was still on stage, looking at the creature. He wasn’t sure why it had come, but in a way, he was glad it was there. 

At that moment, Jasper realized it was a part of him. No wonder it followed him around. He was the yin to its yang. The Yteixna made him who he was. It was all his flaws encapsulated…

Which is why he had to get rid of it… and he knew exactly how.

Last Thoughts

Sunny gripped the cold handle of the knife tightly as the room went dark around them. They trembled nervously as everyone else disappeared into the shadows.

“H-hello?” Sunny tried, their voice drowned out by the sudden sound of scurrying in the blackness. 

As their eyes adjusted, Sunny could make out a small figure next to them, Miana, they assumed. They began inching closer, wanting some company.

Sunny felt something breeze past them and they froze, too afraid to even look for the source. They squeezed their eyes shut and stood shivering in place.

Then, a scream pierced the darkness.

Sunny’s eyes snapped open and they turned this way and that, the knife moving around dangerously. They had never held a knife before, so Sunny held it a good distance away from themself, making their movements even more risky.

A chill ran up Sunny’s spine as the scream echoed in their mind. They were sure that it was Miana’s voice.

“M-Miana…?” Sunny cried blindly, still glancing around frantically. The scurrying had quieted down, but now it was suffocatingly silent, not a single sound except for Sunny’s quickened breathing.

Sunny’s eyes swept the floor and they saw a small figure lying extremely still on the ground. Too still.

They immediately dropped to the ground and unclenched their knife. They scooched forward cautiously, their cold hands feeling the smooth ground for the lump. 

Sunny recoiled as their hand landed in a pool of sticky liquid. They didn’t have to see to know that it was blood. 

They swiped their hands all over the floor, trying to get rid of the red staining their fingers. Their hand brushed past their knife and they gripped it in a shaking fist. 

Moving away from Miana’s body, Sunny could feel small tears running down their face. They swiped at the liquid on their face, embarrassed even though they were sure no one could see them in such darkness.

What were the creators planning this time?

Sunny felt small all alone in the dark. They heard the sound of struggle a good distance away as Cam began fighting an unknown being. A bit closer, Sunny could hear the determined breathing of Morana as she searched for the unknown creatures lurking in the shadows.

Sunny decided to go to Morana.

They squinted and could barely make out a dark figure a few feet away. 

“Morana..?” they called to the figure. Sunny wasn’t sure if they had really said anything or had just thought it in their head. 

When the figure showed no sign of recognition, Sunny assumed she had not heard them and inched closer. 

Morana stood inhumanly still, her back facing them. Sunny reached out a trembling hand towards Morana, looking over their shoulder in fear of something creeping up on them as it did to poor Miana. 

Sunny’s hand never touched Morana’s shoulder.

A moment passed before they felt the blade rip through their stomach. Sunny’s outstretched hand drew back in surprise as an unbearable pain spread throughout their whole body. Right at that moment, the lights flicked back on and Sunny gasped at the sudden brightness.

Sunny glanced down, panic arising inside them as they saw a knife embedded in their abdomen, Morana’s hands gripping the handle. Sunny looked up at Morana and saw the growing horror in her eyes as she recognized them. 

Morana let go of the knife, shaking as she took in the blood on her hands.

Sunny’s breathing thinned out as their vision began to go blurry. They looked back up at Morana and felt a bit of calmness at her panic. 

I know you didn’t mean it, they wanted to tell her. But they crumpled to the ground before they got the chance. 

CHAPTER 1: I need some space

“Comms fail.”

“Comms fail.”

“Comms fail.” 

I lifted my head and knocked into the metal shaft above. Cursing, I blinked through the stars in my eyes and got up, being careful to avoid the shaft above me. I was covered in blue liquid and flashing red all around me. I blinked again, everything was still red - Oh shoot! Somehow I remembered I was on The Hades, the first ship to hopefully bring humans to pluto. Why are the alarms-

“Comms fail.”

Ohhhh…

“Stop the alarm,” I said. The lights on the ceiling and floor turned a dim white (more like gray) and the voice stopped.

I looked around, my shipmates should have been around here somewhere. I was in a large circular room with 7 CGR (Celestial Gamma Ray) pods including mine. The pods were meant to keep us asleep until the journey was finished; probably so we don’t mess with the controls. In the center of the room was a huge table with a computer. It looked exactly like a sci-fi spaceship would.

The pods used liquid Zonibrium mixed with nitrogen, which was an element recently discovered in 2089. It interacted with and changed EM radiation, including gamma rays. Depending on the different concentrations it has different effects, but in the concentration of 200 million parts per billion, Gamma Ray effects congeal the body even on the inside by seeping through pores. It leaves the body in a frozen state and– enough of the nerd talk. I took a closer look at the pods, each one still had a person inside and was closed, except for mine. Why? Well, this probably means that we haven’t made it to Pluto yet, and according to the annoying alarm, our comms aren’t working. I floated over to the table -zero g!- in the center of the room. It had a computer with a huge screen, like the ones rich gamers had. I turned it on; I was looking for diagrams of the ship to help prove my theory. On the home screen, there were a bunch of files and folders all clustered together, but conveniently there was a file called “Hades Floor Plans.” I opened it and found a super detailed sketch of the ship along with all the important control locations, blah blah blah. At the top of the diagram, I saw what I needed.

The comms system on the top of the ship was connected to the pod control.

 Why? Cause NASA needs to know if someone dies in their pod.

Apparently, not only did the space gods hate me when they screwed up the comms system, they also wanted to kill me. Yay!

After my anger with the space gods cooled I suddenly realized something, I was going to die.

I threw up!

It’s gross to throw up in space (it kinda sloshes around and floats)  so I’ll spare details but it took a while to sort out.

Lots of thinking happened. There were no windows but the lights weren’t very bright so I felt like I was in space. Did I mention I was floating? Zero gravity!

I still didn’t have the guts to leave the pod room, so I went back to the computer and looked through the other files. There was one called “Comms Data”

I clicked it hoping to find a way to fix the comms but instead I find,

COMPLETELY RANDOM CODING GARBAGE!

Welp!

We did have a programmer on the mission but as previously mentioned, he’s in his pod. For the next ten minutes, I argued with myself about waking the others up.

Finally I made a decision, I was going to wake them all up. They’re gonna be mad but I had no choice, I’m not was not going to make it without them.

I walked over to the pods and did what NASA didn’t want anyone to do, I pressed random buttons on a random pod (it was the chemist of the mission, Sven.) In retrospect, it was a pretty stupid thing to do, but I was panicking, but anyways I unlocked it. I don’t think that's great…

I got to the other pod, of the commander, Jones. Then I moved to the next one– then I stopped, I realized I didn’t know how to open the pods.

Back to the computer!

I looked through the files hoping to find a convenient file called “what to do if your pod stops working and you're stuck in space with barely any memory” but, there wasn’t.

Dammit, I was on a roll.

I finally decided to go outside the pod room.

*cue dramatic music*

I kicked off the table and flew toward the door at the other end of the room, then I smashed into it- Ow.

I shook off the pain, man I couldn’t wait to find the medical wing.

I looked at the door, it was huge and thick and it loomed above me. (I got creeped out by a door.) I pressed the button to the side of it, hoping it would make a cool hissing noise and slide open dramatically. It didn’t. It opened like a normal door. Why do you even need a button?

Anyway, I pulled myself through the doorway and looked down the hallway, it was dark with a little bit of light, probably to conserve energy, and looked like I was in the Millennium Falcon, it even had the cool floor panels!

I used the railing on the side to pull myself down the hallway, I’m getting the hang of zero g. I stopped when I saw a door on either side of me. Both were labeled.

I turned left and read the label; “Control room.” I pressed the button expecting the same bland entrance. Yup. I hate it when I’m right. I’m so glad it doesn’t happen often.

This room was also circular, but smaller than the pod room and the table had multiple monitors, all plugged in with confusing wiring connecting them all. I had a flashback to my home TV. Along the walls, there were railings and metal boxes that I’m pretty sure control the lighting of the whole ship. I resisted the urge to mess around with them and booted up the monitors… man that sounds cool!

The computer screen played the apple animation. Really NASA? You can’t make something yourself?

The animation finished and the screen showed a login page.

Shoot.

Beneath the login page showed the password hint, “Mission.”

I thought for a bit, was it the mission name? The goal? The destination?

None of them worked. Maybe I misremembered?

I gave up and floated out into the hallway to see the other room. The sign next to the door said “café.”

I almost laughed, but I was hungry. I opened the door and entered.

It was a school cafeteria but with doors in all directions. It looked the same as the one I ate lunch at every day during high school.

                       *      *      *

I slammed my locker shut and saw Emi standing behind it, “Uh… hi Em.”

“You won’t believe this!” she says, the look on her face looks like she won the lottery.

“What?”

“I got in!”

I was shocked, Em had sent a request to MIT to join as soon as she finished high school. I forgot what it’s called but-

“OH MY GOD!!!!” I practically screamed.

She laughed, “Yeah it’s pretty cool!”

“It’s pretty dang cool, yeah!” I laughed too and we started walking to the cafeteria.

As we opened the doors I heard “Yo! James, Emi!” 

We walked over to Luke, “Hey! Did you hear about Em?”

“No, what?” Luke had been my best friend since 2nd grade and Em was my friend for longer.

“She got in!”

Luke looks blank for a second… “Oh!” 

“The- the college- uhhh… MIT?!”

“Yep,” said Em.

“Hey, that's awesome!” Luke smiled and gave her a hug, “Nice!”

Me and Em sat down across from him.

“So, what's happening with you?” I asked as I grabbed my tray from him. He always got trays for me and Em.

“Well… I have my physics final coming up and you didn’t come over to study with me.”

“Wha- oh! Last night?”

“Yeah, we talked about it during math!”

“Look, I am so, so sorry about that, my dad dragged me into this thing, and I couldn’t come-”

“You could have told me!”

“Hey, guys!” we both turned to Em, who had spoken, “Luke, he is clearly sorry, stop messing with him. And James, we get why you couldn’t come.”

Em was the glue that held the team together.

Luke turned to me, “you wanna study tonight?”

“Me too!” said Em.

“It’s settled, 3:00?”

“Yup”

“Yup”

I smiled and started eating.

There were a few words that people usually use to describe me: quiet, skinny, tall, and a ruthless study machine. When I was younger, I didn't worry about my test scores. Now, I try to find the courage to explain why I messed up on my math test.

              I was sitting in the cafeteria when I saw the message that made my eyes widen. "Schoology: New grade posted for algebra test 2," then I saw a tiny 56/100 on the top right-hand corner. Hundreds of students passed by me, but I couldn't hear a thing. The bell rang for the next class, and I left with the crowd. 

               After school ended, I headed straight to the library, where Wendy found me. It was a small room with a large window, rows of empty bookshelves that still smelled like ink. The dim lights made it feel like packed sardines squashed into a can. There weren't many things in there, except for a black, long and thin desk, two cheap-looking plastic chairs, and the darkness that filled the corners. It was foggy outside, barely able to see anything. I guess the weather matches my mind.

After we took our seats, Wendy started our conversation as usual. "I don't know what happened, but let me guess. Is it your math test?” Wendy asked.

Of course, it is, I screamed in my mind, but what came out of my mouth was different. 

"Yeah, but it's fine."

"You do realize your parents love you no matter what happens, right? " Wendy said worriedly. 

            "Yes, I understand what you're saying and probably anything you're going to say next," I replied dismissively. 

            "Well, I'm not surprised since I have known your family for almost ten years. They could love you in a tough way like other stereotypical Asian parents, but they want the best for you," she said. "Most assignments you do in the first year of high school are not going to affect your grades and your future that much; most people mess up once in a while," she continued. "I know that you're probably not going to listen, but I know students who have good grades but end up going to art college for the dream that they suddenly have. Not everything needs to go as planned to make your life considered successful; unexpected things are the beauty of life," she insisted. 

            Okay, I admit that I was seriously considering her words which might have sounded ridiculous for me before, but at the time I thought that it might be useful advice. 

"Thanks, I'll consider it, but now I should be going home," I mumbled. 

           "Promise me that you'll tell them," she shouted. 

           "I will," I answered back.

            I walked like I was dragging my feet on a rug. I didn't want to do this, but I would probably have to. I hoped this walk could stay as long as possible to pretend to ignore the test score. When I was thinking about Wendy's words while walking, the lights in the fog became more visible.   

                The moment was finally here. I was at the front door of my parent's rented apartment, pacing in front of the door, when suddenly the door opened from the inside. It was my mom, who was still holding a spoon in her hand, who had opened the door for me.

             "How did your school day go? I heard that they’ve given out your report card," my mother asked.  

             "It went well," I answered. Okay, my mom already knew my report card's existence; my dad probably knew as well. There was no way that I was going to escape that night. I sat at the table for dinner. My family has a small, white, square table that could only fit four people, but since there’s only me and my parents, it has worked perfectly for us. My dad had a faint smile on his face during dinner. I decided that this is the moment I was going to tell them. We had noodles with beef that day. I usually like it, but at that moment it tasted like I was chewing tissue. 

"Mom, Dad, I have something to say," I started. "I have received my report card this afternoon. My math grade is mostly based on one test that I took two days ago, the one that I have told both of you about. I have gotten a 56/100 on my math test, and my overall math grade is a C," then I stopped, anxiously waited for their reaction. The whole room is silent for a few seconds. I could hear a pin drop, exactly like in my English class with Mr. Anderson. I probably look like I'm seeing a ghost right now. 

           "Relax Matt, you look like a five-year-old who's lost in the airport. We hope you will try your best, but you shouldn't be stressed out. Now go back to your room and enjoy your evening," my dad said reassuringly, the faint smile on his face stayed the same. 

            I returned to my room at an almost running speed, like I was scared that they'd change their mind anytime, my heart was still racing after I closed the door. I took out my phone and texted Wendy. "Hey, I’ve just told my parents about my grades like 45 seconds ago, and it went well."

            "Nice! I told you it couldn't have been as hard as you thought," she texted back quickly. 

            "I'm still surprised that my parents haven't started screaming at me yet, and I have listened to what you said to me in the library." 

             "I see that you have finally gotten the sense of balancing your school and private life.” 

             "I guess that's the direction I'm going towards, not far down the road yet but at least starting from baby steps." 

             "You know, I'm proud of you Matt." 

             "Me too, thanks for your help, not only this time but for all these years." I texted back after a few seconds of hesitation. "I think I might finally be able to enjoy Christmas break for the first time after I started school, and I wish you the merriest Christmas."    

I feel my fingernails digging into the center of my palm. I feel my knuckles hurting from the pressure of squeezing my hand. The other hand holds the whisk, threatening to break it. My emotions are threatening to boil over. 

“You can’t keep on blaming other people,” my mother lectures, calmly chopping the onions. “It doesn’t change the fact that he is gone.”

“I’m not blaming other people!” 

“But you are! You blame your friends as if that will bring your father back! You blame me for choosing to let him go!” she yells back, looking up, her face flashing with heat.

“How dare you,” I growl, gritting my teeth. “You know what I am going through, and I am not blaming my friends. I blame you for letting him go!”

“I would not let him suffer anymore. He would not want that,” she replies, her eyes having a flat look.

“How would you know? You made that decision without me or him!”

“It was his time, and you know that. So stop blaming it on me or others. It is not their problem. It is yours,” she cries, her voice quivering. She puts down the knife and runs out the room, slamming the door.

Tears prick my eyes and fall, leaving salty lines on my face and dripping into the batter. My mother’s comment stabs me in the stomach. She chose to let him go, and she felt sad? It is her fault that he is gone. My friends did nothing for me. They offered their condolences but I didn’t care. I just wanted my dad. He wasn’t supposed to go yet. But she let him go, instead of holding him closer. 

                              ----------------------------

As I look out the window, I see a sea of green trees, grass, and moss. I hate green. I hate that it reminds me of death, I hate that it makes me feel awful, I hate that it reminds me of my dad, who loved nature so much. Then the horizon changes. I see a field of daisies, extending all the way to the sun, creating a path to the star. My breath catches in my throat and I pull over. I get out, desperately needing breath. I stumble over to the field of daisies and I trip over a rock. I land face first in the field, cradled by white flowers, beautifully in bloom and full. I force myself onto my knees and I try to breathe. I need to pull myself together. I drag my hand across the daisies and my hand catches on a tall one. I pluck it, examining its flawless white petals, the yellowness of the pistil.

“Pop,” I breathe, “I miss you so much.”

Dad had loved daisies. Always said that they represented simple beauty to him. I didn’t believe him. My hands shaking hard, and I drop the daisy, then I can’t see. The tears are blurring my vision. The tears come, drawing invisible art on my face, dripping onto my shaking hands, pooling in my palms. The tears find the cracks in my hands, and leak out, painting a line from my hands to the tips of my elbows.

I push myself up and try taking deep breaths. I take out my phone and call Felix.

“Hey, what’s up sweetie?” he questions, concern in his voice.

“I can’t do this,” I gasp into the phone, unable to speak, “I miss him too much. I can’t forgive my mother for it”

“You have to let him go, Winter. And you can’t blame your mother for his death. He shouldn’t have to suffer.”

“How can you say that? I have been through so much, and you can’t even agree with me.” I feel my face contort, furious that he cannot even see my perspective. “She didn’t care how I felt! She didn’t care that I would be miserable. My mother doesn’t care about my emotions. I have been through too much.”

“I am not denying that, but you need to see other people’s feelings too. Look, I can’t talk to you when you are acting like this.”

He hangs up, leaving me fuming and heartbroken.

                               ----------------------------

I get out of my gray car and slam the door shut. I look around at the row of graves and take a breath, trying to slow my heart, trying to hold myself together. I shiver from the biting wind and pull up my hood, panting from the coolness. I walk towards my father’s grave and take out the amethyst that he gave me on my 12th birthday. ‘For protection,’ he had laughed, ‘from true evil.’ I smile at the thought of the memory. He wouldn’t have wanted to leave. He would want to stay no matter the cost. I rub my thumb over the gem, tracing my finger on the smooth sharp edges and on the rough outside of the stone. I stop right in front of his resting place and place a bunch of the perfectly bloomed daisies right in front of it. I snap my head up, hearing a noise near me. I turn around to see who it is, and I see a elderly woman laying down a small wreath of roses. She looks up, aware that I am staring at her, and she smiles a small, sad smile. I feel a stab of sympathy for her, and I trudge my way over to her to say how sorry I am.

“Hello dear,” she says, sadness framing her voice. “How are you doing?”

“I am doing okay, ma’am. And you?”

“Just fine. Who did you lose?”

“My father. My mother chose to let him go,” I choke out, unable to hide the bitterness and sadness.

“Ah. And what was your reaction?” she prods.

“I could not help but wonder, what could have been had she not chosen to let him go. I blame her for his death. And I hate her for it,” I croak.

“You blame her for his death. And you still hold on to him like he is

coming back. Dear child, you cannot hang onto the past. You know that he is not coming back. But you must not blame that on others. Your mother made a comforting choice to let him go, making sure that he would not suffer. Your mother knew what must be done. She did it for him. You cannot look back into the past, otherwise you cannot see what is in front of you. Your father’s body may be gone, but he is not. No one is ever really gone. There will always be someone who remembers him. And until his name does not exist anymore, he still lives. Look in front of you, my girl.” 

She turns to go, leaving me in my silence, all alone.

                                ----------------------------

The cold amethyst has been in my hand for what seems like an eternity. The dirt on the ground has started to stain the knee area on my gray sweatpants. I look at the ground around my fathers grave. And I start digging, dirt filling the bottom of my nails, covering my hands. The hole is deep enough so that I can put my entire arm in. I roll the amethyst into the hole, and cover it with dirt. I look at it, then stand up. And I walk away.

“Adeline, if you don’t open the door, I will knock it down with a hammer,” Mom yelled, and I knew I couldn’t avoid the world forever. 

“Coming Mom,” I yelled back from the other side of the room where I had been staring at the black leather case that had haunted me day in and day out. 

I pushed the door open and stood there in full glory.

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked, inspecting every inch of me,  my gray hoodie, my black sweatpants, and the heavy bags that had formed under my eyes. I felt utterly naked under her gaze.

“No, thank you.”  All I wanted to do right now was retreat to my bedroom and close the door.

“Well you need to eat something Addie,  you look like a porcelain doll and I feel like one wrong move could shatter you.”

Frustrated I yelled, “Well, I  am not, so you can stop treating me like this. ”

Her voice softened. “I know you miss her, but she would want you to be happy.” 

I groaned everyone has said this same thing over and over again and I hated it, it’s not like they can talk to her. 

“I just need some space mom,-”

“I think I have given you plenty of space-” I shut the door.

“Young lady open the door!” Mom yelled at me, and I knew I couldn’t go out the door and face the world. 

“Mom please...” Desperation has started creeping and she heard it. 

Sighing she finally said, “Just know that I am here,” And I heard the quiet footsteps retreating away. 

Why do they always tell you, “I’m here,”  I want to yell back “I know you are here but she is not, she is gone.” She isn’t here, she is gone…. 

___________

“I promise this is the last time I’m restarting,” I muttered, knowing very well that it wasn’t. I’ve spent the past two hours going over the same eight measures over and over again, like an animal trapped in a cage. My back had begun to hurt, my fingers blistered from the constant pressing of the string.

 I stared at the music sheet, the white and black notes ran through them. The quiet rest and the cascading melodies always had soothed me and had sent me into a different world. But today as I stared at the notes all I felt was the emptiness weighing down on me. The blisters on my fingers were numb, everything felt numb. I had loved this piece, I had put blood, sweat, and tears into this piece, Echo had too, we had spent hours together on this, our evening, our weekends, holiday,  to perfect this piece. 

I took another deep breath placing my violin on my shoulder. The cool wood caressed my face trying to soothe me, but after two hours of this numbness, the weight of the world crashed down on me.  How was I supposed to keep playing while Echo was no longer there?  I felt the hot tears fall down my cheeks.

_______________

I walked in through the door of Echo’s house, I  had entered this wooden door more often than mine.  However today it felt different. It felt like all the color had been drained. This house once filled with bright colors of the rainbow, now was a rainbow of grays. 

“Adeline,” Mrs.Emerson said, her voice hoarse like she had been crying, “Would umm...” Her body looked so frail, her beautiful face had started to form lines and wrinkles. “My daughter loved you, you were her whole world and it would mean a lot for Echo if you could play at the funeral.”

 No... no, she couldn’t be asking me to play, not when I haven’t been able to play more than one measure, not when I looked at the violin and only saw Echo's face. I tried to look away, at the cold concrete floor, at the white lifeless ceiling, try as much I  knew I couldn't refuse, not when I knew Echo would have done the same for me. I forced a small smile,

“I’d be honored to play.” Mrs. Emerson let out a relieved breath, her face physically relaxing a little and I understood. I understood the heavy bags under her eyes because they too had formed on my face. 

_______________

“Ready to go?” Mrs. Emerson asked. I didn't look at her, I just stared ahead trying to remember how to breathe, and nodded. The rows of people stare at me, their eyes all swollen,  and red.  The casket brushed against me,  an assurance she was next to me.

 I took a deep breath, counted one...two...three...four...five. I placed the violin on my shoulder, and I started to play. I pulled the bow up and down, I placed my fingers on the string, but the only thing I could remember was the eight measures. I tried again…. and again...and again, from the beginning, I felt the hot stares of the audience. I tried to remember the notes, the fingering but I only heard the echoing silence. Echo and I had always joked around that her laughter was so loud and unguarded that it would “echo” all around, But today the only thing I could hear echoing was the silence, the unending silence. 

“Would you like to get a drink of water?” Mrs. Emerson's face arranged into an understanding look. She knew after watching the two of us play together for years that it would be impossible to play alone. 

“I would love to.” My throat burned from all the tears I had swallowed. I stepped down the stage, away from the questioning eyes.

I could almost hear the whispers amongst the crowd, the murmuring but I tried to play again. As I stared out at the murmuring crowd I knew I couldn’t play, not when I had already embarrassed myself, I could never play, not without her by my side. My knees threatened to buckle, as the hot tears ran down my face, warm, trickling away into the oceans had I sobbed this past week.

I walked out down the stage, and out through the door the violin still clutched in my hands. I kept walking till I was out of the marbled walls of the church. The cold November wind sent a shiver up my spine, and I finally dropped to my knees, I curled into a ball, my violin still in my arms and I cried. I cried for hours, maybe minutes, but I just sat there and let tears spill and sobs took over me.

_____________

 I watched as the early winter snowflakes fell on the ground,  the sky a murky grey, the place deserted.  The cold grey slab of rock stared back at me, 

“Your laughter will always echo all around.” etched into it. The black leather case dug into my palm. Four weeks after the funeral, four weeks of weeping and wallowing, I knew what I had to do. 

“Do you remember when we had our first concert together ?” I started. “My hands were shaking so hard that I could even hold the violin, but you held my hand and promised me we were going to rock the stage. I remember feeling so powerful, standing there together as we looked at each other. And for the first I believed.” Fat droplets of tears had joined the snowflakes on my cheek. “Standing here alone,  I feel so fu***ing pathetic. I feel like I have failed you Echo, I’m such a failure. I sit around hoping each day for a miracle, hoping for just one moment with you. Come back please...come back..”  I begged, my shoulders shook from the quiet sobs.

 The leather case still clutched in my hands reminded me what I had come to do;  what I had promised. I would play for Echo one last time.  

“I promise this is the last time I’m restarting,” I said and this time promised myself and her this was going to be true. 

I take a deep breath, holding it a little longer than usual to avoid going into the room. The breath slips away from me like ash on a wind. My eyes crack open, and I unsurely step into the room, concealing the shaking in my legs. I focus on watching my feet trudge across the ash - colored floor. I walk over to my friend, shaking the feeling of eyes glued to my back. No one’s looking at me. No one. I sit down stiffly, taking out my lunch bag. 

I sit down on the hard plastic chair. The walls seem to reflect the same stormy color. I focus on that color, breathing to calm myself down. I imagine it as a stormy ocean, swallowing up everyone in this room but me. Bella gives me the same confused smile she always does. I know that smile painfully well. It says, why are you like this? No one is judging you. My eyes flit around our table, to people chatting normally around us. I remind myself no one has a reason to come over to our table, the feeling roiling in my stomach temporarily lying down until the next scare comes along to make it rear its ugly head.

Bella looks over at me. “You good? You seem kinda pale,” she asks me worriedly. It’s good to know that someone cares and notices. She’s the only person who really knows me. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a test coming up is making me pretty jumpy,” I say, comfortable with the half-truth. Her brows crease. 

“You know, my mom told me something about breathing exercises the other day. It could…” I shut her down with an easy smile. 

“I’m good, really. How’s your little sister?” I say, all too happy to shift the conversation. She slips into that happy state she always does when talking about her little siblings. She seems so colorful. So alive. I look down at my hands, folded in my lap to control their shaking. 

Lunch period quickly morphs into Study block, and I sit still, enjoying the lull of a comfortable, safe environment where we’re both reading. My eyes scan the words, their meaning lost to my boredom and disinterest. My gaze shifts, sliding along the table, searching for anything interesting to look at. Then, I see something from the corner of my eye. A person hesitating before entering the room. 

Her leg bounces nervously, and her chest rises and falls quickly. She speeds up and sits down at an empty table across the room. Her shifty eyes take in the surroundings, from the blue-gray interior of the walls to the colorfully dressed students talking among themselves. Across the bustling lunch room, our eyes make a split second of contact. I wonder if people can speak with their eyes. If they could, would this be how it’s done? I can imagine a million different things she could be saying, in an alien voice I’ve never heard her use before, but the feeling is clear. A tiny bit of relief. I snap out of my thoughts. I’m imagining things again. 

I look away, chasing away the image of her blue-green eyes, sparkling like gems behind horn - rimmed glasses. If I hadn’t looked away, would there be anything stopping me from falling into their depths? I frown. My book, that I was supposed to be reading, lies forgotten on the table. I pick it up, savoring the feel of the hard plastic cover beneath my fingertips. Focus. I need to focus. Opening up the book again, I slide my glazed eyes over the paragraphs and sentences until I just can’t anymore. A peek never hurt anyone, right?

 I peek over the top of my book., my eyes scanning the room. My eyes land on her. She sits alone at a table, her glasses sliding down her nose. I find myself admiring her attention, zoned in so fully on her book, then it hits me with a startle when she catches me staring and gets up. Oh no. my heart beats as I shift my eyes to the ash-gray floor. I breathe in the musky smell of the cafeteria and pray she isn’t moving over here. Please no. Please… I feel the thump of someone sitting down in the seat next to mine, instinctively feel her jewel-eyed gaze on my face. I slowly crack open my eyes. She sits next to me, her smile playful and a little nervous. 

“Hey,” she says softly. I take a quick breath.

 “Hey, uh…” I trail off awkwardly. I wonder if she regrets coming over here. I know the feeling of nervousness, the feeling of taking a risk for something that isn’t worth it. I can tell she’s forming words, testing out sentences and vowels in her mind. I’m acutely aware of the study hall, still alive, still moving around us. 

“So, uh, what are you reading?” She whispers, confidence clearly taking a hit at my inability to stutter anything other than ‘hey’.

 “Nothing,” I say, keeping my eyes firmly in my lap. It must come off as closed off and insensitive, and I can almost hear her disappointment in my tone. 

“Well, I’m Eliza. I’ll be over there if… o-ok, goodbye,” she whispers quietly. And then she gets up and slowly and stiffly walks away. And I just feel tired. I feel tired of running away from people. I’m tired of the fact that I can’t change that and even if I wanted to, I don’t have what it takes. 

“Taylor?” Bella asks. I put my head down on my book, pushing away the tears. She frowns down at me. “Why did you do that?” She whispers to me. “You clearly thought she was interesting. That’s the first time you’ve ever looked at anybody like that.” Even though the confusion was evident in her voice, I could tell a part of her knew. Tears puddled in the corners of my eyes.

 “Don’t you get it?” I say, my voice like dead leaves. “I didn’t even try to mess it up. I just couldn’t talk to her. I was like there was a barricade between what I wanted to say and what I actually said,” I say, my voice empty. Bella put her hand on my shoulder lightly.

 “What does it feel like?” She asks me softly. I took a deep breath, choking on my first word. “It feels like…” I trail off.

What does it feel like? It feels like never raising my hand because I’m scared to get it wrong. It’s never talking to anybody because I’m not just afraid of their opinion, but of my own judgement. It’s choking on my Starbucks order. “It feels like something is stopping me from really trying,” I whisper softly. “I...I ruined it.”

 Bella knew I wasn’t talking about the book report I’d been reading for. She followed my gaze back to the girl. “It’s not too late, you know. I think you owe this to yourself.”

 I stand up on shaky legs. For that little girl who didn’t understand what her teacher meant when she mentioned how you can have different types of friends because she barely had one. For the fifth grader who worked hard on that water filtration project but never had the confidence to present it. For the person she could have had, for that relationship that still might be, I urge myself across the tile floor, until I stand in front of her table. I hold my breath and sit down. She looks over at me, and I notice her leg trembling.

 I put everything I have into my following sentence. “Hey. I’m Taylor,” I say, and put out my hand. It lingers between us. Then, after an elongated pause, she takes it in her own warm hand. A hint of a smile appears on her face, full of hope. 

“Call me Eli.”

TRIGGER WARNING: POSSIBLY OFFENSIVE RELIGIOUS BELIEFS

“Defend the borders! The Christians are invading! Someone call for the Protection Unit!” 

I stood there, body trembling and hands sweating. I knew I was in danger. Every instinct in my body told me to run. My eyes were wide, fixed upon the dozens of defenders who came out to protect us. Was this the end of the world? Is this how it feels? I heard people running and sounds of banging coming from the border walls. I wanted to leave, but I was still standing there in shock. Every second felt like an eternity. I saw the bricks tearing off slowly, as if time itself was slowing down. I had to do something. I couldn’t just come this far to die like this. I knew I had to at least try and make an effort to stop this...but what if I die? I should have known I wasn’t ready. I’ll never be ready. But I don’t want to disappoint my people. I don’t know if I will come out alive.

----------------------------

As I gathered my strength, I felt the chaos around me settle down as the Protection Unit agents broke through the area. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my friend Inaria bursting out of the crowd. Suddenly I felt her shaking me, stunned, I snapped out of my trance.

 “What was that for?!” I asked. 

 “Snap out of it, Cass! A war has begun, and all you are doing is standing there!” 

“Well, what in hell am I supposed to do? Tell the Christians to back off?” I questioned anxiously.

“Exactly. Although, not literally.”

 “Inaria, I don't know what to do! Everything is so chaotic! Those Christians used to be my neighbors, my family or friends!"

 “When will you come to realize that you are not back in the past! This is reality now. This war is real, and all of this conflict is what is going on right now.”

 “I know! I want there to be peace...I really do. I want those Christians to stay away from my new family! But what can I do? I’m just a teenager.” 

“No. No, you are not just a teenager. None of us are. We are all a part of this.”

I feel my face getting hot. I was stuck, surrounded by confusion and indecision. Hell...I didn’t know what to do. I considered my options. I could continue to do nothing or I could take some action. 

“Inaria, I don’t know if I’m ready to take any action. If I just stand here, at least I will be safe...” 

Inaria interrupted and said, “Nonsense. Christians can kill you, even if you are just standing here. Life is full of risks. You risk your life just by being alive. You can do this and we can do this. Nothing is impossible. If we don’t take action, we are just defeating ourselves. Is that what you want?” 

I glanced across the grounds. The Satanists were gaining, but for how long? I recalled the professor’s words, “I see a lot of potential within you.” Could he be right? But how? I’m just a child.

 “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take action? We don’t have all day,” Inaria said, pulling me back to reality. 

“I’ll try,” I said, clenching my jaws to prevent my fear from showing. Counting down all the time I possibly had left of my life, I silently walked towards Ravengrove library where the Christian Truth Archives were kept. 

-----------------------

As I carefully swung open the gold and black library doors, the wooden floor creaked as I stepped upon it. It was an old library. Years of knowledge were within its walls. I looked around for the section labelled “Christianity”. Upon finding it, I felt my blood run cold. I knew the origins and history of Christianity.  Knowing that fact gave me the sudden impulse to run back to the cities of Blissi, one of the four Christian countries. I frantically struggled to resist the impulse. I mustn’t focus on the past. I had an important life saving expedition to fulfill. I picked up the document labelled “The Truth of the Christian Government” and raced out of the library. The airplane was awaiting me, ready to take us across the seas into the Christian territory. 

 --------------------------

I felt my forehead sweating as the plane started to land.

 “Are you ready?” asked my friend Inaria. 

Sitting to my left was Azura, my other friend, who was quiet. She was always quiet, silent, but observing. She said nothing, but I was certain she heard the question, as she shot me a quick glance, seemingly telling me she was certainly ready. Ears ringing and heart thumping, I answered, “Yes. I’m ready.” 

The plane landed with a loud roar, indicating that the operation had begun. I clutched the files in my hand and stepped out of the plane with my two friends, the pilot and professor. 

I made my way through the gates of Blissi, my hometown, the place where I grew up. I felt numb as I walked through the streets filled with crosses. Churches were on almost every corner. The streets were easy to navigate, at least for me. I used to live here. I knew every single alley by heart. As I turned the 40th corner, I stopped. 

“This is it. It has to be,” I said.  I pointed towards the huge building in front of me, heart thumping against my chest. For a moment, I stopped speaking to take a breath, then I resumed my speech, “Where do you suspect the loudspeaker control room is?”  Inaria looked up at me with a thoughtful look. “I suppose we should find out, let’s go inside,” I nodded my head and the five of us headed in. 

                              ------------------------------------------

As I walked up the stairs, I felt my mind thinking about what I should say. Would I say it correctly? This message is going out to all the Christians out there. I have to make sure I make zero mistakes. But how would I do that?  I pushed the thought away and continued up the stairs. My legs started to get tired. I was now on the 50th floor. It was the last floor of the building.  “I think we should check all the rooms here. It must be here somewhere,” I shouted. 

 We split up immediately. I started walking down the dimly lit hallway and reached the first room I saw. I slowly opened the door and was disappointed to only see an office.

 Suddenly I heard Azura, “It’s here!”  I rushed down the hallways, turning corners until I reached where Azura was. She was standing beside a white door, with a lock on it, but the hole on the lock was large enough for us to peek through. Inside the room was a huge system of speakers, cameras and file holders. 

“This has to be it,” I told Azura. 

“I reckon you must take down that door,” the professor said calmly.

I nodded my head and grabbed a nearby iron bar that was left behind for construction. It was cold, but good enough to poke a good hole through this door. I gripped it tight, then lifted it up in the air and brought it down upon the door with all my strength. I heard a loud smack, followed by a crack. I opened my eyes and saw the wood on the door had cracked. I winked to my teammates and we headed in. 

As I anticipated, it was a large room. I placed the file down on one of the rectangle file holders and fixed the speakers. Azura adjusted the cameras so that they were looking right at us. Meanwhile, the pilot and professor kept watch. I was ready to speak. I reached out my hand, pressed the camera button and then pressed the speaker button. My fingers started to get sweaty, but I didn’t care. This was necessary.

 I pressed the announce button. I held up the files and said, “Attention to all Christians! I am Cassidy from Italis, The Amity Nation, the home of Satanists. I have an important announcement to make.”

I made my first statement, knowing I couldn’t back out of this now. Nor did I wish to. I took a deep breath and said, “It is revealed that the government leader of The Salvation Brotherhood, home of the Christians, is purposely trying to cause a war through use of propaganda. As evidence shows here...”

 I pulled out the file recording of Governor Renor using the Bible as a reason to call Theistic Satanists evil. I pressed the button to display the data on Renor’s laptop that the professor had transferred. It showed Renor’s plan to stop the spread of knowledge and to rid the world of all opposing ideas. 

After the recordings ended, I said, “Renor is by all means, a manipulative deceiver.” The professor stepped in and said, “In a recent conversation between Renor and Jordan.  Renor claimed to be doing ‘greater good’ for Heaven by making sure no one can oppose his ideas, and by placing hidden cameras everywhere to make sure no one steps out of line. This is an attempt made by him to restrict knowledge and freedom. We have the power to stop this.”

 Inaria picked up one of the clipped photos and quietly said, “There is even an old photo captured of Renor dragging a young teenager’s body to a nearby ditch due to her figuring out his plans. In the full video, it shows Renor telling the girl that he will not risk his country having ‘filth’, as he described it.” Inaria played the video on the cameras. 

As I was viewing the cameras, I could see the shocked looks on the Christians faces. Some of them were muttering that this couldn’t be, while the younger ones agreed that they always thought that something was off with their country. 

I looked away, closed my eyes and finished off my speech, saying, “We need to stop these people from slandering Satan and saying that Satan is the cause of war or restrictions. It is proven that freedom is plenty with us and knowledge is unlimited among the Satanics. I kindly ask anyone who thinks otherwise to rethink everything they have been taught in their schools, churches and by their government leaders. May Satan bless you all.  Have a nice day.”

 I pressed the stop camera button and turned off the speaker. I sighed loudly. 

“It's done, right?” 

“Not yet, it isn’t. But...it’s a start. I’m proud of you,” said the professor.  

                              ------------------------------

Walking down the stairs, I thought about how silly I was for being scared. It wasn’t that bad. I mean...I’ve certainly heard of much worse stuff, like...Theistic Satanists being hunted once again before the countries formed. They had to find a piece of land for themselves, and luckily all the Christians were moving to the other side. 

Before I knew it, we were standing in front of the plane again. 

“You ready for some more work?” asked Inaria.

 “Yes, I am.” 

“Don’t worry, you can do this,” Inaria assured. 

 “Worried? I’m not worried anymore, Inaria. I know I can do this now, thanks to you.”

 “You really do have great potential, Apprentice Cassidy. Thus, is showing,” the professor remarked. 

He gave me a hug and said, “You were born for this, Cass, don’t let anyone bring you down.”

 “I know. I was born ready.” I said confidently as I stepped off the plane. Azura smiled at me, and I knew she was proud of me. 

Inaria’s eyes filled with happy tears.  “I knew you would be a hero one day,” Inaria remarked.

I smiled back. 

Cato steps up in front of the faded wooden desk of the office, belonging to the school he had only set foot in once before, for a tour by the principal. He prepares to pick up his schedule from the office, just as the deafening school bell chimes, and the few people who were familiar with each other talking in the halls rush to their classes. He considers how much time he has before the tardy bell rings to rush to his next class, and shudders at the thought of being in trouble due to him being late. Recalled through an email, he remembers which classroom he has to be in next period, but he wasn’t informed where he should go beyond that. His thoughts are interrupted by the woman at the front office.

“Are you Cato?” 

He nods his head, confirming the answer to what she had asked him. 

“Your papers are ready.”

“Thanks.” He responds with a faint yet genuine manner as he is given his schedule, to which he eyes up and down, and realises that the email telling him where his next class was had a missprint, which meant his upcoming class was on the next floor up. He was going to be at the very least, a minute late.

What ensues this news is the feeling of dread, fretfulness, and the urge to sprint to his next class, but he glances up at a faded maroon sign preventing him from doing so. Essentially, restricting his ability to be at class on time.

He speedily walks at an uncomfortable pace, focusing on the pale colored yellow and white checkered tiles on the floor and the dark green lockers that he passes, wondering if any kids remotely like him have set foot in this school, ones who were homeschooled and only interaction was at the park and the market in his old town that he knew so well. He missed his old town and learning curriculum at home, but his mother had found job opportunities here, so he had to get used to this. His marching only is broken by him hopping up the stairs at the end of the corridor, leaving him out of breath at the second floor, while the tardy bell begins to ring in his ears.

====================================

Cato walks the dimly lit empty second floor corridors but the realization he is about to reach his class causes him to tread faster while he continues to scan every door for his room. Suddenly, he is greeted with a woman in a light gray sweater, who had just turned the sharp corner next to him. Not realising sooner, Cato impacted the woman, who he caused to empty the mug of coffee in her hand onto her sweater, blotching the gray material with the steaming beverage. Her face contorted into a bitter, angry look. “HEY! THIS WAS MY FAVORITE SWEATER!” She shouted, as if he had defiled the overall likeness of her sweater. 

“S-sorry, I really didn’t mean to. I was just trying to get to my class.” He timidly replied. 

“Sorry won’t cut it! What is your name?” 

“Cato Williams.”

“Well Cato Williams, You’ll see me in detention today.” She trudges off while grumbling.

====================================

Cato eyes the room number that he is supposed to be in, and takes a double check. “Room 227, Mr. Smith” He clarified to himself. He takes a deep breath, then pries over the door and steps in.

“So today, we will learn about the y intercept.” The math teacher loudly projected, with a whiteboard with illegible handwriting behind him. 

Cato glanced at the teacher, who made eye contact with him. “Sorry I’m late, I just had-”

“Grab a seat, make sure you take notes of what I’ve written.” The teacher cuts him off.

He sits in a seat next to a boy, wearing a lumberjack hat, and a fleece, both black colored with red touches of plaid. 

“Can I sit here?” Cato considerately inquired. 

“Sure you can, do you need a pencil to take notes?” He replied. 

“Thanks for offering, but I already have a pencil.” 

“My name is Arlo Jones, it’s good to meet you.”

“Cato Williams, and you too.”

Cato tries to replicate what Mr. Smith had written, but only can jot down what was illustrated, he mainly sees a graph with a line running the y intercept of -9, and resurfacing at the x axis at 4.5, the rise over run of the slope is 9/4.5 meaning that the slope of this line is two. Almost right after he figures that out, Mr. Smith announciates, “Cato, you are new here, and you probably were not taught correctly being homeschooled at your old town. I'll explain how to get the slope of this line.”

“Isn’t it two? Since the rise is two times the run of course.”

Mr. Smith looked bewildered, responding with a quick “And?” flushed with the idea that Cato had a shred of knowledge about his subject. 

“Well you would add negative nine at the end of the equation, since the y intercept is negative nine and not the origin, meaning that the equation for this slope is two plus negative nine”

“Y-yes Cato, that is correct.” He muttered. His attempt at embarrassing Cato had failed. He was in denial that someone not learning through their school could be smart enough to solve a simple math problem, which made no sense in his closed minded elitist thinking. 

====================================

“Wow, you are good at math. I didn’t even know the answer to that question myself.” Arlo stated, as they traversed the crowded noisy hallway. 

“I could explain it to you later if you want.” Cato offered.

“That would be nice, since Mr. Smith doesn’t explain things in a way that I can understand.”

“See you at lunch?”

“Sure.”

The True Thoughts of a Young Dancer

“Stop!‌ ‌Maestra,‌ ‌stop‌ ‌please!‌ ‌Adelaide,‌ ‌that‌ ‌is‌ ‌not‌ ‌correct.‌ ‌You‌ ‌need‌ ‌to‌ ‌know‌ ‌the‌ ‌combination.‌ ‌It’s‌ ‌developpé ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌inside‌ ‌leg‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌back,‌ ‌not‌ ‌the‌ ‌outside‌ ‌leg.‌ ‌You‌ ‌should‌ ‌know‌ ‌what‌ ‌you’re‌ ‌doing.”‌ ‌I‌ ‌nod.‌ ‌Nodding‌ ‌is‌ ‌all‌ ‌I‌ ‌can‌ ‌do.‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌speak‌ ‌out‌ ‌loud.‌ ‌I‌ ‌feel‌ ‌my‌ ‌face‌ ‌turn‌ ‌red‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌know‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌is‌ ‌looking‌ ‌at‌ ‌me.‌ I can’t do anything right. Everyone must be staring at me. Instead of looking at anyone, I focus on the gray marley floor. Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌turns‌ ‌away‌ ‌from‌ ‌me‌ ‌and‌ ‌says,‌ ‌“From‌ ‌the‌ ‌top.”‌ ‌I‌ ‌groan‌ ‌internally.‌ ‌Everyone‌ ‌hates‌ ‌the‌ ‌person‌ ‌who‌ ‌makes‌ ‌them‌ ‌restart‌ ‌the‌ ‌exercise.‌ ‌Meaning‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌hates‌ ‌me. I must be the worst dancer in here. I put my left hand on the long wooden barre that stretches from the doorway all the way to the wall and curves around the corner, going down the wall with the clock to the piano corner. 

‌“Thank‌ ‌you‌, ‌Maestra.”‌ ‌The‌ ‌music‌ ‌begins‌ ‌again.‌ ‌I‌ ‌start‌ ‌dancing,‌ ‌working‌ ‌extra‌ ‌hard‌ ‌to‌ ‌use‌ ‌the‌ ‌"and‌ ‌beat‌” ‌to‌ ‌my‌ ‌advantage.‌ ‌We‌ ‌finish‌ ‌the‌‌ barre‌ ‌with‌ ‌grande‌‌s battements,‌ ‌and‌ ‌then‌ ‌begin‌ ‌center.‌ ‌ 

“First‌ ‌group!”‌ ‌Nope.‌ ‌No‌ ‌way.‌ ‌I‌ ‌know‌ ‌I‌ ‌made‌ ‌a‌ ‌promise‌ ‌to‌ ‌myself‌ ‌last‌ ‌week.‌ ‌If‌ ‌there‌ ‌are‌ ‌two‌ ‌groups,‌ ‌go‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌one.‌ ‌If‌ ‌there‌ ‌are‌ ‌three‌ ‌groups,‌ ‌go‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌second‌ ‌one.‌ ‌Just‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌go‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌last‌ ‌group.‌ ‌But‌ ‌screw‌ ‌it., ‌I‌ ‌won’t‌ ‌be‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌group.‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌done‌ ‌that‌ ‌before.‌ ‌It’s‌ ‌not‌ ‌as‌ ‌good‌ ‌as‌ ‌it ‌sounds. ‌Marco ‌walks‌ ‌past‌ ‌me‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌front‌ ‌line.‌ ‌I‌ ‌try‌ ‌to‌ ‌convince‌ ‌myself‌ ‌to‌ ‌consider‌ ‌following‌ ‌him,‌ ‌but‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌already‌ ‌made‌ ‌up‌ ‌my‌ ‌mind.‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌not‌ ‌going‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌group.‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌shows‌ ‌the‌ ‌tendu‌ ‌combination.‌ ‌I‌ ‌make‌ ‌sure‌ ‌to‌ ‌pay‌ ‌very‌ ‌close‌ ‌attention.‌ ‌I‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌called‌ ‌out‌ ‌during‌ ‌tendus.‌ ‌Thank‌ ‌goodness.‌ ‌Not‌ ‌during‌ ‌adagio‌ ‌either, even though it kind of sucked. But‌ ‌now‌ ‌we’re‌ ‌going‌ ‌to‌ ‌turn.‌ ‌S--t.‌ ‌I‌ ‌really‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌that.‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌shows‌ ‌the‌ ‌combination,‌ ‌consisting‌ ‌of‌ ‌one‌ ‌turn‌ ‌en‌ ‌dehors‌ ‌from‌ ‌fifth,‌ ‌two‌ ‌turns‌ ‌en‌ ‌dehors‌ ‌from‌ ‌fourth,‌ ‌and‌ ‌one‌ ‌turn‌ ‌from‌ ‌fourth‌ ‌en‌ ‌dedans.‌ ‌And‌ ‌she‌ ‌wants‌ ‌doubles‌ ‌during‌ ‌the‌ ‌second‌ ‌en‌ ‌dehors‌ ‌turn‌ ‌from‌ ‌fourth,‌ ‌and‌ ‌the‌ ‌en‌ ‌dedans‌ ‌from‌ ‌fourth.‌ ‌Ugh.‌ ‌I‌ ‌can‌ ‌do‌ ‌double‌ ‌en‌ ‌dehors‌ ‌turns‌ ‌from‌ ‌fourth.‌ ‌That’s‌ ‌fine.‌ ‌But‌ ‌en‌ ‌dedans?‌ ‌No.‌ ‌Not ‌yet.‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌

“First‌ ‌group‌ ‌please.”‌ ‌At‌ ‌least‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌not‌ ‌first.‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌smiles‌ ‌at‌ ‌me‌ ‌as‌ ‌I‌ ‌walk‌ ‌past‌ ‌him.‌ ‌He‌ ‌knows‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌like‌ ‌turns.‌ ‌I‌ ‌wrinkle‌ ‌my‌ ‌nose‌ ‌at‌ ‌him.‌ ‌The‌ ‌first‌ ‌group‌ ‌does‌ ‌the‌ ‌combination.‌ ‌And‌ ‌then‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌the‌ ‌second‌ ‌group's‌ ‌turn.‌ ‌I‌ ‌go‌ ‌to‌ ‌stand‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌center‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌rest‌ ‌of‌ ‌my‌ ‌group.‌ “Thank‌ ‌you‌, ‌Maestra.”‌ 

‌The‌ ‌music‌ ‌starts,‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌begin‌ ‌to‌ ‌dance.‌ ‌I‌ ‌do‌ ‌an‌ ‌okay‌ ‌turn‌ ‌from‌ ‌fifth,‌ ‌and‌ ‌then‌ ‌slide‌ ‌into‌ ‌fourth.‌ ‌I‌ ‌do‌ ‌a‌ ‌single,‌ ‌and‌ ‌then‌ ‌prepare‌ ‌for‌ ‌my‌ ‌double.‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌ninety‌ ‌percent‌ ‌sure‌ ‌that‌ ‌I‌ ‌can‌ ‌do‌ ‌a‌ ‌double.‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌been‌ ‌pretty‌ ‌good‌ ‌at‌ ‌that‌ ‌lately.‌ ‌I‌ ‌plié ‌and‌ ‌bring‌ ‌my‌ ‌leg‌ ‌up‌ ‌to‌ ‌passé,‌ ‌preparing‌ ‌to‌ ‌spot‌ ‌twice.‌ ‌But‌ ‌I‌ ‌only‌ ‌get‌ ‌around‌ ‌once.‌ ‌‌It’s‌ ‌okay.‌ ‌I‌ ‌mean,‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌won’t‌ ‌be‌ ‌happy‌ ‌but‌ ‌I’ll‌ ‌worry‌ ‌about‌ ‌that‌ ‌later.‌‌ ‌I‌ ‌prepare‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌double‌ ‌en‌ ‌dedans.‌ ‌I‌ ‌try‌ ‌my‌ ‌hardest‌ ‌and‌ ‌yet,‌ ‌I‌ ‌only‌ ‌get‌ ‌around‌ ‌once.‌ ‌But‌ ‌I‌ ‌finish‌ ‌the‌ ‌combination‌ ‌nicely‌ ‌anyway.‌ ‌‌“I‌ ‌said‌ ‌doubles,‌ ‌Adelaide.‌ ‌Double‌ ‌turns‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌last‌ ‌two‌ ‌pirouettes.”‌ I‌ ‌nod.‌ ‌‌Oh‌ ‌no,‌ ‌all‌ ‌the‌ ‌people‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌group‌ ‌who‌ ‌saw‌ ‌me‌ ‌fail…‌ ‌they’re‌ ‌all‌ ‌probably‌ ‌judging‌ ‌me.‌ ‌‌She‌ ‌begins‌ ‌to‌ ‌give‌ ‌the‌ ‌next‌ ‌combination,‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌walk‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌back‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌room.‌ ‌I‌ ‌glance‌ ‌over‌ ‌at‌ ‌Evelina,‌ ‌and‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌not‌ ‌surprised‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌that‌ ‌she‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌are‌ ‌looking‌ ‌at‌ ‌me‌ ‌and‌ ‌giggling.‌ Evelina and Lexi are the two girls in class that love to make my life hell. Usually when you read books or watch TV shows about young dancers, the mean girls in class are the best dancers. But that isn’t the case in real life. Neither Evelina or Lexi is the best in class. Lexi stays very contracted and Evelina has weak arms. And the best dancers in class are actually nice. ‌I‌ ‌look‌ ‌away,‌ ‌forcing‌ ‌myself‌ ‌to‌ ‌focus‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌exercise.‌ ‌ We‌ ‌continue‌ ‌class‌ ‌until‌ ‌7:45.‌ ‌And‌ ‌then‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌over.‌ ‌ ‌I‌ ‌love‌ ‌dancing‌ ‌but‌ ‌I‌ ‌can’t‌ ‌help‌ ‌but‌ ‌be‌ ‌glad‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌over.‌ ‌Today‌ ‌was‌ ‌not‌ ‌my‌ ‌day.‌ ‌We‌ ‌curtsey‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌pianist‌ ‌and‌ ‌to‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil.‌ ‌I‌ ‌hurry‌ ‌over‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌my‌ ‌water‌ ‌bottle,‌ ‌and‌ ‌leave‌ ‌the‌ ‌room‌ ‌as‌ ‌fast‌ ‌as‌ ‌possible.‌ ‌I‌ ‌hear‌ ‌footsteps‌ ‌behind‌ ‌me‌ ‌and‌ ‌know‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌two‌ ‌people.‌ ‌It’s‌ ‌either‌ ‌my‌ ‌favorite‌ ‌person‌ ‌in‌ ‌class‌ ‌coming‌ ‌to‌ ‌console‌ ‌me‌ ‌or‌ ‌my‌ ‌least‌ ‌favorite‌ ‌person‌ ‌coming‌ ‌to‌ ‌insult‌ ‌me.‌ ‌I‌ ‌feel‌ ‌a‌ ‌tug‌ ‌on‌ ‌my‌ ‌water‌ ‌bottle‌ ‌and‌ ‌relief‌ ‌sinks‌ ‌in.‌ ‌But‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌still‌ ‌upset.‌ ‌I‌ ‌yank‌ ‌my‌ ‌water‌ ‌bottle‌ ‌away.‌ ‌“I’m‌ ‌not‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌mood,”‌ ‌I‌ ‌say,‌ ‌“So‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌bother‌ ‌trying‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌funny.”‌ 

‌“I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌try‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌funny,‌ ‌I‌ ‌am‌ ‌funny.”‌ 

“Mhm.‌ ‌Whatever.‌ ‌Don’t‌ ‌be‌ ‌funny‌ ‌right‌ ‌now.”‌ ‌

Marco‌ ‌sighs.‌ ‌ ‌“It‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌that‌ ‌bad,‌ ‌was‌ ‌it?”‌ ‌I‌ ‌stop‌ ‌in‌ ‌front‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌cubbies‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌follows‌ ‌suit.‌ ‌

 ‌“Yes,‌ ‌it‌ ‌was.‌ ‌I‌ ‌was‌ ‌trying‌ ‌really‌ ‌hard,‌ ‌but‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌just‌ ‌tired.‌ ‌I‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌sleep‌ ‌well,‌ ‌and‌ ‌now‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌done‌ ‌a‌ ‌terrible‌ ‌job‌ ‌in‌ ‌class.‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌hates‌ ‌me.”‌ ‌I‌ ‌pull‌ ‌my‌ ‌shoes‌ ‌off.‌ ‌ 

‌“You’ll‌ ‌do‌ ‌better‌ ‌tomorrow.‌ ‌I‌ ‌know‌ ‌you‌ ‌will.”‌ I‌ ‌don’t really believe him.‌ ‌I‌ ‌really‌ ‌have‌ ‌no‌ ‌self-confidence‌ ‌whatsoever.‌ ‌ ‌

“Thanks.‌ ‌Did‌ ‌you‌ ‌see‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌laughing‌ ‌at‌ ‌me?”‌ 

“No.‌ ‌Are‌ ‌you‌ ‌sure‌ ‌they‌ ‌were‌ ‌laughing‌ ‌at‌ ‌you?”‌ 

‌“Yes,‌ ‌Marco!‌ ‌I‌ ‌was‌ ‌bullied‌ ‌in‌ ‌elementary‌ ‌school.‌ ‌I‌ ‌can‌ ‌tell‌ ‌when‌ ‌people‌ ‌are‌ ‌talking‌ ‌about‌ ‌me.‌ ‌Or‌ ‌laughing‌ ‌at‌ ‌me.”‌ ‌

“Well,‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌sorry‌ ‌they‌ ‌did‌ ‌that.”‌ ‌

“Did you see her in class? She’s really bad.” 

“I know!” I‌ ‌try not to look back at Evelina and Lexi as they pass me. I know they’re talking about me. ‌I sit‌ ‌down‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌floor‌ ‌as‌ ‌they walk down the hall to the locker rooms, snickering and looking back at me. Marco‌ ‌sits‌ ‌down‌ ‌next‌ ‌to‌ ‌me‌. 

“They’re wrong, you know. You’re a good dancer. Like, really good.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” I don’t entirely believe him, but it’s nice to hear. 

“Of course. Also, do you know which teacher we have tomorrow?” 

“Mr.‌ ‌Gurenivich.”‌ ‌ ‌

“Oh, okay.” He turns to unzip his bag, so ‌I‌ ‌grab‌ ‌his‌ ‌water‌ ‌bottle‌ ‌and‌ ‌roll‌ ‌it‌ ‌down‌ ‌the‌ ‌hall.‌ ‌“Hey!‌ ‌What‌ ‌was‌ ‌that‌ ‌for?”‌ ‌He‌ ‌runs‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌it‌ ‌before‌ ‌it‌ ‌hits‌ ‌a‌ ‌wall.‌ ‌

“No‌ ‌reason,‌ ‌I‌ ‌just‌ ‌wanted‌ ‌to.”‌ ‌I‌ ‌do‌ ‌this‌ ‌all‌ ‌the‌ ‌time.‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌are‌ ‌both‌ ‌constantly‌ ‌trying‌ ‌to‌ ‌steal‌ ‌the‌ ‌other's‌ ‌water‌ ‌bottle.‌ ‌ ‌

I‌ ‌glance‌ ‌up‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌clock.‌ ‌8:00.‌ ‌I‌ ‌look‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌door‌ ‌of‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌and‌ ‌Aria’s‌ ‌class.‌ ‌They’re‌ ‌curtsying‌ ‌to‌ ‌their‌ ‌teacher.‌ ‌I‌ ‌stand‌ ‌up‌ ‌and‌ ‌slowly‌ ‌walk‌ ‌closer‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌door.‌ ‌I‌ ‌see‌ ‌them‌ ‌grab‌ ‌their‌ ‌water‌ ‌bottles‌ ‌and‌ ‌walk‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio.‌ ‌ ‌“Hey‌ ‌Addy!”‌ ‌

Aria‌ ‌pulls‌ ‌me‌ ‌in‌ ‌for‌ ‌a‌ ‌hug‌ ‌while‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌says,‌ ‌“Hi!”‌ ‌and‌ ‌smiles.‌ ‌ ‌

“Hi‌ ‌guys.”‌ ‌ ‌

“You‌ ‌look‌ ‌sad.‌ ‌What’s‌ ‌wrong?”‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌asks.‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌had‌ ‌a‌ ‌really‌ ‌bad‌ ‌class.‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌was‌ ‌picking‌ ‌on‌ ‌me‌ ‌the‌ ‌whole‌ ‌time,‌ ‌and‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌were‌ ‌laughing‌ ‌at‌ ‌me.‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌tired,‌ ‌so‌ ‌I‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌dance‌ ‌very‌ ‌well‌ ‌either.‌ ‌It‌ ‌was‌ ‌just‌ ‌a‌ ‌really‌ ‌crappy‌ ‌class.”‌ ‌

“Aww,‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌sorry.‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌sure‌ ‌tomorrow‌ ‌will‌ ‌be‌ ‌a‌ ‌much‌ ‌better‌ ‌day!‌ ‌You’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌great‌ ‌tomorrow,”‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌exclaims.‌ ‌Maybe‌ ‌she’s‌ ‌right.‌ ‌After‌ ‌all,‌ ‌tomorrow’s‌ ‌Saturday,‌ ‌and‌ ‌Saturday‌ ‌is‌ ‌usually‌ ‌a‌ ‌good‌ ‌class‌ ‌day.‌ ‌ ‌

“How‌ ‌are‌ ‌you‌ ‌always‌ ‌so‌ ‌optimistic?”‌ ‌I‌ ‌ask‌ ‌her.‌ ‌Lyla’s‌ ‌the‌ ‌nicest‌ ‌person‌ ‌I‌ ‌know.‌ ‌ ‌

She‌ ‌giggles.‌ ‌“I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌know.‌ ‌I‌ ‌guess‌ ‌I‌ ‌just‌ ‌never‌ ‌have‌ ‌a‌ ‌reason‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌badly.”‌ ‌

“Wait,‌ ‌wait.‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌were‌ ‌laughing‌ ‌at‌ ‌you!?”‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌asks,‌ ‌sounding‌ ‌concerned.‌ ‌I‌ ‌smile‌ ‌inwardly.‌ ‌I‌ ‌know‌ ‌that‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌hates‌ ‌anyone‌ ‌who‌ ‌treats‌ ‌her‌ ‌friends‌ ‌badly.‌ ‌She’d‌ ‌beat‌ ‌up‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌if‌ ‌it‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌against‌ ‌ballet‌ ‌school‌ ‌rules.‌ ‌ ‌

“Yeah.‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌was‌ ‌telling‌ ‌me‌ ‌that‌ ‌I‌ ‌should‌ ‌have‌ ‌done‌ ‌two‌ ‌turns‌ ‌instead‌ ‌of‌ ‌one,‌ ‌and‌ ‌when‌ ‌I‌ ‌looked‌ ‌at‌ ‌Evelina,‌ ‌she‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌were‌ ‌looking‌ ‌at‌ ‌me‌ ‌and‌‌ laughing‌ ‌together.”‌ ‌

“Ugh,‌ ‌that’s‌ ‌just…‌ ‌that’s‌ ‌just‌ ‌so‌ ‌rude,”‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌remarks.‌ ‌ ‌

“And‌ ‌then after class, they walked past me and I heard them say, ‘She’s really bad.’”

“Aww,‌ ‌that’s‌ ‌sad,”‌‌ says‌ ‌Lyla.‌ ‌“I’m sorry. You’re a great dancer, Addy. Never forget that.”

“Thanks, Lyla.”

“Oh, you're welcome! I’m‌ ‌gonna‌ ‌pack‌ ‌up‌ ‌my‌ ‌bag,‌ ‌I’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌right‌ ‌back.”‌ ‌She‌ ‌goes‌ ‌over‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌cubbies‌ ‌where‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌is‌ ‌lacing up ‌his‌ ‌sneakers.‌ ‌ ‌

“Okay,‌ ‌listen,”‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌starts.‌ ‌“If‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌laugh‌ ‌at‌ ‌you,‌ ‌let‌ ‌them.‌ ‌You‌ ‌should‌ ‌take‌ ‌it‌ ‌as‌ ‌a‌ ‌compliment‌ ‌that‌ ‌they‌ ‌find‌ ‌you‌ ‌so‌ ‌entertaining.‌ ‌And‌ ‌Ms.‌ ‌Lorendeil‌ ‌only‌ ‌picks‌ ‌on‌ ‌you‌ ‌because‌ ‌she‌ ‌knows‌ ‌you‌ ‌can‌ ‌do‌ ‌better.‌ ‌If‌ ‌she‌ ‌thought‌ ‌you‌ ‌were‌ ‌hopeless,‌ ‌she‌ ‌wouldn’t‌ ‌keep‌ ‌correcting‌ ‌you,‌ ‌she’d‌ ‌just‌ ‌give‌ ‌up.‌ ‌You‌ ‌just‌ ‌do‌ ‌your‌ ‌best‌ ‌every‌ ‌day,‌ ‌even‌ ‌if‌ ‌your‌ ‌best‌ ‌isn’t‌ ‌as‌ ‌good‌ ‌as‌ ‌someone‌ ‌else’s‌ ‌best.‌ ‌Something‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌learned‌ ‌is‌ ‌that‌ ‌there‌ ‌is‌ ‌always‌ ‌going‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌someone‌ ‌who’s‌ ‌better‌ ‌than‌ ‌you,‌ ‌and‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌is‌ ‌good‌ ‌at‌ ‌different‌ ‌things.‌ ‌Everyone‌ ‌has‌ ‌bad‌ ‌days.‌ ‌But‌ ‌I‌ ‌bet‌ ‌tomorrow‌ ‌will‌ ‌be‌ ‌so‌ ‌great!‌ ‌And‌ ‌you‌ ‌are‌ ‌an‌ ‌amazing‌ ‌dancer.‌ ‌Just‌ ‌focus‌ ‌on‌ ‌yourself,‌ ‌not‌ ‌people‌ ‌like‌ ‌Evelina,‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌promise‌ ‌that‌ ‌everything‌ ‌will‌ ‌be‌ ‌okay.”‌ ‌ ‌

“You‌ ‌think‌ ‌so?”‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌know‌ ‌so!!”‌ ‌

“Thanks.‌ ‌You‌ ‌always‌ ‌give‌ ‌me‌ ‌the‌ ‌best‌ ‌advice.”‌ ‌I‌ ‌lean‌ ‌in‌ ‌to‌ ‌hug‌ ‌her.‌ ‌She‌ ‌always‌ ‌knows‌ ‌just‌ ‌what‌ ‌to‌ ‌say‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌me‌ ‌feel‌ ‌better.‌ ‌ ‌

“You’re‌ ‌the‌ ‌best.”‌ ‌

“No,‌ ‌you‌ ‌are!”‌ ‌I‌ ‌giggle‌ ‌and‌ ‌we‌ ‌walk‌ ‌back‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌cubbies.‌ ‌There,‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌and‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌are‌ ‌ready‌ ‌to‌ ‌leave.‌ ‌ ‌

“Are‌ ‌you‌ ‌feeling‌ ‌better?”‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌questions.‌ ‌

“Yeah,”‌ ‌I‌ ‌smile.‌ ‌“Aria‌ ‌gave‌ ‌me‌ ‌good‌ ‌advice.”‌ ‌

“Like ‌always!”‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌says.‌ I‌ ‌chuckle,‌ ‌and‌ ‌Aria‌ smiles, grabbing her bag.  ‌

Should I tell Mom and Dad about Evelina and Lexi? They’ll help me of course, but I don’t want to make the situation worse. Actually, I think I’ll tell them if it gets worse with the girls. But they’ll ask how class was… Maybe I’ll just say it wasn’t the best class. “Are ‌we‌ ‌all‌ ‌ready‌ ‌to‌ ‌go?”‌ ‌Lyla’s voice interrupts my thoughts. 

“Almost!”‌ ‌Aria’s‌ ‌pulling‌ ‌on‌ ‌her‌ ‌shoes.‌ ‌ ‌

“Okay.‌ ‌Let’s‌ ‌go!”‌ ‌She‌ ‌stands‌ ‌up.‌ ‌The‌ ‌four‌ ‌of‌ ‌us‌ ‌walk‌ ‌through‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio‌ ‌wing,‌ ‌through‌ ‌the‌ ‌lobby,‌ ‌and‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌ballet‌ ‌school.‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌start‌ ‌walking‌ ‌towards‌ ‌their‌ ‌parents'‌ ‌cars.‌ 

‌“I’ll‌ ‌see‌ ‌you‌ ‌guys‌ ‌tomorrow!”‌ ‌

“Bye,”‌ ‌I‌ ‌hear‌ ‌back‌ ‌from‌ ‌both‌ ‌of‌ ‌them.‌ I‌ ‌see‌ ‌my‌ ‌mom’s‌ ‌car‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌middle‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌lot.‌ ‌ ‌

“I’ll‌ ‌see‌ ‌you‌ ‌tomorrow,”‌ ‌I‌ ‌say‌ ‌to‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌as‌ ‌I‌ ‌walk‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌car.‌ ‌He‌ ‌starts‌‌

walking‌ ‌towards‌ ‌his‌ ‌family’s‌ ‌car‌ ‌too.‌ ‌ ‌

“See‌ ‌you!”‌ ‌ ‌

I‌ ‌get‌ ‌into‌ ‌my‌ ‌car.‌ ‌“Hi!‌ ‌How‌ ‌was‌ ‌class?”‌ ‌My‌ ‌mom‌ ‌asks.‌ ‌ ‌

“Not‌ ‌so‌ ‌good,‌ ‌but‌ ‌I’ll‌ ‌do‌ ‌better‌ ‌tomorrow.”‌ ‌

 ‌

The‌ ‌next‌ ‌morning,‌ ‌I‌ ‌eat‌ ‌a‌ ‌healthy‌ ‌breakfast‌ ‌to‌ ‌give‌ ‌me‌ ‌energy.‌ ‌I‌ ‌have‌ ‌an‌ ‌orange,‌ ‌a‌ ‌banana,‌ ‌and‌ ‌some‌ ‌grapes.‌ ‌In‌ ‌other‌ ‌words,‌ ‌a‌ ‌lot‌ ‌of‌ ‌fruit.‌ ‌I‌ ‌get‌ ‌ready‌ ‌like‌ ‌always,‌ ‌wash‌ ‌my‌ ‌face,‌ ‌brush‌ ‌my‌ ‌teeth,‌ ‌put‌ ‌my‌ ‌ballet‌ ‌clothes‌ ‌on,‌ ‌and‌ ‌twist‌ ‌my‌ ‌hair‌ ‌up‌ ‌into‌ ‌a‌ ‌bun.‌ ‌Ballet‌ ‌buns‌ ‌are‌ ‌a‌ ‌little‌ ‌hard‌ ‌to‌ ‌do,‌ ‌but‌ ‌they’re‌ ‌really‌ ‌pretty.‌ ‌I‌ ‌slept‌ ‌well,‌ ‌so‌ ‌I’ll‌ ‌do‌ ‌better‌ ‌today.‌ ‌I‌ ‌wait‌ ‌for‌ ‌Mom‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌finished‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌current‌ ‌pattern‌ ‌she's‌ ‌working‌ ‌on‌ ‌for‌ ‌her‌ ‌sewing‌ ‌project,‌ ‌and‌ ‌then‌ ‌ask‌ ‌her‌ ‌to‌ ‌drive‌ ‌me‌ ‌to‌ ‌ballet.‌ ‌It‌ ‌takes‌ ‌no‌ ‌more‌ ‌than‌ ‌five‌ ‌minutes‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌there,‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌like‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio‌ ‌about‌ ‌half‌ ‌an‌ ‌hour‌ ‌before‌ ‌class‌ ‌starts.‌ ‌ ‌When‌ ‌I‌ ‌get‌ ‌there,‌ ‌I‌ ‌go‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio‌ ‌wing‌ ‌and‌ ‌put‌ ‌my‌ ‌bag‌ ‌in‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌cubbies.‌ ‌Then‌ ‌I‌ ‌sit‌ ‌and‌ ‌stretch.‌ ‌After‌ ‌about‌ ‌ten‌ ‌minutes,‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌gets‌ ‌here.‌ ‌ ‌

“Adele!”‌ ‌He‌ ‌puts‌ ‌his‌ ‌bag‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌cubby‌ ‌next‌ ‌to‌ ‌mine.‌ ‌That’s‌ ‌his‌ ‌nickname‌ ‌for‌ ‌me.‌ ‌He‌ ‌loves‌ ‌the‌ ‌singer‌ ‌Adele,‌ ‌so‌ ‌he‌ ‌thinks‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌funny‌ ‌to‌ ‌call‌ ‌me‌ ‌that.‌ ‌However‌ ‌I‌ ‌have‌ ‌an‌ ‌even‌ ‌better‌ ‌nickname‌ ‌for‌ ‌him.‌ ‌ ‌

“Polo!”‌ ‌I‌ ‌say,‌ ‌as‌ ‌I‌ ‌start‌ ‌snickering.‌ ‌ ‌

“Really?”‌ ‌ ‌

I‌ ‌can’t‌ ‌wait‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌Lyla,‌ ‌Aria,‌ ‌and‌ ‌Marie.‌ ‌Marie‌ ‌is‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌level‌ ‌below‌ ‌me,‌ ‌while‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌and‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌are‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌level‌ ‌above‌ ‌me.‌ ‌I‌ ‌get‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌them‌ ‌all‌ ‌on‌ ‌Saturdays.‌ ‌And‌ ‌Thursdays‌ ‌and‌ ‌Fridays.‌ ‌But‌ ‌Saturday‌ ‌is‌ ‌special‌ ‌for‌ ‌some‌ ‌reason.‌ ‌I‌ ‌stand‌ ‌up‌ ‌from‌ ‌stretching‌ ‌as‌ ‌Marie‌ ‌opens‌ ‌the‌ ‌door‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio‌ ‌wing.‌ ‌She‌ ‌sees‌ ‌me‌ ‌and‌ ‌throws‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌her‌ ‌arms‌ ‌up‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌air,‌ ‌putting‌ ‌her‌ ‌other‌ ‌hand‌ ‌on‌ ‌her‌ ‌hip‌ ‌and‌ ‌doing‌ ‌her‌ ‌funny‌ ‌little‌ ‌model‌ ‌walk‌ ‌thing‌ ‌that‌ ‌she‌ ‌does.‌ ‌I‌ ‌do‌ ‌what‌ ‌I‌ ‌always‌ ‌do,‌ ‌running‌ ‌over‌ ‌to‌ ‌her‌ ‌and‌ ‌looping‌ ‌my‌ ‌arm‌ ‌through‌ ‌hers.‌ ‌I‌ ‌do‌ ‌the‌ ‌walk‌ ‌with‌ ‌her‌ ‌as‌ ‌we‌ ‌go‌ ‌back‌ ‌over‌ ‌to‌ ‌where‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌is.‌ ‌He‌ ‌laughs‌ ‌as‌ ‌we‌ ‌approach‌ ‌him.‌ ‌ “I‌ ‌hope‌ ‌I‌ ‌can‌ ‌turn‌ ‌better‌ ‌today.‌ ‌Yesterday‌ ‌was‌ ‌awful.”‌ ‌

“Aw,‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌sure‌ ‌it‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌that‌ ‌bad,”‌ ‌Marie‌ ‌says‌ ‌as‌ ‌she‌ ‌puts‌ ‌her‌ ‌bag‌ ‌in‌ ‌a‌ ‌cubby.‌ ‌ ‌

“You’re‌ ‌wearing‌ ‌too‌ ‌much‌ ‌hairspray‌ ‌again,”‌ ‌I‌ ‌tell‌ ‌her.‌ ‌ ‌

“Uh‌ ‌huh.‌ ‌Yeah‌ ‌hun,‌ ‌I‌ ‌know‌ ‌I‌ ‌have‌ ‌problems,‌ ‌okay?”‌ ‌ ‌

“Yeah, just don’t spray them on me.” She giggles at my comment as I‌ ‌turn‌ ‌and‌ ‌quickly‌ ‌snatch‌ ‌Marco’s‌ ‌water‌ ‌bottle‌ ‌away‌ ‌from‌ ‌him.‌ ‌It‌ ‌startles‌ ‌him,‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌falls‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌floor‌ ‌and‌ ‌starts‌ ‌hyperventilating.‌ ‌Marie‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌laugh‌ ‌at‌ ‌his‌ ‌intentionally‌ ‌ridiculous‌ ‌reaction.‌ ‌Lyla‌ ‌then‌ ‌walks‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio‌ ‌wing.‌ ‌I‌ ‌go‌ ‌to‌ ‌greet‌ ‌her.‌ ‌ ‌

“Hi!”‌ ‌She‌ ‌says, smiling. ‌Bright‌ ‌and‌ ‌shiny‌ ‌as‌ ‌always.‌ ‌ ‌

“Hey!”‌ ‌ ‌

“You’ll‌ ‌have‌ ‌a‌ ‌great‌ ‌class‌ ‌today,‌ ‌right?”‌ ‌

“Yup.‌ ‌I‌ ‌will.”‌ ‌

“Guys,”‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌calls,‌ ‌“Class‌ ‌starts‌ ‌in‌ ‌ten‌ ‌minutes.”‌ ‌

Lyla‌ ‌goes‌ ‌into‌ ‌her‌ ‌studio,‌ ‌and‌ ‌Marie‌ ‌goes‌ ‌to‌ ‌hers.‌ ‌I‌ ‌grab‌ ‌my‌ ‌pointe‌ ‌shoes‌ ‌and‌ ‌then‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌walk‌ ‌into‌ ‌our‌ ‌studio.‌ ‌As‌ ‌I‌ ‌close‌ ‌the‌ ‌door‌ ‌behind‌ ‌me,‌ ‌I‌ ‌see‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌come‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio‌ ‌wing.‌ ‌I‌ ‌remember‌ ‌what‌ ‌she‌ ‌told‌ ‌me.‌ ‌I’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌okay.‌ ‌I‌ ‌stop‌ ‌when‌ ‌I‌ ‌see‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌are‌ ‌already‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌studio.‌ ‌They’ll‌ ‌try‌ ‌to‌ ‌tear‌ ‌me‌ ‌down.‌ ‌But‌ ‌I‌ ‌won’t‌ ‌let‌ ‌them.‌ ‌ ‌

I‌ ‌just‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌a‌ ‌little‌ ‌pointe‌ ‌before‌ ‌class.‌ ‌I‌ ‌put‌ ‌my‌ ‌toe‌ ‌spacers‌ ‌in‌ ‌and‌ ‌slide‌ ‌my‌ ‌toe‌ ‌pads‌ ‌over‌ ‌them.‌ ‌I‌ ‌pull‌ ‌my‌ ‌tights‌ ‌back‌ ‌over‌ ‌my‌ ‌feet‌ ‌and‌ ‌put‌ ‌the‌ ‌shoes‌ ‌on,‌ ‌taking‌ ‌care‌ ‌to‌ ‌tie‌ ‌them‌ ‌correctly around my ankles. ‌I‌ ‌stand‌ ‌up‌ ‌and‌ ‌prepare‌ ‌for‌ ‌an‌ ‌en‌ ‌dehors‌ ‌pirouette‌ ‌from‌ ‌fourth‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌left.‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌only‌ ‌ever‌ ‌done‌ ‌a‌ ‌single‌ ‌en‌ ‌pointe‌ ‌before.‌ ‌I‌ ‌plié,‌ ‌and‌ ‌go‌ ‌up,‌ ‌snapping‌ ‌my‌ ‌leg‌ ‌up‌ ‌to‌ ‌my‌ ‌knee.‌ ‌I‌ ‌spot‌ ‌as‌ ‌many‌ ‌times‌ ‌as‌ ‌I‌ ‌can‌ ‌and‌ ‌get‌ ‌around‌ ‌three‌ ‌times‌ ‌before‌ ‌finishing‌ ‌the‌ ‌turn.‌ ‌I‌ ‌got‌ ‌around...‌ ‌three‌ ‌times.‌ ‌I‌ ‌just‌ ‌did‌ ‌a‌ ‌triple.‌ ‌I‌ ‌look‌ ‌at‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌and‌ ‌he’s‌ ‌staring‌ ‌at‌ ‌me‌ ‌in‌ ‌astonishment.‌ ‌ “Oh‌ ‌my‌ ‌gosh!!‌ ‌That‌ ‌was‌ ‌amazing!!”‌ 

“I‌ ‌know!‌ ‌I‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌think‌ ‌I‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌able‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌a‌ ‌good‌ ‌single.”‌ ‌I‌ ‌glance‌ ‌over‌ ‌at‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌and‌ ‌Lexi.‌ ‌They‌ ‌are‌ ‌obviously‌ ‌staring‌ ‌at‌ ‌me‌ ‌in‌ ‌shock,‌ ‌but‌ ‌they‌ ‌look‌ ‌away‌ ‌when‌ ‌I‌ ‌look‌ ‌at‌ ‌them.‌ ‌I‌ ‌smile‌ ‌triumphantly.‌ ‌I‌ ‌know for a fact that‌ ‌neither‌ ‌Evelina‌ ‌or‌ ‌Lexi‌ ‌have‌ ‌ever‌ ‌done‌ ‌more‌ ‌than‌ ‌a‌ ‌single‌ ‌en‌ ‌pointe.‌ ‌And‌ for once, I ‌feel‌ ‌confident.‌ ‌I‌ ‌look‌ ‌back‌ ‌at‌ ‌Marco‌ ‌and‌ ‌he’s‌ ‌smiling.‌ ‌He‌ ‌knows‌ ‌what‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌thinking.‌ ‌ ‌

“Amazing.”‌ ‌

“Thank‌ ‌you.”‌ ‌I‌ ‌look‌ ‌over‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌door‌ ‌and‌ ‌see‌ ‌Aria‌ ‌standing‌ ‌there‌ ‌and‌ ‌beaming‌ ‌at‌ ‌me.‌ ‌She‌ ‌nods.‌ ‌ Maybe‌ ‌things‌ ‌are‌ ‌looking‌ ‌up.‌ ‌ ‌

My heart beats a mile a minute. Get to the river. I don’t know how I’ll possibly live to reach the border. All I know is that I must get out of here, out of this horrible place. Cold sweat drips on my forehead. Keep going, run, faster, faster, faster. I mustn't let anyone see me, or else it’s over. I’m done for. I hear the shallowness of my breathing, and quickness of my step on the cool, lush soil. Twilight peeks through the branches and leaves, and I know I must hurry, for when dawn rises over the horizon, it’ll be harder to stay hidden. You never know who’s against you in this harsh, cruel world. Keep going, run faster. My shiny, dewdrop black eyes dart side to side, searching for any evil that might be out to get me. 

“There is wickedness in everyone Marley,” my mother once told me, “You must trust no one, for trusting the wrong person is when you give up the little glimmer of hope we have of surviving in this world.” She was right. Once you trust anyone, anyone at all, there may be no going back. 

 I keep running as far as my tired brown and white spotted fawn legs will carry me. My wild inky hair flows like a waterfall down my back. You mustn’t stop, no time left, faster, faster, faster. I stop, panting. I feel faint, resting against an ancient weeping willow with a canopy of milky white flowers. The bark is rough and old, but it’s comforting, grounding me to the earth. Then, I kick myself for stopping. No time, keep going, no time left. I stand up quietly, carefully making sure no one sees me. Don’t waste time, go.  All I have left is the hope of seeing the light of another day. I keep running.

                                                        ___

I arrive at a clearing in the woods. It’s pretty in the darkness. There are little elves with acorn caps running along pebblestone paths, and fairies with dresses made of flowers and fine silk, flying to the treetops with their glittering wings. I see the gnomes and dwarfs, piling into their homes made of hollowed-out trees, pixies with their pointy ears and golden glow as they drift through the whispering wind. How can a place such as this seem so magical, so innocent, and yet the rest of the world seems so against you? I wish I could be as ignorant as these mystical creatures, so unaware of the evils and wars of the world, but I can’t. 

I leave the clearing, and continue my journey. The woods become denser, aspen trees piling together into large clumps. It’s hard to see through the thicket, and the moon doesn’t give me much guidance, as silvery-blue clouds start to cover up the starry night sky. At least it’ll be harder to spot me in the dark, I think to myself. Although my vision is dimmed, I am swift enough not to bump into vines and logs lying on the ground, and nimble enough to not make any noise. Get to the river. If I cross the border, I’m free. Free of rules and restrictions, free of hiding in the shadows, free of war. I haven't spotted any guards just yet, but I know that soon they will appear. 

“The guards will be ruthless to you, my Marley, more than you could ever know,” I hear Mother’s voice, from when I still had her, echoing through the back of my mind, “Never, ever let them take away your freedom, you understand?” I’ve heard myths, stories of the guards. Trolls and ogres, most of them are supposed to be. If they catch you trespassing along their river, you will be taken and locked away for all of eternity in a cell made of vines, and roses, and thorns. My heart continues to beat at an alarming rate. All this began too long ago, centuries before my birth. A terrible war started between all the creatures of the kingdom. The trolls and fairies fought over land, the elves and sylphs fought over politics, and the mermaids and centaurs supposedly had an argument about who has more beauty. But everyone is against the fawns (my kind), who are meant to “lure creatures big and small into their homes, play soft panpipe music, which sends them off to a deep slumber, leaving them with no chance of ever awakening again,” or so the story is told. So now everyone far and wide are hiding, watching, waiting for change to rise from the ashes, and restore peace to the kingdom once more. 

But I don’t believe that will happen. Not for a thousand years. 

People have too much hatred in them, too much envy and fear and thirst for revenge to ever see anything differently. Which is why you must be careful, never to take the wrong path in the woods, for your death may come sooner than you thought. 

I pick an orange blossom off a small tree, and bite into what I presume is supposed to be juicy and sweet. For a moment the flavor makes me think of all the things I love: The smell of fresh, sweet grass, mixing with piney scents in the summertime. But then I taste the bitterness and chalky texture beneath the illusion of the spell. I recoil and spit out the rotten remains of the fruit. Poison. Now I suppose you see what I mean when I say that you never know who may be against you. I had learned to become immune to all sorts of poison, for fear that a scenario such as this might occur. I suddenly regret that I hadn’t brought food from home. I crave a warm, sweet, mulberry pie, or some cheese and ham, or even a biscuit with butter. My stomach rumbles. No time for food. Go. Get to the border, before it’s too late. 

As I continue deeper into the forest, the scene shifts. A subtle mist has settled over all the plants and trees, and an eerie sense of quietness to go along with it. I hear an owl hooting from the treetops, probably on the hunt for food. I have a bad hunch in the pit of my stomach, like all my insides were twisted and weaved together. I feel like the air can’t process through my lungs. Suddenly, I hear a twig snap, followed by a deep growl. I curse myself, this cannot be happening. Guards. I duck behind a log, and lay upon the soft green moss. I wait, listening.

“He’s gotten away, sire,” says a guard with a high pitched voice.

“Well go get him then,” says another, with a deep, angry voice.

“I didn’t see which way he had gone, sire.”

“Better start looking, because I’m not waiting around forever.” They are both completely, and utterly ridiculous. Fools. Well, I guess I can’t blame them for being trolls. They do not have the brains and skill of location and navigation. However, they do have the skill of warfare and weapons, as every troll is required to learn this since childhood . 

I gulp. 

“Why do you have to be so stupid, you nincompoop?” The deep-voiced guard says.

“You lost him too, you know,” The high-pitched one replies with annoyance. The deep-voiced troll lets out a nasty hiss, and the smaller one lets out a squeak, frightened. “Listen sire, I think I heard footsteps,” the small troll starts walking the opposite direction of where I am. The big troll lets out another growl, but follows, reluctantly. 

I breathe out a sigh of relief. My eyes start to close from the exhaustion of running for hours and hours. Get up...keep...going. I try to stand, but collapse. As I fall asleep I let myself get whisked away to a world of dreams, a world where there is no war, no guards, just me in a meadow, watching the sun rise.

                                             ___

I awaken, and the forest is still pitch black, the sky freckled with stars. I have been sleeping for about an hour. Stand up, run, cross the border. I slowly rise to my feet, careful of my surroundings.. You can never be too sure that someone might be waiting to strike, listening to every little noise that comes out of your mouth, watching your every move. I thank the earth that I had a nice, cozy little pad of moss to sleep on, and proceed the quest. I know that I am close to the river, since I spot a tiny stream, barely visible, rushing beside my feet. I bend down to examine it, wondering if I’ll ever cross the border. I just have to make sure I-

“Who are you?” A voice questions from the dark. I duck behind a nearby tree, frightened for my life. How could I possibly let myself be caught? I know I have no choice but to fight. I duck behind a nearby tree and grab a rock, the cool, smooth texture grazing my fingertips.

“Show yourself,” the voice pleads, “I promise, I won’t hurt you.” Fool. That’s what everybody says right before they attack you. You assume he would be a bit more clever. I close my hand around the rock, ready to strike, when suddenly he asks, “Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“And why is that?” I don’t like being asked this many questions. I dare to take a peek, as I glance from behind the tree. Guard.  I curse. Gripping the rock, I take a few steps closer, but instead of trying to attack, the guard crouches down, making a shield with his arms. He has pale green, wrinkled skin, similar to that of a goblin, and long pointy ears. He wears brown and black rags, though I’m not sure if this was the original color of the fabric, or if it got stained from the dirt. I’m surprised by his actions, as he looks so helpless. Not like a guard at all. I retreat a couple steps backward and ask:

“Don’t you want to arrest me?” 

“Now just why would I want to do that?” He is most peculiar. “What is your name?” he wonders.

“Marley.”

“Well Marley, perhaps I should explain myself.”

“Go ahead.” I snap. We sit down on a rotting log, with ants running along the bottom. He coughs a couple of times, looking tired, weary, then begins his story:

“I am not the guard you think I am, not like those who choose to arrest people for the joy of it. I am grieved to know how hard it must be for your kind to survive alone in this wood, and for that, I’m truly sorry.” He looks at me for a moment with sincerely truthful emerald eyes, and continues, “See, I am a protector of the kingdom, the way all guards used to be before the Great War. As I have aged over centuries, I have seen the world turn harsher, and crueler, the only world you know. But I believe that one day, we can restore what has been forgotten, all the friendships and peace and good.”

“You believe in a fantasy,” I reply, feeling sorry for this silly old troll who is oblivious to the fact that there is no resolution to this battle we’re facing. “I ran away from home because I have no family left, no one to trust, and a very small chance of surviving in this wood.” 

“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong. You do have at least one person to trust: me. I was like you once, hiding in the shadows, searching for an answer. Escaping. But you must never escape the fact that not all has been lost, that we can lean on each other even in harsh times. This is the only way to overcome the bloodshed and in fact, the war. The fear inside you. Find the light in the darkness, Marley. Have faith in one, who puts faith in you.” He rests a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. 

I’m overwhelmed, not knowing how to respond to this strange creature. Yet the knots in the pit of my stomach are gone, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling. 

A light in the darkness.

        ___

It’s getting lighter in the woods. Almost sunrise. I pass morning dew drops resting on the lush, green grass, and songbirds tweeting from their nests way up high in the trees. The warm feeling stayed with me even after I said goodbye to the troll guard. As I started off on my quest once more, he just kept staring at me with this trustworthy smile, and waved until I had walked so far that I couldn’t see him anymore. I’ve never met anyone who has as much confidence that there will be a happy ending to everything. He may be an idiot, but may just be what this world needs. Hope.

 The wind blows lightly, blowing the fur on my legs as well as my long, dark hair. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I reassure myself that I will get to the border in time, that I am safe. I don’t know when, and I don't know how. 

              But luckily, I have faith in seeing the light of another day.

___

The Kindness Kid

I roll over, twisting in my flannel sheets, the slightly rough feeling waking me up more than my The Beatles alarm clock. I reach my still half asleep arm out and press down to stop the sound. I fold over the side of my tightly tucked sheets just enough to pop out and then quickly remake my bed. The birds are singing outside my room and I pop open the window slightly to let the sweet music flow in.

I prance over to the bathroom I share with my little sister, still in my bunny jammies. I knock first on the ridged white door to make sure she's not using it, then whistle my way in, attempting a rendition of the Beatles song that had woken me up this morning. 

Pulling my dinosaur green toothbrush out of its caddy and squeezing some sparkling blue toothpaste out of my half-full tube, I begin humming the song.

We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine…

“Are you done there yet?” My sister's voice jolts me out of my song.

“Yes, sorry one minute! How was your morning?” I attempt asking before realizing it’s fruitless with a toothbrush in my mouth. I finish brushing, spit, rinse, repeat, and then step out.

My sister is glaring at me in the way seven-year olds do when they think they know how everything in the world works and you do not.

“I like your Jammies!” I say to her, before she pushes me out of the way and slams the door in my face. That happens a lot with Janet.

I turn and walk back to my room, where a squirrel has taken residence outside my window. Its little furry face looks like it’s smiling right at me! I smile back at it, feeling my lips pull over my teeth in the familiar motion that feels much more comfortable on my face than anything else. 

---

As soon as my mom pulls up in our blue clunker of a minivan to the front of my school, the atmosphere changes.

“Sweetie, you don’t have to go today.” My mom says, her face pinched in the rearview mirror as if she had just sucked on a sour candy for a couple seconds too long.

“No mom, it’ll be okay.”

I think back to the time, a couple nights ago, when I had heard her talking with my dad in hushed tones long after I was supposed to go to sleep.

“I’m worried about him, Jim. He’s such a special kid and I don't want the other kids to take away his sparkle.” My mother had sighed then, and she sounded older than I had ever heard.

“Marge, we gotta let the kid figure it out. The school system isn’t gonna do anything and we can’t afford to send him to one of the fancy private schools in the city.”

“I know.” She sighed again. “It just hurts me to see him hurt inside. He’s always so kind and gets nothing but hatred for it. I just don't know what to do!” She started sobbing into my father's arms then, and I quickly scampered back up the stairs and into my room.

Since then I’ve been noticing more and more how fragile my mother treats me.

I slam the door and hop out, then hear my mom blowing a kiss from the driver's side window. I spin around and blow one back, adding a goofy bow on top of it. I twirl around again and skip into school.

Now that I’m a fifth grader, everyone is supposed to look at me with awe and respect. Instead, they give me funny stares, like I’m wearing my underwear outside of my pants. I think that’s just their way of expressing their speechlessness at my oldness and wiseness.

“Hi Ms. Bartley!” I wave at the secretary sitting at her desk, her face set in a perpetual scowl. Her rhinestone glasses glitter as she glances up from her desk to nod ever so slightly in my direction, then look back down at her phone. I don’t know what candy crush has to do with the school administration, but it must because she is always playing it.

---

The classroom seems to shift ever so slightly when I walk in, but I’m sure it’s just because everyone is happy to see me. Everybody looks up and stares at me, but it doesn’t feel very welcoming. You can’t always trust your gut! I’m sure they actually really like me and I’m just being silly! I scold myself.

Uh-oh. Beatrice and all her friends are coming. No matter what I do, they never seem to like me.

“Hey look, it's happy Max!” She says to all her friends. They burst into a fit of laughs and I'm not able to tell myself it’s not at me. 

I glance at Ms. Welton, my teacher, but she seems to be engrossed by the colored-pencil war happening at table three.

“I heard that he smiled when his dog died.” One of Beatrice's friends, Bethany, whispers conspiratorially, just loud enough so I could hear.

“Why are you so nice all the time? It’s just weird.” Beatrice says in a way that makes me think she's not saying it as just some friendly advice, then walks away with her little posse trailing behind.

---

I lie on my bed, turning Beatrice’s words over in my mind. Why am I so nice all the time? What does being nice get me? All kindness has gotten me this far is no friends, and parents who have late-night gossip sessions about how I’m so weird. I guess… I used to make people smile whenever I held the door or complimented their outfits. Now they think I’m just odd though.

I twist and toss, thinking and pondering. 

My kindness is not getting me anywhere… I’ll show them.

---

“Bye sweetie, have a wonderful day!” My mom calls out from the car window, leaning out in a way that makes her hair fall all wrong.

I turn around and walk into school without saying anything in return. I don't greet any of the students I pass by as I walk into school either. I feel like a bird who was finally kicked out of the nest and is ready to soar. I can say whatever I want. As I pass by the open door to Ms. Bartley’s, I don’t stop to peep my head in as per my tradition for the past six years. Instead, I keep walking, feeling my feet glide over the tiles with an air of superiority.

---

“Hey look! It’s Maxie-max!” Beatrice hops up and sashays her way over to me. “Are you happy to be at school?” She sings gleefully, knowing that things like that would have hurt my feelings. But that was before. Now I’m Max, who doesn’t get his feelings hurt. He hurts others first.

“Are you happy to be failing history?” I snap back, feeling a smug smile,  creeping slowly over my face, so different from my ordinary grin. At the same time, it’s exactly the same. My cheeks feel prickly as they stretch, but in a good way, like this is the pose they’ve been waiting for all their lives.

Revealed

“Pleasssee,” Asher begged, his hands pushing against each other.

“For the last time Asher, I’m not making you a car!” I yell as we stroll along the grass field. The weather slowly getting colder as the time passes. I look into my friend's eyes, seeing his begging but joking expression.

“How about a PC, a new phone, a-” I cut him off before he can go on, as we stop dead in our tracks. 

“What will you tell your parents when you magically come home with a new device?”

“I don’t know, I’ll tell them I found it on the street or something, c’mon I’d never say no to you if I could do what you could.”

I snarl and start walking again, “Alright fine, but if they take it away from you, I’m not making you another.” 

I do a 360, nervously scanning the open field surrounding us. A glimpse of movement catches my eye, and I let the car pass. The coast looks clear. I crouch behind a massive tree with red leaves and do a double take before I pull my hand out, particles made out of thin air combining together, a tingly feeling in my palm that I’ve come to like. And before I know it, a brand new phone appears and falls into my hands. 

“Now make sure you tell no one how you got it, you’re the only one that knows.” I say as I hand the phone to him.

He salutes as he takes the phone from my hand and starts setting it up, his smile too big for his face as he settles down on the grass. I scoff hoping that it was a serious salute.

“I still don’t know why you’re so scared of people finding out. You could help solve so many problems in this world.” Asher says, his eyes not leaving the screen.

I take in a deep breath as I attempt to hold back the anger inside of me. 

“Let’s think of it like this, if you were living a normal human life with normal human friends, and this random kid claiming he can solve world hunger comes out of nowhere. Would you believe him?”

“Chill out, I’m just saying I don’t think you’re using your power to it’s potential.”

I roll my eyes, slowly getting frustrated as he goes on.

“I’ll talk to you later, I gotta go home for dinner now.” I say, starting to walk away from the only person who knows my secret. 

I look back at Asher, his eyes unmoved, locked on the screen. 

Are you really my best friend? I wonder.

Or just using me for my power.

I lie in my bed, my back laying against the soft mattress below me. My hand feeling the red knitted lines of the ball before releasing it from my grip, and letting it fall back down. I throw it up again when the doorbell rings. 

Startled, I twitch and the ball lands on my face. I throw the ball at the wall where it gets stuck, and I walk me and my bad mood down to get the door. I’m hesitant as I carefully walk down the stairs and ask, “Who is it?” crafting up the most enthusiastic voice I can muster. No response.

“Who is it?” I ask again, my tone sharpening.

Again no response. 

I push the white transparent curtain aside and peek through the window. All I see is the road I was raised on and the neighbors I’m yet to interact with. I open the door and scan the front patio. I’m about to head back inside when I see the corner of an envelope hanging from my mailbox. I walk over cautiously and take the envelope out. I look at it’s manilla cover and see no words, no nothing. I peer around the street, suspicion growing every second. My eyes squint as I listen to the sounds around me and only hear the wind howling in my ears and the birds chirping. The trees seem to bend in as my mind starts to wander. My hands numb as I carefully peel open the envelope and see a blank piece of paper. I turn it around and see a sentence written from cut out letters of a newspaper: I know your secret.

Adrenaline rushing through me, I bolt up to my room and smash Asher’s number in the phone. It rings twice before Asher finally picks up.

“What’s up?” The calmness in his voice as he acts like he has no idea what happened makes anger rush through me.

“WHO DID YOU TELL MY SECRET TO?” I scream as I can feel my body start to shake.

“No one! I swear to god I would never!” Asher says as my mind starts racing.

“THEN WHY DID I GET A NOTE FROM SOMEONE SAYING THEY KNOW MY SECRET?”

“I don’t know?! Why do you call me just to start yelling at me? What did I do!” Asher screams back as I hear the beep as he hangs up. I slam the phone on my bed as realization passes through me. I cup my fingers over my temple as I rub my eyes trying to contemplate what to do. After 20 seconds of rest, I hear the doorbell ring. I charge down the stairs and yank the door open, ready to yell at the top of my lungs at the person who stands in front of me but as I look up I see who it is. 

“What happened to you?” My mom asks as her eyebrows curve upward and she walks past me. 

“Sorry I just thought you were someone else.  Is it okay if I go on a walk?”

“Sure, just make sure to be back before 8.”

I take a step outside and start to walk around the streets. The weather so cold I could see the fog with every breath. I’m about to head back inside when I see something out of the corner of my eye. I rub my eyes and look again and see what looks like 2 shadows playing tag or something. I turn around and start to continue home when I hear a high pitched scream. I do a 180° turn to see that no, it definitely wasn’t tag. I see a girl getting robbed. I pull out my hand and feel the tingle that’s always been there and form a stun gun. I sprint toward the girl and the robber and as the robber sees me he bolts. I shoot my gun at the disfigured shadow but miss. My arm shaking, I prepare to fire again before I realize I only loaded it with one bullet. I hold my hand out and form more without seeing the girl watching. Both hands numb as I shoot and hit the robber in the back. I see the outline of a man slump down, and I feel a sense of glory for a moment. I start to pull out my phone when I see the girl and I realize what this means. We both stare at each other momentarily stunned, until I run with all my might back to my house.

“You’re back pretty early, how was it?” My mom asks while she reads on the couch. I barely hear her as I rush to my room and pray this was all a dream.

I awake to the sound of ringing as I roll over to check my phone. 4:32 A.M. Who the hell is calling me at 4:32 in the morning? My tired brain asks I as slog over and pick up the phone.

“Are you Nick Foster?” says the medium pitched voice of a man.

“Uhh, yeah?”

“How would you like to get interviewed by Fox News?!” 

I squint my eyes, confused at the random question until I remember. I hang up on the caller and go back to sleep. 

I wake up for real at 8:49 A.M. and head downstairs. I’m greeted by my mom, talking to a random person with a microphone in our kitchen. I duck behind the wall as I listen in on their conversation. 

“I didn’t know about this at all!” I hear my mom say.

“How did you feel when you found out?” I hear a middle-aged white man ask my mom.

“I don’t know, just shocked I guess.”

I decide to stop hiding and walk past the wall acting as though I just started walking down.

“Oh there he is! It’s the kid!” I hear as I see the man start walking towards me.

“Would you like to be interviewed by CNN?” He asks me.

“Uh, no thanks, I’m just going to get my day started right now.” I respond, trying to be as polite as possible, holding a fake smile until I see the camera go away.

“Ok no problem,” he says as he hands me his card, “Call me if you want an interview.” 

I shoot him with a polite thumbs up and nod as I attempt to get my day started as normal. As I’m eating my breakfast, I check my phone seeing 100’s of new calls and texts. I close it and put it back in my pocket with a sigh. My life won’t ever be the same after today. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My mom’s concerned voice asks.

“I just, I didn’t think. I don’t know,” and that was the truth.

After I finish my breakfast my mom sends me to RSM. Before I can even get used to the cold atmosphere of the outside world, I’m swarmed by a barrage of cameras and mics coming from all around me.

“How long could you do this?”

“How much do you like your power?”

“How did you get it?”

I try to push my way through the crowd ignoring the mics being shoved in my face. As I keep walking to the door it seems as if they started making a path for me to walk into. As I get in the building I sit in my normal seat and suddenly get swarmed just like how I did before as everyone tries to take pictures and ask questions to the superpower kid. As the class went on, all I could see was people looking at me being distracted and that included the teachers. I couldn’t learn or think about anything in that class. As the class finishes and I leave again I get crowded but this time I expect it. Is this really how I have to live my life now? 

The car ride is silent as we head back home. I look to the left to see my mom’s seemingly nervous face. 

“What happened mom? Why do you seem nervous?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing, trust me.”

I look at my mom, confused while I spend the rest of the ride in silence and with my own thoughts. As we get home my mom plops on the dining room table and ushers me to sit next to her. Cautiously, I go over and my mom tells me to sit down.

“What’s up?” I ask, trying to cheer the mood up.

“I need to tell you something,” she says, her tone serious but her face drooped.

“Sure whatever you want.”

“When you were born, the doctors took you in to do some experiments,” my mom says, her voice cracking, her eyes not daring to face me, “They tried making you a lab rat but before they could finish I took you away. I wanted a kid, not a superhero. After I took you away I brought you to all sorts of doctors to make sure they did nothing to you, and they never found anything. But I guess I was too late.”

My eyes wide open, I stare at my mom in shock. I’m an experiment?!

“Why, why did you never tell me?” I ask, my voice breaking midway through.

“I just wanted you to live a normal life, so you wouldn’t have to go through what you’re going through now,” my mom pauses, “but there is a cure that the doctors told me about.”

I stare at my mom dazed with my mouth wide open. A cure. 

“Is it okay if I take time to, uh, think of what to do?” I ask, my voice trembling as I replay what I just heard in my head.

“Yeah of course. I don’t expect you to be able to make your decision right away.” My mom says with a sincere look on her face. Her lips tight and her eyes sad.

I race up to my room and slowly dial Asher’s number in my phone. After not picking up 3 times he finally does.

“What do you want Nick?” He asks, his tone sharp.

“So it’s about my power. I-”

“Of course it’s about your power! Everything seems like it’s about your power. It’s like we’re not actually friends, more like I’m just a barn animal you can’t let escape. You know what? I think I would like you better without your power!” Asher screams as he hangs up without a goodbye.

I slowly plod downstairs and make eye contact with my mom.

“Let’s do it.”

My mom and I drive over to the hospital, the tires of our car sliding against the frost covered ground. We park in the first spot available and run inside. We blow by the patients and workers and go right to the overview. We see the floor we need to go to and dash to the elevator. I attack the up button as the elevator takes its sweet time getting to our level. The doors open at a snail’s pace before we can finally go in. I jam the “5” button before the doors slowly close and take us up. As we get to the floor we rush to the door that says, “Dr. Martin,” and slam it open without knocking. A man stares at us startled. His mouth slowly turning to a grin as he realizes who I am.

“No way,” I hear him whisper to himself.

“The cure, now.” I hear my mom say. Her voice colder than I’ve ever heard before. 

“I can’t give you it now, I just learned that my experiment worked,” Dr. Martin says, his grin turning evil.

“The cure, now. Or else everyone will know what you did.”

“And what exactly did I do?” He says, his confidence annoying me more every second.

“You know exactly what you did, and if you don’t hand it over now, I’m calling the cops.”

His smile fades.

 “I’ll give you the cure under one condition,” he says, his eyes staring deep into my soul, “You’re not allowed to tell anyone about how he got his power.”

My mom’s fist curls as she assesses her options. 

“Fine,” she says.

Dr. Martin takes a syringe of orange looking liquid and sits me down in a chair. He pokes the syringe into me and my vision starts to blur. I look at my mom one last time, her face a mix of every emotion, before everything around me finally turns black.

“I still have a problem though,” I say to Asher as we walk along the street. The warm air blowing past me. The weather finally coming back up.

“What?”

“Earlier, the day before it got revealed I got a note saying someone knew my secret. How?”

Asher’s chuckles as he grabs my shoulder and turns to face me, “Nick, that was me.”

I push his right arm off and feel my face starting to warm as adrenaline rushes through me. But before I can do anything I feel a tap on my shoulder. I see a little kid staring up at me with awe and he nervously asks me, “Are you the superhero kid?!”

I turn to give Asher a final glare before I look at the kid with a warm smile and say, “Not anymore.”

Warning: Mild bullying/violence

I held my paper proudly in my hand, and stared happily at the A+ on the paper. 

“What did you get … oh of course you got an A+, who would’ve thought,'' Jordan said teasingly. 

“Well it’s not my fault that I’m just better than you at math, actually now that I think about it, I’m really better than you at everything,” I said with a smirk. “Unlike you, I actually study.”

 “Whatever,” he said. 

He opened his mouth to add more but then closed it, and I smiled even more when I realized that he had nothing else to say in his defense. 

“Better grade means a better person,” I said, acting like my dad when he teaches me a lesson. “You’re in school, so your duty is to get good grades.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Noah,” a voice behind me called.

I quickly turned around and saw Jordan sitting at a table with his friends.

 “Come sit us,” he called.

I scanned my eye across the cafeteria. No empty tables. ‘Oh well, guess there’s no harm in sitting with Jordan,’ I convinced myself, and went to sit with Jordan and his friends. Walking near the table I can hear them talking.

 “Bro, why did you invite that nerd to our table?” a kid wearing a basketball shirt with air jordans called, typical basketball player.

 “Don’t talk so loud, he’s coming to us,” someone else at the table said, clearly hiding their face from me. I sat down at the edge of the face as a Hancock diamond after it’ve been washed while shooting an evil look at Jordan.

 “I’m going to use the bathroom,” Jordan mumbled while not daring to look me in my eye. And I followed him, since there is no reason why I should stay here with Jordan gone. So I decided to follow him to the bathroom.

Sometimes I just don't know why people would go into the school bathroom, that's another question to ask Jordan when he gets out. But I’m not sure if I can stay here that long. Even if I’m standing 10 feet away from the bathroom, I can still smell it’s stink . I look at my clock over and over again, but he’s just not out. At this point I won’t be surprised if he had fallen into the bathroom,

“What’s his problem?” I thought. “Who takes 10 minute to use the bathroom?” Not wanting to be late for class, I went into the school public bathroom. And before even going through the door, I can already smell the terrible smell of the bathroom, but what’s inside is more terrifying than the smell--- Jordan is being held against the bathroom door by his neck, and my eyes widened.

 “So, what makes you wanna bully me? After all, you're 2 years older than me, oh wait, I forgot that you're one of the only students who got hold back, and if i remember correctly, the reason for that is what you're doing right now, isn’t it Nick?” Jordan said with a laugh. 

“SHUT UP,” Nick hisses the words slowly, but coolly. 

“Make me.” Nick’s face turned red, staring at Jordan like mortal enemies. Then all of sudden Nick strikes, ‘splash’. Jordans was white moment ago but now it’s covered in the scary color of red. Nick hit him again, this time harder and with a smile, almost like he’s enjoying a dead prey. I should leave, I should run away before Nick notices me. I won’t want to be like Jordan, forever asleep in the bathroom. Plus, I don't even know what’s going on. As I turned over to leave, I heard the painful mourn coming from Jordan, and the evil laughter of Nick. Before I even realized it, I came running back,  fist out right into Nick's ugly face. And even if I don’t know it, as I punched Nick, I know that deep down in my heart, I know why I did it, I know what's happening --- Nick is hurting my friend, and that’s all I need to know.

Welton Road is like a robot’s playhouse, every home identical to the next stretching on for miles and miles. The Ryans’ house is white as snow with bold black window frames and a perfectly smooth driveway leading up to their 6 acre plot. Inside everything is handmade to their liking, each room worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Their garage contains sports cars that cost more than houses on the west side. Famous statues and paintings line their hallways and decorate their rooms. 

First there is Mr. William Ryan, (the second), the father of the bunch. He's always either busy traveling or in board rooms, much like his father Mr. William Ryan (the first of course). Then there is Mrs. Amelia Ryan, her past is unclear, much like her present actually. Amelia is a woman of many secrets. Lastly, we have the twins, Sienna and Maeve. Sienna is much like her mother in the sense that she likes money, and she likes spending money. Let’s just say Sienna’s popularity matters more to her than her own sister. 

And now we're onto Maeve! Nothing like her family, Maeve is quiet and strives to blend in as much as possible. One thing is, Maeve could read through anything! She is an avid reader. She enjoys it so much that her parents thought she needed her own library. But back to the girls, Sienna’s Selfish, Maeve's Quiet this is how it is. In 7th grade, Sienna poured ink all over Maeve after she refused to let her borrow a top. Are we getting the picture? Maeve being harassed by her sister was normal, but this specific time was different… 

...

Maeve's breath quickened as she strutted down the hallways, her hearing felt as though it was blocked and the only sound available was the beating of her heart. She couldn't believe Sienna would stoop so low, they were supposed to be sisters, not enemies. Why must Sienna always make fun of her? Maeve's face was slowly turning into a tomato the more she thought about it. Why would her sister dare someone to ask her out! WHY! She could feel the wind from her swaying arms with each step. 

“M!” Her sister called. “C'mon don’t be so sensitive it was all a joke.” Maeve kept moving as though nothing was happening. She could hear her sister gaining on her, it was inevitable. They had to go home and see each other at one point. Maeve stopped dead in her tracks, her face unfazed. 

“Finally, I thought I was going to break a heel trying to catch up to you.” 

“What's up?” Maeve Growled. 

Sienna sighed heavily, “Look, I know you’re mad at me but you really shouldn't be, l mea-”

“No, you're going to listen to me,” This was unlike Maeve in every way. “You pull these jokes all the time and they start to get really annoying.” 

Sienna looked like she had just been punched. “Look, all I was trying to do was get you a boyfriend,” she hissed. 

“Absolutely not, you're not squirming your way out of this one. You don't dare someone to ask your ‘pathetic’ twin sister out. You made me look like a fool,” Maeve was right, and Sienna knew it too. 

“Ugh,” Sienna stormed down the hallway, her shoes clicking the tile furiously. Maeve runs through the halls out to the parking lot and takes the car, “rmmm” the engine turns over. She backs out leaving rubber behind her. She takes center street onto the highway. Her sister had been ignoring her for months. Her mom didn't love her, she thought she was good at hiding it but she wasn’t, Mauve had known for awhile now. Her dial moves 70, and nobody was there for her. 80mph even when she had found out, her mom denied and denied. 90 She couldn't do it anymore 100…..  A car swerves over into her lane…. Game over.

…

Maeve’s funeral was on April 10th, her service was 2 hours long and the audience consisted of few VIP guests. 

“It's all my fault. I killed my sister. “ Sienna stood pacing the hallways of an overpriced funeral home her parents just HAD to choose. Her aunt bursts out of the hall crying hysterically. This is normal, Aunt Jen always left every family event with a dramatic exit, or a crisis she needed to attend to. Sienna composed herself and started to walk back towards the wood doors thinking nothing of it. Inside the room people crowded as Mother wept violently. “This was sick, none of these people knew Maeve. Sadly including me, but that is going to change,“ she thought.

...

The house was different when she entered, it was like not only Maeve died but so did her home. The once familiar hallways felt dark and suffocating. The marble stairs leading up to their rooms felt cold and heartless. Maeve's bedroom door laid open like it was meant to be. Inside, Sienna examined Maeve's things carefully, taking a mental picture of each and every thing. When she was done she got down on her knees and peered under the bed. BINGO. There lay a fabric covered box containing a diary, a few hair clips and of course her favorite book “Little Woman”. The diary was made of leather and read “Owner: Maeve Ryans” on the inside cover, her signature star marking at the end. Inside held journal entries from June, 2020 (last year) all the way up until now. Sienna flipped back to the first page and read. 

“Dear journal,

I have a lead. Mom has been acting weird ever since Aunt Jen visited for April break….. Or at least I'm just realizing it. I walked into her study and she quickly rushed me out hiding her computer screen. There was one tab open, my birth certificate. This is perfectly normal but the thing that unsettled me wasn't that. It was the name in the guardian section: Jennifer Williams, Aunt Jen.

… 

She frantically put the book back in and shut the lid hoping if she thought hard enough it would disappear. Sienna stood in the silence of the empty house, replaying what had just happened, her thoughts racing through her head. 

“No it couldn't be,” she thought. “We're sisters. We're twins. Maybe we aren't?” “ I mean I know we're fraternal, (if even twins) but we've never looked that much alike.” Her palms were covered in sweat and her eyebrows creased together. Then instantly her mind switched gears. “Mom lied.” “Mom knew all along and never told us, never once mentioned, ‘Oh hey, by the way, you’re not twins, you're not even sisters at all.’ “The more she sorted through her thoughts the more her shock turned into anger & guilt. Her sister had been going through this the whole time and where was she? Making it all worse by, “Just joking around.” Even her own mother wasn't there. Every piece of the puzzle was starting to come together right in front of her. This explains why Sienna was the one who got to plan the first communion, and why Sienna always got to sneak off with her mother to the mall. Maeve never fit in, not perfectly at least. Sienna carefully placed the box back in the exact position even though she knew Maeve wouldn't be there to find it again. Once again she looked like Cinderella flooding the scene leaving nothing but fingerprints and a flowery scent behind. Her mom could never know she knew. She got back in her car, reversing out carefully and zooming away back to the hall. 

… 

Monday at school everything felt different, the people she adored and called her “friends” now felt like walking talking Barbie dolls. Her hands were shaky and a shiver managed to follow her around all day. Every minute people were crowding her giving their “I'm sorry for your loss” speech. For the people who were too scared it translated into a look that involved your mouth drawn downward and brows bunched together. When she walked her feet dragged and her shoulders slouched downward. When she was asked for a pencil from the girl next to her she didn't recite her signature up-down look and giggle. Instead she just pulled out her pencil case and handed it to her without speaking a word. She never thought she could be so tired of being mean.

The whole school had to participate in a mandatory assembly honoring Maeve's death. Lunch felt like it was in black and white and so did 4th and 5th period. It's almost like a piece of Maeve decided to stick on to her and wasn't letting go. Like her kindness was a spreading germ being passed along. The death of a loved one was tragic but the sad part isn't that, it was that Sienna is too. She was faking it so bad that in reality she wasn't cool or popular. Heck, she practically went out and bought the rainbow wig and clown nose herself. Sienna had to face it, accept it, and change.

I grip the handle of the wooden basket braided into one of my favorite designs, trying to pick out the best of all the things on the counter of goods in front of me. 

“You seem in a better mood than normal today,” the merchant in front of me, Mr. Clark, laughed. 

“Has something happened to cause such a bright smile on your face?” he asked.

“My mother told me to pick the ingredients for my birthday cake by myself! There are just so many possibilities and tastes to choose from!” I giggled, clearly showing my excitement.

“Then what are you doing here? Mr. Baker, the cake baker, could help you with that. I only have fruit to sell for you, and cakes these days are made of an ungodly amount of frosting and sprinkles.” he grumbled, clearly annoyed, even after making a pun.

“We are baking the cake ourselves this year! Which means that we will only need to ask Mr. Baker how to make the cake and not how to decorate it. There will be only an acceptable amount of frosting and sprinkles, mixed with the raspberries I’m buying from you!” I exclaimed.

“Now that's a cake! Take as many raspberries as you want, Trinity. You made my day. I’ll also bring other snacks for the party!” He offers me his warmest smile as I grab a bunch of raspberry boxes and then hand him my $20.

“I’ll see you there then, Mr.Clark! Thanks for the raspberries!”

“No problem,” he yelled as I was starting to get further away, “Anything to make your 15th birthday better, Trin!” 

I continued to skip happily back home with my fruit filled basket.

* * *

“Mom,” I opened the door, ”I’m back from the market! Would you like some help with the cooking?”

“Sure, I would love it if you help me bake your birthday cake, but first we have to make sure we find a nice place to hold the party.”

“I invited Mr. Clark while I was getting the raspberries. I know you like him and I like him too, so I thought it would be nice.” I watch as my mom’s face turns a light pink..

“O-oh, that’s so nice of you! I’m glad you like Mr. Clark.. I was gonna invite him, but I'm happy you did it.”

“Of course mom! He’s like a father figure to me, and I really like that.” 

My mother smiles. My father was never here, or at least I don't remember him ever being here. I never knew what having a dad was like until I figured out that my mom and Mr. Clark were “dating”. Ok, they weren’t dating yet, but me inviting him to my birthday will surely be the last push for a relationship. I had always liked Mr. Clark, so picturing him as a father figure was easy, and he makes mom happy which makes me happy. My mother also liked him, but was nervous and hesitant at times. I never knew why, but I think that someone else to help my mom would be nice for her.

“I’m gonna go change and then I’ll help you.”

“Thank you honey, take your time!” My mom yelled as I was running up the stairs, causing me to slow down a bit from the suggestion.

I went up to my room to change into my comfortable pajamas, then to the bathroom to wash my hands, and I started making my way down the stairs. As I was going back I heard my mom talking on the phone, but something was different. I walked up to the kitchen’s door frame and listened to the conversation. The phone was on speaker mode, my mom must have thought I was still in the bathroom.

“Hello?” she answered the phone.

“I found you, sweetheart,” the voice was deep and threatening, ”I’m finally gonna get you, and our sweet little girl. You will both be finally dead.”

“No! Y-You can’t come here. You don’t know where we are!” My mom screamed at the phone while backing up as if the man was right in front of her. Something was definitely wrong.

“Why now?! After all these years?!”

“Tying loose ends.”

“You won’t be able to come in time! We’ll be long gone!”

“Then I better hurry, so I can catch you both sooner.”

The man, who had to be my father, hung up. My mother was trembling. I stayed back for a bit and made some noise to signalize that I was coming. Just because I listened in on her, doesn’t mean she has to find out.

“Mom?” I asked in a fake happy tone.

“Y-Yes, sweety?”

“Can I go up to my treehouse?”

“Of course, honey.” My mother looked strained while smiling at me through the tears she was holding back, trying to keep me unknowing.

“Thanks!”

I ran out of the house and headed to the back so I could climb the tree. While I was climbing the tree, I accidentally cut myself on a tree branch. It caused me to remember that one time I fell off my bike and hurt my knee. I smiled from the memory and continued further up the tree and into the tree house.

* * *

After an hour of thinking about the phone call and figuring out what I was gonna do, I went around the house and then headed for the sheriff's building. When I got there I told them the whole story and they assured me they would send security to the borders of the village and the party, if it was still happening. I looked up at the now beautifully orange and pink sky, listening to the different songs of birds in the air. Normally I would have smiled, but now I can only worry.

I just hope everything is gonna be okay.

* * *

Two days later it was my birthday, a day which I wanted to celebrate, but couldn’t do so properly, because of the unsettling and scary fog, clouding my mind and the outside. My palms were sweaty and my mind was racing with endless possibilities of the ways this day could go wrong. My mom knew something was off with me, I knew that she could feel it. We have always had a bond, which lets us know how the other is feeling because of how close we have always been.

“Are you okay?” My mom asked.

“Yeah! Just a little nervous, today is my 15th birthday, and I want to start it in a good way.”

“You shouldn’t worry, everything will be fine.”

“Yeah! It’s gonna be fine!” I smiled trying to continue my facade of a nervous little girl, going to her first birthday party ever.

My mom smiled and started walking towards the safe house, the sheriff prepared for the party.

I tried to let mom’s words sink in. That everything was fine, that I didn't need to worry. But my intuition told me that it wasn’t right. I knew it wasn’t.

* * *

I blew out the candles, and smiled as the townspeople yelled ‘happy birthday’. The party was amazing, there was cake, snacks, decorations, balloons, presents and kids, running around happily. The celebration was supposed to be outside, but a thunderstorm rolled in at the last second. I told myself that it was just bad luck..

* * *

The party was over and everyone was getting back home, only me and mom stayed back to clean up. I felt happy, everything was okay, and nothing bad happened.

That was my mistake, letting myself feel safe.

Before I knew it the window was broken and I was shoved to the side, cutting myself on glass shards and screaming. It felt agonizing and unbearable. I opened my eyes to see two things: there was blood around and on me, my blood, I realized. I wasn’t cut as badly as I thought, but that wasn’t the thing that caused me to freeze in terror. I looked up to find my mom being choked to death by a man. 

Before I stood up I looked around quickly for a weapon, luckily the table was knocked over and the knife we used to cut the cake was close enough to me so I could grab it. I took it and tried to stand up, but before I could I noticed that it was quieter. No other sounds than the thunder outside and the rain, hitting the wooden floor in front of the broken window.

I looked up horrified to see that the man had dropped my mother’s lifeless body and was looking at me calmly, as if he hadn’t just killed someone. My mother, who was so sweet and kind, was dead. Her previously fighting figure was now unmoving on the floor.

“So, how do you want me to do it? Hard or Easy?” the man asked, grinning.

* * *

I cried as I looked at my bruised knee, I had fallen from my bike and was now on the floor.

My mom looked at me while kissing the place where I had hit my knee.

“See? You’re okay, you’re fine.”

“I’m okay, I'm fine.” I sniffled, repeating her words.

“That wasn’t that bad, right? Remember, pain only makes us stronger, physical or emotional,” my mom looked at me with a warm expresion, “So don’t let anything get you down, okay? Never let anything get in your way and NEVER give up, you hear me? Always keep fighting.” she said sternly.

“Okay.” I sniffled again.

“Now, let's eat some cherries.” my mom smiled and helped me up.

* * *

The memory replied in my head again and again.

Keep fighting.

Keep fighting.

Keep fighting.

“Well?” the man raised an eyebrow.

I gripped the knife so hard that the wood handle broke, as well as the floor under one of my feet, as I ran towards him yelling. The man didn’t have the time to react when I stabbed him without hesitation. He fell to the floor, dying shortly after, because of the blood-loss and the failure of the organ I had stabbed.  

I realized what I had done, but the tears and regret didn’t come. I felt nothing for the man, for my mom or for anything. I only felt the cold-blooded calm running through my veins. The world had become colorless, meaningless, absurd, sad. I looked at the man, at my mom, at the rain and at the puddle of water with broken shards of glass showing my reflection. I stared at my eyes. They were calm. Inexpressive. Collected. Cold. 

Dull.

The fake green blades are bent over from too many feet trampling them.  The ground reeks of chemicals and rubber.  There are slightly faded paint marks running along each other in lines and boxes, meeting in the center circle with a small dot filling in the middle.  My ears are often pounded from my running and the slight hollow punt sound of the black and white ball. 

***

 I finger the metal handle of my dad's truck as I am locked in my own thoughts.  Was that really the right decision to make?  I know that my passes could've been better.  I am finally awoken by the sound of my dad's voice, “You played really well today!”  I know that I didn't but people always say this to me after games anyway.  I just reply with a dry “Thanks.”  On the ride home I think about all of the moments of the game while I mindlessly play games.  I know I made some good passes but do I really deserve to be starting?  All of this painfully swirls through my head for the entire one-hour drive home. 

***

     At practice the next day I'm still thinking through the game while we do our passing drills.  I slide through all the moments and all the plays I made.  After I slide through all the moments I hear my coach pulling me over to the side away from all my teammates.  He tells me, “You've been playing great recently.  I think you deserve to play up for the better team!”  What?  Whenever I play in a game I mess up over and over and over.  I just reply saying thanks again but it makes me feel sick receiving praise again.  I feel isolated and that people don't understand my point of view when I play games.

***

Later when I get home I tell my parents what my coach told me at practice today.  “What? That's great!”  They tell me.  This time I can't take it.  I know what I have been doing during games and it's practically nothing.  I feel worse as a player than I did before I took that stupid break from the sport.  So I finally break and tell them how I really feel, “Look, I don't think I deserve this.  All I feel is that I'm being lazy and not playing at all.  And it's really frustrating hearing you tell me I'm good when I'm not.” I comet in frustration 

“We're sorry but we really think you deserve this.  I didn't know you felt this way but we know that you have worked hard to get here.  All that matters is that your coach knows you have the skill and he believes in you.  At least have practice with the other team.”

“Ok.  I will give it a try.” I reply.   

***

I arrive at the practice with my nerves filled.  My legs disagree with my imagination of a good performance and displaying that I deserve to be here.  But at this point, I'm tired of thinking.  I just go and play.  I don't overthink anything I do.  I don't look back at what mistakes I just made.  I just play.  And realize I'm playing better even though this is a better team.  As I run, with people I don't even know around me, in bitter cold weather listening to that ball punt sound again; I feel a weight lifted.  No doubt, and no regret. 

I walk through the doorway and see the desks, lined up in perfect rows of 5. A long desk in the front of the room, with a dark purple rolly chair perfectly placed right behind it. I look around the half-full classroom and see everyone talking to each other waiting for class to start. I see Sally, a tall girl with short blonde hair and a blue sweatshirt, going to sit at a desk in the back left corner of the room. That was my desk. The teacher must have moved me.

I walked a big loop around the classroom looking for my name tag. I stopped at a desk in the front, middle of the room where there were four small yellow stars on the top left corner. In the middle of the desk there was a piece of paper taped to it that read “Carla”. The teacher moved me right in front of her. Great, just where she can see me. 

Just then Ms. Lolly walked in. She was tall with a pointed jaw, sharp glasses, and a big mole on her cheek bone. She had her long dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail in the middle of her head. She wore a tight purple skirt with a baggy white shirt with what I think was supposed to be grey leopard print tucked into it. She kinda looked like a witch. She acted like one too. 

“Alright, time to stop goofing around and get to work.” she said in her squeaky voice, glaring at me when she said goofing around.

She went to her desk and sat down in her chair. Still looking at me through the tippity top of her glasses, like an old person reading a newspaper. I don’t know why they would have glasses if they look at people through the top of them. Maybe she knew that she looked like a witch and wanted to make more kids scared of her by looking even more like one by wearing small boxy purple glasses. 

“Today in Socal Studies we are going to learn about the U.S and where different countries are located. We also have a quiz on this on friday.” Ms. Lolly said bitterly, like she was reading off of a script. 

“Why do we have to learn this again?” It just kinda slipped out.

Ms. Lolly looked at me, disgusted. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. The kid next to me, Jack, I think his name was, rolled his eyes, over exaggerating it so I could see his head move out of the corner of my eye. Ms. Lolly chose to ignore me and kept going. I blocked her out. 

I looked around the classroom to try and memorize where people were sitting instead. Next to me was a girl. She was short with wavy dirty blonde hair a little below her shoulders. She also had a blue sweatshirt on but lighter than Sally’s, it really brought out her eyes. I haven't seen her the past couple of days, I think she is new...

“Carla, CARLA!” Ms. Lolly says sharply, breaking my thought. 

“Uh, yeah?” I responded, confused. What did I do this time?

“Where is Calafornia located?” She says slowly, like I don't know how to speak english.

“Right there, on the screen. Duh.” 

“Come up. And show us.” She says through gritted teeth.

I get out of my seat and skip over to the screen. I take my finger and hover it over California. Wait a second, this could be my chance! I quickly correct my finger and point to North Carolina, the opposite side of the map. Some people in the class let out a little laugh. 

“I thought you learned this last year. Go back to your seat.” Ms. Lolly says flatly.

I snicker and make my way to my seat. Making eye contact with the girl next to me. She glances up at me and smiles, quickly covering her mouth so that Ms. Lolly doesn’t put her on her bad side on her first day of class. Like she did for me.

I sit back down in my seat and go back to looking around the room. No one else seems to be new or anything. The bell rings. Time for recess. We all quickly stand up pushing our chairs back with our knees, and bolting out the door and down the hallway to the playground. 

I run through the door and see the big green slide connected to the tall wooden structure that will give your hands splinters. Below it is a bunch of wood chips, 4 swings and 2 baby swings. We all race to the slide. Except the new girl, who didn’t know that you have to race to the slide to actually be able to use it. But she didn’t even look at the slide. Instead she went to a small marble bench under the shade of a large maple tree and sat there. She looked kinda sad. I should probably go over to her and see what is wrong. I looked at the slide. Oh but look at that big green slide calling my name. I looked at all the people on the slide and walked over to the bench and sat next to the girl. 

“Hi!” I said.

She looked at me and smiled. “Hello! My name is Amilia. What is your name?”

“Uh. Carla, didn’t you hear Ms.Lolly yelling at me?” I responded. Usually saying that kinda stuff makes people laugh, but she just looked at the ground. Tough crowd.

“Yeah, I was just trying to make conversation.” she said.

“Everyone, recess is over.” Ms. Lolly hollers.

Well that was a quicker recess than usual. I walk to my desk and see the top left corner of my desk now has 5 stars on it. Oh no. I didn't even really do anything today. Ms. Lolly walks over to my desk, tilts her head down, pulls her glasses down to the bottom of her nose and looks at me through the top of them. Like a grandma. 

“Your mom is on her way now.” She says she just saved the world from a bomb exploding.

“Well what did I do today Ms. Lollipop?” i asked 

“You were goofing around like I always tell you not to do.” She says it should have been really obvious.  

“Ms. Lolly? Can I go to the bathroom please?” Amelia asked in her quiet voice.

“Of course.” Ms. Lolly sayed absentmindedly. 

A few minutes later my mom walked in. She is average sized with dark wavy hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail. Ms. Lolly told me to go out in the hall and talk to her. I guess Ms. Lolly has learned that she is not the boss of me and I won't do what she says. Finally. 

  “Honey, what is going on? Why have you not been listening to Ms. Lolly. She seems like a good teacher.” She said the creases on her forehead showed up with concern. 

“She is not.” I said defensively.

“Well why are you not listening to her?” She said, a little angry now.

I hesitate, should I tell her? “ Because no one will like me if I don't make myself stand out.” I blurted.

“I would,” a shy voice behind me said.

I turned around. It was Amelia.

“You would?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“See?” My mom said,

When we entered the room, everyone in the room stared,, mostly at me but some eyes were on Amelia. We walked back to our seats and I noticed that the 5 yellow stars on my desk were gone. 

“Alright class, it is time for math!” Ms. Lolly says happily, she loves math, it is her favorite thing to teach, probably because everyone hated it. 

She started writing things on the board that are really quite simple. Now I get why she liked math, because she doesn’t have to do anything. I looked up at the clock, the hands slowly ticked by. After what felt like an hour, the bell rang signaling the end of the day. 

“Carla, come here.” Ms. Lolly said with a grin stretching across her face.

Oh no, what did I do this time?

She opened the cabinet behind her and reached her long boney fingers into a bin. Her hand extended in my direction so I put my hand out and she dropped a lollipop into it. 

“You did a good job today Carla.” Ms. Lolly said with a warm smile. 

“Uh, thanks?” I said and stumbled out of the class.

The Ultimatum

He woke up and looked around the room, confused why he was dragged in. 

There was a marble floor. He noticed an audience impatiently waiting for an official

to speak. He saw the red chairs containing the officials staring at him, waiting for

the clock to reach 6 PM.

He saw a judge wearing a crown along with expensive clothes, who said to

him, “You have been called in because you broke rule 20A of the official law code.

As you might know, this law, prohibits protesting the government and causing chaos,

destruction, violence, death, or a worse general quality of life for many people while

doing so. This offense consisted of protesting for the government by indirectly

forcing the government to implement climate-friendly, but annoying ideas. We have

a lot of proof, which we have previously shown 3 years ago when we started

attempting to punish you because of your crime. Your offense has caused adverse

effects on the world including long bus wait times, a fare increase of more than 75%,

many people being late by at least an hour, decreased productivity, tiredness, and

having a limited energy supply which restricts innovation. We have tried every

orthodox punishment method, including execution, jail, fines, deportation, exile, and

isolation. However, none of the punishments have worked on you. Because of this, we

are required to give you an ultimatum. If you do not accept the ultimatum or decide

a choice from it, we will send you into space so that you asphyxiate and have time to

rethink your life choices in space. However, because the ultimatum has not yet been

decided, the panel will go into a room to decide the ultimatum’s choices. While the

panel decides the ultimatum, we have two questions for you. The first question is

‘First, what caused you to gain your powers?’ The second question is, ‘What caused

you to begin attempting to change the government, while it is fine as it is?’”

The judge and the officials disappeared into a soundproof room. At the same

time, a piece of paper was delivered from the ceiling containing boxes for him to fill

in his answers.

The defendant wrote in response to the first question, “I don’t remember, but

I’m grateful. And what I do remember is hard to explain in such a short time, but it

was only a few years ago.” In response to the second question, he wrote, “Secondly, the government isn’t listening to what people want and only to itself. I want this to

change for the better. This isn’t destruction at all..”

Everything quiets down when he finishes and the judges come back and

announce, “We have decided the ultimatum. There are three choices. The first choice is stopping the attempt at your destructionist plan and instead, using your powers to

help society in a more visible, less harmful, and faster way. The other option is 175

years of solitary confinement and a fine that makes you lose your money and

property. The third option,” he said with a smirk, “is getting elected FAIRLY. If that

happens, we will listen.”

The judge also said, “You can leave now. But if you don’t return in a week, you

will face serious consequences that may include the end of your existence. If you are

the defendant, you must also decide your choice from the ultimatum or face

consequences that would be greater than those outlined in the ultimatum.”

The judges and the audience begin to leave the room. Eventually, the defendant

left too, after promising with an oath to return in a week.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After he left the court a voice said in the distance, “I heard you received an

Ultimatum.” He also began to consider the first and second options. A hero would never intentionally and knowingly and without a valid reason such as committing a crime go to jail, so he would not choose this option. The final option was abandoning his entire plan about changing the government to be better. He would not choose that

either. Because he was immortal, people would dislike him forever. “Are you even listening to me?” shouted the voice.

“Let me explain. The first option is to abandon my plan. I don’t want to do it.

The second option is going to jail for no reason. I don’t want this either. The final

option is to attempt to get elected. However, the judges said it with a smirk, so they

probably meant that I would not get elected.”

“Have you decided yet? You need to decide or you’ll face a thousand years of jail

and lose all your property!”

“I have not!”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to choose the first option, because it means being forced to give

up. Heroes never give up. The second option is jail, and loss of all I own. I won’t

accomplish anything if I choose this and I will go down in the history textbooks as an

immortal ‘hero’ who was defeated by a government of mortal people! I don’t want

people to remember me like that. The other option is getting elected, but the

managers will interfere with the election so that it doesn’t happen. What am I

supposed to do?”

“I suggest you choose choice three because the other choices are going to make

the people of the next generation not like you because heroes don’t intentionally do

bad things!” Shouted the voice.

After a week of strategizing ways for him to convince people and get elected

and normal activities for his job, once again he was back at the court with almost

the same audience as before, since the audience was commanded to return in a

week or face serious consequences that may include death (what was meant by the

end of your existence).

The court room looked the same as before, but the officials seemed stronger

and all eyes were on him as the judge began to speak, “What is your choice from the

3 given from the ultimatum? You will have 5 minutes to decide.”

“The arguments from the voice outside the court were helpful,” thought the

defendant, “but I don’t know because I dislike all the choices.”

“If I choose choice 2, it will make me feel frustrated when I am in jail, but

choice 3 will not happen because the election managers are too powerful and using

my immortality to out-live them would not work because it would be avoiding the

problem altogether, and if I get elected it will be very stressful. But if I chose choice 1

-” thought the defendant.

“You have 30 seconds to decide!” shouted the judge.

“-it will be like giving up, but the politicians are intentionally -”

“15 seconds remain!”

“- trying to make it hard-”

“10 seconds!”

“- for me to do this! So I choose choice 1!-

“5 seconds!”

The defendant realizes he hasn’t said anything and shouts “I choose choice 3.”

“Time is up! But you have to follow your decision. The election is in a month,

and you must prepare even though many other candidates are running for the same

position,” the judge continued with a smirk, “which means that you have a low

probability of becoming elected.”

After the judge says that, the defendant regrets his decision.

The judge continues, “However, because you have chosen to run for the election,

you must prepare. Otherwise, you will not be elected, be very sad, and be unpopular

and forgotten, even though you are immortal,”

---------------------------------------------------------

There was a silence as the election results were being announced.

The announcer continued, “The green person won almost unanimously.... As always.

The person who was given the ultimatum surprisingly won.. . The terms of those

elected start tomorrow, and they last until next year’s election day. Make sure to vote

next year, or you will face gigantic fines, jail, and possibly the end of your existence.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“We need to determine what we’re doing this year. I don’t like that this

meeting is at midnight,” someone sleepily said, “this year, we need to revise the

constitution as required by it. Anything that changes any of the text in the protected

section must receive approval from its constituents before the thing that changes

the text of the protected section. There are also parts of the constitution protected

more than normal, which is extremely hard to change.”

The person who was dragged into the court of the beginning began to shout,

“We should remove compulsory voting. But we should also get rid of voting!”

But the person who announced at the beginning began to say, “But we can’t

change that unless we get approval from our constituents!”

“I don’t care! But instead....”

---------------------------------------------------------

       No light from outside the perfectly kept structure can be seen in her home. The blackout shades that make it easier to sleep remain covering the painted pieces of glass. A grainy brown board with colorful pins overflows with pictures of the golden pup, but nothing else. How her desk is arranged projects a clue. The cloud-like cushion sits by the foot of her bed although it is never really used. With clothes perfectly folded and put away, no dirty laundry, and her blank walls, you could tell just by taking one quick glance, she needs a friend. 

“Where is Teddy?” Lulu frettingly gasps. 

The birds chirping in the background bring joy to her pale face. Lulu sits up in her emotionless bed, pulls the fluffy ash colored duvet off her legs, and stands up. She grabs her plastic hair clip to keep back her smooth brown hair, puts on a blank gray sweatshirt, and heads to her bathroom. 

As she walks in the lights flicker on, not a fingerprint can be seen on the colorless stones. She keeps her bathroom spotless along with her room, even though the only one that is ever in there is her dog. It needs to be perfect, but she does not have a reason. 

Teddy has been there Lulu’s whole life; they have never been apart. Since he was a puppy, she has gone about her life with him by her side.  Lulu’s mother knows it has always been just Lulu and Teddy, and she loves that they are so close, but Lulu needs real friends, human friends. 

She picks up the green tinted glass bottle and pumps it one time, the brownish colored cream falls onto her hand. Lulu lifts up the cream to her face, and massages it onto her skin, making sure to get it on every spot. Cold water streams from the faucet, her hands scoop it up to wash off the cleanser. She grabs the purple and white stick with bristles filling the end, puts it under the water, and squeezes the toothpaste on. As she lifts it to her mouth, she can smell the fresh mint, it smells clean. Once she spits out the minty water, she moisturizes her face. She now feels refreshed, and ready for the day.

“Come on Teddy, we have to leave!” Lulu exclaims. Today is the day Teddy is due for a vet check, so Lulu gathers her belongings and puts away her dishes. The appointment starts in fifteen minutes, and it takes fourteen to get there.

“Mom c’mon, we can’t be late.”

“I got it Lulu, please be patient.” 

Lulu picks up the faded pink leash linked to a blue collar, and feels the ridges of the woven material. It reminds her of when she was little and picked it out just for Teddy. Her Converse sit in the corner by her wooden door without a mark. She grabs the white shoes and slides them on her feet, laces them up, and opens the door. With the loop of the leash in her hand, and Teddy by her feet, she takes one step at a time, and reaches the car. 

“Hey, I heard there’s a gift drive. Maybe you could donate some of Teddy’s toys for people who can't get their dogs any. I think it would be really nice,” her mother says. 

“But what about Teddy, what if he doesn’t want to give his toys away?” Lulu shoots back as if her mother made a rude remark. 

“Okay, it's your call but I think it would be a really good thing to do, maybe you can meet someone new too!”

“Mom, I don’t need to meet anyone new, I have Teddy, plus he and I play with his toys all the time.”

She takes a deep breath, about to step into the vet but something feels off. A cool breeze brushes over her face.

“Hi good morning, what are your names?”

“I am Cindy and this is Lulu.”

“And you are here with Teddy today, correct?”

“Yes, hopefully just for a physical.”

“Alright, you can take a seat in the waiting room, we will let you know if anything changes.”

It is dark, almost as dark as Lulu’s room, it still feels like there is something moving inside of her. The chair lets out a small screech when Lulu transfers her weight to it. All Lulu is thinking about is why she feels so abnormal, like Halloween, when a clown walked towards her with a chainsaw.

“Teddy?” a soft voice calls.

Cindy stands up, and signals Lulu to grab Teddy and walk into the room. Lulu does not want to go, but she has no choice. 

“Lulu come on, we need to go in the room,” Cindy says. 

The blinds are drawn and a golden light seeps through the tempered glass onto Lulu’s face. Teddy fights to not go into the room, but Cindy grabs him with both hands and carries him in. Lulu has a knot in her stomach ready to unravel.

“Ok, I’m going to make sure Teddy’s all set, you guys can wait in the waiting room, this should be quick,” the vet tells Lulu and her mother. She turns around and walks out of the room as fast as she can, escaping her feelings.

“Hey, you dropped this.” Lulu hears as she is about to sit down. She turns around awkwardly as sees a girl about her age, a metal bone in her hand. The bone means the world to Lulu, she always has it with her. The girl's long dark hair falls down to her ribs with waves just like the ocean, she’s waiting for a reply.

“Oh, uh thanks,” Lulu replies in a shy tone. While sitting down for the second time, Lulu gets chills. She gets goosebumps just from thinking about talking to that girl.

“I am not sure yet if anything is wrong, but I am going to just run a few tests to make sure,” the nurse tells Lulu and Cindy.

A bomb drops in Lulu’s stomach, all that is going through her head is what could be wrong? She thinks everything has been fine, there is nothing that she can think of. A tingle rises up her legs, and ice shoots through her veins just at the thought of something being wrong with Teddy. 

“Could you guys please come into the room?”

Lulu freezes, tears forming in her eyes and she doesn't even know why she has to go into the room. Cindy jumps right up and walks in the room, like everything is normal. Maybe there is nothing wrong, and Lulu is just paranoid because she loves Teddy so much she thinks.

“I ran a few tests, and it turns out Teddy has hip dysplasia. His hip joints are formed improperly, and is in a lot of pain,” the nurse tells them.

The cry Lulu lets out as she hears the news can be heard from across the building. All she can think about is how she didn't notice Teddy was in pain, and what it means.

“What do we do to help him?” Cindy asks with a shaking voice.

“Pretty soon he will not be able to use his back legs. I am sorry, but the best option is to put him down, he is already in so much pain.”

Lulu feels a knife puncture through her chest, not a pin being dropped can be heard. A weight drops on her limbs, she is unable to move. A familiar face peers through the doorway, it was the girl. She signaled Lulu to come out of the room. Now a spoonful of anxiety is mixed in with Lulu’s sadness.

“I heard the nurse, actually, I’m here for the same reason, I have to put my dog Roxy down today.”

“Oh my god, I- I’m so sorry,” Lulu says as she is trying to find words.

“It’s alright, life goes on. What’s your name I forgot to ask?”

“It’s Lulu, what about yours?”

“Katherine, but you can call me Kate.”

Cindy walks out with a sympathetic look on her face, she is looking straight at Lulu. Tears start to form in Lulu’s eyes. 

“He’s going to get put down today sweety, it’s the best for him.”

“No no no Mom please, you can’t, it's too soon, please Mom,” Lulu beggs. Tears drop to the floor, making a slight drip sound when landing. Lulu folds with her head pillowed in her hands.

 “I’m going to let you guys have a moment alone with Teddy.” The words make Lulu shake. Her throat closes as she lets out a welp. She hugs Teddy as tight as she can like she’ll never let go. She can feel the soft curls in between her fingers, she knows she’s holding them for the last time. Her head rests on him, her ear against him, listening to his heart. The creek of the door turns her head, the moment has come.

 “It will take about forty seconds for the shot to kick in, feel free to hold him while it happens.”

Lulu wipes the tears of her face, making room for more to come. Kate sees her and walks over, they both are crying. This time Lulu didn’t feel scared, or nervous, she was comfortable. “Do you wanna take a walk?” Kate suggests.

A week has passed, his cushion still sits by her bed, the pictures still hung on the wall. Something is different about the board. There’s a new picture, not of a dog, but of Kate.

“I've been avoiding this for awhile, but would you like to come with me and donate Teddy’s toys?” Lulu speaks to her phone, letting the words flow out through Kate’s end.

  Elizebeth has always known she’s different. 

Her parents didn’t need to tell her this; it’s something she’s known since the day her life began.

She stands alone in the shadow of Cliffside Elementary, a yellow raincoat pulled tight around her shoulders. The sky is a dreary grey, contrasting dramatically against the school’s opaque red. 

Cliffside is an old, inconspicuous building, and in desperate need of renovation. It’s set unnaturally low into the ground, a mere one story tall, with a slab of concrete on the side substituting for a functional playground. As she peers closer, Elizabeth notices that the bricks aren’t all the same pigment; some appear to be the shade of stale coral, as if parts of it greyed with time. 

But despite the tedious weather and poor state of the structure, Elizabeth smiles as she watches kids of all ages stream with urgency through two wooden double doors, dodging fat droplets of rain as they run.

This is her first year at a real school. 

Though no teacher offers to help guide her to her third grade classroom, Elizebeth finds it easy to navigate her way through the black-felt hallways, and reaches her locker several minutes before the attendance bell can shriek through the corridors. Nobody approaches her to ask if she, perhaps, needed locker assistance, or wonder how her summer went. This isn’t surprising in the slightest. It’s not that Elizabeth isn’t used to the stares following her every move; she’s just learned to hide from them. Put her head down and look the other way. This she tells herself often, is the best she can do.

The first hour flies by. Elizabeth loves her desk, even with all of it’s faded out pencil graffiti, etched in years ago by some bored kid with nothing else better to do. Her classroom smells faintly of mildew, the air tainted with a slight hint of mold, and the wallpaper chips in one corner, revealing water-stained walls. 

Elizabeth hardly cares. This desk, this classroom--they’re hers. That itself is something worth appreciating. 

Some quarter through the day, there’s a knock at the door. 

The teacher, a tweedy old thing, pauses halfway through explaining how to track through water. Twenty pairs of luminous eyes swivel towards the door handle, which rattles with the sound of metal on metal.

In steps a small boy.

He’s barely over the height of five feet. 

He talks with a funny accent.

He walks with a funny purpose.

Before long, whispers spread like wildfire through the classroom. 

“What is that?” 

“That can’t be the same species.”

“He’ll fail, for sure.” 

All around her, they trade whispers, staring at the boy like an object of a display case. 

Elizabeth finds herself slowly sinking down in her chair as a sudden realization dawns.

He’s just like me. 

***

There’s a strange tension hanging in the air as Elizebeth’s teacher mindlessly gestures towards the only open seat left, presumably reserved for the small boy. He hesitates, stalling in the doorframe, before realizing that this will be the length of his welcome. He dips his head and walks forward into the harsh fluorescent lighting. 

It’s as if Elizebeth can feel the space between him and her closing with each tentative step the boy takes, shoes padding against the floor in a rhythmic “tap, tap, tap.”

They lock eyes. For a fraction of a second, the boy stops, as if surprised, and his gaze lingers on Elizebeth. He can see it too. 

Slumped in her chair, hood stretched taut across her forehead and down past her eyebrows, Elizabeth meets his stare, and a moment of silent understanding passes between the two of them. 

Class carries out without any further interruptions until the recess bell rings, startling nobody except Elizebeth. Immediately, every kid in the classroom springs from their chairs in unison, not bothering to slide them beneath their desks. They scramble to the door, ignoring the teacher’s fleeting shouts of “Don’t forget to thank the gatherers before eating!” and “Remember your homework! Practice makes perfect!”

Elizabeth, having no doubt that most of her class will indeed forget to complete their homework, watches with sheer bewilderment as the room empties in a matter of seconds. She doesn’t quite understand why it is such an exigency that her classmates reach the lunchroom so quickly, but hastily hurries out of the room anyways.

Apparently, she’s not the only one to find her peer’s actions somewhat unnecessary. Several lengths behind her walks the boy, hugging his lunch pail close to his chest, shoes carrying out their steady “tap, tap, tap” rhythm. He keeps his head held high, unphased by the slams of lockers as kids several grades above him stampede in a frenzied horde towards the staircase.

He’s either ignoring the stares or just too dumb to notice them, Elizebeth thinks to herself, throwing a sideways glance at the boy. 

Upon following the mob of unruly kids to her destination, she is startled, but not surprised, to see that the so-called cafeteria is just a windowless cement hallway with four long tables occupying it’s center. Elizebeth surveys the room with unease, deciding to perch herself precariously on a windowsill in the corner rather than attempt to engage in conversation with the other kids situated at the tables. In vain, she wonders where the boy will sit. Not with her classmates, surely. 

She tilts her head up, briefly, eyes scanning the crowd, and picks up a small circle of kids across near the doorframe. There, surrounded by fifth graders, by the look of their canines and towering height, stands the boy. Strangely, he hardly appears to be frightened, as one would expect when facing snarling ten-year-olds. Elizebeth bows her head, tearing her eyes away from the scene, and instead directs her attention towards unzipping her lunchbox. 

As she attempts to unjam her zipper, stuck on one crease, Elizebeth’s mind tries to come up with anything else to think about other than the ugly brawl sure to unfold on the other side of the hall. 

Stupid kid.

Soon, he’ll have to learn to hide.

Giving up on her zipper, Elizbeth straightens, eyes casted downward on the tips of her shoes. A lump rises in her paper-dry throat. 

She walks out of the room without a sound. 

***

A million thoughts circle Elizebeth’s mind as the lunchroom hubbub slowly tapers off, leaving her alone in silence. 

I look so small in these empty halls, she thinks to herself, noting each deserted classroom that she walks past. Everything is quiet now that she’s on her own.

And then, a noise. 

Elizebeth stops dead in her tracks, heartbeats matching the dull pounding of pain in her head. She’s heard something--an all too familiar sound, separating her thoughts, sending shards of panic through her veins.

“Tap, tap, tap.”

She steadies herself, turning around slowly to meet his figure, illuminated by grey light streaking from the crack of a closed door. His hair appears to be a bit disheveled, but other than that, he seems untouched. The fifth graders haven’t done much harm, and he’s gotten away fast.

“Why’d you run away?” he asks slowly, overturning each word in his mouth. His breath heaves in short bursts, each exhale ragged, as if he’s been running. 

At first, Elizebeth doesn’t respond. She doesn’t know this boy. Why is he talking to her, of all people? In the back of her mind, Elizebeth suspects there might be a reason, but she pushes the thought out of her head, instead pointedly ignoring his question. Her eyes come to find her sneakers once more, as if this small act of blatant ignorance will somehow will him away.

The boy instead grows agitated, pale skin turning red. “You ran off. Why?” he repeats. 

Elizbeth takes a small step backwards, unsure of how to respond. “I-I...well, wouldn’t you have done the same thing? I’m useless in a fight,” she answers quickly, surprised by how feeble her voice sounds in the dimly lit corridor. 

“Afraid of them? You really shouldn’t be,” he calls, shaking his head and taking no notice of her words. The ghost of a small smile begins to spread across his face.

Elizebeth doesn’t answer, counting the stitches sewn across her shoelaces. 18, 19, 20…

“You’re peculiar, Elizebeth, and you spend too much time hiding,” the boy states, lowering his voice, “but the other kids--our classmates--aren’t going to hurt me, or you, for that matter. They fear the unfamiliar, and they fear us both.” 

With that, the boy turns, leaving as fast as he came. It’s only until the sharp tapping of his footsteps fade from the room and fade from her mind that Elizebeth can finally lift her gaze, head snapping upward as his words sink in. 

She’s not sure where exactly her legs are taking her, but they pick up pace, and before long, Elizabeth is running on the tiled floors, rippled from winters before.

For the first time, Elizebeth holds her head high.

They fear us both. 

***

Elizabeth pauses in the doorway of the lunchroom, her heart racing. Immediately, the room tenses, volume dropping to a chilling silence. Eyes of all colors swivel to stare at her, cold and calculating. Wonder, anger, and--could the boy be right?

A flicker of fear?

Elizebeth swallows, stabilizing herself before she can begin to sway, and sets her feet firmly forward. She walks past the windowsill in the corner. 

Their eyes move, following her determined stride, but nobody seems to want to approach her. Nobody stops Elizebeth as she sits down at a table planted in the center of the hall, where the boy has already begun his lunch. She isn’t hiding anymore.

Though the whispers aren’t as loud, they are still impossible to ignore:

“Did you see their eyes?”

“What a horrible sapphire blue! Their hands?”

“Five fingers on each side.”

“And their teeth?”

“A bloodcurdling white.”  

Trigger warning: Violence

Joe’s heart pounded as he sprinted down the hallway as fast as he could. He could hear Jack’s screeching laugh getting further and further away until he could barely hear it anymore. But Joe didn't stop running. He was too terrified to stop himself from putting one foot in front of the other. And then he slammed into the wall. 

“What's wrong mate?” Ben sneered at him as he slowly crossed the space between them. Who knew someone could take fun in beating the crap out of little kids like him. “Having a tough time seeing in front of you? Here let me help you up.” Ben grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the end of the hallway where Jack and Adrian were waiting for him.

“That’s cute. You thought you could get away from-”

“What’s going on here?!” Principle Gallaway cut in. “Leave him. Now,” he said sternly.

Jack leaned in, making sure that Joe could hear him. “Next time buddy.”

Principal Gallaway started to walk them away towards the front office. Joe had had enough. His head hurt, he wasn’t thinking, “I WILL KILL YOU!” he screamed. “I WILL KILL YOU!”

___

Joe skulked to the principal’s office, the one person he knew he could trust to listen. He knew that nothing good would ever come out of talking to his parents. He knew what they would say,

Violence is not the answer!

You should see the counselor, they will know how to help.

Just tell the teacher.

As he turned the corner to the front office, he noticed someone he had never seen before arguing with the principal. Joe jumped as the man suddenly slapped the table and started shouting at the principal.

“If you think you can just threaten my kid like this, you are gravely mistaken!” The man screamed in the principal’s face. “If you think you can get away with threatening to suspend my kid just ‘cause he punched some kid or stuffed him into a locker, you’re wrong.”

“Then why don’t you just tell him this: If he doesn’t stop messing with Joe just because he’s a foot shorter and weighs 50 pounds less than him, he’s going to have a tough time in this school. Tell your kid to stop with this insanity before I’m forced to recommend legal charges to the poor boy’s family!” The principal shouted right back at him as she stormed out of the room.

___

The hinges squealed as Joe opened the front door.

 “Hi Mom,” Joe called towards the kitchen. No response. “Mom?”

Joe stalked slowly towards the kitchen, only to find his mom with headphones on making dinner. Nothing was wrong. Of course not. His mom jumped as he came into view.

“Oh hi honey, I didn't see you there. How was your day?”

“It was fine.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No, I'm just a bit tired from school, don’t worry about it.”

“Do you have any homework?”

“No, I got it all done in school. I'm really tired I'm going to go up to my room and get some sleep.”

___

Jack screamed as Joe pushed the knife farther into his shoulder. Blood streamed down as Joe twisted and turned the knife, slowly working his way down to his stomach. Suddenly, Jack jerked, then shuddered, and then went limp. 

Joe woke up with sweat dripping down his forehead. It was all a dream. I never killed Jack. He kept saying this to himself until he fell asleep. But it took him quite a long time, because, in the back of his head, there was a little thought nagging at him. But I want to.

___

Joe woke up and to his horror, the alarm on his nightstand said 9:30. He jumped up, wondering why his parents hadn’t woken him up. Then he saw the note on his desk. 

-Joe, it started, We know you had a hard day yesterday. The principal called us and we know that that awful Jack kid was bullying you. If you want to take the day off school, we will understand. If you want to go, you can go. I already let the principal know. I love you!

Joe’s parents weren’t there. Suddenly, a very dark thought appeared in Joe’s head. He knew that it was a horrible idea, but it was self-defense wasn’t it? Joe had lost count of how many times Jack and his goons had sent him home with a black eye to explain to his parents. So really, this was to be expected. Jack deserved what was coming.

___

Jack pushed Joe against the locker. 

“Back for more, little guy?”

“Shut up, you a**hole. You think you’re cool just because you know how to beat up some guy who’s half your size. Well spoiler alert, you’re not.”

Joe got up and did something he never dreamed of doing before. He took his bag and swung as hard as he could at Jack’s face. Jack stumbled back, groaning in pain, and Joe ran. He flew as fast as his legs could carry him to the cafeteria. Just as he got there, he turned and saw Jack hurling himself forward like a bull at a red cape. He quickly unzipped his backpack, and in front of half the school, pulled out his father’s gun. Suddenly Jack stopped. 

“What the actual f**k are you doing Joe! Are you crazy!”

“Am I? Who’s the one who decided they were going to bully me? Every single day, you’ve made me miserable. Am I so bad for wanting to be happy?”

“Let’s just calm down here, please!” Jack begged as he fell to his knees.

“No.” Joe stood there, watching Jack cower. Everyone else was too afraid to do anything. But then, as Joe stood there above Jack, he realized something. All this time, all he wanted was revenge, to make Jack feel the way he felt. But there, standing over him, he realized that he wasn’t like Jack. He knew that. He didn’t want to be like Jack. He threw down the gun, and it fell to the wooden floor with a clunking sound. “Pick it up.”

“Wh-wh-what?” Jack slowly drawled, shaking and quivering.

“Pick it up, and then point it at me and pull the trigger.” Jack looked at Joe for a moment, contemplating. Then, he pulled the trigger.

___

Joe sat with Jack in counseling, watching as the clock slowly ticked and moved  it's red hand half an inch at a time. 

“Are you going to respond?” Counselor Courtney asked.

“Why should I?” Jack said sharply, “We all know exactly what happened. I pulled the trigger on the fake gun, and the whole school burst out laughing. I'm the laughing stock now right?” He got up and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

 Ms. Courtney sighed, “I have to admit Joe, it was pretty clever what you did, but you can get into a lot of trouble for that. Make sure you always try other ways before resorting to violence.”

“Of course, Ms. Courtney,” and for the first time in a long time, Joe smiled.

___

There’s this man that I am supposed to know. His name is supposed to be River. He is supposed to be River. I leaned on River’s shoulder, his blank expression scaring me. It has been for a long time since he came back to me in our previously dark endless room of wonder. A dropping of rain in my stomach and my heart felt as though it was held in my chest by tin foil.

The man that I was looking at was not River. He was a ghost with no attachment. But maybe if I did something it would heal him. Maybe if I told him I loved him enough times he would be like how he used to. I had seen his decline after he came back to me after our fight. I didn’t expect this. I thought it was temporary.

Why was he like this? Why was he not here? Why was he a ghost?

I position myself so I’m facing him. He had cloudy gray brown eyes that stared into nothing. As I brush my hand against his light brown skin he doesn’t react but his blank expression game is strong. He still doesn’t speak nor is there any response to being in the habit of answering me or the fact I touched his arm. This routine we’ve had for months is like daggers being torn through my chest and going straight into my heart whenever I have to look at him.

“River...” I start talking but there is no inquiring response so I stop talking.

There’s a break in the quiet of the room made solely of white lights. A sound other than our breathing. I watch the tall and large heavy door that likewise should be in a castle rather than the endless room and olive green hallway with gold flooring, open.

“It’s useless. You broke him, Pierre! You jumping broke him!” Daren’s shredded voice broke through the silence, making me jump. I watched him leave. He probably left to be away from the contorted sight of River, his best friend and from what I had gathered, something much more before I came along.

Thinking about that fact concerned me the most. River having supposedly been himself with Daren. Calliope had always yelled that I had been changing him but I didn’t see it like that. He was just a man with trust issues. I wasn’t dangerous. I wasn’t this man who were to destroy a person. I didn’t think that was. But looking now at the corpse of the man I loved...am I really the one who caused this? I couldn’t be. He was so happy around me and I was happy around him. All until now.

I leaned on him again. He wasn’t dead but the way he never seemed to have light shine in his eyes or his constant need to be taken care of by another because he couldn’t even stand said a different story. How could someone be dead and alive at the same time? How could someone be so destroyed that they…

Oh.

I did this. 

He was so happy around me but when he realized it would mean nothing once he died he wanted to leave. He wanted to leave since he was changing who he was because he thought it made me happy after his excitement faded but it was too late.

Without me there, he was nothing since he changed himself to be me.

He was so changed that he would no longer be a person if I wasn’t there because I was supposed to tell him how to act from my own actions..

And that was why he said “I promise I care. Just not about you.”

But he came back to me because he had nothing left of himself for the world to see.

So I am the man who destroyed him. I broke him.

I never wanted to leave him but I have to look at the creation I have made and decide what is best for him. River is no longer a person but a wraith of the time that I wished we still had. But I can’t bring myself to walk out and never see him again. I know I’m going to be the only person who saw the last of him as it faded away.

And for that…

I am a monster.

But I will just become the devil if I stay with him in this room of white lights everywhere. So in his death and my last few seconds of consciousness I do the following…

I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes. My energy drains and I almost echo what he feels until I remember the fact that I took his soul, putting it in a blender to feed the monsters in the shadows every time we went to a new part of the world.

His heartbeat isn’t recognizable either. It is slow like it is dying as it echoes in my ear. All the other times it had been beating so fast it seemed like it was about to explode any second but it never did.

My breath catches in my throat being replaced by a choking feeling of tears as I partially come to terms with what I have to do. Even if I loved this man I cannot bear to see him as a ghost.

I am supposed to love the man in front of me. I am supposed to love River. But this is not River. Not anymore if it ever has been him. He is no longer River. I sit up and am now on my knees facing him again as I try to convince myself that this man does not matter..

My eyes blur as tears well up in them. I manually breathe for a moment. I suppose I look pained while I have to stare at a man who looks at a portion of the floor without any focus. He doesn’t respond to me. He doesn’t do anything anymore and I am the man who caused it. How could I be so manipulative and not even realize it this entire time? Was I even manipulating him or was he just blindly following me?

I blink away my tears and manage to whisper, “I love you.”

I cup his face in my hands and look at him. His beautiful brown eyes, his curly dusty brown hair. He had always been so beautiful. But his eyes were universes away and they seemed to be dark and saturated compared to the emotions I had always been able to see in them before.

I close my eyes and press my lips to his. My heart aches as I open my eyes. River’s eyes flutter open and he has a slight smile that disappears almost immediately and his eyes saturated again.

And I know what I have to do.

I can no longer stall no matter how much I can’t leave River in my heart.

I stand up to where I am kneeling on one knee. I draw my hands away from bracing River’s face. Every movement I make feels like a lifetime as I drag myself away from him. My guilt is so overwhelming in my chest that I feel in my lungs a scream. My eyes well with tears again and I have to start our echoed agreement.

“I promise I care just not about you,” My voice strains to not cry or yell at the fragile corpse of a person in front of me.

“I promise I care…” I stand up taking a few steps back. “Just not…”

I am halfway to the door now. And my tears are slipping down my face and I can hear a faint hiss from the floor of light under my feet from the water. I open the door. He doesn’t even respond.

The man I am supposed to know, River. He is supposed to be River. He is supposed to be happy and energetic and always wanting to do stuff like go out on top of buildings, run down an abandoned street in the night as it is raining. The man I gave everything he could ever want, isn’t even himself because of his dream.

I changed him. I made him do the thing he said to Calliope he would never do if it made the other person love him more. And I have been his downfall. I used him and I didn’t even realize it until now. 

“...just not about you.” 

I open the heavy door and as I step out I force a last word, “I promise I care…” My voice could only choke out the last part in a yell, “JUST NOT ABOUT YOU!”

And in the split second that I let the door close, locking me in my olive green and gold hallway I see him move. He jumping moved. He jumping responded! But I was already gone. I was already gone and to never see him again.

“AAAAGGGGHHHH!” I collapsed on the ground behind the door on the wrong side. I place my hands over my mouth but it does nothing to muffle my blood-curdling scream. I need to be away from him. My tears become fast waterfalls and I curl into a ball on the floor to hide my face.

I breathe in and exhale a few times. The rise and fall of my chest was heavy. I wipe my face with my arm. My eyes burn a little bit but that is the least of what is in my thoughts.

Me not being there was for the best. He responded once I wasn’t there. So maybe he wasn’t lost but I can not be there because he is no one when I am there. 

I am never going to be there again, and this was for the best.

The Forbidden City

My feet ache as I crunch through the leaves. The wind cools my cheek, and the sun is just barely peeking over the trees. I was meant to go catch fish for our village but that is not what I plan to do. I want to see the real world.

 I can’t just waltz up to it, according to my village that would be like suicide. I plan to find a hidden spot that my older brother’s friend told me about. A spot on top of the mountain through the trees where I can see the forbidden city.

I am almost there. I need to get home soon, so as to not arouse suspicion within my people. I just don't get it. All of the old people tell us to stay away from the city, no one my age has interest in the matter. 

The sounds from my village fade, and I can no longer hear the laughter and chatting. My people are all so happy, with the little of what they have. I can’t imagine how happy the people in the city will be. They have science, technology, and anything they could want. We are stuck here still in the stone age.

Finally after climbing for what seems like forever, I have found the cliff he told me about. I climb up and push aside bushes with my blistered hands.

_________

My eyes must be tricking me. There are massive, destroyed and broken buildings, and I can feel the steady rumble of a generator under my feet. The stench of gasoline fills my lungs and stings my eyes. I cough and rub my eyes, and try to get a closer look.

This does not look like a paradise. I see two guard towers, and men with rifles march back and forth between the winding paths. Floodlights slowly trace the roads. It has just gotten dark and I need to get back home soon. The floodlights starts inching towards me, so I jump behind a thick oak tree.

__________

I heard about the buildings and the machines from some of the older kids in my tribe. They were just toddlers when it happened. Something that happened two years before I was born. It is a sensitive subject in general, so I haven’t gotten too informed about it. Whatever happened, it caused us to escape hiding, deep in the woods where they cannot find us. 

I run home, away from the building, the gasoline, and the guards. My bare feet scratch against the sticks and rocks. It is almost pitch dark, but I can hear the sounds from my village.

_________

“You're late,” bellowed Aazad, one of the elders, “How many fish did  you catch?”

“I didn’t catch any today,” I mutter, “Must have been a bad day for fishing.”

“You stupid boy,” barked Aazad, “We relied on you, and now we will not have anything to eat tonight.” 

“I think I may be sick,” I mumble, “I am going to head over to my cabin to get some rest.” 

“Okay you get your rest, and tomorrow your brother will bring us fish,” Aazad scolds.

I speed walk my way to my family's cabin, avoiding eye contact with the people staring at me. I burst through the wood cabin door, and see my dad lying in bed sleeping. He blinks a few times, and opens his eyes.

“What do you want?” He says quietly, half asleep.

“I want you to tell me about the city,” I say sternly

“I’ll tell you when you are older, Bashu,” he mutters, and closes his eyes again

“I went and saw the city, dad,” I say, looking down.

Dad sighs, “Follow me.”

_________

My father pulls me by my hand, out of the village. The village noises fade yet again, as my father pulls me the exact same path I had followed earlier today. Only this time it is pitch black outside, and I had no Idea where we were. We were walking at a pace that was just slightly too fast for me, and every so often I stumble on a root. 

Eventually I started to recognize where we were. I recognize the same hill, the same bushes, and the same smell of gasoline.

“Why did you bring me back here, Dad?” I ask.

“I am not allowed to explain this to you, so you cannot tell anybody, alright?” Dad sternly answers. “We wouldn’t have told you, but you have always been so curious, and I didn’t want you to find out on your own.”

“Alright,” I respond. I have a heavy feeling in my gut, nervous about what he has to say.

My father begins speaking, “Sixteen years ago, two years before you were born, we all lived in the city. That changed when civil war broke out in our country, which ended with the death of one third of our population. After the war, our country found a way to keep everyone in peace. They created a drug that kept everyone happy and compliant. Some of us escaped being drugged by leaving to live in the forest. The rest is history.”

_________

I am just shocked that all of this happened, and I never heard about it. I guess I didn’t ever think about how things happened before I was born. My father has a solemn look in his eyes, as he gazes into the city lights.

All of a sudden reuniting the city doesn’t seem so favorable. I look into the city, and then look back in the direction of my village. All of the people are so happy there, and the city is a broken society. I know that now I will stop having pipe dreams about the city.

ALONE

The walls of white threaten to consume me, like being stuck in a nightmare. Everything has been meticulously cleaned. The flawless mirror seems like a portal to another dimension. My body weight is pressed against the locked door as an extra precaution.

“I-I-I…” I begin to stammer, raking my hands along my skull. 

I drag my hair back with one hand, and my eyes feel weighed and dry. The other one is clenched, rubbing its pointer finger’s knuckle across the side of its thumb. I suck the air in deeply through my gritted teeth.

“I need to get out of here…” I whisper to myself, voice cracking.

I cup my hands and push them up my face as my gaze lies aimless on the ground. A shaky breath makes its way into my lungs, and then back out again as I intertwine my fingers and push my forehead against them.

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, I mutter, “Okay, think, think… just think for a moment, what are you going to do….”

I definitely can’t run away, somebody will find me before that. If I try to explain that I’m not mentally ill, they’ll ignore me. I can try to find the help of another patient, but they might rat me out. 

“Ugh!” I hiss through my teeth, “Why does it have to be so damn complicated?”

I pound my leg in anger, bringing my fist down to my thigh. Stupid. Now the spot that I hit is tender, and the side of my hand is tingling. Is it a crime to want to go back home? My teeth clench against each other and the muscles of my jaw become sore.

Think, think, think!

When did my options become so limited? I don’t have a lot of time--somebody will notice the locked bathroom, and then they’ll notify a nurse, and then I’ll be dragged back to my room, scrutinized even harder.

Okay, so I can’t get any nurse or caretaker’s attention. Maybe if I trick a caretaker into entering the bathroom, knock them out, and steal their clothes? Great idea--if I magically get stronger and don’t screw anything up.

“Why do people think I’m crazy? Why won’t people listen when I say I’m not? Or am I crazy? Does this count as crazy? Does wanting to be treated like a human count as crazy? Is that so hard--am I--am I-I-I-I--”

A torrent of words spill through my mouth unfiltered. It’s pointless--if I want to be taken seriously I should stop, but I can’t. My eyes water, and I dig my nails into my palms to stop them from leaking onto my cheeks.

“Excuse me? Hey, are you alright?” 

Crap. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear footsteps. Dread seeps into my bloodstream like a paralyzing agent as I don’t dare to make a sound. My heart beats are resounding in my ears, an awful aftertaste lingering in my mouth.

“Hey, seriously. Are you okay?” the voice repeated, insistent.

“I…,” I say in a small voice, “I’m fine.”

“Sorry, uhhh, I couldn’t hear that. I just have, um, really bad hearing.” The person trips over their words as they chuckles nervously, the conversation fading into an awkward silence.

Huh. Maybe if I…? “Wait, are you a patient?”

“Yeah…” 

“Are you…” I hesitate, not quite sure why I’m hoping, “Are you also stuck here without a good reason?”

There’s a pause, and then for a moment there’s that awful feeling of missing a step on the stairs like I’ve done something wrong. The lack of indication that they’re still standing behind the door worsens the ache to be able to talk to somebody.

“I… uh,” Again they laugh, but this time it sounds like it’s being forced through their throat, “They say I have schizophrenia, so…”

Panic seizes their voice as they ask, “Wait, you’re real, right?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to keep you out of the bathroom if I were just in your head,” I smirk. 

“Oh, thank god! It’s been like an eternity since I’ve had like a real human interaction.”

“Right? You just took the words right out of my mouth!” 

“Well, anyways,” the person’s voice trails off, “I was just going to ask, um why are you exactly locked in a bathroom stall?” 

Oh yep. Forgot about that. 

I look to the side, consciously scratching the back of my neck, “Uh… I'm in the process of escaping this place, I guess? I mean-I don’t know, heh, it’s kinda stupid--”

“What’s your plan?” The person interrupts, a blended note of amusement and mischievousness in their voice.

“Oh, come on, don’t mock me!” I answer defensively, and then add less confidently, “I’ll come up with something, I’m sure of it… ”

“Lemme guess, does your plan have big laser guns and a huge showdown at the end?” giggles the person.

“Mmm hmm,” I sarcastically grunt.

“Shoot, somebody’s coming… ” the person quiets down. A pang of concern shoots through me and the lack of noise leaves a hole in the atmosphere.

“Hey, you okay?” I whisper nervously. I try again, “Hey, psst! Should I open the door for you?”

Silence is a peculiar thing. Sometimes it’s what you crave, and sometimes it fills you and batters your head. It’ll seep into the crevices of your mind like a toxic gas, and then before you know it it’s suffocating your lungs. 

And it is suffocating. Am I alone again? Alone with my thoughts? Pinpricks of tears threaten to spill as my eyelashes flutter, chin wobbling. I want to curse myself for being weak, but I can’t help it. I mean, it’s to be expected but I didn’t realize it would be this soon. 

But do I have to be alone? Are they really gone? I don’t want to be alone. I thought they understood not wanting to be isolated. I thought someone finally listened to me. I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to be alone, please please please I don’t want to be alone--

“I’m here, but there's some people coming along so…” Relief pours onto me like a soothing remedy, and a shaky sigh escapes my mouth.

“Do you… do you want me to open the door for you?”

“No, I found a spot thankfully. By the way I--I… I didn’t mean for it to seem like I abandoned you or anything--” 

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I wouldn’t blame it on you if you did.” I say, curled up now and holding my knees to my chest. My voice is muffled since I’ve buried my head into my legs, cradling my hands around the sensitive area of my neck that turns to hair.

“I’m sorry.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so we just wait in silence for the awaited footsteps of nurses to pass us. Maybe they passed us? My mind starts to get antsy, as I keep taking silent and shallow breaths.

A foreign voice cuts through the air, “Hello? What are you doing?”

No no no no. This is all my fault. They’ve spotted us, they’ve spotted us, this is my fault, they’ve spotted us…

“Are you okay? Where is your caretaker, sweetie? I’ll go call for one…”

No no no no no no--

“I’m okay, you don’t need to call a nurse. I’m just waiting for the bathroom.” the person says, and my lungs constrict as I wait for the response.

A pause. And then, “I’m sorry, but it’s not up for discussion. I’m calling one right now, sweetheart.”

“NO!” I shout angrily, and I open the door. I’m going to stand up for them--they don’t deserve this treatment! 

But when I look, there’s nobody there.

“W-what?” I hoarsely stammer, words barely above a decibel sounding more like an exhale than anything. 

My body goes limp, and I slide to the floor trembling. Tears drip down my face profusely, as I desperately wish for the floor to swallow me up. Even my nose is crying as I put a flat hand to keep it from rushing out. Sobs tear the seams of my mind apart, and I numbly rock back and forth. My eyes are squeezed shut, but it doesn’t do anything to dull the awful truth.

I’M CRAZY I’M CRAZY I’M CRAZY I’M CRAZY I’M CRAZY I’M CRAZY I’M 

alone.

*TRIGGER/SWEAR WARNING*

I skipped down the narrow alley, my bony body barely supporting me, but I was happy because I finally got to eat. My mood was so great that the dark alleyway became vivid. The usual smoky grey color of the sky turned blue; the withering flowers became animated, the tattered brick walls became strong and sturdy.

As I bounded down the slope, I noticed a man I’d never seen before sprawled on the grey concrete next to the crumbling brick wall.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, concerned, as I bent down to help the man.

The man looked up, his face streaked with grime. His eyes were hopeful as he opened his mouth and spoke, “Food…” His voice sounded scratchy, as if he hadn't spoken in years.

I froze, looking down at the half-eaten bread in my right hand. I’d been so hungry, that I had taken a chunk out of it right as I got it. Nevertheless, I handed the bread to the man, thinking silently to myself, he probably needs it more than me anyway.

“Thank you…” The man whispered as he gratefully took the food, “Thank you.”

I smiled and told him that it was okay, but my stomach grumbled, complaining, hurting, having so much desire for food that it felt as if it was going to devour itself. 

This wasn’t the first time it happened, either. And each time, my stomach begged and begged me not to give the food away. 

I never listened, although I wish I had.

Summer turned into fall, green leaves turned red, the weather turned chilly, and hands turned cold. I walked into the narrow valley, my hood over my head, and my shoulders hunched. My hand gripped the warm loaf of freshly-baked bread in my pocket.

I was going to give it to the homeless man. For the past few months, I had been giving food to him every few days. He had always seemed so grateful. I didn’t know why, but I always felt a need to help others, and put their needs before mine. It was just inborn.

As I continued to walk stiffly down the alley, I got an odd feeling of dread. I shivered and told myself that it must be the weather, though I knew that was a lie. .As I approached the corner the man usually stayed in, I heard something that I was not supposed to. I quickly slid behind the wall and furrowed my eyebrows together, concentrating on the quiet conversation exchanged. I recognized one of the voices. It was the man’s.

An unknown voice muttered under his breath, “You know the girl who always gives you food?”

“Yes,” the familiar voice answered.

“Are you gonna kill her as you did with the last one?”

“Yes.”

I hardly breathed.

“Why do you even do that?”

“Because the world only needs strong people; and nice people aren’t strong.”

Anger flared inside my chest..

“That’s twisted, man,” the unknown man said.

Then I heard a snort. I inhaled lightly and pressed my lips together into a thin line. As I turned around and tried to walk back, I stepped on a crunchy leaf.

No...

My breath hitched. 

The conversation stopped, then started again. “Did you hear that?” the mysterious voice asked. 

“Who’s there?” the man shouted.

I heard a grunt, then footsteps coming my way.

Sh*t.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my arms pumping. I could feel myself getting tired. Why did I even offer to help him in the first place?

I could hear the footsteps behind me become louder and louder. Rough hands grabbed my arms. My heart pounded against my chest but I took a deep breath, turned around, and looked at him, straight in the eye. 

“What do you want?” I snarled, pressing my lips together into a thin line.

The man looked at me, feigning innocence, causing me to roll my eyes internally.

“Please, can I have some food please.?” the man pleaded with alligator tears rolling down his cheek.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Do you really think that I’m that dumb? I heard what you said. Do you really think I care anymore? And do you really think I would rather give you - a murderer- food instead of eating it myself? Huh?”

I shook off his arm and walked away, leaving him with his mouth agape as I flipped him off.

“What's up Bryan,” Chad says with his face brightening up.

Bryan responds and says, “Hello, Chad.”

Chad says, “There is a new donut shop over there. Can you steal a donut for me and Dylan?”

“No! Last time I got caught and I was grounded for a week!” Says Bryan.

“Come on, you won't get caught this time, and I thought we were friends! I will tell everyone that you are a wimp!” Chad exclaims. 

“Ok, fine! But only this last time.”

“Thanks Bryan.”

Bryan runs to the pink donut shop that was open 24 hours, and always smelled like pure sugar. He walks in and sees the employees go to the back to check if they have more Boston Cream Donuts, when he sees they are Bryan leeps over the counter, and snatches 2 donuts for Chad and Dylan, and runs back to them to hand them their treats. Bryan doesn't really like to steal, but does it anyway. The bell rang after 3 long classes, and it was finally time for lunch. Bryan sat with Dylan and Chad, because he didn’t have very many other friends. They had math after and Chad knew that he would not do well on the test, and Chad knew Bryan was very good at math, and had an A in it.

Chad asked,“Bryan, we have math after this, and I did not study. Can I cheat off your test?”

“No! If he catches us we will both fail!”

“Come on, I can't cheat off Dylan, because he barely has a B-.”

“I am not that dumb.” Dylan responds.

“I said no.” Bryan exclaims.

“We won't be friends, and everyone is going to think you are a loser if you don't let me!”

“Are you trying to blackmail me now?”

“No.”

Bryan sighs and stands up to walk to the other side of the room. When he sits down he sees Dylan and Chad talking, not knowing if they are talking about him. He just sits quietly, and eats his lunch, thinking about what he should do. He knows if he does not let Chad cheat then they won't ever become friends again, but if he does he might get caught and most likely fail.

Bryan walks back up and says to Chad, “Let me think about it.”

The bell rings again, so Bryan knows he has to make a decision. He can either let Chad cheat or ruin his friendship and lose his popularity status. Bryan sits next to Chad in class, so it would be really easy for Chad to cheat off him. He walks in and already sees Chad sitting down, and looking at him. He has to make a decision. He sits down and Chad whispers to him “I need to pass, please let me cheat off you.”

Byan whispers back “I need to pass. If I get caught I will be grounded until college!”

“If I fail, I will get grounded. If you let me cheat we will both get A’s, and neither of us will get in trouble.”

“If we get caught then we will both be in trouble though.”

“I will make sure you are just as popular as me if you let me cheat. If you don't, everyone will think you are a loser.”

Bryan just silently thinks not knowing what to do. The teacher walks in and says, “Hello class, sorry I was late, I had a meeting.” After that the teacher hands out the tests. Chad keeps whispering to Bryan, “Please let me cheat off, please.” Bryan is getting annoyed and just says, “You can't cheat off me,why didn't you study!” 

The teacher says, “What is all this noise?”

Bryan repleys, “I can't focus, can I please change seats.”

“Sure, move up in front of my desk.”

“Thank you.” After that class Bryan and Chad never talked to each other ever again. He makes new friends. This time he makes friends with people who dont peer pressure him.

I held my paper proudly in my hand, and stared happily at the A+ on the paper. 

“What did you get … oh of course you got an A+, who would’ve thought,'' Jordan said teasingly. 

“Well it’s not my fault that i’m just better than you at math, actually now that I think about it, I’m really better than you at everything,” I said with a smirk. “Unlike you I actually study.”

 “Whatever,” he said. 

He opened his mouth to add more but then closed it, and I smiled even more when I realized that he had nothing else to say in his defense. 

“Better grade means a better person,” I said, acting like my dad when he teaches me a lesson. “You’re in school, so your duty is to get good grades.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Noah,” a voice behind me called.

I quickly turned around and saw Jordan sitting at a table with his friends.

 “Come sit us,” he called.

I scanned my eye across the cafeteria. No empty tables. ‘Oh well, guess there’s no harm in sitting with Jordan,’ I convinced myself, and went to sit with Jordan and his friends. Walking near the table I can hear them talking.

 “Bro, why did you invite that nerd to our table?” a kid wearing a basketball shirt with air jordans called, typical basketball player.

 “Don’t talk so loud, he’s coming to us,” someone else at the table said, clearly hiding their face from me. I sat down at the edge of the face as a Hancock diamond after it’ve been washed while shooting an evil look at Jordan.

 “I’m going to use the bathroom,” Jordan mumbled while not daring to look me in my eye. And I followed him, since there is no reason why I should stay here with Jordan gone. So I decided to follow him to the bathroom.

Sometimes I just don't know why people would go into the school bathroom, that's another question to ask Jordan when he gets out. But I’m not sure if I can stay here that long. Even if I’m standing 10 feet away from the bathroom, I can still smell it’s stink . I look at my clock over and over again, but he’s just not out. At this point I won’t be surprised if he had fallen into the bathroom,

“What’s his problem?” I thought. “Who takes 10 minute to use the bathroom?” Not wanting to be late for class, I went into the school public bathroom. And before even going through the door, I can already smell the terrible smell of the bathroom, but what’s inside is more terrifying than the smell--- Jordan is being held against the bathroom door by his neck, and my eyes widened.

 “So, what makes you wanna bully me? After all, you're 2 years older than me, oh wait, I forgot that you're one of the only students who got hold back, and if i remember correctly, the reason for that is what you're doing right now, isn’t it Nick?” Jordan said with a laugh. 

“SHUT UP,” Nick hisses the words slowly, but coolly. 

“Make me.” Nick’s face turned red, staring at Jordan like mortal enemies. Then all of sudden Nick strikes, ‘splash’. Jordans was white moment ago but now it’s covered in the scary color of red. Nick hit him again, this time harder and with a smile, almost like he’s enjoying a dead prey. I should leave, I should run away before Nick notices me. I won’t want to be like Jordan, forever asleep in the bathroom. Plus, I don't even know what’s going on. As I turned over to leave, I heard the painful mourn coming from Jordan, and the evil laughter of Nick. Before I even realized it, I came running back,  fist out right into Nick's ugly face. And even if I don’t know it, as I punched Nick, I know that deep down in my heart, I know why I did it, I know what's happening --- Nick is hurting my friend, and that’s all I need to know.

Scientifically, black is the absence of color. Maybe that’s why I identify with it so much. I surround myself in a cloak of darkness and wish I could disappear. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. Instead, I keep my head down and let the tornado of thoughts overtake me. I’m the absence of talent, the absence of emotion, the absence of self. I live in a black hole of nothingness that I can't escape from. I don't care. Nothing matters. I’m fine this way.

***

It should have been a basic Thursday. But then she walked in. Long, flowing blonde hair and a smile brighter than the school’s ceiling lights, though I suppose that isn't saying much. I hated her immediately. Nothing personal, but she’s just too happy, bleh. 

“Class, this is Leora.” Mrs. Johnson says with a fake smile, oblivious to how nobody cares. “Leora, do you want to share a little bit about yourself?”

“Sure!” 

I roll my eyes at her eagerness. 

“I grew up in Cape Cod, my family is originally from Greece, and my name means compassion and light!”

“Thank you, Leora.” Mrs. Johnson turns on the projector. “Now let’s start on math.”

“Excuse me, where should I sit?” Leora’s fingers are white from clutching her backpack.

“Oh, umm,” Mrs. Johnson scans the room. “How about next to Ravyn?” She gestures to the empty desk next to mine. Great. This day can't get any worse.

“Hi!” Leora plops her backpack down and slides into her chair. 

“Hi.”

“I’m Leora!”

“I know.”

“Umm…” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “You’re Ravyn, right?”

I nod, turn away, and pull out my sketchbook.

“What are you drawing?” She leans over my shoulder. 

I didn’t expect her to know. But what she said next surprised me. 

“Oh, I love The Owl House! That’s Amity, right?”

“Um, yeah, it is!” Eww. That came out way more cheerful than I wanted it to.

“It’s so good!” She pulls out a sketch of her own. “I tried to draw Luz, but it doesn’t look quite right.”

“Well her mouth is a little different,” I grab my pencil from my pencil case. “But if you-”

“Girls! I’m glad you're getting along, but it’s math class right now, not art class.” Mrs. Johnson glares pointedly at us.

“Yeah, cause our school’s too broke to afford it,” I mumble.

“What was that, young lady?”

“Nothing.” 

Leora laughs, her smile seeming to glow even brighter. I don’t understand why she’s so happy. I start to retreat into my sweatshirt, but Leora stops me.

“Don’t hide! I like seeing your face!”

A smile creeps onto my face. I wipe it off and turn away.

***

“So Leora, how was your first day at Fairwood High?”

“It was great!”

“Seriously?” If it hadn’t been Leora who said that, I would have assumed it was sarcastic.

“Of course! I met you, didn’t I?”

My face flushes. Eww. Blushing is for wimps.

“Do you want to do our homework together?” Leora asks hopefully.

“Sure! I mean, sure.” Ugh. I need to get a grip.

Leora grins. “Great! Maybe after, we can watch The Owl House!”

“Yeah, that’d be cool. My house or yours?” Ugh. I give up.

“Yours, we’re still unpacking from the move.” Leora sighs. “Our couch is COVERED with boxes. Have you ever moved?”

I shake my head.

“Well anyway, let’s get going! The sooner we start our homework, the sooner we’ll be done!” 

She’s adorable. My face grows warm.

“You have a nice smile.”

I quickly wipe it off and start walking. “Cmon, let’s go.” What did I get myself into?

***

“So, other than drawing, what do you like to do?” Leora asks, and looks at me. Her gaze turns a bit of the nothingness inside me to butterflies. We’re sitting on my bed having finished our homework, and Leora is attempting to make conversation. I hate small talk, but with her it’s- it’s different.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t even like drawing, I suck at it. I kinda suck at everything.” I sigh.

“What do you mean? You helped me with my drawing, you’re great at math, and I saw some of the poetry you had in your English binder!”

“I’m just ok at everything, I guess. Nothing really sticks out..”

“You put yourself down too much!” Leora reaches over and grabs my hand. “Ravyn, listen to me. You are amazing. Stop doubting yourself!”

I look away.

“Cmon, at least give me a smile!”

“I don't smile.”

“I saw you smile earlier…” Leora’s own smile dims.

“I. Don’t. Smile.”

“That’s not true.”

“What do I have to smile about?” I’m trying my best to hold back the forming tears.

“Ravyn. You’re holding yourself back. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to let negativity control you.”

“What do you know? You’re so happy!”

“You think I always was like that?!”

We fall silent.

Leora takes a deep breath. “Look, Ravyn. I used to hide in darkness too. But then I thought to myself. Why? Why should I let it control me?” She looks me in the eyes. “All you need is one thing that makes you smile. Then, you’ll see the world in a new way. You’ll realize that everything isn’t black and white. Just tell me one thing that makes you smile.”

“You.” I blush, but I hold her gaze. “You make me smile.”

A silence settles across the room. It’s not a bad silence. It's the sweet kind of silence that comes when there are no words that need to be said.

Leora’s phone buzzes. “Oh, that’s my mom, I gotta go. I guess we’ll have to watch The Owl House some other time!”

I walk her to the door, and as she’s about to leave, I give her a quick hug. 

She smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” And with that, she’s gone. It’s only then that I realize that there’s a smile on my face, too. I let it be.

***

I knew immediately it wasn’t going to be a basic Friday. Maybe it was the way that I walked into school with my head up, or how I felt somehow lighter than usual, like a weight had been lifted from me that I didn't know was there. I sat at my desk, waiting for her to walk in. And walk in she did, with her flowing blonde hair and smile brighter than the sun. She takes her seat next to me, and I smile. Maybe being happy isn't so bad!

***

I definitely jinxed it. “Can you BELIEVE how much homework we got on a FRIDAY?!” I fume, kicking pebbles as Leora and I walk to my house.

Leora giggles. “At least I get to do it with you!”

Great, now I’m blushing again. Impulsively, I reach out my hand.

She takes it.

She’s bushing too.

Feeling awkward, I look away.

But I don’t let go.

We continue towards my house.

***

“Done!” I slam my math book shut with a thump! that causes nearby papers to flutter.

“See? That didn't take too long!”

I check my watch. It’s only 4:30. Of course she’s right. I stick out my tongue. “What do you want to do now?”

“We could watch The Owl House?” Leora looks over at me, and our eyes meet. It’s like she’s staring into the depths of my soul.

My heart skips a beat. 

Time seems to stop. 

The world disappears, and it’s just her and I.

She slides closer. 

So do I.

“Ravyn?”

“Yeah?”

“You make me smile, too.”

Then her lips are on mine, and she’s the only thing that matters.

I pull her tighter, and it hits me.

This.

This is what happiness feels like.

***

Artistically, black is a shade of any and all colors. Maybe that’s why I identify with it so much. I don’t hide in it. I proudly wear it, just like I proudly wear the rainbow flag. I’m a tornado of talents and emotions that make up this thing called self. Sometimes, the black hole comes back. But when it does, she’s by my side, reminding me that I matter. Leora. Compassion; light. My light. Her smile lighting up the room, and her love lighting up my heart.

Trigger warning: death, phobia

Jay Sachin is an average high school student, who is afraid of almost everything except for his little brother Ashwin Sachin, an average 12-year-old. Anyway, when I say Jay is afraid of almost anything, I mean it, for example, he is afraid of the dark, heights, snakes, occasionally his own shadow. But the one thing that scares him the most is bigfoot. This fear was developed when they went to an amusement park in Florida, he was six and a quarter, and his little brother Ashwin who was three at the time said he wanted to go on this ride called Sasquatch Adventure. In front of the ride was a gigantic statue of a sasquatch with its mouth open. Jay was already regretting his decision to agree to come and ride with Ashwin. He and his brother got into a cart and it took them underground into a tunnel. The ambiance of the whole ride was dark and gloomy, and every time they turned, they saw a big brown furry figure hiding behind the trees, its eyes glowing. That image was burned into Jay’s brain when the ride finally ended. Jay has never been more relieved, he was shivering in 80-degree weather. His mom was so worried they went home early. Jay would have nightmares and wake up screaming and sweating. She took him to therapy since then but it didn’t seem to help and he has been like this ever since.

Just the sheer size of it terrifies Jay. He only sees these “bigfoot” sightings on TV and reads about them in the book from the library, even though he’s terrified of them he just can’t help but learn more and more about the furry monster.

“Why are you so scared of a fictional creature?” his mom asked one morning.

“They are real, Mom,” Jay said, eating his toast. “There are hundreds of sightings over the last century, they are real.” 

“You’re such a baby,” said Ashwin, gobbling his cereal.

“Shut up,” Jay said quietly enough so his mom couldn’t hear. Then he got up and went to the bus stop.                                                      

                                                                       -----------

When Jay arrived at his school he caught up to his two friends, Chris and Demarcus. Chris and Demarcus love to take advantage of Jay’s greatest fears like clowns and the renowned Bigfoot, so they were planning to dress up as Bigfoot just to scare the living crap out of Jay. They had this planned out since they found out he was scared of the great sasquatch, which was last month when they started high school.

“I can’t wait for Halloween,” Demarcus said, glancing at Jay, smirking.

“Get that stupid grin off your face, Demarcus,” Jay said, getting goosebumps just thinking about it. “I am not going.”

“Aww, come on it’ll be fun,” they both look at Jay with puppy eyes.

“No, and that’s final,” Jay replied irritatedly.

“Aww little Jay is scared,” Demarcus gesturing a crying movement with his hands as Jay walks away.

It was two days before Halloween, Chris and Demarcus were preparing their costumes to scare Jay out of his socks. They were going to hide in the woods that was right next to Jay’s house so when he comes out to hand candy they would jump out and hopefully scare him. Between the two of them, they were sharing 1 brain cell and they thought this plan was foolproof. 

                                                                   ----------------

When Halloween started Chris and Demarcus went and prepared their hiding spot and waited. For 1 hour and 30 minutes nothing happened, no kids came to trick-or-treat, Jay never came out, so they decided to take the matter into their own hands. They walked up to his porch and rung the doorbell, and ran back into the bush, leaves rustling. Jay peeked through his door with a baseball bat in his hand, his knuckle white from clenching the bat.

“Hello?” His voice was as shaky as ever.

Chris and Demarcus decided to jump out of the woods and start growling and making screeching noises.

Jay’s face turned white when he realized what he was seeing and quickly decided to run out of his house and down the street (movie stupidity). Jay ran as he had never run before. Chris and Demarcus kept chasing Jay until they reached a dark alley, dim light post flicking on and off. Jay turned around to face the two terrifying sasquatches, Chris and Demarcus growl and drool over Jay. For a split second Jay was about to cry out loud but then he remembered he had a bat a.k.a a weapon. Sweat falling down his forehead, he took a small glimpse at the two “sasquatches” and closed his eyes, then he started swinging so fast and violently his arm became sore. There was blood flying left and right but Jay just kept swinging and swinging. Until he heard a scream that sounded nothing like a sasquatch but indeed his friend Chris.

“Chris?”Jay's voice shook so hard it was close to unintelligible.

Chris took off his costume mask and blood began to spurt out of his mouth.

“It’s just me man, It’s me,” then he fainted.

Demarcus took off his mask and ran towards Chris who was lying on the wet cold floor, blood slowly flowing out of his head.

“DON’T JUST SIT THERE AND WATCH, CALL 991 NOW,” Demarcus never panicked this bad before, not even the time he fell off his house roof.

But Jay just sat there, staring at Chris' motionless body. The shock and the smell of the blood were so strong in the wind he almost fainted right there, but he managed to dial 911 before he did.

                                                                     -------------

Jay woke up to see the white hospital room ceiling, he looked around and saw his mom and brother sitting on the couch beside him waiting for him to wake up.

“JAY, oh Jay my precious boy, been waiting here for 2 days for you,” her eyes began to tear up and she started sobbing and hugged him so hard he almost fainted again but she let go.

“Where is Chris?” Jay managed to move his lips, it seemed to be locked in place and hard to move.

“He’s in the emergency room, the doctor said he’ll be fine, but it was critical since he took so many hits to the head,” his mom still sobbing.

Jay’s eye also began to tear up and he began sobbing.

“It was all my fault, it’s because I'm scared of things that don’t exist and he got Chris hurt, I almost killed someone.” Jay sobs so hard it seems like the room is going to flood.

“No, no, Demarcus told me everything it was they’re doing to start all this, you’re in the clear.”His mom held his hands.

Jay suddenly remembered how he actually stood up for himself for once. He was kind of proud, but he was still guilty for doing so. 

The day after Jay was back up doing what he does. He went to visit Chris in the ICU, when he opened the door he was flooded with guilt and regrets. The doctor said he phases in and out of consciousness but he’ll probably wake up in a week or two. Jay’s eye began to tear up once again, he fell to his knees and he started to sob.

“This is all my fault,” Jay said quietly

“It’s ok Jay, it’s none of your faults,” a quiet voice coming from his left.

“Chris?” Jay looked up.

“It was all my fault,” Chris looked at Jay, smiling.

Chris’s eye slowly began to close and the heartbeat monitor was a straight line.

“Citizens of Mapodas,” the President’s booming voice echoed through the square, “welcome to the 7th annual Speech Day!” He stood, arms warmly outstretched on the stage that lifted him higher than the rest of the crowd. Gwen clapped and cheered with the people around her and tucked her hands in her pocket as the applause faded, fingers brushing a small slip of paper with her questions.

Today was the Fourth of December, 2852-- Speech Day. Everyone that lived in the little isolated town of Mapodas was expected to attend and listen to the President make promises for the future. It was Gwen’s favorite day of the year and she had already written a heap of questions on a small slip of paper that she hoped, with all her heart, that the President himself would answer.

She couldn’t believe some people thought the President was a fake and a fraud when he was clearly trying to make this town better. The people in the resistance group were the worst of them all, constantly trying to limit the President’s work. How ungrateful they were!

“Now,” the President began. The crowd silenced. “Ever since I became President in 2845, I have been striving to create a safe environment for all of you. However, with the Libosol Virus spreading throughout the town, I have put my full attention on helping to get rid of this horrible disease. As I know it, all of you have already received the vaccine?” Everyone, including Gwen, held up their tattooed left wrist to show the small red symbol of three circles stacked like a pyramid, the symbol of those who have been vaccinated.

The President nodded approvingly and continued, “I have the citizens of Mapodas’ safety in mind as I say this; the poor community have refused to accept the vaccine.” A gasp rippled through the crowd and Gwen felt her own mind fill up with disapproval. “We must convince them to take the vaccine or throw them out of our little town. As you all know, we are the last remaining people in our region. For the future of our community, we must do something about those who oppose our vaccine. I ask all of you to--” His words were cut off by a sharp crack sound. 

Screams erupted from the crowd as they realized that it was the sound of a gunshot. Chaos unfolded and people scurried away as two more shots rang out from an unknown source. Gwen ducked her head and ran for the closest building, a shopping mall, and gathered indoors with a few others to look out the clear window. The President was being hurried off to safety, seemingly unhurt-- thank goodness. 

Gwen could feel her blood boiling and her vision was tinted red. It was the resistance group, she knew it. How dare they attempt to assassinate the President, after all he’s done for this town! Gwen shook her head angrily and stomped her way out the back door of the mall, ignoring the calls of warning from the other spectators. 

The door opened up to a dark alleyway, which smelled of trash and wet fur. The brick walls were scraped and graffitied, a flickering lamp hidden away in one corner.

If the guards couldn’t find the resistance, she would. Even the famous fugitives of the resistance group wouldn’t hurt an innocent citizen, right?

It suddenly struck her that she didn’t even know where to search for the resistance group. Looking out, she could see just how big this town was, and she knew she had no chance if the well trained guards of the President hadn’t been able to find them. Gwen sighed angrily and wandered aimlessly around the alley, hoping it would lead her someplace close to home.

Gwen knew her sister would’ve never given up like she was doing now. Thinking about her sister made Gwen’s head and heart ache. She stopped walking to clear her head and looked up at the sky, a beautiful mixture of gray and yellow.

“I thought we agreed we’d shoot after the Speech!”

Gwen startled when she heard faint voices arguing in the distance. 

“Yeah, but I couldn’t keep listening to the President sprout his lies like that!” an Irish accented voice insisted.

By now, Gwen was pretty sure these were whoever had attempted to assassinate the President. She began to run, using the growing voices as a guide. 

“All his talk about ‘oh, I’m here to make this town better’ and ‘the people who dare defy me have to be kicked out of town’!”

Gwen felt annoyed at whoever was speaking and couldn’t wait to give them a fist in the face. She arrived at a run-down building which was covered in rotting wooden planks and its walls splattered with paint and other unknown substances. She found a loose board and ducked into the building.

The inside of the building was worse than the outside. The walls were barely visible under the amount of graffiti and there was trash littered everywhere, almost piling up to her knees. There was a small path through the ocean of trash that looked like it was made recently, so Gwen followed where it led. She found herself in a small kitchen with rusted pots and pans and some rotten food shrivelled up on the ground. 

The voices had stopped arguing by now, they must have heard her come in. It was unfortunate for Gwen since the kitchen opened up to a dead end. She groaned in frustration.

As she inspected the kitchen more closely, she couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity this place was emitting. She spotted an old meal cart lying crookedly against a wall. A strange sensation came over Gwen and she made her way through the debris towards it. The closer she got, the more confident she was about her theory. She softly touched a spot on the wall behind the cart and it pressed in with a click. 

Satisfied, she watched as a hidden door opened up to a narrow staircase. She stepped over the broken cart and started to make her way up. By now the feeling was growing stronger, and although she was scared, she couldn’t turn back now.

The stairs led to a small door squished between the walls. Gwen held a trembling hand up to the handle and squeezed it in her hand. Her heart was pounding as she was overcome with a sensation she knew so well.

Her sister.

Gwen turned the handle.

“Freeze!”

Gwen froze, as she didn’t know what else to do. She hadn’t even pushed the door open and yet the people inside knew she was there. Of course they knew, she was being so loud back in the kitchen! She cursed herself for being so dumb and dared to open the door. 

The door fell off its hinges and hit the floor with a large thump. Gwen jumped and two of the people positioned inside the room also startled, but the last didn’t even flinch. 

The room was small and dusty, a few blankets piled up here and there. There was a single window on the wall opposite the door, which Gwen assumed was where they had spotted her coming into the building. A lantern was burning on one side of the room, the light feeble and small against the growing darkness.

“Who are you and how the hell did you find us?” the one at the front yelled, aiming a large gun right at Gwen. He was wearing a dark mask with even darker circles where his eyes should’ve been. The strange engravings, and the way the mask was built, made him look like a bird. 

“I--” Gwen’s eyes were wide with fear and surprise. The fact that she had actually found who she was looking for hadn’t yet processed in her mind, which left little room for other thoughts to register.

“Wait,” another masked figure at the very back spoke with a captivating Irish accent. Gwen recognized the voice as the one who’d insulted the President when she was out in the alley. He was wearing a pure white mask, also built skillfully, that covered the entirety of his face. The eye holes were narrowed into dark slits that gave the feeling that he was a snake waiting to strike, and Gwen was his prey. “Isn’t that…?” 

“Oh my goodness!” the last person squealed. She was slim and the way she bounced excitedly reminded Gwen of a child. Her mask had red-tinted goggles as the eyes and someone had painted pretty gold dots all around the nose and cheeks that looked like freckles. A pink nose and thin black whiskers were also painted onto the mask, and stuffed bunny ears were sewn onto the hood of her sweatshirt. “It’s Gwe~n!”

Gwen looked around, bewildered as the two masked people in the back lowered their weapons and began to chatter and bicker. Only the dark figure at the front kept his gun trained on her.

“Lapine, Nathair, don’t let your guard down, you idiots!” the leader hissed. The two who had been arguing snapped to attention and again held up their weapons. The room once again fell into silence.

“You’re the resistance group!” Gwen blurted out, finally gaining a hold of reality. “You tried to kill the President today! I’m going to turn you in right now!” Gwen fumbled in her pocket to get the distress button that every citizen in Mapodas owned.

The leader yanked Gwen’s arm and she dropped the button on the ground. She stumbled to a different side of the room where she was cornered by the three strangers.

“I’m telling you this can’t be Wolf’s sister,” the leader was saying. “She would never have given in to the President and become one of his mindless followers.”

“But she’s a splitting image!” Lapine, the girl, remarked. “I’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere!”

“What-- who are you people? Why do you keep saying you know me?” Gwen panicked, sensing she was trapped. 

“I stand my case.” The bird-masked person made his way to the lone window where he sat, seemingly sad, on the windowsill.

“Look, are you Julia’s sister?” Nathair asked, playing anxiously with the gun in his hands. Gwen wasn’t even sure if it was a real gun, it looked more like a toy gun, extremely large and colorful. Gwen froze at the sound of her sister's name coming from a stranger's mouth.

“How did you know her?” she asked warily, her back up against the wall. Lapine and Nathair looked at each other, then both looked at the leader.

“Avis?” Lapine asked, a hint of I told you so in her voice. 

Avis sat quietly staring out the window for another moment or so, before standing up abruptly. He approached Gwen and stared her down while saying flatly, “Why are you such a suck up to the President then? Julia would never have allowed--”

“What do you mean why?” Gwen spat, overwhelmed. “He's constantly trying to make this town better!”

“He’s the reason this town needs to be fixed!” Avis raged, his voice cold. Gwen silenced, all the protest that was building up in her suddenly fizzling away. Lapine and Nathair were motionless in the corner of the small room, watching them silently. Avis sighed and walked heavily away from Gwen. 

“Please, explain what you mean by that,” Gwen said quietly. Avis paused and turned back around to face her.

“The President is a fake,” he started, watching Gwen for a reaction. 

Gwen tried her best not to break out in an angry fit. If these people really did know her sister, she wanted to know the entire truth, and losing their trust wouldn’t help.

“He rigged the election-- twice-- and he’d most likely do it again. You know the Libosol Virus, right?” Gwen’s left wrist tingled. She nodded cautiously. “The President was the one who created the whole damn virus in the first place.”

“You’re lying!” Gwen yelled, the words escaping her mouth. Lapine and Nathair flinched but Avis seemed unaffected by her outburst.

“Be quiet, it echoes loudly in here,” he murmured, eyeing the broken door. 

“The Libosol Virus is only the tip of the iceberg, you know,” Nathair called from the corner, “the President is also planning on getting rid of half the town’s population. Our spy says he was going to convince the town to run them out today, at the Speech. That’s why we were trying to stop him before anything violent happened.”

Gwen rolled her eyes at the irony, about to ask how carrying out an assasination was supposed to reduce the violence. Gwen couldn’t say anything, however, as things were starting to make sense. What if the President had already had the vaccine when the virus first surfaced? All those deaths for what, power? And the big speech about the poor community, looking back at it now, Gwen couldn’t believe she fell for it. How had she not noticed the true intentions of the President? At this point she wouldn’t be surprised if the President had injected them all with a mind-controlling serum.

“I nearly believed him-- oh God, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t intercepted the Speech?” Gwen groaned, shuddering at the bloodshed that might have occurred if the President had gotten his way.

“I told you I was doing the right thing,” Nathair smirked at Lapine.

“But what does my sister have to do with any of this?” Gwen whispered, her confidence failing as she realized how ignorant she had been.

“She was one of us,” Avis said, something softening inside him, “She was the strongest out of all of us. She brought you here once, I’m not sure you remember.”

And suddenly, she did. The secret door, the staircase, the resistance group, it all came back to her. Gwen was shocked she hadn’t been able to remember it immediately. 

“Well, what happened to her? She disappeared a few weeks ago and-- oh, if only I knew she was here with you I wouldn’t have been so worried!” Gwen was filled with sudden relief at the thought that maybe her sister was out there after all, working with the rebels to end the unfair reign of the President.

Lapine, Nathair, and Avis glanced at each other, something silent passing between them.

“Gwen, dear, your sister was killed during a mission by the President.” Lapine said softly. 

A hole was punched through the fragile tower of hope building inside Gwen and in no time at all, it had crumbled to nothing. Gwen’s breathing grew shallow and she fought back tears as her heart felt like it had been pierced by a bullet.

“No. No, no, that can’t be…” 

“We’re sorry, Gwen,” Avis said.

Gwen quieted and slowly made her way towards the opposite wall, a blank expression on her face. The three members of the resistance group watched her quietly, their expressions unable to be read under their masks.

Gwen stared into the lamp on the floor, her eyes reflecting the light. She pulled the list of questions from her pocket and let it fall limp in her hand by her side. Then, to the surprise of the others in the room, she smashed the lamp with a cry, the candle in the lamp catching a nearby blanket on fire. 

The fire didn’t spread, but it burned brightly. Gwen watched the flame dance higher and it seemed to calm her emotions a bit. She clenched her fist, the paper with her questions making a satisfying crinkling sound.

Then, Gwen dropped the paper into the waiting flames and watched the edges singe black, something relaxing inside her as the list burned up and disappeared.

TRIGGER WARNING 

The ring of the final school bell had just made my day. Beside me were my friends Martin and Jack.. The fall air smelled like leaves and pumpkins everywhere. Each step we made with each other there would be a crunch of a leaf every time. 

“Wow, that is so messed up and crazy.” I had said that out loud but not really on purpose. 

“What’s up?” Jack had replied in a kind of nervous tone. It’s like he could see through my phone screen onto what I was reading.

“You guys haven’t heard about this? Some dude killed a man in his home and when the cops came and shot him, it did nothing and he killed the cops.”

“Alright, let’s not get too out of control, this is a safe town and the crime rate is much less than it used to be. Are you sure this isn’t old news?” Jack had a point, but I could tell he was thinking wishfully.

Then out of nowhere Martin says, “Maybe the dude who got killed deserved it.”

Jack eyes and mine lock, a smirk creeps up both of our faces. However with that joke we weren’t going to give Martin the satisfaction of laughing, so we just told him to shut up. Step after step, more skeletons and ghost decorations creep into the corner of my eye. I ran my fingers through the gate outside the old cemetery. A chill tingled the back of my neck.. By the end of tonight there might be a lot more people added to that cemetery; because there is a killer on the loose.

I looked up, and there was Martin's house towering over me. The shadow of the huge house made the sun disappear. It was basically a routine; after every school day, and on weekends we would beg Martin’s parents for a sleepover. It was always his house, no one ever complained about it, not even Martin’s parents. They knew they had the coolest house, so they understood. Though everytime we would tell them how cool their house was they would always stay humble about it. It came off the exact opposite way. Martin was the opposite. He always showed us cool new areas of the house and told us how cool it was. He would show off secret rooms, and gaming consoles. Jack and I would always watch him explain something about the house. We always act interested, but then look at each other in a way that would say, “Ok Martin, you can stop talking now.” 

We all rushed upstairs. It reeked of paint and wood in Martin’s house, so that smell was the first thing that greeted me. It greeted me before his parents. Martin plopped down onto his beanbag chair. None of us even bothered trying to steal it from him; it always reeked of Martin’s body odor and food he had eaten there the night before. “Alright boys, about this killer, what are we going to do?”

Jack’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean how will we stop the killer, someone has to do something, why can’t it be us?” 

“First off, for the what will we do part, we wait for the cops to stop him like every civilian does with every crime; and second off it can’t be us because we are weak and not trained or prepared. I mean look at those twig arms on both of you guys.” I sat back watching this conversation unfold and got more and more interested by the second. All I prayed was that Jack and Martin don’t agree to go after the killer. So far with most issues, I’m on team Jack, my mouth stayed shut though. 

“My dad has a rifle, who says we can’t take that and stop him? The cops have failed this mission. Let’s end it tonight.”

“That’s not an awful idea, honestly.” Jack replied. I had to butt in, no way we were confronting a serial killer. 

“Are you guys crazy?! That is so dangerous. We could easily die. I will not let you guys do this. This is an awful idea.”

“Nah man, that's smart. We are probably faster than the guy so if he isn’t hurt by the time we are done with him we can just run away.”

“I actually really like that.” Jack definitely thought Martin was onto something.

“That man is flesh and blood, and we got a rifle, no way we lose. Come on Andrew please, we can’t do it just Jack and me, we need a third person.” Martin smiled ear to ear. He had the most smug grin, like he really thinks he thought of something.

I eventually drowned in peer pressure. “Fine, I’ll come with you guys.” I realized throughout the conversations there was no more sunlight beaming into Martin’s room, all darkness outside. There was a pit in my stomach, I didn’t tell my friends though. They would never let me live this down if I backed out. To be honest, I would rather live something down, than not live at all. 

Martin and Jack jumped in the air so high and threw their fists up when I said I’d go with them. “One problem though Martin, how do we find him?”

“Great question Jack.” I hated that question but wanted to sound enthusiastic about all this. 

A smile started to form on Martin’s face. “Well, the cops haven’t been able to stop the killer, but they put good information on their website. That’s what I’m looking at now. I know where to go, it’s not a bad walk which is good, just follow me.”

“No it isn’t good, genius. If it’s not a long walk, then that means a dangerous serial killer lives near us.” Jack finally fought back Martin for once.

“True, but if we make it there quickly and end this tonight, we won’t have to worry about that. I’ll text you all the address and meet me there at 9 o’clock sharp. If you make it late, then screw you, if you make it early, then stay as far away from the house as possible. Sounds good?” 

“Yup.” Jack and I both blurted that out at the same time. 

“Alright, let’s do this, bye losers.” Martin constantly says that on our way out. The light of the kitchen was the only thing kept his downstairs from being completely dark. By the time both Jack and my feet reached the front walk, we looked at each other. Jack’s Patriots hat blended in with everything at night. Jack nodded, then we sprint to our houses as fast as we can. I ran like the killer was behind me. Each breath gets shorter than the rest. Running in the cold makes it feel like my throat is being stabbed by a knife. My breath stood before me, until I ran right into it. Jack’s nod stayed in the back of my mind. I think I know what he meant with the nod.

My heart was racing. It felt like it would beat out of my chest. All the sounds of the trick or treaters that stayed out late were ringing in my ears. My breath danced in front of my eyes and then it turned into vapor from the October air. I stood before the killer’s house. Martin’s house blocked out sunlight, this house blocked out my mental stability. I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

       “Ahhhhhh!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

       “Buddy calm down, it is just us, you do not have to be so scared.”

       “Yeah seriously, I think people in Australia heard your scream.”

      “I know right”Jack chimes in again, “But seriously, are we going to ring the doorbell or not? The police couldn't stop this monster of a human being's killing so we got to do something. I can not stand to hear another person die from this man on the news. We got knives and my dad’s rifle. Let's end this tonight.”

       “I do not know if I can do this, guys. Wouldn't you guys rather be at home playing video games and watching scary movies. I want to watch one, not live in one. Also taking a rifle from your dad is crazy illegal.” After saying that I knew my friends would make fun of me. The temperature outside felt like it rose 50 degrees.

       “You loser. What is more important, you winning against some random person in MLB The Show, or saving lives. Also I wonder which one is more illegal, killing a bunch of people, or stealing a gun to kill the person who is killing a bunch of people.” Jack’s expression came from joking around to beaming anger at me really quick.. Jack had always been tough on me, but not like this. The wind howled through the town. It seemed like everyone was against me. Even the wind yelled at me.

Martin chimed in. ”Alright since Jack and I are the only mentally stable people here, I’m going to ring the doorbell of the man's house. You can either go home and cry to your mommy, or help us kill the definition of evil, your choice.” As Martin reached to ring the bell I freaked out. The shutters of the house stared down at me. The crooked roof and the damp side felt like it was smiling at me. Smiling at me with fear.

      “No! Do not do that, this is an awful idea.” I tackled him with all my might and punched his face. Blood starts gushing straight out of his nose. 

      “You really are a piece of work, aren't you Andrew. I knew you were the moment you said you didn’t want to help at my house. I should have followed my gut and not let you come with us.” He attempted to tackle me. His nose was turned an inch to the left with blood all over it. The tackle attempt somewhat worked. His grip is stronger than I thought it would be. My head is locked in his arms. I could smell the mango gum he was chewing on from where I was. Now it is probably mango and blood gum. Sweat dripped down his chin and onto my forehead. I got thrown to the ground with all of Martin’s strength. The dirt stained not only my pants, but it ripped through them to my skin. “You really are a scaredy cat. I always knew you were a loser. Get out of here no one here likes you.”

      “Guys stop!” Jack screamed at the top of his lungs. The wind blew the smell of blood on my lip towards my nose. I was scared to look in a mirror to see how bad I had gotten beaten. ”This is exactly what the killer is doing. He is hurting us when he's not even there. We are only powerful if we work together. He wants us to turn on each other. We are friends. We have been since we were five. We aren't going to let that happen to us are we?” 

“So let me ring the bell. Please Andrew. I am begging you. We need to end this evil and make this town safe, once and for all.” A chill shivered from my neck, and went down to my spine. It felt like I had been in Death Valley and Antarctica switching off where I had been for the last ten minutes. I took a deep breath and focused on both of my friends. Blood dripped down my chin like a river from when I got beat up a few minutes ago. I could really use a tissue.

      “People have suffered for too long, let's take this piece of garbage down.”

      “Atta boy!” I could feel the excitement in his voice when I said that. After that, it is dead silent. None of us moved. We took little baby breaths that we could not live off of for more than ten minutes. Who knew, he could be waiting right there behind the door listening to our whole conversation. Nevertheless, we only had one goal. Kill evil. Martin hand raised to knock the door slower than my hand in math class. His scraped knuckles from beating me looked like they hurt from dead skin. Jack had a blank expression but his bright orange shirt is like a fire at night. And before I knew it…

      *Knock, knock, knock, ding dong.* Still dead silent. Martin usually made jokes in dead silence to make it less awkward but not now. We waited for about ten seconds before we heard a thud and then a blood curdling scream. He had someone trapped in his house for sure. Just the thought of that made my stomach have a million butterflies while it was doing backflips at the same time. Creak after creak of the stairs killed my mental well being. The door was being pushed open a tiny bit, skinny enough to fit a piece of paper through it. All of our eyes widened. This is what we were waiting for. All my nerves felt like they were clenched together. Before I knew it the door was out towards us with only an opening that let through the house. Then, a tall man with a navy blue jacket and dark red pants stepped out. 

Martin yelled out of nowhere, “Hey, it’s not Fourth of July buddy it’s Halloween. Why are you wearing red and blue? Also just let it be known, you will be dead by the time we are done with you.” The man was paced towards us. Every step made my heart sink inch by inch. I could tell he had a knife. A huge kitchen knife with blood dripping down from it. “Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight idiot. I got my dad’s rifle.” That talk with the man seemed to do nothing. I got slightly excited too early that we would win since we had guns. That was before he grabbed and started choking Jack. “Let him go or I will shoot.”

“No Martin, it’s dangerous to Jack.”

With Martin’s eyes laser focused on the target, he ignores me and pulls the trigger. Everything seems like it goes into slow motion. The bullet is in the air and I was just praying that it hits the man and not Jack. The bullet goes straight through Jack’s Patriots hat and into his forehead. I was right. Martin had probably killed Jack. The man was holding Jack, smiling, while Jack had a frown and a hole in his forehead. That shattered Martin. He had loved Jack. They were best friends. He would have to live with the fact that he killed his best friend. “No please tell me this is a nightmare. No way, please, Jack. I can’t do this anymore man.” Martin lets his tight grip lose off his rifle. He runs so far away that by the time I process what’s going on, I think he’s at his house. That's my only chance, none of my friends could do it, so I want to be the one. I sprint as fast as I can towards the rifle and grab it. I was so happy for just that one second and went right back to being scared. Blood and tears dripped down my face, I tightened my grip on the gun for one final battle. 

Mark sat in his chair, reading a magazine. He was peacefully reading when his daughter came into the room. 

She jumped up and down and said, “Daddy, daddy! My teacher gave me a gold star today!”

 Mark grumbled and looked down at her, “So what?” He said, “That's not impressive.”

 “B-b-but I thought you would be proud of me.”

 “Of course not, it's not like you won something.”

“I wish you weren't my Dad!” She cried. 

“And I wish you weren’t my daughter!”

Tears started erupting like a volcano from Stacy’s eyes. She stomped up the steps, each step creaking rattling the house, with tears sliding down her face. Mark stayed in his chair, grumbling. It had been two years and he still missed his wife, every Sunday he would go down to her grave and lay flowers on it. Despite how much he loved her, he was still angry that she left their daughter with only Mark to take care of. He had shared some sweet moments with his daughter, but he wasn’t ready to raise a child by himself. He wasn’t good with children at all, he found them bratty and obnoxious. 

 He sighed, lifted himself up from his chair, and slowly walked up the steps, the stairs of the hundred-year-old house that his grandfather had built. He walked up and knocked on his daughter's door. 

 “Go away,” she said. 

“I just need to grab something from your room.” Mark walked in and grabbed one of his books he had left in there.

 “It's so hot in here,” Mark said.

“I like it like this.”

 “Well I don’t, I’m going to open a window for a minute.”

“Fine,” she said. He walked out two minutes later and closed the window. 

 “It’s still cold in here,” Stacy said.

“Stop complaining and go to sleep.” He went back downstairs, opened his book, and laid himself down on the couch. As he started reading his book, his eyes started drooping and he slowly fell asleep. 

___

            He slept for a couple of hours down there, but he was woken up when he heard a crash coming from his daughter's room. A muffled scream, and the sound of a bat hitting something. Mark ran upstairs, his feet pounding, his heart beating at a speed that his heart had never beaten before. He ran into his daughter's room to find… nothing. No one was there, his daughter was gone and the window was open. 

Laying on her bed was a note that read  “Thanks for leaving the window unlocked - Anonymous”. Mark rushed out the house, ran down the stairs, and ran outside, looking for the kidnapper, but he was long gone. Mark sprinted towards the phone and dialed 911 and filed a missing person report. 

“Hello, my daughter’s been kidnapped, I need help!”

“Ok, we’ll do the best we can sir,” The 9 - 1 - 1 caller said, “The Police are on their way over.” 

“I don’t care when they get here,” he grumbled, “Just find my daughter!” Mark slowly raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror. Why was he so upset about losing his daughter? He’d never found a ton of affection towards her. But she was his daughter, he would always give her a home and food and care for her. But did he really love her…?

___

Mark sat in his chair, it had been 3 years since his daughter had been taken and he had given up hope, all he had to remember of her was a picture of him and her together with her mother, and a note from the kidnapper. Mark sat there, gazing into the distance, and thinking back to the times when she was still here. He used to think of her as a burden, something he was stuck with. But thinking of her taking her first steps, or their trip to the Grand Canyon, all he could remember was the happy moments. He wished he had treated her better. She may have hated him, but he loved her. He stared at the picture of his daughter, a tear dripped down his face and fell onto the picture, sliding down it. He stared into the distance, and as if she was there for one more second.

 He sighed and said, “Goodbye Stacy, goodbye.” 

Ever since Johnny Morton first opened the tall squeaky door into the front hallway of Treetop Elementary school, he has always been greeted by fistbumps from his friends, and secret handshakes from all of the coolest teachers in school. 

It has always been the “I know!” and the “This is so easy!” and the “I can’t believe you can’t figure this out!” phrases that have described his elementary school years. But it hasn’t just been in the classroom. Johnny doesn’t let anyone beat him on the basketball court. It’s always the “I totally gotchu!” and the “You suck at basketball” and the “I’m better than you!” phrases that have established his presence on the basketball court. 

But now he’s in the fifth grade, when elementary school is almost over and it becomes more competitive in the world. But for now, Johnny’s work isn’t getting any harder; “It’s obviously 10,000 because for 1,000 times 10 all you have to do is add another 0 and move the comma to the right one time.”

“Hey now,” says the teacher, Mrs. Hollow. “Even though you may think this is easy, not everyone can do that so quickly, so let’s be respectful of our fellow classmates.” 

Johnny sighs, thinking about what an easy class this is. Johnny has been taking Russian Math since he was eligible to, and he’s been in the highest class every year.

“I’m just saying,” says Johnny, “I feel like this work should be more challenging.”

Mrs. Hollow just carries on with the lesson. Johnny getting into trouble and saying rude things is a daily occurrence. Just the other day, Johnny decided that it would be a good idea if he took the soap dispensers from the wall and put them in his locker. The school ended up giving him detention that day and a silent lunch with the teacher, as well as a one-day suspension, which Johnny didn’t actually mind. He hates school, and I don’t mean he strongly dislikes it. He hates it; And he will do anything in his power to get away from it. But today, he’s literally trying to get away from it. Johnny’s best friend, Nathan, is a friend on his AAU basketball team. The team last season went 17-2, and Johnny has been looking forward to this season since the second the loud buzzer sounded at the last game of last season. 

Johnny had an idea,“Bro, this would be sick. Me and you could go to the park all day every day and play basketball.” Johnny explains.

“You can’t be serious,” Nathan says. “You’re going to get caught so easily. You can’t just skip school because it’s too easy for you. That’s not how it works.”

The big, wide lunchroom echoes with what sounds like a crowd at a concert. Everyone is in their friend groups or talking about a new movie or their plans after school. It seems like everyone is talking under the darkness of the outside, looking like the nighttime, even though it’s 12 o’clock noon. The harsh fluorescent lights beamed above them, shining into the old lunchroom where Johnny and Nathan meet every day to talk about random things. 

“I’m getting bored of answering every question right,” says Johnny. “Sometimes, it seems like I’m the teacher.”

“You’re not the teacher, Johnny,” says Nathan. “You’re in fifth grade. If you try to actually listen to the class discussions a little more, maybe you’d benefit from them-”

“No! I don’t benefit from them! Everything is so easy! I just want to work on my basketball skills!”

The head lunch lady, Mrs. Johnson, yells that it is time to pack up everyone’s lunches. Johnny then gives Nathan a nod with his head. Come with me. Nathan just shakes his head in disbelief. 

                                                ______

The next day, Johnny springs up like Usain Bolt running a marathon when he hears his mom call him for breakfast. Johnny usually takes about five minutes to get his clothes on and get ready to eat, but today, he just goes downstairs in his pajamas.

“Wow, what’s the rush? I’ve never seen you come down that fast before,” his mom says.

“Hey, I’m just so excited for school.” Johnny says, but school is definitely not the reason that Johnny ran downstairs. He was just excited to start skipping school. He grabs the orange juice like a squirrel protecting nuts for the winter and gulps down a glass of it.

“Have a good day, sweetie!” shouts Johnny’s mom, as he exits the car and walks toward the school. But school is not where he’s headed today.

He walks in the door, and immediately locks eyes with Nathan. Johnny looks away without a second thought. 

If Nathan wants to have a miserable time at school, then he can do that on his own, Johnny thinks. But, I’m going to skip this prison.

As the bell rings, Johnny quickly escapes out of the main hallway. He decides to go around to the back of the school, a part of the school that no one really goes to. His feet walk slowly and steadily, not wanting to get caught and risk a chance at detention-- or even worse, a suspension. He felt like he was walking on bubble wrap, and if he popped even just one measly bubble, the whole world would explode. As he gets to the back door, he carefully turns the knob. 

Unlocked. Perfect.

Johnny opens the door with a cautious hand, and closes it slowly, careful not to make a sound. He starts running as fast as he can away from the school. He decides to go to the local park, where dudes are usually playing hoops until dark. He’s really good; he may only be 5’1 and ten years old, but he’s stronger than the normal fifth grader. He’s played with these type of people before. 

_______

6 months later

It’s middle school. Johnny is opening his mouth as big as the moon, realizing he is no longer on his long vacation anymore. But Johnny doesn’t complain, and gets ready for school as usual, ready to impress all the teachers with his academically gifted brain.

“Have a good day, sweetie!” his mom shouts out the car window. Johnny trots through the school doors and through the front door but there is no squeak. There are no friendly teachers to greet him when he walks through the front door. It’s just him, trying to return to his memories of his elementary school days, but he feels different now. His hands begin to shake, his teeth begin to chatter, and a bead of sweat begins to form on his forehead. This isn’t Treetop Elementary School. This is Heath Middle School. All the people he’s known and loved from elementary school look like they’re big monsters. 

Did they go into some alternate dimension? Johnny feels like there are a million frogs jumping around in his stomach as he enters the kingdom that seems to be middle school. 

“Good morning class!” says his homeroom teacher, Mr. Jansen. “I hope you all feel welcomed here at Heath Middle School, as we will have a fun year here for all of you!” After Mr. Jansen has everyone say their name, favorite ice cream, and favorite TV show, and reviews what we will be learning this year in English, he makes one point that stands out to Johnny.

“And I’m sure as all of you are aware of,” Mr. J starts, “attendance is a part of your grade in middle school. I’m not going to name names, but there is one person in this class who did not have a good attendance record in fifth grade.” Johnny’s eyes went wide. It felt like everyone was staring at him, even Mr. Jansen was staring at him, like the devil was staring at its enemy, or a tiger staring at its prey.

____

A couple of weeks later, Johnny realizes that the work isn’t a breeze anymore. It’s not that difficult for him, but he starts paying attention to school more than before. But, at lunch that day, he starts talking to Nathan about skipping school again. “Bro, one day doesn’t matter,” says Johnny.

“Man,” replies Nathan, “half the grade knows you were skipping school last year, and the teachers know, too. What makes you think that you can skip tomorrow?”

“Because I have a better plan this time. Instead of walking into the school and risking being caught, I’ve decided to just go around the school.”

“What if someone sees you?” Nathan says.

“It’s not a jail, know-it-all. They don’t have security cameras.”

“Fine, whatever. Do whatever you want. We still good for my house after school today?”

“Totally.” Johnny says. Johnny still hasn’t adjusted to the feeling of being in middle school. Not just that people are changing, but that the vibe seems more serious. It’s not a friendly “You did a good job!” anymore or “Do you want to be my friend?” anymore. As he’s thinking about all of this, he notices Mr. Jansen staring at him like he’s about to rob a bank.

I hope they didn’t hear the conversation between me and Nathan.

____

The next day, as he did on that fateful day in 5th grade, he sprung out of bed and ran like a cheetah downstairs. Part of him is so excited to play basketball all day. But, there’s one part of him that tells him that this isn’t a good idea, and he could get caught. He doesn’t listen to that part of him, and when he gets to school, his mom says goodbye to him. He waits for his mom to leave, and then he goes around the school and onto the sidewalk that now seems like a crime scene for what is about to happen. He feels like an intruder, like he’s wearing all black and a ski mask, ready to break the law. As he gets to freedom safely, he doesn’t know why he was so scared of doing this. 

So what, who cares if I don’t get a 100 in every class. I’d rather be playing basketball all day. But, about 1 hour into playing basketball, he sees a car that looks familiar in the distance. He doesn’t worry. Not only does his mom never go this way for any reason, but Johnny plays through trees, so people can’t see him playing.

But as he goes to grab a sip of water, his mom’s furious face emerges from the car window. His muscles tense up, his knees begin to buckle, and a bead of sweat begins to form on his forehead. Then, he spots someone else who looks familiar.

“Hey, why aren’t you at school? You shouldn’t be playing basketball!” Mr. Jansen yells from across the long, wide road that separates the basketball courts from the houses.

“You are in big trouble, young man!” His mom yells. Johnny doesn’t know what to do or how to feel. He feels like there are two dogs barking at him from a distance, ready to come and fight him. Mr. Jansen and his mom stomp towards him furiously like angry elephants.

“This is the last time you will sneak out of school again!” shouts Mr. Jansen. “This isn’t elementary school anymore, buddy!” Johnny begrudgingly retreats into his mom’s car. She drives him back to the school, just staring ahead at the road without saying a word. He feels like he’s just lost his freedom and his entire plan has gone awry, and now he’s just left with nothing.

Johnny gets sent straight to the office when he gets back to school, a place that Johnny is accustomed to, but not this office.

“Well Johnny, I can’t say I’m surprised,” says Mr. Jansen. I mean you skipped 48 out of the 180 days of school last year, and only 4 of them were excused absences. I know that you were playing basketball those 44 days.” Johnny stretches his legs and sinks his neck into his shoulders. He can’t look Mr. Jansen in the eye.

“I know you get into trouble a lot at school, Johnny, but I never would have imagined this,” says his mom. “Plus, you can’t get away with this kind of behavior in middle school. Not everything is just okay anymore, this is a serious issue.”

“But school is so easy!” Johnny says.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s easy, you can’t just skip school whenever you want to to play basketball! Life doesn’t work like that!” says his mom. She pauses. “I’ve heard you say recently that you notice school is getting harder.”

“I mean it is, a little bit,” says Johnny. “But anyways, how did you even know I was at the park?” Mr. Jansen gives him a good long stare. It’s like he’s staring into his soul, like a ghost or a psychic. 

“Well, it was pretty simple, really.” Mr. Jansen laughs. “At the beginning of the year I was onto you, and I wanted to make sure you never escaped school like you did in fifth grade. So, I made sure to keep an eye on your attendance record, and I decided that I would call your mom if you were ever absent for a class, just to make sure that you weren’t sneaking out. When I called your mom this morning, she said that you were not home with her, and said that she did not know where you were if you weren’t at school. But, I knew exactly where you were. So, I told your mom to come drive down to the park with me because you were skipping school again. She was very surprised at the fact that I said ‘again’, and she asked what I meant by that. I told her that you had been skipping school about half the time the second half of last school year; your mom was shocked and drove over with me.”

“See Johnny,” said Johnny’s mom, “you can’t just skip school because it’s easy, because even though you’re extremely smart and school may not be difficult for you, it doesn’t mean you can avoid it. That’s part of your grade as well.”

“Alright,” says Mr. Jansen. “Well, I think you should go back to class. But don’t think you’ll be getting away with this, mister. You’ll be having silent lunch with me for the next week, and you’ll be getting detention with me later this afternoon until 5:00, ok?” Mr. Jansen says.

“Ok, whatever.” Johnny sighs. 

“No, not whatever! You listen to me young man, you will never try to skip school again!” yells Mr. Jansen.

“Ok, I understand.” Johnny says.

“Good,” says Mr. Jansen. 

And with that, Johnny walks down the quiet hallway with Mr. Jansen, except this time, he’s not escaping class, he’s going to class.

He‌ ‌took‌ ‌a‌ ‌deep‌ ‌breath‌ ‌nervously‌ ‌to‌ ‌start‌ ‌at‌ ‌Brown‌ ‌Middle‌ ‌School.‌ ‌He‌ ‌took‌ ‌a‌ ‌shower‌ ‌while‌ ‌thinking‌ ‌how‌ ‌hard‌ ‌it‌ ‌will‌ ‌be‌ ‌to‌ ‌have‌ ‌a‌ ‌new‌ ‌start. He‌ ‌brushed‌ ‌his‌ ‌teeth.‌  ‌and‌ ‌went‌ ‌to‌ ‌bed.‌ ‌‌I‌ ‌need‌ ‌to‌ ‌stay‌ ‌strong‌ ‌and‌ ‌calm‌ ‌down‌ ‌a‌ ‌little‌ ‌bit,‌ ‌‌he‌ ‌thought.‌ ‌Soon‌ ‌he‌ ‌fell‌ ‌asleep‌ ‌dreaming‌ ‌about‌ ‌what‌ ‌it‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌like.‌

 ‌*RING RING*‌ ‌The‌ ‌next‌ ‌morning‌, ‌ his alarm went ‌off. He‌ ‌woke‌ ‌up‌ ‌not‌ ‌wanting‌ ‌to‌ ‌go‌ ‌to‌ ‌school. ‌‌It‌ ‌can’t‌ ‌be‌ ‌that‌ ‌hard‌, ‌right,‌ ‌‌he‌ thought while he ‌slowly‌ ‌walked‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌restroom,‌ ‌brushed‌ ‌his‌ ‌teeth‌ ‌while‌ ‌looking‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌mirror‌ ‌thinking‌, ‌‌YOU’VE‌ ‌GOT‌ ‌THIS,‌ ‌YOU’VE‌ ‌GOT‌ ‌THIS,‌ ‌YOU’VE‌ ‌GOT‌ ‌THIS.‌ ‌‌He‌ ‌then‌ ‌got‌ ‌ready,‌ ‌and‌ ‌took‌ ‌off.‌ ‌He‌ ‌walked‌ ‌slowly‌ ‌downstairs,. When ‌ getting in the car it felt like time was moving slower. He ‌looked‌ ‌around,‌ ‌and‌ ‌took‌ ‌a‌ ‌seat.‌ His‌ ‌mom‌ ‌walked‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌car,‌ ‌put‌ ‌the‌ ‌key‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌ignition‌ ‌switch,‌ ‌turned‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌car. He ‌could‌ ‌hear‌ ‌the‌ ‌silent‌ ‌key‌ ‌turning.‌ ‌

 ‌ “Mom,‌ ‌do‌ ‌I‌ ‌have‌ ‌to‌ ‌go?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌asked‌ ‌nervously.‌ ‌ ‌

“Yes‌ ‌honey,. ‌Don’t‌ ‌worry,‌ ‌you’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌okay,”‌ ‌she‌ ‌said‌ ‌confidently‌ ‌trying‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌him‌ ‌feel‌ ‌better.‌ ‌ ‌

“Thanks‌ ‌mom,”‌ ‌he‌ ‌said,‌ ‌more‌ ‌confident‌ ‌now.‌ 

‌While he‌ ‌was‌ ‌looking‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌cars‌ ‌passing‌ ‌by,‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌still‌ ‌a‌ ‌little‌ ‌anxious‌ ‌and‌ ‌nervous‌ ‌about‌ ‌the‌ ‌new‌ ‌start‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌school.‌ ‌Looking‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌other‌ ‌cars,‌ ‌it‌ ‌felt‌ ‌like‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌trapped‌ ‌inside‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌mind‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌know‌ ‌what‌ ‌to‌ ‌do.‌ ‌A‌ ‌little‌ ‌moments‌ ‌later,‌ one‌ ‌last‌ ‌turn‌ down the road ‌and‌ ‌there‌ ‌it‌ ‌was.‌ ‌He‌ ‌felt‌ ‌that‌ ‌his‌ ‌heart‌ ‌was‌ ‌pounding,‌ ‌faster‌ ‌than‌ ‌ever. It was ‌a‌ ‌brand‌ ‌new‌ ‌start‌ ‌ahead.‌ ‌

‌He‌ ‌took‌ ‌his‌ ‌first‌ ‌steps‌ ‌inside‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌school.‌ ‌‌Whoa‌, ‌this‌ ‌place‌ ‌is‌ ‌huge! ‌‌he‌ ‌thought‌ ‌to‌ ‌

himself. The lobby of the school was big and had a whole lot of space..‌ ‌He‌ ‌couldn’t‌ ‌believe‌ ‌it. ‌He‌ ‌made‌ ‌it,‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌new‌ ‌school.‌ ‌

‌One‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌school’s‌ guidance teachers, Mr. Travers ‌explained‌ ‌everything‌ ‌to‌ 

‌him. He explained where to go. He showed him around the school,

“Follow me, I will show you around,” Mr. Travers said.

“Okay,” the boy said nervously.

They passed by a few classrooms.

“I can show you some of your classes. This is the science classroom,” Mr. Travers said while showing him around the school.

“I can get around easily, I am just a little shy to talk to new people,” the boy said shyly.

“Oh, I can introduce you to some people,” Mr. Travers said, “Do you want me to do that?”

“Sure,” he said, not really wanting to. They walked into one of the classrooms.

“Guys, this is a new student. He just joined Brown, and he will be a part of your team,” Mr. Travers said as he walked in the room.

After that the boy felt more comfortable, he felt like he was in a place he already knew. In his mind, he could picture new friends, and he could not wait. ‌

***

‌ At the end of the day he felt free in the thought that he made it through the first day, and he knew he would do better on the second day. Through the next couple of weeks he did confidently again and again and again. He started participating more in class and joined in a lot of activities and was happy he made new friends.

There was once a 20-year-old boy named Random-Adventure Guy who, every day, asked for knowledge. He could never get enough information but asked people for it. Whenever asked to do something for it, he would do it.

One day, Random-Adventure was eating marshmallows and chocolate balls in milk in the morning with his family, and said, “What’s in this-”

“I am not really sure,” Sally Guy, his mom, interrupted, “But it says it on the back of the box.”

He stretched his arm over the red-and-white plaid cloth on the wood circle supported by wood legs, grabbed a tall red and blue box, lifted the box, and pulled. He read the side of the box and was okay with the answer he got.

After breakfast, he grabbed the gold ball on a slab of wood by the brick wall, which was actually burnt clay, twisted the ball, and pushed. Then, he stepped onto the onyx path jutting through grass and walked to the concrete by the asphalt concrete with vehicles. He saw Lilly Mitchell and ran towards her.

When Random-Adventure Guy reached Lilly, he asked, “Please give me knowledge”

“Well,” she responded, “If you are up for an adventure”

“Firstly, it’s a part of my name. Secondly, I LOVE information.”

“Well, you see, in the ancient city of Yore in Guatemala, there is a temple of Yore, and the scroll of truth lies within, and it is the last treasure still in there. That’s today’s knowledge.”

Then, Random-Adventure went off to the ancient city of Yore and saw a giant gray steppy, almost myan, pyramid in the center of the ruins that were abandoned hundreds of years ago. He immediately and safely navigated to the temple and went in. He continued through a round, almost tubish, downward basalt hallway. He stepped on a trip-wire, and the gray quartzite vertical slab behind him slammed at a rough 90° angle, and a giant granite ball fell behind him. 

He ran for his life, with his arms flailing by his side, but almost fell into a travertine spike pit while thinking if I don't run fast enough, I’ll be crushed. He then jumped, panting.

He saw a doorway and went through it. The ceiling was full of sharp granite points, the floor was damaged mudstone with diorite pressure plates, and dacite walls. He carefully went through the room via dodging the pressure plates, while thinking if I step on one of those black-and-white pressure plates, the roof will fall on me and there will be no way out.

After that room was a looted treasure room with runes on the walls. Then a burial ground, which was carved of sandstone, of ancient kings and queens. Random-Adventure felt like he was being watched, but he was the only one there. After that room was a steppy hole-filled Diabase downward hallway. He avoided all trip-wires.

He walked into a fork in the temple. One way was green and lush and full of plants with flowing water and a roaring waterfall by an empty smashed glass case. The other was fully obsidian with holes in the walls. He went into the obsidian room. He tripped on a string. Wait… a string? Arrows quickly thumped out of the holes.

Random-Adventure Guy crawled out of the obsidian room. There was only one last room, and he crawled towards it. He got back up on his feet and walked in.

He looked around the room and saw a papyrus cylinder on the floor. “FINALLY!” He exclaimed excitedly, “THE SCROLL OF TRUTH!” he opened it. 

It read, “Yes, this is the scroll of truth. The truth can hurt. Nothing is scarier than the facts. Anything can spread misinformation.” He disappointedly went out the way he came in without triggering any traps.

The next day, Random-Adventure Guy once again ate chocolate balls and marshmallows in milk in the morning with his family. When he was done, he grabbed the gold ball on a wooden slab by the burnt clay wall, twisted it, and pushed. He stepped on the black stone path judding through grass and saw Lilly Mitchell. “Want more knowledge?” she asked.

“No,” he responded, “because I made a groundbreaking discovery which-”

“YOU WHAT!” Lilly interrupted his response angrily.

Then, the earth split in half because the ground broke, and at a specific angle in space, it looked like the earth exploded. Then, a giant flying Slurpee from 7-11 stitched the earth together. The material was durable. Then he explained what he read in the scroll of truth.

THE END!

"Why?" is what I always asked myself, when I got the call, I couldn't believe it. It was like someone stabbed me in my heart. My best friend, Leo from childhood, who was always at my side, was found floating on the shore. Now the only thing I want to know is who and why. I decided to take a month off work. Where we both worked for the government, he was a file clerk, and I am an investigator. Just last week, we kayaked down the river together. He had mentioned that he wanted to go on a trip and left right away.

"I don't understand, why would you leave your family, your kids for all this time?" I said.

"You don't understand I have to go. I can't stay here," Leo shot back.

I couldn't understand, "But why, what's wrong here?" he sped away on his boat.

Thinking back on the phone call I received, I tried to remember all the details as the police questioned me. The weird thing is that they found Leo's prized possession, his speed boat floating nearby. The police also asked me if I knew that he had a second phone with a whole other number on him. I was now positive Leo had lied to me. For the past year, he had been living a double life.

Now that I think about it, he seemed busy for a file clerk the last couple of years. 

"Why are you going on another trip if you just got back from a 2-week trip?" I said, confused. 

"It's an emergency; I have to visit family in France," Leo said with an unconvincing face, his eyes looking everywhere except at me.

Wait, he didn't have family in France. Why did he keep lying to me? They didn't allow me to take the case.  I called the Chief of Police and asked him to tell me more information.

"I can't tell you anything more than I already have. It's not solved yet, so I can't tell you anything more that we have found," says the Chief.

"Just a little more information so I can solve the case."

"I advise you to let us do our job and stay out of it," he hangs up the phone.

Why did he not tell me anything? Did they find more information? I decided to go back where they found the boat. Driving, as the fresh breeze from the ocean comes through my window, I was thinking, why would he ever come here, so far from his home. In the beginning, it didn't look like anything interesting was around. Just when I was about to leave, I noticed something had washed up on some rocks nearby. It was a notebook. When I opened it, I knew right away it was his. The handwriting was exactly the same, even though it was all blurry and waterlogged.  It was full of names and phone numbers that didn't make sense to me. It was as if I was reading a foreign language. Why did he have this?

  I got home, exhausted. I was shocked by all the new information I was finding out. I had been friends with him all this time. How had I not noticed this? I laid on my bed and tried to add everything up. Was he a criminal? Was he in the Mafia? Did he have a second family? I soon fell asleep. The next day I called my friend from the forensics department and asked him if I could  have a look at Leo’s speed boat. I wanted to see if I could find out any new clues. I didn't recognize the boat at first. It was jammed packed with stuff thrown around that I've never seen before. It was mostly just clothes that he had never worn. There was so much junk that it would take days to go through all of it. After looking around for a while, my friend gave me the signal to wrap it up. As I was about to go, I noticed a large barrel that I had never seen before. The feeling in my gut told me to move it. As soon as I moved it, a piece of the boat fell off, showing a tiny hole that was just big enough to fit the little cookie box that was hidden inside... When I open the box, it is packed with at least 20 fake passports and visas. I was shocked. Why did he have this?  I heard footsteps coming towards me, I took everything, hid it under my jacket, put the stuff back, and got out of there as fast as possible.

           At home, I laid everything out on the table to look at it more closely. The passports are all for people in China. Why did he want to bring all these people from China to the United States? I decided to call my boss, Dave, and tell him what I found.

My boss, not seeming shocked at all, about what I just told him, said "I have to tell you something about Leo. The government instructed him to help prisoners from China  come back to America. He was supposed to bring them passports and some money this time before they caught him." 

I was shocked,"Why didn't he tell me?"

"Leo was told to keep everything a secret. We picked him because we thought no one would have suspected him,” said Dave.

Now everything made sense. Leo was killed helping others. Today, I try to  look at things from all points of view. I tried hard not to judge people. I take the time to find out who they are and their stories.  When I found out all this information about Leo, I thought he was a horrible person who wanted to leave his family to start a new life. He was helping people escape, so they could be free in America, helping people led him to losing his life. Now I know why Leo lost his life.

“You can not date Ben Adler,” Ryan said, looking into his sister Olivia's bright blue eyes. 

“Why not? I’m 13, I’m old enough that I can do what I want.” Her usual sass wavered for a moment as Ryan stared at her.

“You aren’t old enough, trust me.” Ryan looked over at his sister. She was more confident than he had expected her to be on her first date. She was wearing a glistening pink dress that sparkled in the bright light of her freshly painted, pink bedroom. Her perfectly white teeth in a smug smile bothered him in a way he couldn’t explain.”Well, if you must go out with Ben Adler, at least fix your hair.” He reached over and was about to begin braiding it when she swatted his hand away.

“I like it this way.”

“But…”

“Just let me go, Ryan. I’ll be fine.” 

Ryan stared in disbelief as his sister walked out of the room, without even a glance back at him. He should’ve known Ben would be a bad influence on her. He was a slob. Once, when Olivia had invited him over, he had grabbed a bag of chips, spilled them in Ryan's room, and hadn’t bothered to clean them up. He was bad for her, and they both knew it. Ryan pictured his smug face, smiling. Waiting to smash his sister’s heart into a million tiny pieces.

 She didn’t know what was best for herself. Ryan did.

__________________________________

The dark and cloudy day muted every last ray of sunlight. It was so dark it was practically night. He loved his sister. He had loved his sister. He thought of all of the fun times they had together -- sitting on the carpeted floor and playing with trains, having epic stuffed animal wars that spanned days’ worth of time, comforting each other when they were scared.

His sister’s murder was he worst night of his life. Even though they hadn’t found the body, the blood all over the walls and rug told the whole story. Horrible violence, written large.

Hot burning tears dribbled down his cheeks. He looked at all the flowers laid out. It brought back memories of his Mom’s passing only a few years before.

Despite the massive ominous evidence, he believed that his sister could still be alive. She was the most physically and mentally strong person he had ever met. 

He tried talking to the police. He had to convince them, but they wouldn't listen. He tried talking to his dad. Maybe he would share the optimism. Deep down he knew that if his dad wasn’t going to listen to him, who would? But his dad just stared coldly, angrily into the darkness.

Ryan was panicked. He needed to do something.

---------------------------------------

Ryan sat at the small security desk. He panned through the footage for the hundredth time. He began to doubt whether there was even anything here. In the six months he had worked at Eddie's Guitars, he hadn’t found one meaningful clue. The only thing he knew for sure was that this was where his sister was last seen. The answer must be here, somewhere…

His manager at Eddie’s had been manning the store when it happened and had told him every detail he knew, which wasn’t much. He panned through the footage for another hour. Flipping from camera to camera, and speeding through hour’s worth of material every few minutes. A headache pounded at the front of his skull as he leaned over to remove his CD from the boombox he had sitting in front of him. The plastic surface slipped cooly under his fingertips. He picked it up and looked at it. It was a special edition of Master of Puppets by Metallica. It was a store copy, but it was unique because the label had printed it backwards. His eyes widened as an idea came to him. 

Backwards

In all of the time he had been looking through the security footage, he had never looked backwards. He had only looked at the footage on the day she had disappeared and forward. It had never occurred to him before that she could have disappeared on any day before that.

With newfound enthusiasm, he scrolled back to May 15th, 2 days before she had gone missing. After a few minutes, he found what he was looking for. He saw footage of his sister walking past the store and into Wilton Woods. 

Ryan was so exhilarated he didn’t even care what his boss would say. He ran out the door and heard his boss yell from behind him. He ran towards the woods, his heart pounding, and his palms sweating. The cold air burned his lungs, and every time he let out a breath, a small fog cloud erupted from his mouth. He listened as the asphalt crunched beneath his feet after every step.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he arrived at the woods. The trees were bare of leaves, and they covered the ground in different shades of brown, red, and orange. His heart beat hard in his chest, and adrenaline pumped through his veins. He continued walking and began looking for any signs of life. He walked, and walked, looking for footprints, and suddenly, he felt a small squish under his shoe. 

He looked down and saw a dead squirrel. He looked at it and saw dried blood covering the side of it. He noticed that around it were barely visible footprints. He followed them for several minutes and then finally encountered a small lean-to.

Inside, he noticed a person. She wore ragged clothes and had light blonde hair. She wore a t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt was filthy and torn, and the jeans were frayed at the bottoms and covered in pine sap. 

Her hair was shaved short, but the blond roots still showed. 

Ryan felt tears come to his eyes. It was her. It was his sister.

“Olivia!” He ran full speed at her and wrapped her in a bear hug. His tears were even bigger now, practically the size of golf balls. Her eyes went wide in fear.

“Ryan, how did you find me?”

“Well, I started working at Eddie's Guitars. It was the last place you were seen and…”

“You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“You could’ve been followed. Someone could be right behind you.”

“You’re being ridiculous Olivia. Let’s go home”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no.”

“Why not? We can spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I can’t.”

“What? Of course, you can.”

“You don’t understand!”

“I understand perfectly.”

“No, you don’t!” she said, exasperated. Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m insane!”

“What?” Ryan felt like he was sinking in quicksand. His confusion enveloped him like a blanket. “No, you’re not.”

“I am! Something is wrong with me! I’m broken inside” She was yelling now. Rain had started to fall through the trees. “I hear voices at night, I find people terrifying, I see people who aren’t really there. Mom was the only one who knew about it. She was trying to help me get through it. But then…she was gone and I was out of options. There was only one way out.” She started crying. “I’m sorry Ryan. It was my only way to get out.” She was sobbing now, and she began hyperventilating. 

“Olivia, it’s okay. I’m here for you.” He put his arm around her and they sat down. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The soft rustling of leaves floating to the ground, and the final sounds of birds and small animals before the cold winter absorbed them.

“So, what do we do now?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t know.” She looked at him. “Are they still looking for me?” Ryan shifted awkwardly. 

“No. I’m the only one. Everyone else stopped looking months ago.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Ryan exploded. “I’ve been searching for you since you went missing 8 months ago. It’s been my whole life goal! It would be better for you if you came home with me.” 

“No, it wouldn’t! I know what is best for me. Not you!”

Ryan took a deep breath.

“What can I do? I want to help but I need you to explain what is going on right now..”

“Okay. After mom died, I struggled. I needed to get help, but Dad wouldn’t listen to me. So…” She paused, and took a deep breath. “I faked my own death.”

“You mean you faked you own murder?”

“I know it sounds foolish now. Honestly, I thought you guys would figure me out immediately, but you didn’t. I have been hunting for myself, and building my own shelters since I left. I’ve learned how to survive the hard way, with no teacher or support.”

“Wow.” Ryan mused for a minute. “Well, I never gave up on you and I’m not starting now. What can I do to help?”

“Just leave.”

“What?”

“Go! Leave me, and tell the authorities that you found my body somewhere. That way, if anyone really is looking for me, they’ll stop.”

Ryan thought for a moment. He pulled out his phone and did a quick search. He tapped to dial and waited. It rang and rang again. His pulse quickened. He was doing what he had to do. It was no longer about protecting Olivia. He just had to help her.

“Nation Psychiatric Hotline, how can I help you?...”

Mary stares at the pale blue sky, watching as the clouds move inch by inch. The teacher calls on her, “Mary, can you come up here and solve this problem?” Mary looks at the problem on the board and freezes. She regrets losing focus, she slowly walks to the board and looks to her friend Jen for help. 

“Do you know the answer to this question?” Mary whispers. 

Jen whispers back, “No, sorry,” as Mary walks by.

 Mary then thinks to herself, why’d you do that, if you kept focus this wouldn't have happened. She looks back at all the other students to see if anyone else would help her. Her heart starts beating faster and faster. She looks at the question and tries to remember how to solve it. She writes ⅛ on the board. Is this right? No, it can’t be. What if-. 

“Yes, good job Mary!” 

Mary kicks a pebble across the bright orange sidewalk as she makes her way home. 

“The Sun’s already set?”  I should start hurrying up before mom and dad get worried, Mary thinks to herself. She slips her arms through the straps on her backpack and starts jogging. 

She checks her watch at 6:30?! She starts running as fast as she can. She arrives outside of her house three minutes later. 

Dad’s going to kill me! Mary starts thinking of an excuse to say when her parents ask why she's so late. Mary snaps her fingers. I’ll say I was doing homework with a friend. She takes two steps forward and hears a crack. She looks at the ground and sees a pile of glass and thinks, maybe someone broke something and didn’t clean it up. She walks onto the road to avoid stepping on the glass. She turns the corner to her house and freezes. She sees the door wide open and the windows shattered. The bag slides off of her shoulders and Mary runs inside. 

“Dad! Mom!” 

She checks every room but they’re not there. The panicking starts and notices a note on the kitchen counter. I’ve taken and poisoned your parents, and you'll have three days to complete, a favor I give you. You will be rewarded with an antidote and your parents back. The location is Vermont, Maple Street. There's a man in a bar named Adam. Talk to him for more information. Good luck! 

Mary falls to the ground sobbing. She cries herself asleep on the dusty wooden floor. Mary wakes up at 5:28 AM, and decides that she's going to take a taxi to Vermont. Mary searches the house for some money for the taxi fare. Then she remembers, “My piggy bank!”. 

She goes to her room and spots a piggy bank in a shadowy corner of the room. She picks it up by the body. She looks it in the eyes and throws it firmly against the wall. Money and clay pieces go everywhere. She carefully avoids the sharp pieces and grabs the money. Twenty Five, Thirty-Five, Fifty-Five, and Eighty. This should be more than enough to pay for the taxi. Mary puts on her running shoes and heads to the city. Once she makes it there, she calls for a taxi to pick her up. After Fifteen minutes a taxi comes by to pick her up. She gets in the taxi and hands the driver Forty dollars.

“To Vermont, please.” 

“Why so far?” 

“I have some family waiting for me there.” 

The taxi driver puts on music and starts driving. Mary checks her watch, 7:49 AM. “How long will this take?” 

“Around four hours.” Mary closes her eyes and goes to sleep. Mary wakes up and checks her watch at 12:28 PM. 

“Are we here?” 

“Yeah, which street would you like to be dropped off on?” 

“Maple Street, preferably” 

“Okay.”

They arrive at Maple Street, “Thank you!” 

“No problem.” 

The taxi drives away and Mary pulls out the note from the house. Mary starts looking for a bar. Then in the corner of her eye, she sees the one, “The Bar”. She opens the doors and walks in. She glances around and sees three people all sitting down around a large, white, rectangular table. 

She walks up to one of them and asks “Is your name Adam, by any chance?” “Nope, my name is Jerrald.”

       She walked slowly to the next guy. He was looking forward and was dressed all black with sunglasses on. “Is your name by any chance A-Adam?” 

“What if it is, what's your business?” Mary steps back. 

“I-I’m here for the favor” 

         The man takes off his glasses and turns towards her. Mary’s legs start shaking and she loses eye contact with him. 

          “You must be Mary then, come with me.” 

                Mary follows him into a room in the back of the bar. He shows her a map of a cave, “You must bring me a necklace located at the bottom of this cave, bring it back and I'll give you the location of your parents and the antidote.” 

“What if I fail?” 

“You don't get the antidote and your parents die.” 

Mary gazes at the map, “Inside of Mount Ellen?” 

“Yes, I will supply you with the needed equipment.” 

`“What do I need to do now?” 

            “Get some rest in the room upstairs, you'll start tomorrow at 5:30.” Mary opens the door and continues upstairs. Her steps create loud creaking noises as she walks up to each wooden staircase. She walks down the hallway and opens the room door. As she walks in, a spiderweb gets caught in her face. She panics and waves her arms around in front of her to try to break the web. She slowly opens her eyes and walks into the dim room. She sees a dusty bed and a closet next to it. Slowly she makes it to the closet while avoiding walking into more webs. Inside the closet is a backpack, she slowly unzips it and finds a headlight, rope, construction hat, a flashlight, a radio, a first aid kit, some water, food, and boots. 

“I guess this is my equipment.” She put all the equipment back in the bag and cleans the dust off of her bed. She checks her watch, 7:56. Mary folded her blanket and uses it as a pillow and fell asleep. Mary’s eyes slowly unfold as she is woken up by a scratching noise coming from the closet. She grabs the flashlight from her backpack and flashes it towards the sound. She sees a mouse scraping the wall. Mary quickly stands up on her bed. She scavenges around to try to find something to scare it away with. She finds a plastic bottle on the floor and throws it towards the mouse. The mouse is startled and runs into a hole in the wall. Mary gives out a relieved sigh and checks her watch, 5:13. 

“I should probably get ready.” She prances off the bed and lands on the cold floorboards. She makes her way through the hallway making creaks every other step. 

Waiting down the stairs is Adam, “Are you ready?” 

“I thought you said were going to start at 5:30, it only 5:13” 

“It takes time to get there, I'll give you two minutes to get ready.”

            Mary sprints back upstairs and back into her room. She scans the room for the backpack and she spots it on the bed. She grabs it and runs back downstairs to start the trip to the cave. 

“I'm guessing you're ready now” 

“Yes, I am” 

   Adam signals to Mary to follow him. Adam opens the door to the driver's seat and Mary hops into the passenger seat. Adam hands Mary a map of the cave, “You'll need this when you're in the cave” 

“Where's the necklace going to be located?” 

  “It's going to be at the heart of the cave, so it should be in the middle.” Adam reaches over and points at the middle of the map. 

“Right over there, that's where it should be” 

“Is there any type of trap I need to look out for?” 

“Not necessarily.” 

Mary thinks to herself “Why haven't you gotten it yourself, why do you want me to do it?” 

  Adam starts the car and they start driving. When they arrive, Adam gets out of the car, “I'm going to check if it's still safe to go into” 

  Mary nods her head and starts unpacking the equipment from the backpack and putting it on. In the corner of her eye, she sees Adam setting something up at the entrance of the cave. “Is this a setup?” Mary takes off the equipment and peers through the windshield to observe what he's doing. She sees Adam setting up a bomb at the

entrance of the cave. Mary swiftly ducks down and tries to make sure he doesn't see her.

  Mary looks through the glove compartment and finds a golden necklace and gun. “Am I going to have to use this?” Mary picks up the gun and starts trembling. She starts rocking side to side imagining what it would look like to shoot him. She slaps herself to get her mind off of it and puts the gun in her pocket. She puts the equipment on and steps out of the car. 

“Do you have everything you need?” 

“Yes, I bought everything in the backpack” 

“Okay, good luck” 

“Oh yeah, one more thing, what does the necklace look like?” 

“All of its gold, no gems or diamonds.”

Mary pulls out the necklace from the car, “Like this one?” 

“W-Where’d you get that?” 

  Mary ignores the question and takes out her gun, “Where are my parents?” 

  Adam reaches into his pocket for a gun and Mary pulls the trigger. The shot from Mary’s gun landed in Adam’s chest. Mary searches Adam’s lifeless body and finds the car keys. She searches the back pocket and finds the detonator for the bomb. Mary throws the detonator into the forest and walks to the car. She turns on the car and realizes the gas tank is empty. Mary looks around the car for a gas tank. She goes to the trunk of the car and finds her parents tied to each other,

“Mom! Dad!” Mary unties them and hugs them. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Mary searches the floor for the antidote. 

“We feel fine.” 

“Did Adam lie about poisoning them?” 

Mary helps them out of the trunk, 

“Where are we?” 

“Were in Vermont” 

Mary takes a gas tank out of the trunk and fills up the car. 

“Are you well enough to drive?” Mary asks 

Mary’s Father responds  “I am but I don't know where to go” 

“It will probably be better if I drive then.”  Mary and her parents Make it back to their house.

 Mary’s parents are now in the hospital and Mary’s walking to school. Mary sees her friend Jen across the street, 

“Hi, Jen!” she yells. Jen was alarmed and jumped back. Jen looked over the street and saw Mary waving her hand. Jen runs across the street, 

“Where were you?” 

“I went on vacation with family” 

“Where?” 

“Vermont” Jen and Mary continue talking until they make it to school. Mary sits down in her assigned seat and lays her head on the cold, hard table. 

“Mary! Are you sleeping?” 

Mary jolts her head up 

“No, Ms. Vanlandingham” 

“Then can you come up and solve this?” Mary gets up out of her seat and starts walking to the board, 

“I can help you if you want,” Jen said 

“No thanks.” 

  Mary takes a glance at the problem and writes 17 on the board, “Looks like you were paying attention, marvelous work, Mary!”

James bounded along the sandstone blocks and looked upwards towards the glass ceiling of the arena. He could just see it, the next checkpoint. Hidden by the yellow, foggy sky, but still visible. Just a few stories before I get there. James leaped skywards and gripped the next stone, and pulled himself up. He glanced down at the rising lava level. How is it so close to me already? James started sprinting down the blocks, nearly tripping over and falling to his inglorious death. 

Others behind him quickened their pace too, and all managed to stay on their feet, except for one poor soul. He was nudged by his fellow player and only held on by the edge. 

“Help me! Please! I don’t want to die---please help me.” The man trembled and looked at James with pleading eyes. 

James looked down; the lava was almost there, he wouldn’t have enough time. Screw it. I’ll still save him no matter what. 

James turned his body and ran against the current. 

The hanging man, no, a boy, James saw running back.

“Here! Help me, help me!” 

“Here, hold on to my wrist.” 

The young man grabbed on, his fingernails leaving imprints on James’ wrist. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. I owe you my life.” 

“I was only doing what I had to. C’mon, the lava is only a level under us. We have to hurry! 

James bounced upwards towards the checkpoint, taking strides that were twice as big as usual. He heard the young man’s footsteps echoing behind him, also powering forward at full speed. James’ legs felt like they were on fire, despite not having the lava reach him yet. He stole a glance below his feet. The lava was just about two feet away. 

How was that possible? It was nowhere near me when I last checked. James jumped and clambered up a ladder. He saw it, the checkpoint. It was right there, so close; James could even smell it. James bounded towards the checkpoint, hope filled his chest. 

And then it hit his leg. A terrible monster gripped his hamstring, biting down with those sharp knives.

“Ah!” James grimaced and hobbled towards the checkpoint, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Almost there, so close. The pain was getting worse, and he was getting slower. James felt the bubbling hot lava right behind him, ready to devour him alive. With the last of his strength, he pushed off hard with his strong leg. Time seemed to slow, and James wasn’t even sure if he could make it. 

James hit the hard, stone floor of the checkpoint; just seconds before the lava swallowed him. Panting, he looked around for the young man he had saved. 

He wasn’t there. 

“Damn it,” he mumbled, slamming the floor with his palm, “Didn’t even survive.” 

You shouldn’t have saved that weakling. Survival of the fittest, remember? 

No, it was the right thing to do. You should always help others. Not if it means killing yourself. 

So were we just going to let him die?

James pulled at his hair and repeatedly shook his head, “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” The entire room went silent and stared at James; James huffed and puffed and glared at the other players. 

“What are all of you staring at? Mind your own business!” The players looked away and started chattering away again. James ran his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself. 

“Attention players, please prepare yourself for round five of our parkour,” announced the PA. 

James slowly got up and aligned himself with the other players just behind the white line. The clock ticked down; three, two, one. The doors opened, leading to the map. 

And then they were off. 

____ 

James hopped along the rough platforms, racing to get to the next checkpoint. He felt the heat of the inferno stroke his skin. James pulled off his gray shirt, darkened by sweat. He tossed it aside and accelerated, effortlessly jumping off the ledge. James hit the next platform and rolled forward to lessen the impact. He leaped off the edge again, grabbing the

border of the next platform. Pulling himself up, James continued with his journey to the top. He was ready to climb up the ladder to the next checkpoint when he heard a cry from behind. James took his hand off the rung and turned around. A wrinkled man with graying black hair hung from the platform, and he couldn’t pull himself up. 

“Ayuda! Help me! I’m not strong enough to pull myself up.” The other players never bothered to even look at him, and they continued along. The man’s widened eyes locked with James’ eyes. “You there, señor! Por favor amigo, help me climb up. Please! I need the money for my family. I promised them I would be back with the money.” A shadow passed through James’ face, and he smiled darkly. “I think I’ll pass this time,” James turned away, 

“Because I’m not your amigo.”