“Emily is it you? Are...are you anonymous?” I felt the tears welling up-what am I doing I should start at the beginning, shouldn’t I? Okay fine, it all started Senior year. It was the beginning of February and I had a horrible case of the crushes. Okay maybe a bit more than a crush. Joshua Woods, my best friend since 2nd grade. Who would have thought right? I had it really bad and it was February the month of love! So I sent him a note. 

Well technically it was a love letter but I like note more. I spent the entire  evening of February 13th writing the anonymous note, then the morning of the 14th I slipped it into his locker. 

I spent the whole day in panic, what if he knows it’s me? What if he finds out and doesn't feel the same way? What if he- 

“Emily there you are! I’ve been looking for you all day! Did you hear? Someone put an anonymous love letter in my locker! Let’s eat lunch on the bleachers so we can talk. Got to get to chemistry, see ya later!”

And like a lightning bolt he was gone. How was I going to do this? I never should have written that note. 

We met on the bleachers that afternoon to discuss the letter.

“Who do you think it is?” He suddenly gasps, “What if it’s Tabitha Smith?!”

“You mean the captain of the cheer squad, yeah DEFINITELY.” I said in my most sarcastic voice.

“I mean you never know.”

The next few weeks went by the same way, him guessing who it could be and me, trying my best to go along with it. However, inside with every name he mentions a bit of my heart crumbles.

It has been another week and he still hasn’t figured it out, but he has been suspecting certain people more than once. 

“Who do you think it is?” Josh usually asks this question, I would always respond with- “You’re right it’s probably___” - I usually fill in the blank with whoever he thinks it is that day. But today was different, I’d had enough.

“Maybe it’s from Chris.” 

“What?! H-how? W-why? Why would you think that?!”

“You never know that handwriting is pretty messy, it could be from a boy.” 

“Uh no. That handwriting is clearly from a girl, I have no idea what you mean by messy. This is really neat, at least it’s neater than mine, and you know how neat my handwriting is.”

“That’s true. I don’t know what I was thinking, you’re right it’s probably Jan.” 

Josh nods and goes into detail about how the letter is probably from, who is it today? Oh who cares he spent the rest of lunch rambling on about what’s-her-name.

After another week I finally relaxed. Josh has died down his craziness and I can finally focus on school again. If he hasn’t figured it out by now I don’t think he ever will, I thought happily. Then it happened. My worst nightmare happened. At 11:22 AM. I was in Ms. Poms’ class, (thankfully she wasn’t strict about phones). At exactly 11:22 AM the whole school’s phones buzzed and on every single phone a message popped up. That message read “guess it waznt a mystery after all”. Connected to that message was a video. Of the hallway Josh’s locker was in. About 30 seconds into the video you see me in my valentines day red. Putting in Josh’s locker. A love letter sized piece of paper. 

After the video finishes with me walking back down the hallway, I glanced up. When I did, the whole class was staring right at me.  I walked, more like ran, up to Ms. Poms’ desk and asked to go to the bathroom, before she could even answer I was out the door. My new sneakers squeaked against the freshly cleaned floor as I flew down the hallway. 

OMG! Josh totally saw that! What am I going to do?!  I eventually go back to class and I do my best to avoid Josh. If I knew he had his next class in that hallway I would go in the opposite direction. When lunchtime rolled around I was scared. This is the one “class” I was worried about. If I ate in the library then he wouldn’t see me, I thought, no that would be the first place he would look.I’ll just have to brave the cafeteria. 

I walked in and felt everyone’s eyes on me. All conversations seemed to stop. Then I saw him, he started to get up from his seat. I ran. I ran right into the girls bathroom. 

Minutes later I heard footsteps, then they stopped outside the bathroom door. I heard them knock three times, then they stopped for about 30 seconds and then another two knocks were heard. It was him, using her knock. 

Whenever I went over to his house I always did that exact knock before entering. I started that knock in 4th grade, I had honestly forgotten about it.  Now he was using it on me. 

After a minute of silence I heard him leave. Then after another 10 minutes I left the bathroom...and went straight to the nurse’s office. 15 minutes later my parents were called and I was sent to go get my stuff from my locker. 

I had just packed all my things up when I heard pounding steps coming closer then, they stopped behind me. 

“Emily is all this true? Emily is it you? A-are you anonymous?” I felt the tears welling up. I start to rise from the spot in front of my locker. I can’t do this, I have to go.

“I have to go.” I say as I try to go around him. He blocks me and takes a step forward. “My parents are waiting for m-” Then he kissed me. Joshua Francis Wood (yes you heard right Francis) kissed me. Now I know what you’re probably thinking: that was so cliché it hurts, and you’re right but that’s what happened. 

“There’s no way.” 

“Yes way.”

“No way.”

“Uh, yes way, just ask your dad. Honeyyy!” 

“Yes?” 

“He doesn’t believe me!” 

“Why not?”

“It’s SO cliché dad!” 

“Isn’t that why it’s amazing?”

 “I guess, but it would have been better if he like, I don’t know, oh oh what if he wasn’t strong enough and she went right past him when he tried to block her and she got away! Now that would be exciting!” 

“Well sweetie, when you have the opportunity you can write your own ending. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Sweet dreams, I love you!” 

“Love you too, Mom.”   

Do you know the term “Third Wheel”? Bet you probably do, it’s a rather common phrase. But in case you don’t, let me explain. A third wheel is one who is usually excluded from a group of two but is kept around for different reasons.

     Now, you may be wondering “Are you telling me this because you are a third wheel?” Yes, I am telling you this because I am a third wheel. I didn’t realize it at the beginning of the school year, but now, I understand that they are not including me because they don’t really like me. To understand how this all happened, we must go back to the beginning of 6th grade.

     **********

      It was the first day of August. My alarm was blaring in my face, making that annoying beeping sound I hated so much. I seriously considered chucking my alarm out the window, but I kept my cool and put it off. I lazily got up and walked across my bed into my bathroom.

     My room isn’t much really. It only contains a twin sized bed, a wardrobe, a couple of movie posters, a clock, and a desk for doing homework and writing. Next to my bed is a bathroom. I entered the bathroom and put on the lights. Everything felt cold in the bathroom. I hate feeling cold.

     I looked at myself in the mirror. What I saw was a boy. A dark-skinned boy with short black hair and small brown eyes. He was really, really skinny. Like skin and bones skinny. It’s quite pathetic. The boy wore a white t-shirt and red pajama pants. He wasn’t a beauty or anything, but that was okay.

    I turned on the sink and slapped some water on my face. The cool water trickled down my face. I got a towel and dried my face. My face felt better than when I woke up. I finally brushed my teeth. After about two minutes of brushing, my mouth felt fresh and clean. I combed my hair, put on deodorant, and left the bathroom.

     I changed into a red shirt that was unbuttoned midway, skinny black pants and flat shoes. I checked the mirror to see how I looked. “I’m lookin’ slick!” I thought to myself. I finally left my room. I jumped downstairs and into the large kitchen.

    I helped myself to cereal and milk. It tasted great. I savored every last bit of it. I was feeling cheery. I was excited to go to school. “That cheeriness will probably die out after the first week.” That didn’t matter though. May as well be happy about school for a little bit, I guess. Mum came down and helped me get packed. She drove me to school.

    The school I go to is Johnson Middle School. I got to see the tour and the school is pretty big. It’s two stories high and really, REALLY wide. It makes my elementary school look like a midget.

    Entering it again was a different experience. I was once blown away by how large the school. I later noticed that the school was crowded. Traffic in the drive-way lane, parents sending there kids out in so many directions, students walking from home to school. It was chaotic. My mom dropped me off at the entrance of the school. I told her bye and left, now entering a new world.

     There is literally NOTHING you could’ve done to prepare me for middle school. When I entered, I was walking with gigantic, deep throated 8th graders. Weird, quirky 7th graders crossed my path. Everybody was in their own unique style and fashion. It was strange in an amazing sort of way.

The 6th grade hallway was on the second story. I took a left from the entrance, passed the library, took another left and walked up the steps. On the top floor is a huge hallway divided into three sections. Each section had four classes. The middle section was a bathroom. My teacher, Mrs. Heckleworth was at the end of the end of the 6th grade hallway and the first classroom. Mrs. Heckleworth taught science. I trudged across confident. During the walk I saw that everyone else was nervous and confused. The looks on their faces made me question my confidence.

I finally reached the end of the hallway. I entered my teacher’s class.

The class was large and crowded. There seemed to be at least 12 students, the majority girls. At the front of the classroom was a large desk, covered in neatly stacked papers. I saw that the class walls were covered with movie posters. The desks were paired in threes, and there were 27 desks. I scanned the room, looking for who to sit with. I saw two kids who were sitting at the very back. One was tall and stalky. He had messy black hair that was dyed blue on the tips. He was pale and was talking to a boy to the desk next to him. This boy was slightly shorter and had brown hair that was undercut. He was tan. The guys looked cool enough and there was an extra seat left so I walked up to them and said, “Is anybody seating there?”

The brown-haired kid looked up at me. He gave me a quick look and said

“Nobody is seating here. You can if you want to.” He seemed friendly.

 I took a seat and removed my backpack.

 “What’s your name?” I asked the brown-haired kid.

“Liam.” He replied.

“I’m Noah.” Said the black-haired kid.

“Jacob’s my name.” I said to them.

“Cool.” Noah said awkwardly

“Cool.” I replied.

     We all sat their awkwardly. Then I said, “Do you know where Mrs. Heckleworth is?”

“Nah.” Liam and Noah said in unison.

“Teachers are usually here early on the first day of school.” Liam said.

     We all looked at the entrance of the classroom. Five minutes of talking later, Mrs. Heckleworth entered the classroom. All we really did was learn each other’s names. After that, I went to the next class and the NEXT class. Coincidentally, Liam and Noah had the same classes that I did.

     During the first couple months, Liam, Noah and I were very close friends. We talked a lot during lunch break, though I sat across from them, so It was hard to join in their conversation. Whenever we had to do group projects, we usually did them together. If we could only work with one partner though, Noah and Liam worked together. None of them worked with me for the duo projects. It didn’t bother me though. I just took it that they knew each other longer than I did, so naturally they would want to work together more often.

     Recently though I started to notice something. Liam and Noah started to act differently around me. During lunch now, it was a fun game to tease me. I didn’t think much of it until Noah called me an extremely offensive word. While we were walking up the stairs to class, I told him to shut up, and that he was being a racist. Mrs. Buck, my 4th period teacher overheard me.

     “Who’s being a racist?” She asked in a stern voice.

     “Nobody,” I said nervously. “We’re talking about a classmate from elementary school.

     “He was a racist?” She said. It felt like she didn’t believe me.

     “Um…yeah he was.” I replied.

     “Okay…” Mrs. Buck left and walked up the stairs with the rest of her class.

     Noah apologized for the word he used, and I reluctantly forgave him. but he and Liam stilled teased me anyway.

**********

     Because it was January (Which is the most boring month of the school year.), Liam and Noah, just like everyone else, wanted something exciting to happen.

     And they were going to be that exciting thing.

     See, since the beginning of the school year Liam and Noah were…agitators. They were like the class clowns: Of every class I was in. If we were supposed to be doing class work silently, they would moan loudly. REALLY loudly. And you knew what type of moaning it was meant to sound like.

     They would often get caught by the teachers, and 9 out of 10 times I just happen to be there. And of course, the teachers always ask “Why do you hang out with these…students.” And I always respond with “They’re my friends.” But when I leave, I wonder Why do I hang out with them? It’s not like they treat me as an equal. But I guess it’s because I’m too used to it.

     But then enters another component. You see I am the POLAR OPPOSITE of Noah and Liam. While they get C’s and D’s, I get straight A’s. But that doesn’t mean I’m a nerd. While yes, I am a presentable, well behaved student, that doesn’t mean I don’t crave adventure. I’ve still done some naughty stuff, but because I’m a good student, teachers never suspect me. That’s what separates me from and Noah and Liam. Because they act up, whenever the teacher catches them, they get in trouble. But because I am the well-behaved student who never does anything naughty, I am never suspected. Up until now.

    Well, because Liam and Noah do a lot of pranks and because I’m their friend, I get involved in their messes. Usually Liam and Noah take the blame because their Liam and Noah, but because I am there, I get in trouble too. The punishment isn’t much, we are just told off by the teachers.

     But the prank Liam and Noah were gonna pull was so huge, it could’ve cost expulsion. And of course, I was in involved in it.

     It was a chilly morning. It was January 23rd, my birthday, and it was a Friday. I couldn’t have been happier. But there was something nagging me inside, and that was because Liam texted me to be at school at 7:10 a.m. Why, I don’t know, but I do know school opens at 8:15 for study hall, and it is currently 7:15 and I refuse to waste my time freezing outside for an hour.

     At 7:20, I see Noah. He is wearing all black. Black shirt, black jeans, even black gloves. That’s strange. And then I notice he is carrying something. A bucket. Full of paint. Black paint. Behind him, Liam is there too. He is also wearing all black. It was then that I realize something bad was going to happen. Something REALLY bad.

     “Noah why are you carrying a bucket full of black paint? Why are you wearing all black?” Noah has a smug smile.

     “Well you see,” he starts “Mrs. Heckleworth gave me an F-. That lowered my grade from a 79 to a 56. My mum and dad weren’t happy. They were not at all happy.” I see pain in his eyes as he says that.

     “Let’s just say,” he continues “That because of that F-, I am grounded until summer break ends.

     I let my jaw drop. Until summer break ends? That’s nearly half a year!

    “So, for pay back, I’m gonna write ‘Mrs. Heckleworth is a b-’”

    I cut him of there “WHAT! You’ll get in so much trouble!” I scream.

    “That is where you come in my pal. You will stay guard and make sure no teacher catches us.” Noah looks at Liam when he says that.

     I look at him, eyes wide. I could get in so much trouble. But if I backed out, Liam and Noah would see me as a wimp. A chicken. Besides, we couldn’t be caught if I was guard. I have keen senses.

     “Fine.” I say. “But how will we get in?”

     “My dad is the janitor, remember?” Liam says, smiling mischievously as he held the keys to the school.

     Oh boy, I choose the wrong day to wear a white shirt.

 **********

     We snuck to the back of the school. Liam opened the school door with the key, and we were in. We carefully climbed the stairs to Mrs. Heckleworth’s class and Liam and Noah got to work.

     I could hear the chuckling Of Liam and Noah and the sloshing of paint while I kept guard for any teachers. Everything was fine until I heard footsteps. And they were loud. Someone was coming.

     “Hurry up someone is coming!” I say in a hissed voice. When I said it though, the footsteps stopped.

     “WHO’S THERE!” yelled the teacher. The footsteps were louder and quicker. The teacher was running. Liam kicked the black paint bucket and paint is everywhere on the floor. Some of it got on my shirt. Noah shoved the paintbrush in my hand and ran. I started to run too until the teacher yelled “STOP!” I did as was told. I turned around slowly. It was, of all the teachers in this school, Mrs. Heckleworth. I quickly looked behind me and saw that Noah and Liam were gone.

      I had to deal with Mrs. Heckleworth alone.

 **********

     It was 9:00 a.m. Students had probably seen the door by now. And I was at the front office, starring at Mr. Bucklebeer the principal. Behind him was a teary-eyed Mrs. Heckleworth.

     “So, let me get this straight.” Started Mr. Bucklebeer. “You were peer pressured into keeping guard for Noah and Liam while they painted a very bad message on Mrs. Heckleworth’s door?”

     I nodded, then wiped my eyes. I was filled with sadness and guilt. I had followed Liam and Noah’s stupid prank, and they left me to be caught. They framed me for their crimes.

     Mr. Bucklebeer looked at me and said, “You are not in trouble.”

     My eyes were so wide I started to tear up again. I wasn’t in trouble?

     Mr. Bucklebeer must’ve read my expression because he said “Yes, you are not in trouble. You see, I was just like you. My ‘friends’ would always tell me to do things I didn’t want to do, but I did them because I didn’t want my friends to leave me.” He paused, and for a quick second, I saw Mr. Bucklebeer as a young boy. It wasn’t very hard, considering he was already very young.

     “I will let you go but promise me you will never talk to Liam or Noah again.”

     “I promise.” That promise was really easy to keep as I really didn’t see them the rest of the school year.

     See, Liam and Noah spent the rest of the year in in-school suspension, and after that, they had to clean the mess. I didn’t feel bad for them. They deserved everything they got.

     As for me, I made real friends. They didn’t treat me like a third wheel. They cared about me. They cared for my opinion, for my feelings. That is something Liam and Noah lacked, because they weren’t true friends. But I now know that having the right friends matter.

Déjà Vu

     I think I had a dream about this once.

     Blurry, like I forgot my glasses. Hanging as a thread on the edge of my mind like a reminder on a sticky note that got thrown away before it could be useful. Or maybe the forgotten lyrics of a song, teasing my distracted thoughts with only pieces and fragments of a tune, yet circling around, and around, and around. 

     But I do recall one thing. 

     A small detail. Insignificant, maybe, but it resonated somewhere, and this warmth on my skin again makes it seem all too familiar.

     It was obvious right away that it wasn’t lucid; no, not like my dreams usually are. Half of me found it to be a relief, and the other half was terrified of the lack of authority I would have over something that materialized out of my own mind. A dangerous thing, an untamed dream is, really.

     I don’t know how long it lasted, or how it began, but I remember a strange heat that crept up, first from my chest but then quickly down to my ankles and across my wrists until even the blood in my veins seemed ready to boil. 

     And then, there was darkness. But an abnormal one. No, it wasn’t the obscure, murky lightlessness you feel when you close your eyes and shiver. It was a balmy, cimmerian shade, tinted with hints of sangria and wine that wrapped itself around your soul. The warm, safe kind of darkness.

     I particularly remember what the darkness looked like, because it felt like a trick.

   And then there was the feeling. A strange one, unplaceable. It was similar to intense background music, like you might experience during a thriller, but without the sound. Like something bad was supposed to be happening, but the normalness of everything had an uncomfortable tone.

     Whether that was part of the dream, I’m not sure.

     Motion.

     I can remember that. A vehicle. A bus? I don't think I could conceptualize what it actually looked like, only what happened. 

     There was no one on the bus, or car, or whatever it was. No one, other than Piper and me, and she crooned that god-awful tune again. She always does that. 

     It struck me as odd how quiet it was. Only Piper humming. No sound of people talking or tires hitting potholes. 

     My mind silently recited the lyrics, in sequence and rhythm with her voice, the same ones that are stuck in my head right now.

You are my sun, you are my moon

Your love for me is plenty

I went to space to visit you

And now my heart is empty

     I love her, but she really has to listen to another song. 

     I turned to face her, maybe to tell her to shut the hell up, but suddenly I was hyper aware of that strange feeling again. 

     There’s something in here. Something that shouldn’t be. But I couldn’t see it.

     And then there were people. Many, many people, and there were snickers and whispers and the crinkling of packages, but I couldn’t focus on one single face. Could I even really see Piper? Did I even know any of these people at all? 

     Something dark flickered in a corner. But then something else caught my eye on the right, and all at once it was everywhere. Seeping into this place through the cracks in the windows and out of mouths and ears and through the spaces between every atom.

     Did no one else notice this? Piper was gone and so was everyone else, and so I was left by myself to observe the dark.

     The same dark as earlier, the warm one, but it now had a fluid consistency to it, almost like liquid gold. Slow flowing, and once it reached my skin, it burned like gold too.

     My lack of vision remained with the heat until the darkness dissolved into its opposite. 

     White.

     I would have said the walls looked bleached, but there were no walls. Rather, another void, but this time it was a blinding light that flooded through your veins and into your soul, and not only that, but it was cold. A raw kind of chill, the kind that burns, and much worse than heat ever could. 

     It’s hard to tell where things are when you have no sense of direction, but I guess I turned around or something because a dark figure materialized into my view.

     I’m just… not sure what it was.

     I could describe it as a person, or a human-like thing, but that’s really not what it was. Yes, it resembled one. It stood on two legs, but it shouldn’t have been able to stand - everything about it was stretched vertically and its arms and legs ended in sharp points, not in feet or hands. The arms settled stiffly next to the lengthy torso, but they didn’t stop until long past where the knees should have been.

     It kind of looked like a badly drawn stick figure that had lost its sense of weight and proportion.

   What disturbed me were the eyes. Just plain white dots that rested a third of the way up the oval head. But what was remarkable was this thing’s entire lack of depth. You could have cut it out on the blackest sheet of construction paper you could find, using a hole puncher for the eyes, and they would have been identical. 

      But nothing about it was threatening. Intimidating, yes, but there was nothing inherently creepy. 

     There was that strange feeling again, though. Like something bad should be happening, but isn’t. Like I should be scared, but I had no evident reason to be scared. 

     Maybe that was because it looked familiar.

     “Do I know you?” I said, approaching it cautiously.

     I waited.

     “Possibly,” The voice echoed. It was without tone or emotion, neither masculine nor feminine. “Probably. Do you know yourself?”

     “Sure. More than you do, I assume.”

     I waited.

     Is it possible to hear a smirk? 

     I waited. It just kind of floated there. 

     “Your future is more familiar than you think.”

     “I already knew that.” A lie on my part.

     “I know you did.”

     “What do you want me to do with this knowledge?”

     It was suddenly closer. Very, very close. Close enough to see that its eyes were the same white as the space around me, and its flesh the same warm darkness as when the dream started. But it wasn’t standing still as I had thought. It was pulsing. So subtle, I shouldn’t have been able to see it, but its outline quietly expanded, shrunk, expanded, shrunk, ever so slightly.

     And this time, the voice was barely above a whisper.

     “Just a heads up.” 

     It expanded so much it engulfed my vision, and I was left awake, with only the delicate thud of my own heartbeat to stop me from screaming at full volume.

     And now I’m sitting on the bus with a terrible sense of déjà vu, except I know exactly where I’ve experienced this before. 

     There was a gentle thumping of tire against road and a chorus of voices and laughter from each seat, and Piper was right next to me, humming her stupid little tune.

You are my sun, you are my moon

Your love for me is plenty 

I went to space to visit you

And now my heart is empty

     I might punch her. But I really don’t have the chance to, because an overwhelming awareness of each lyric absorbs my other thoughts.

     Suddenly they are no longer innocent but instead have a grisly significance.

You are my sun, you are my moon

     The bus careens sideways.

Your love for me is plenty

     My head hits the roof and I can't breath.

I went to space to visit you

     My head is hot. So, so hot. But my hands are cold. Freezing.

     My eyes are the only ones open, and I’m laying on a window below me. Below? Piper. She stopped humming. I wish she didn’t. 

     I can see it billowing out again, like in the dream. The warm, liquid darkness. It’s coming from everywhere, all at once.

     Liquid gold. But this time it doesn’t burn. It doesn’t really feel like anything at all, actually.

     I think it might be the start of another dream, but then I know it’s not, because it doesn’t continue.

And now my heart is empty

     I open my eyes and I’m relieved when the familiar, warm, rays of sunshine that stream in through my window envelop me. My dreams are full of peculiar colors and shapes, and the daylight is much easier to cope with. I know they’re just figments of my imagination, but sometimes… they just feel so real, that’s all.    

     It’s no use dwelling on things beyond my control. I roll out of bed and head groggily to the kitchen, where Dad is flipping pancakes.

     “Hi sweetheart,” he says cheerfully - too cheerfully. “Did you sleep well? Good dreams?”

     I hesitate. Do I tell him about the ethereal world I’m thrust into when I fall asleep? My brain fumbles for an answer to his question, but my mouth is faster and responds with a simple, noncommittal reply.

     “Yeah.”    

     “That’s good!” my dad replies, unaware of my internal struggle. 

          By the time the first bell rings, I’m already thoroughly overwhelmed by my mental to-do list: Swim Meet (4:30 - 5:30).  Study!! (ELA, Math, and Science midterms tomorrow).  Homework (tbd). Practice violin (30 minutes).My classes do nothing to ease my anxiety about all the things I have to do tonight. I have multiple projects and papers to finish, and I don’t understand as much of the math as I thought I did..

     During lunch, I’m studying with the company of today’s uneaten meal. It's surprisingly nice out, so I’m sitting on a bench in our school's courtyard. 

     Suddenly, the world flickers like the glow of a dying firefly. Then everything goes dark. It seems like it’s the middle of the night, but I can still feel the warmth of the sun on my face.

    My body automatically panics. My palms sweat, and I feel myself tense up. My mind, on the other hand, is slower, calculating, approaching the situation with logic, not emotion. This isn’t the first time this has happened. I don’t know the last time it happened, which means I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that ever since I was little, I’ve received flashes where the world in my dreams becomes my reality.    

     Shakily, I get to my feet. Everything around me is dark, lifeless. It’s not exactly menacing, it’s just… void of all color, feeling, and emotion. I turn around. In my dreams, if I squint, I can make out objects and buildings. If I’m going to survive this (whatever this is), I need to be able to see whatever I can.

      I peer at the space where the bench is and slowly but surely it appears. However, it doesn’t look like it normally would. It’s made out of what I can only describe as what I would imagine stardust to look like. Or what I would see if I could see atoms: tiny pinpricks of light, clustered together in the shape of a bench. It’s strange. It’s unearthly. It’s beautiful. 

     I swivel around, taking in my surroundings, which have started to take shape. They’re all made of the same substance as the bench, and it's all so gorgeous that it takes my breath away. 

      I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Near the oak tree (which now looks like fairies could live in it), two spheres are kind of just floating. They’re… well, they’re what I would imagine stars to look like. I walk hesitantly across the courtyard to them, until I’m about 60 feet away, which is when I hear them talking. 

     “Did you watch the new Stranger Things trailer yet? 

     “Lol, noooo. 

     “It’s, like, so good.”

     “I could never watch Stranger Things!”

       That’s when it hits me. These stars are people. It takes me a minute to process. Ha, I guess we really are all made of stardust. 

      The bell rings, startling me back to life, reminding me I still have to get through the day.

     I stumble through the rest of my classes in a daze. My teachers constantly ask me if I’m ok. I keep zoning out. When the final bell releases us, my head is starting to hurt, because I keep staring at the bright lights that make up my binder, my pencils, and my backpack. Suddenly, I remember my swim meet. That should be… interesting.

     I guess I have two options. I could go home, tell my dad everything when he gets home from work, and waste a lot of time and worry about something that could be gone tomorrow. Or, I could go on with my day, do everything I’m supposed to, if it remains a problem talk to someone if it remains a problem. I think it’s a pretty easy decision.

     My meet doesn’t start until 4:30, but I’m so eager to go that I arrive at 4. By the time I’m actually ready, it’s 4:15. I walk to the edge of the pool and hesitantly dip my toe in. It’s a strange feeling - since water is clear, it’s not made of the same hard-packed minuscule fragments of light like everything else. Instead, it has loosely arranged illuminated dots that move freely and slowly.  

      I head around to the deep end of the pool and dive in. The feeling is terrifying, exhilarating, and altogether incredible. Then my body is submerged in the water and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s not that the pool feels any different - there’s the same smooth flow of water against my skin and the same easy weightlessness that it brings - it’s that the whole experience is changed by a simple shift in the way I view the world. I’m swimming through blank darkness with tiny particles of light along for the ride. I am floating through space, soaring through the cosmos, and I never want this to end, but I have to come up for air.

     The rest of the meet goes by in a blur. My form is off, my laps are sluggish, I’m distracted. When I leave the pool, Coach Morris gives me a worried look, but seeing I’m in a rush, she leaves me alone. 

     After the noisy twenty minute bus ride, I’m finally back home. The moment my head hits the pillow, I’m out cold.

     The next morning when my brain finally makes the switch from subconscious to conscious, I wait a few minutes before I open my eyes. Have you ever spent a while just looking at the underside of your eyelids? It’s strangely disorientating. I take a few deep breaths. I don’t know what I’ll see when I open my eyes; will it be the normal world or the dark void I’ve come to know so well? After yesterday, I feel curiously accustomed with this alternate reality cooked up by the deep crevices of my mind. 

     Hesitantly, I allow my eyes to open. Everything is dark. I sink down on to the ground on my knees in despair. I know I said I’ve become comfortable with whatever this is, but truth be told, I’d rather feel normal again.

     Now I’m starting to cry. Why am I so messed up? Why can’t I just be a normal teenager? I can’t breathe. I need to breathe. I need to calm down. ASTRA, CALM DOWN!     

     Ok. I’m ok. I’m gonna be ok. Shaking, I pull on my clothes after squinting at them until they start to vaguely appear. Then I traipse into the kitchen, where my dad is at the counter eating breakfast.

     “Hey, Dad?” my voice is surprisingly strong.

     “Oh, good morning sweetie.” 

     “Can I talk to you about something?” My Dad’s star glows a little brighter in curiosity. 

     “Yeah…um, is everything okay?” 

     I don’t know how it happens, but I burst into tears. I tell him everything. And what is his response when I finally stop talking?

     “Sh*t!”

     “...yeah.” I laugh a little. His crude response is perfectly fitting. It breaks the tension that was starting to build. 

     “Ok. Sh*t. Ok. Honey, why didn’t you tell me about all this?”

     “I guess - I guess I thought everyone was like me, I thought it happened to everyone. It hadn’t happened in so long…”

     “Well - geez. Um. Okay. Sh*t.” He squeezes my hand. “Well, I don’t know why you see the things you do honey, but, uh, we could, we could try and figure out why you see them…?” 

     I nod, my face splitting into a smile. 

     “Well then, you can skip school today, I guess, and we’ll take you to the doctor and, um, see what she thinks?” Dad fumbles with his words. Poor him - he doesn’t know what to do about his messed up daughter or his messed up wife. 

     “Okay,” I say, because I know it’s what he needs to hear.

      “Okay,” he responds,with a sigh of relief. As long as he has a plan, he’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. 

     Turns out, it might not be okay after all. Doctor Lee is about seventy years old, and is my outdated pediatrician. She has no ideas about what to do with me, and thinks I’m on drugs, despite my protestations. She refers me to another doctor, a drug-induced disorder one. 

           By the time I get into the lobby, I’m much more impressed with him than I was with Doctor Lee. 

     The waiting room is massive. When I squint out my surroundings, I can see that all the sofas, chairs, magazines,, are top of the line. I see a woman glowing softly from behind an oversized desk (I can tell because women usually appear as yellow stars, and men are usually more of an orange color.)      

     “Hello, you must be Astra and Larry Finnegan,” she gently. “Doctor Adams is ready for you. See the hallway to your right? Third door on the left, you can go right in.” 

     We nod, and follow her instructions. Doctor Adams’ office is a slightly smaller room with a few armchairs and a desk. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. I sit gingerly on one of the armchairs, and my dad plops down on the other one. 

     After a few minutes Doctor Adams comes in. His star is a healthy orange-red color, like  the setting sun.

     “Hello Astra, hello Larry,” he greets us amiably. “How are you?”

     “Good, how about you?” is all I can manage. 

     “I’m well, thanks. Now Astra, I have some ideas about what may be causing these things you see, but you’ll need to help me out here a bit.” I sit up straighter in attention. 

      “Sure.” 

      “Excellent.” Doctor Adams starts to pace. “Now, I know you said you’ve never taken drugs, and I believe you. Your mother is currently in a rehab facility, is that correct?”

      I nod. Why does it matter?

     “Alright. Has she been in rehab before? If so, when and how many times for how long, and for what? Larry, if you know anything, like what she took and when she started taking them, it would be extremely helpful.”       

     “I know she used cocaine in high school and college, and she’s smoked pot as long as I’ve known her. I don’t know exactly what else, but…. it got worse in 2001, after the World Trade Center was attacked, because her mom was in there and… didn’t make it through. My guess is heroin, maybe something else.” Dad looks at the ground in shame. 

     Doctor Adams takes a moment to re-collect his thoughts, and his star wavers. “Okay. So, Astra, you were born in 2005, right?” 

     I nod. “Yeah, in March.” 

     “If it’s okay with you and your dad, I’d like to do some tests - to see if any of the drugs you mentioned may be in your body.”      

     I look at him. I would look him in the eyes, but, I don’t exactly know where they are right now. 

     “When?” my dad asks. 

     “How about now?”     

     My dad nods. He’s exhausted. It's been a long couple of days of driving all over town, making phone calls, waiting. We were lucky to get all three appointments with such short notice, but once we made it clear that it was an emergency, people gave us what we needed quickly. 

     Dr. Adams leads me into a tiny room where the scan will take place. Sensors, cameras, and screens cover the walls. I lay down on the examination table. I give a thumbs up to the one-way glass directly in front of me, just like I was instructed to - the signal to start the scan. I close my eyes, a soothing relief from all the bright lights around me. 

     About 10 minutes later, I hear a beeping that signifies the scan is over. I hop down and then rejoin Dad in Doctor Adam’s office. 

     It’s about an hour and a half before he comes back with the results. Dr. Adams slumps back down at his desk and breathes out heavily, then remembers we’re here. He chuckles weakly.

     “I suppose you two are curious about the results. Instead of giving you a twenty page packet to read, I’ll summarize it for you now and let you take it home.” He takes a deep breath. “Astra, we found traces of multiple drugs in your brain: cocaine, heroine, and methamphetamine. These may be affecting your growth, behavior, and development, and are most likely causing these visions you’ve been having.”” 

      I'm frozen in shock. There’s drugs floating around my brain. There’s cocaine and heroin in my brain. There’s crystal meth INSIDE MY BRAIN. Okay. Breathe. Next step. Confirm your suspicions. 

     “So that means that my mom was on at least cocaine, meth, and heroine when she was pregnant with me, and that’s why I see this stuff, right?”

     Doctor Adams nods. Okay. Next step. 

     “Sooo .... What can I do about it? Is there some sort of cure?” 

     “No, Astra,” Doctor Adams replies sadly. “There’s no cure. All we can do is give you something to lessen the effect of the drugs, not eradicate it.”

***    

I remember nothing else from the rest of that day. 

     When I wake up the next morning, it’s as if the entire ordeal was one long nightmare. Everything is back to normal. No more void, no more stars. It’s a relief. I’m sure the visions will be back, and when they are, I have a bottle of pills from Doctor Adams to help me deal with them. And yet, I kind of liked having a different view of the world than everyone else. It’s weird, my eyes became so accustomed to the darkness that I kind of miss it.. I guess that’s one lesson I can take from all of this - learn to appreciate the dark and the light, the good and the bad, the normal and the crazy. For now though, I’m going to bask in the light of the sun, and maybe someday I can find a way to enjoy the dark too.

I’m sitting on my lumpy bed, then a prison guard yelled, “Get up! Your social worker and new foster parents are here.” I was scared, how could I not be. But my foster mom wasn’t just a regular mom, she was a firefighter and she was still in uniform. My foster dad was a police officer, probably not good for me since I’ve been getting into trouble my whole life. We got into the car and then we drove for about twenty minutes and then we got to the house, my jaw dropped. It was massive compared to the other houses I’ve been in! `

This change is hard because my sister Lizzie isn’t here, she’s my best friend and I’m not with her. I can just see her right now with her big contagious smile and big blue eyes, she was just amazing and I miss her so damn much. It’s my fault that she’s in the system now, I know how alone she must feel. I left her to suffer, I left her to wonder, to wonder if I’m ok; if I’m ever going to get out of juvie; if I’m going to forget about her. 

When I went into my room I saw that I had to share with Mary, one of my foster siblings. She didn’t like me and I could tell because she gave me an annoyed look. I call my foster mom Sonia and my foster dad Javier, I don’t call them mom and dad because I didn’t know her that well and I didn’t even know if I was going to stay at that house for a while. I think that the other kids in the household didn’t appreciate me being here either, all of them gave me looks. A few hours have passed and now it’s time for dinner, I already knew that dinner is going to be awkward because I’m new to the so-called “family”. The rest of this week is going to be rough, Mary isn’t too fond of me, I have to go to school with people who I don’t know, I can’t see my sister, and I have to follow these strict rules since I was in juvie. 

Since Javier is a police officer, he has to do a drug test on me every week, it’s annoying but if it means I get to see my sister sooner, than it’s worth it. 

Today is the first day of school or the first day of going to hell as I should explain it. Sonia insisted on driving me to school and having someone show me around. As I was looking out the window at the school as Sonia drove me, I saw the school it was huge and the beach was behind it. She offered to walk me in but I declined her offer because I didn’t want to be embarrassed on my first day of school. As I was walking into school I got some looks and some smiles, I just wanted to find my locker and get this day over with. 

As I was looking for my locker I bumped into someone and dropped my books, When I looked up I noticed he was a tall boy about my age, good looking too. 

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was… damn” the tall boy said with his eyes meeting mine. 

“Oh, I’m... umm… I’m Sorry” 

“Um… do you need some help with anything?” 

“Uhh yeah, I’m trying to find my locker. Could you maybe help me?”

“Yeah, what’s your locker number?” 

“I’m locker 626, if it’s too much trouble I can find it myself.”

“Oh! That’s in my row, I was planning on going to my locker anyway, follow me.” As I followed him, I could sense that he was looking at me and when I looked up we met eyes. 

“Uhh... here’s your locker, I’ve got to go to class. Hopefully, I will see you in one of my classes.” As he walked away, he looked back at me and winked at me. I guess this day is going better than expected. 

After 3 long and tortuous class periods, it’s finally time for lunch. As I walk outside I see Mary was making out with this guy, I wasn’t able to see his face. Grossed out and about to throw up, I walked away and made my way back inside. Not hungry and with nothing to do, I sit down behind some lockers, put on my music and draw. As I’m was drawing, I see the guy who helped me earlier today. 

He was checking me out and he had a little smile on his face. “Hey, good to see you again. You’re Mary’s sister, right?” 

“Not really… I’m her foster sister. Hi, I’m Arrie.”

“Oh well, I’m her boyfriend, Xander.” 

He looked down at his watch and said in a panic, “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.” 

As he rushed down the hall I was interested to see where he was going, I picked up my things and started to follow him. He made his way into the gym which I thought was strange, as I quietly made my way to the door I saw him… He was making out with another girl! 

I can’t believe he would do this! Still in shock, I took out my phone and took a video to show Mary proof. 

As I was taking a video, I was startled by this voice asking me “What are you doing?” It was Chris, I quickly pulled him to the floor and told him to be quiet. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Right as he said that I pulled up the video and showed him, “Oh that son of a b*tch!” he exclaimed. I knew he would be mad at what I thought was Mary’s boyfriend but I saw the fire in his eye. 

“Don’t tell Mary! She’s going to be devastated!” 

“What do you mean don’t tell Mary? Why would I tell her?” 

“That’s her boyfriend! She was making out with him on the beach.” “WAIT...WHAT?!” 

Oh crap… I screwed up. In the loudest and maddest whisper I’ve heard, he started to explain, “I didn’t know that’s Mary’s boyfriend but that’s not what I’m mad about.” 

Showing a confused look on my face, he continued, “That’s Frank, Mary’s “boyfriend”, but the girl he’s with is MY girlfriend, but not for long.” 

As he jumped up from off the floor he pushed open the gym doors, I thought they would have broken from the amount of force he used. “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON! VICTORIA! XANDER!” 

Victoria replied in shock and guilt, “Chris! Uh… what are you doing here?!” “Don’t try and talk to me, we’re done! And for you Xander… I’m telling Mary, and I have a video to prove you’re cheating!” 

Shocked and annoyed Xander replied, “What the hell bro! But let’s be real here, who’s she going to trust… her twin brother or her very loving boyfriend.”

“You’re sick Xander, I might as well let out some of your other secrets.” 

“Like what, You have nothing against me.” 

“Like how you try and get every girl that you come across and that you try and pin them to the wall.” 

As soon as I heard that I had to jump in, I had to speak up. “I’ll just tell Mary that you winked at me, tried to flirt with me and that you checked me out.” 

As soon as I said that he got so mad, I could see the fire in his eyes. “Well face is Chris, It’s not like you can keep a girlfriend. Well obviously because who was just making out with her?” 

Just as Xander finished that sentence Chris snapped, he went walking over to Xander and mumbling words that I couldn’t understand. I grabbed Chris’ hand and tried to tell him to stop but he wouldn’t listen. When I finally realized that Chris wasn’t going to stop I ran up to Victoria but before I even got 5 feet away from her she walked up to me and slapped me. After Victoria did that, Chris was so fed up with everything that he went up to victoria and yelled at her. 

I decided not to deal with this so I turned back and started to walk towards the door. But midway to the door, I heard Victoria bellow, “You little b*tch!” I quickly turned back but all I saw was Chris running towards me then… All I saw was black.

The room was pitch black, all I heard were quiet voices in the background. I was so weak but I was able to barely open one eye, and then I saw him. Chris  was laying on the ground bleeding badly and holding up a gun to Chris was Xander. After looking around I felt a hand on my shoulder and when I looked up I found Victoria above me.

“This is what you get for spying on me.” She punched me over and kicked me over and over again. After she was done, I felt tired and weak, I couldn’t breathe. I tried yelling out for help but my voice was so quiet… I had to go to sleep.

 I was slowly opening and closing my eyes, I heard voices and sirens, still so tired. It felt like minutes went by but it must have been hours, I was in a room with one big window and I saw all the lights of the stars. I was in a hospital, there was a constant beep which annoyed the hell out of me. When I was fully awake I couldn’t turn without excruciating pain... I was trying so hard but I couldn’t turn. Right as I tried to turn my waist spasmed... In so much pain I screamed as loud as I could, a nurse came rushing in. “It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now, you’re alright.” She gave me a cup of water to sip on so I would stay hydrated. 

“Where’s Chris?! Is he ok?!” 

“It’s going to be ok, I’ll be right back.” 

After all of the reassuring, I was still anxious and scared, when she came back she was with Sonia and a doctor. “Hi Arrie, I’m doctor Lee. I know You have been through a lot today, I just wanted to let you know that you will be alright.” 

“What’s wrong with me?! God, I can’t die. I need to be there for Lizzie!” 

“You have a tear in your Rectus-Abdominis muscle, it seems like you had already had a grade 1 tear to it. When you got shot, the bullet went through the muscle completely, if your brother wouldn't have jumped right near you, you would have been killed. The bullet is still in our body but it’s not around any major arteries.” 

Javier walked into the room looking worried, “Oh my god, Arrie, I heard what happened over the radio and I came as fast as I could. I’m sorry this happened.”

“Chris! Where’s Chris! Is he ok?!” 

“Chris is going to be ok as well. The bullet went through right under his arm and thankfully didn’t hit any arteries. If he wouldn’t have called 9-1-1 when he regained consciousness, you would have been at risk of going into shock.”

After all that happened, I was still so tired and weak, I felt weaker after every second. Then, I crashed.

I was In and out of consciousness, I was finally able to say “Stomach.” 

“Her oxygen level is going down! There has to be something going on in her stomach, get the ultrasound!”

“She’s pregnant, she’s about 34 weeks out, but she had no signs. She doesn’t show like she’s carrying a baby.” After I heard that, I opened my eyes and they imminently gave me oxygen.

“I didn’t know about this. I was throwing up a little bit Juvie and in my foster home but I just thought it was sick.” As I said that I felt light-headed and short of breath, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. 

“We need to deliver this baby now or her and the baby might die. Is that ok with you Arrie?”

“Yes, please just save the baby, I don’t want to lose another one.”

“You had another baby?”

“Well yes, but it was a miscarriage, Please just save the baby first.” 

“Ok, ok. I’m going to call the Nicu and tell them to be ready.” 

“Thank you. But please tell Sonia once I’m prepped, please. She’s gonna freak out!”

I got more and more tired as I was being rushed into the operating room, all I saw was the lights above me one at a time. 

I couldn’t believe it, I was in the same spot. Alone, scared, and wiped out. As soon as those thoughts ran through my head I heard beeping, the whole room turned black. 

The voice spoke to me, “Just go to the path to this new world.” “How could you do this again?”

“I didn’t mean to do this, it was in prison, the garud almost shot me,” My anxiety kicked in. 

“Why did you leave the ones you love to suffer?” 

“It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t know there was alcohol at the party. I wouldn’t of done it if I knew, I didn’t mean to go back to juvie!”

The voice sounded familiar, “You left your sister, why?” I saw Lizzie, I saw her blue eyes sparkling in the light. Then, she started to walk away crying, she started to walk towards the light, farther and farther away. I was chained to an anchor; I was underwater; I couldn’t swim; I was alone once again; I just kept sinking into the darkness until all I saw was black.

Raven was sitting in the velvet chair, drumming her fingers against the birch table. She was quite bored in this tedious meeting the king had decided to host. His monotonous voice was droning on and on, speaking about his plans for the war they were in. She paid him no attention. She wasn’t going to be deployed anyways, considering the fact that she had just returned from a successful battle and was absolutely exhausted. Dark bags were evident under her eyes, and her hair had lost its shine. Her carmine eyes were dreary and her movements were sluggish. During her trip, she had been awake all night preparing her troops and marking strategies. At the end of the day, she was a lieutenant, a leader and role model for her soldiers to follow. She sighed softly, glancing down at the platinum badge attached to her satin sash. It was beautifully designed and full of intricate patterns. Memories flooded inside her, as she recalled the day she had been promoted. 

She was seventeen years old when she got promoted. The king had planned an entire assembly just for her. Just for that talented, skillful, and gifted soldier that had already surpassed the majority of her professors, becoming a prodigy. The king acknowledged that, and had decided to promote her. Raven was invited with her parents to the grand hall, where the windows showed the world beneath them, where the curtains hid all the secrets that took place behind the castle walls. Everyone that held a position of power and nobility was there. The dukes and duchesses, the politicians and generals, the officials and commanders. Her eyes scanned the spacious hall, before stopping at the king. He was seated high above everyone else atop his golden throne, a dazzling crown resting atop his head. He subtly gestured to the three empty seats. Heading over with her parents, she sat down without a second thought. She could feel eyes boring into her very soul, body, and mind, but ignored the stares. She would not show weakness, especially at a time like this. Finally, after a few moments, the king stood up clasping a sash and a badge, and spoke in a booming voice that could be heard for miles and miles.

“I have gathered you all here today to promote a young prodigy. For years, she has worked with our seasoned professors, and has sharpened her skills. I am glad to promote Soldier Raven to Lieutenant Raven!”

Applause exploded throughout the room, as Raven slowly strutted over to the front of the king. Kneeling down, she placed a hand on her beating heart. Lowering her head, she gave the king a nod. The king smiled, and slowly gave the sash to her free hand. Standing up, she bowed again before walking back to the seat. 

“A toast to Lieutenant Raven!” The king spoke confidently, clutching his jeweled golden goblet. The crowd all stood up, the pool of blood red wine sitting still in their  raised glasses. Raven watched as her parents joined the nobility, and followed suit.

“A toast,” Raven said, downing the wine. It was smooth, but tasted of bitter and rich grapes. She watched as everyone else emptied their wine glasses, sitting back in their chairs. The rest of the night seemed like a colorful blur. Wine glasses clinking together, the sound of laughter and gossip. But all good things must be balanced out. 

Raven watched from the sidelines as her parents were offered more and more drinks, but thankfully they declined the majority. Her parents were beaming with joy, excitedly conversing with the others in the great hall. Raven was so delighted to see how content her parents looked that she even cracked a smile. One second they were grinning, the next they had both collapsed onto the floor. The crowd instantly fell dead silent. Rushing to their side, Raven frantically checked for their pulse, for a faint noise of a heartbeat. Nothing. Nothing. This wasn’t. . .possible. As Raven desperately cried out for her mother and father, a smirk played on the king’s lips.

The very next week, Raven was standing in the royal cemetery. Everyone was cloaked in black, head to toe, including her. Her face was emotionless, as she clutched the bouquet of orchids she had gotten. She hung her head, as the rumble of thunder was within earshot. As rain began to pelt down, people hurried to go inside. She was just left alone, standing in the storm. Raven lifted her head. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, as she sobbed softly. No one would notice. They would all just think it was the rain.

~~~~~

She cleared her head just as the memories began to fade away. She didn’t have any time to dwell on it now. She looked up and met the king’s gaze. He gave a feeble smile before continuing. 

“Lieutenant Raven, we have decided to deploy you. . .here,” the king stated, pointing to the large map on the wall. 

Aeriola? Isn’t that in the enemy’s land? Raven pondered as she peeked at the map. That’s quite close to our empire isn’t it?

“You are going to lead an ambush at the crack of dawn. There are. . . documents there that would ultimately help us in the end,” one of the generals told her. Raven frowned, and decided to leave the room. She would need to pack all of her weapons. 

On the way to her quarters, she looked out a window. The stars filled the sky, while moonlight poured in through the window. She could see mountains on the horizon, shielded behind fog and mist. 

Morning can’t come soon enough. 

§§§§§

She tightly grasped the hilt of her sword and dagger, looking back at the soldiers following behind her to the “supposed” lair of their enemies. They all wore the same homogenous silver clothes, their weapons grasped firmly in their hands. Swords, guns, pistols, and daggers. She brushed against the barrel of the gun strapped to her leg, checking for the bullets inside. It was fully loaded and ready to fire. She frowned. 

“Lieutenant R-raven, is. . .is there a p-problem?” A small, frail voice questioned, stuttering. 

Raven turned to find one of the freshly trained soldiers behind her, trembling with fear. She scowled in response. They had given her a bunch of weaklings, mere mice, compared to the few hawks and wolves in the group. She shook her head, pushing those pesky thoughts to the back of her mind. Soldiers are soldiers. In fact, she was quite fortunate that the emperor had given her any military personnel, considering the number of casualties the military had gained from past conflicts and battles.

They are all waiting for your command. Raven reminded herself, pinching her arm. Leaning forwards, she pressed her ear against the thin walls, straining to hear any sounds. Only silence greeted her. Sighing, she decided to wait a few more minutes before charging in. This was an ambush after all. She glanced down at her golden stopwatch, ticking in the deafening silence. This would not end well for her, but she could only hope and pray. Caressing the stopwatch’s glass front, Raven finally spoke.

“We’re going in. I’m going to tell you this once, so listen up carefully. We don’t stand a chance. Our supplies have run low, and our military clearly did not train you well enough,” her resounding voice was fierce and sharp, striking fear into the other’s hearts. 

“On the count of 3, we charge,” Raven’s voice lowered to a quiet whisper. Everyone held their breath, awaiting their most loyal lieutenant’s command.

“3. . .” Her voice trembled slightly, but she steadied herself.

“So. . .this is our endgame?” A soldier sighed sadly, mumbling under their breath. A prayer perhaps, or a string of curses.

“2. . .” Her words were softly whispered, sadness dripping from it.

“Let’s give them a warm welcome,” another soldier declared, eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and terror.

“1. . .”

Everyone took a sharp intake of breath, gripping their weapons so tightly their knuckles turned white. 

“Charge,” Raven’s voice became loud, clear, and bitter. She kicked down the door, only to be greeted by several guns. She had a fraction of a second, and so took that opportunity to dodge the oncoming bullet. Her soldiers and their troops began to fight. Raven was charging through the medley of soldiers, searching for the decisive documents that would ultimately lead to her kingdom’s victory. She shoved and pushed through others, sprinting to the mahogany desk scattered with papers and folders. 

Then, she saw him. Bonnefoy Arthur, standing in the midst of chaos and turmoil, fighting. For the opposing side. Her mind whirled at the sight, her inner voice screaming traitor. That lying, scheming traitor. Traitors must be punished, and so she dashed towards Bonnefoy, adrenaline flowing through her veins as she unsheathed her dagger. She inched closer and closer, the tip of the dagger almost touching his skin. Then, a thunderous noise that rattled the building sealed her fate.

*****

    The small, shattered building now lay in ruins, bricks, wooden beams, and concrete scattered in pieces over the barren field. Corpses lay everywhere, blood everywhere, as if it rained down from the clear sky. The grass and flowers around the battlefield were red from the bloodshed. Blood dripped down the hills, dyeing the stream at the bottom of the hill a swirl of red and vermillion. In the middle of all the ruins,  Raven’s lifeless body kneeled. Long, obsidian black hair fell on her shoulders, her once piercing carmine eyes were closed, her eyelashes fluttering in the wind. Her pale skin was drained of all color, her clothes dull and less vibrant than before. Her red cape quivered in the breeze, before finally settling down on her shoulders and back. Both arms were stiff as her hands clutched the hilt of her sword tightly, her head resting on her hands. Blood dripped down her chest, where a fatal bullet had ended her life, leaving an empty hole. Dark, angry clouds rolled overhead, thundering a few times in warning before cool raindrops poured down. Her hair became wet, as did her clothes. Raven still kneeled there, pledging her loyalty to her country. 

No one had really cared when she fell. Officials and commanders, politicians and generals, nobody noticed her after she was gone. Nobody noticed. Still, her golden stopwatch just kept ticking on and on, never stopping, never waiting. Afterall, she was just a pawn in the king’s royal game. 

I stumble out onto the street, squinting into the blinding sunlight. My fingers search the rough wooden surface behind me for a few moments before finding the door handle. I clasp it and pull the front door shut, wincing as it squeaks on its ancient hinges. Everything is loud and bright and overwhelming this morning.

I finally get my bearings and frown at the familiar street. It suddenly repulses me, for some unexplainable reason. I guess after growing up here for seventeen years, it all gets a bit repetitive. There’s a whole world out there, but all I’ve ever known is this small, dingy pocket of the city.

I haven’t managed to take more than a couple of wobbling steps down the footpath before there’s the sound of another door opening behind me. I groan inwardly as I turn around to see who it is.

Ryan greets me with a grin. “Hey, Kayla!”

“Morning, Ryan,” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. Usually I’d at least try to fake a smile, but this morning I don’t bother. Ryan is nice, sure, but I’ve got too much on my mind to stop and talk to my perpetually cheerful neighbour. It doesn’t help that he’s my age, and believes that since we have that in common, he’s obliged to talk to me. 

He shuffles towards me, his sky blue eyes wide with concern. “Is everything all right? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

He’s right, actually. But I don’t just look like I haven’t slept in weeks, I truly haven’t. I can’t say that out loud, though, can I? That would lead to too many uncomfortable questions.

I shrug it off with an awkward little laugh. What can I say that will get Ryan off my back? He means well, but there’s somewhere I need to be.

“Uh, what are you doing this morning?” I try, absentmindedly scratching at a scab on my arm. 

Ryan smiles again, showing rows of unnervingly white teeth. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to come with me to Haze Cafe.”

Great. That’s just great. Look what you’ve done now, Kayla!

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I fumble desperately for an excuse, but the words don’t come. “I–I have to go. Really. I promised someone I’d, um, meet them somewhere.”

That went well. Ryan’s face crumples, and his jovial smile slips away.

“I’m sorry, Kayla,” he says. His voice is like ice. “I didn’t realise you had... other priorities.”

I stifle a yawn. My eyes are still blurry from sleep, and the world spins just a little. “No, I’m sorry, Ryan! But I’ve got... to... go...”

Everything seems to fade away for a moment, flickering in and out of existence. The nothingness is so inviting.

Get it together, Kayla. I wish I’d had more sleep over the past month, but these days I don’t have any time to rest. Time is a luxury that I can barely afford, although I’m mostly used to that by now. After all, I’ve been protecting the city from Hunters by night since I was ten years old.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Kayla?” A genuine hint of concern has trickled back into Ryan’s voice. “You don’t look too steady.”

For a second, it’s unbelievably simple, standing here in Banden Street, surrounded by the graffiti, the cobwebs, and the crumbling buildings whispering to me, reassuring me that they won’t tell a soul. It would be so easy to let my guard down, tell this guy with the achingly friendly smile the real reason why I look so tired, and why I can’t go with him.

It would be so, so easy.

Maybe it’s finally time for me to trust someone.

“Ryan, there’s something I should te–” I start.

Something in my pocket vibrates furiously, and a tune rings out.

“Never mind,” I mumble, my heart sinking as I pull out my phone and see who’s calling. It’s probably good that I didn’t tell Ryan, anyway. I’ve kept up this facade for seven years, and I can’t afford to let it fall away now.

Ryan raises an eyebrow as I answer the phone. I turn away so I don’t have to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Lyss,” I say into the phone. “I was delayed, but I’ll be there any minute, trust me.”

“Kay, you know how important this is!” An exasperated voice hisses. “I specifically told you to be here on time for once.”

“Yes, but–”

“No excuses! I expect you here in five minutes. Kay, you of all people should know the consequences of failing to prevent this... problem from escalating. We have to figure out what our next actions should be. They’re coming into the daylight faster than we anticipated, and we have no way of stopping them yet.”

I glance nervously at Ryan, but he doesn’t seem to have heard the cryptic words, or if he has, he’s hiding his surprise expertly.

“Yeah, sure,” I say distractedly. “See you soon.” I hang up before anything else can happen.

I wave at Ryan, then immediately regret it. “I’ll see you around, then.” He just nods.

I check the time on my phone. Oh, great. I’m running really late. The cafe where I’m supposed to meet Alyssa is only a couple of blocks away, but I don’t know if I’ll make it within five minutes.

I hurry away. Ryan is still waiting outside my front door. He’s watching me go, although he’s pretending not to. 

A sudden thought strikes me, and I frantically shove a hand into my pocket, panic flooding through my body. Moments later, I find my house key, and the panic drains away. Being locked out of the house today could easily spell disaster.

Exactly four minutes later, I find myself standing in the doorway of a tiny cafe on the main shopping strip, sweat dripping from my forehead. I’ve made it. Barely.

I squint into the cafe. It’s dimly lit and, with my vision swimming from exhaustion, it’s hard to see where I’m supposed to be. I eventually spot a woman seated at a small table in the back corner. At first glance she seems relaxed, but if anyone bothered to look closer, they’d notice that she’s gripping the wooden table so hard that her knuckles are white.

I stroll over, trying not to attract any attention. The woman’s blonde hair is immaculate, tied back into a high ponytail. Self-consciously, I run a hand through my knotty dark hair, trying in vain to tame it.

I take a seat at the table. “Morning, Lyss.” The rickety chair wobbles beneath me.

She frowns at me, the concern in her grey eyes making her seem almost motherly. “Kay, how long has it been since you last slept?”

I count off the days on my fingers. “Uh... thirty... thirty-seven, I think?”

“Thirty-seven days?” Alyssa shakes her head sadly and presses something small and round into the palm of my hand. “Hopefully we’ll have some time to rest, soon. But we can’t risk it yet. You know that this is just something that comes with being a Sunkeeper.”

I nod, staring at the bright yellow pill in my hand. It’s been specially formulated to extend the amount of time I can go without sleeping, and it’s proven to be perfectly safe — well, probably. But it still feels so wrong. It’s one of the things about this lifestyle that I still haven’t adjusted to. Living without sleeping, without dreaming... I barely feel human anymore.

I place the pill on my tongue, then wash it down with a gulp of water. It sticks in my throat, and I explode into a coughing fit. A kid on a nearby table stares at me.

“Good,” Alyssa says. “It should take effect soon.”

I nod stiffly again, trying to stop choking. I might not like it, but I can’t deny that the pill does its job, since I already feel more awake within seconds of swallowing it. The world is being brought into sharper focus, and it’s less difficult to stay upright.

“So, what’s our plan?” I ask, once I’ve stopped coughing. “We both know that the Hunters have broken through into the daytime, which means that most of our existing tools for catching them are, well, useless. We have to come up with something new, and quickly.”

Alyssa looks at me pointedly. “I was hoping you could help with that.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback. How can I have let Lyss down again? My face burns with shame.

All of a sudden, there’s a quiet but urgent ding. Alyssa pulls out her phone and gasps. “This isn’t good. Kayla, I’m getting two readings in opposite directions. Looks like there’s a Hunter on Lincoln Parade — and one on Banden Street, too.”

We jump out of our chairs and run towards the door, to the disdain of the other customers. My heart races as I turn to Lyss and say, “I’ll take Banden Street.”

“And I’ll take Lincoln Parade.” She stops for a moment and stares into my eyes. “Be careful, Kayla.”

I swallow, hard. “You too.”

Her phone dings again, even more urgently, and she turns left. I turn right and start to sprint, dodging disgruntled passers-by as I go. I don’t think I’ve ever been so desperate to get to a Hunter, because Banden Street is my street.

What if it’s got Ryan?

I shove the intruding thought away, trying to focus on my breathing like Alyssa always tells me, and listen to nothing except the sound of my feet pounding against the concrete.

Before long, I turn the corner into the familiar street, fearing the worst. My heart rate accelerates like a runaway train about to plunge off the tracks, but the street appears deserted. There is no struggle, no screaming. There are no telltale marks left behind. It’s just the same old street as always, boring and unremarkable. For once, I’m grateful for the normalcy.

I creep cautiously down the road, and I realise I was wrong. There is someone here, but it’s only Ryan, tinkering with the engine of his old Holden Commodore.

He glances up and notices me. “Hello, Kayla. How was your meeting?”

“Ryan, you have to get out of here, it’s not safe!” I blurt out, stumbling towards him.

He laughs awkwardly, backing away. “Is everything all right?”

“They’re already here, this street isn’t safe, you have to go before it’s too late–” Whoa. Slow down, Kayla.

I’m about to try again when he says, “Come on, stop panicking. What’s wrong? Why do you keep saying we’re in danger?” He gestures around us at the deceptively empty street. “There’s nobody else here... right?”

“This is going to sound completely insane, but hear me out.” I take a deep breath, and hope desperately that I’ve got enough time to explain everything. “Basically, there are these creatures called Hunters. They look normal, but they’re far from human. We don’t know much about them, but what we do know is that when they’re around, people go missing.”

People like my parents.

Ryan is looking at me with an amused expression, so I have to push away the painful memories and keep going. “Hunters always leave their mark when someone disappears. Wherever a missing person was last seen, you’ll find their name scorched into the earth.” I shudder, thinking of the things I’ve seen when I failed to rescue people in time. “But sometimes we can stop them before that happens. Every night, I head out to try and prevent yet another innocent person from becoming a victim. My parents did the same thing until they... well, they vanished last year. So does their closest friend, Alyssa. We call ourselves Sunkeepers.”

Mentioning Alyssa’s name brings back the image of the determination and fear swirling in her eyes when we parted ways. She has to be okay. She has to.

“We don’t know why they hunt yet, or what happens to their victims, but we're investigating it,” I continue. “We’re getting close to the truth, but I’m scared that we don’t have enough time. The Hunters are onto us. They used to only come out at night, but now they’re venturing into the daylight. Nowhere is safe. No one is safe.” 

Ryan gapes at me. His mouth hangs open for a couple of seconds as he shakes his head in disbelief. Eventually, after chuckling for a while, he manages to say, “So there are evil creatures that go around kidnapping people, and nobody else has noticed? As if!”

“You have to understand!” I plead. “I know it seems fantastical, but the Hunters are real and dangerous. I need you to understand that, Ryan. They could kill you!”

“Sure,” he drawls mockingly, dragging out the word. “I’m so scared.”

“Look, I know you don’t believe me, but we don’t have time to argue. They’re closing in on this street as we speak, and if we don’t stop them...” 

Something in Ryan’s eyes makes my words stick in my throat. There’s a malicious glint in them that I’ve never noticed before.

Ryan smiles, but he looks more like a vicious predator baring its teeth. He takes a step towards me, and I feel my blood run cold as wind whirls around us, sending dead leaves skittering along the ground.

“You’re too late,” he says. “We’re already here.”

   "D'you hear about last night?"

   "Another one?" 

  "Yeah! Baker Street.”

    "Jesus…"

My knee throbbed, though, luckily, the scrape on my elbow had stopped bleeding. Oh God, it burned like hell. You know, flight is a wonderful thing until you see the ground up close. My bike didn’t eat as much dirt as me, the handlebar only bent slightly, but I wouldn’t be riding for a while. My friend, Aaron, and I weren’t making good time, and we fell into conversation. The subject, however, wasn't all too cheerful. The dead, dreary forest had reminded us of recent events.

“Another body.”

My knee wobbled with each step. 

“Hey, hey, I need to sit a minute-”

“Knee hurt that bad? Wuss. You hit a patch of grass, and you whine.”

“Ouch? Oh, my poor, poor heart. You wound me, sir.” I slapped my hand on my chest with dramatic flair. “Speaking of which, what’s with the scratch? Piss a cat off, or something?”

I took a long glance at his arm. Three lines. Three, jagged parallel lines ran down his forearm, like rake marks against a patch of sand. 

Come to think of it, it looked absolutely nothing like the work of an angry feline. 

My friend looked down at his arm.

“Hauling a branch for dad, per usual,” he said. “Can never have too much firewood. You know how he is.” 

He tugged his sleeve over the wound, and—oddly—patted it.

I reached into my pocket, and fumbled for my phone. I doubted there’d be any service, though, hope kept poking at my side. Dead, of course.

“...Damn it. Today’s really got one out for me."

I grumbled. 

“Least it’s not raining, right?” He shrugged cartoonishly.

We both paused, listening for aptly timed thunder. Nothing, though clouds had rolled in. The forest grew darker.

“Oi! Remember that old fort we built? Tape one!” 

My friend tilted his head to one side.

"Oh, yeah,” he exclaimed. His face lit up like a light bulb. “Didn't last long from what I remember."

My mind wandered inside the memory of that tiny, dainty fort. While we thought of it as a castle at the time, in a literal sense, the thing was held together by tape and a dash of luck. We talked about a lot of random stuff in there, until the day when a vicious thunderstorm rolled in, and tore the thing in half; with us in it, of course.

“Dude, you used to make all kinds of weird stuff with that tape!” I said with a slight chuckle. “Wasn’t it, like, a weird brown and green?? What the hell was it anyway?”

“Yeah, it was some off brand camo stuff, or whatever. From my dad’s hunting crap.” 

“I remember him bringing it home—"

I fell silent as I noticed my friend looking around the path.

“Hear something?” I asked, tilting my head. 

I opened my mouth to ask again, but I’d realized how quiet the forest had grown. Silence. Dead silence. A chill crawled up my spine. Another body.  I got to my feet as carefully as I could, the pain in my knee stabbing like daggers, and checked the path behind us.

“We should go,” I muttered, my eyes now locked on the forest like his. “Like, now.”

I snatched my bike in a rush, though I tried to be quiet, and gestured for him to follow. I heard him snickering under his breath.

“The hell are you laughing for?” I whispered.

“The hell are you whispering for? Dude—I’ve never seen you freak like this.” He shook his head, and reached for his own bike. “You’ve always been jumpy, but damn.”

We started down the path, me falling a bit behind. I snuck another glance behind us. I picked up the pace to catch up best I could, though, my leg wasn’t all too happy about it. 

What if I can’t make it home like this?

I shivered at the thought. Couldn’t exactly call an ambulance in the middle of who-knows-where-the-hell we are. I shook my head, and pressed forward, wincing. Strange. I had this desire to run, this swirling feeling in my gut, but running wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I really couldn’t help those creeping thoughts invading my head space. My phone was still dead—wished electronic necromancy existed right about now, though, thinking about that stuff too much wouldn’t be good for my sanity. I couldn’t resist glancing behind us. The path was shrouded in this deep blanket of, what I could describe as, nothing. I could only see about half of what I did a few minutes ago. We would need a light. Soon. I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t the only one with a phone; I’m not a bright one. I saw him put it in his bag. Why didn’t I think of that earlier?

“It’s starting to get dark, man.”  I asked. “Get a light out; maybe check if you have a signal?”

“I don’t have my phone on me, sorry. We’re gonna be stuck in this for a little bit, though I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

What? No, No, that’s not right. He put his phone in his bag. He put that damn phone in his bag.

  I stumbled, and froze in place. I swore I saw it! I opened my mouth to ask again, but...I stopped myself. I didn’t quite know why. He lied to me. To my face, with nothing but a blank expression. Why couldn’t I ask him? Why would he lie to me? I pushed the bike forward again.

Am I just paranoid?

He wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t lie to me. No, no, that wasn’t him—I’d known him for most of my life. I sighed quietly to myself. All this stuff, the talk of murders and all, must've been getting to my head. I thought about home for a moment, and the weight on my chest had lightened just a bit. Not gone, but better.

By now, I was walking alongside my friend, keeping pace, though, it wouldn’t last long. His stride quickened, almost as if he was trying to lose me. My newfound confidence left as fast as it had arrived, and as the distance between us grew.

What the hell is going on?

As we walked, I caught him glancing at me for just a moment. His face was just as blank as before. He didn’t slow down at all, in fact, I thought he sped up. 

The path curved up ahead, a patch of trees blocking the view, and my friend vanished around the corner. My grip tightened around the handlebars. I could no longer hear the crunch of his footsteps. I turned my head behind me, and my eyes darted along the path. The dark played tricks on me; shadowy figures seemed to creep in the background. I squinted, and my heart thumped—I felt it in my ears. 

I got lost in the woods once, back when I was a little kid, and lost sight of my parents. I could never shake that lingering residue of powerlessness, even now. Those wooded giants stood far above me, watching like vultures. Never again. I quickened my pace.

“Aaron!” I yelled, my voice echoing amongst the trees. “Aaron! Slow the hell down!”

I spoke worse under my breath, hurrying now around the curve, and probably worked my knee harder than I should’ve. The trees thickened here, and the path itself was nothing but a dim outline. My heart pounded inside my chest. Despite the winter air, a cold sweat began to form on my brow. I heard a distinct zip as I rounded the corner.

I saw him lift his pack from the ground, and swing it around his shoulder. 

I bet he went for his phone, the one he said he didn’t bring. An image popped in my head; I saw that blue glow light up his face. I swear to god—

“What. The hell, Aaron?” I screamed, throwing my useless bike to the ground. “My leg is—killing me, and you’re running off into who-knows-where. The hell is wrong with you? Can’t see a damn thing, and you’re...you’re—”

What was supposed to come out as an insult was replaced by exhausted wheezing. I leaned over, and planted my hands on my legs. I needed my inhaler, desperately, but I was too angry to even bother. 

“Asshole.”  

“Dude, I’m sorry—”

“Sorry for what? Sorry for what, man!”

I growled, yanking my bike from the ground. The metal was uncomfortably cold. I started walking toward him, stomping my feet. I didn’t give a damn about my knee at this point, but, wow, I should’ve.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He spoke, stammering through most of his words. “There’s a bridge just around the corner; I thought we could—”

“You can’t see 10 ft in front of us—How would you know?”

He paused, and pressed his hand against his ear comically. 

“Cause I can hear water, you dope.” 

I heard it too…

A muted trickling came from where we were headed, not blatantly in your face, but loud enough to be recognizable, like whispers just out of ear shot. 

“You thought I was gonna up n’ ditch you?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. I was still fuming. Wouldn’t be surprised if steam shot out of my head. I crossed my arms.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Aaron said, sighing, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He scratched his head. “I thought I could go ahead and see where we were—I was getting a bit nervous myself, if I’m honest. The river is near the end of the trail, and I was hoping to hear it sooner than later.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I—I don’t know, I’m stupid, sorry. Didn’t know you’d ever think I’d ditch you like that, Jesus..” Aaron turned away, and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “Come on. We can take a break on the bridge, if you want.”

I nodded my head in silence.

We started again, at a pace more to my liking. By now, I could feel the swelling in my knee: It was tight and kept that constant burn. Like the air, my frustration cooled in the time we walked. That soft whisper of the river had morphed into a bellowing roar. The crunch of the leaf-filled path was met with a thunk of wood. Our eyes had mostly adjusted to the dark, and we saw the faint outline of a small bridge. The railing faded into a deep abyss. 

I slid down against a post, sighing in relief, and let my pack drop beside me. Oh, it was so good to sit after so long. I watched as Aaron leaned his bike on the other side, and sat atop the railing. I took a sip of what little water I had left, and for the next few minutes, we listened to the roaring river in silence. A memory of mine floated to the surface.

“...Remember that time we made all those boats? The little ones?” I asked.

“...Eugh. Dad got real mad at me for that one—he had a reason, I guess. Used up all the tape he had at the time. Wasn’t mad enough to kick you out, and ground the hell out of me.”

I paused for a moment.

“...What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever made?” Those curious words rolled off my tongue. “I know there’s a huge list to go through, but, like, what tops it off?”

“The weirdest? Damn..” 

I watched Aaron’s eyes dart back and forth; I could tell he was mining in an endless pit.

“...I found a rabbit at one point. Roadkill, sadly. Long dead by then. The sight was...ugly, I guess—I couldn’t stare much. Made me sick to my stomach. I felt bad for the thing too. I happened to have a roll of duct on me, and I….wrapped it. The whole thing. I don’t know why, but…it made me feel better. In fact….I felt great.”

...How do I respond to this?

He had me at first—that was the Aaron I knew under that rickety, little fort, but….what he said was so, I don’t know, disturbing? He was always a thinker—always liked pushing boundaries, but that...I’d never seen him so engrossed in his own thoughts.

“...I’m just screwing with you.” He laughed, and hopped down from the rail. “Dude, I can play you all day long, oh-my-god—” Aaron leaned over, and patted the top of my head in a good-natured way. 

My head spun in circles.

“I gotta go take a leak real quick. Be a few? I’ll even leave my bike so you know—”

“Yeah, yeah, go take care of it, Jesus…”

I waited until Aaron disappeared behind the trees. Everything seemed….fine, but a bug bit at the back of my brain. The phone. That damn phone. My curiosity got the better of me—I had to know. I snuck over to the other side of the bridge, and leaned over his pack. There it was, and he wasn’t around to stop me. 

Just get it over with. Open it. He’s lying to you.

I shook my head, and grabbed the zipper. That cold sweat appeared again. I shot a glance to where he ran off. Nothing. The seconds dragged out. I pulled the zipper, and reached inside. 

Tap.

A faint, blue light came from inside the bag. His phone.

I snatched it out of the bag, turned, and hunched over it to shield the light. 

He lied to me. All this time. Why? Why would he lie? 

I swiped up, and opened the phone. No lock. I glanced behind me, but I couldn’t see anything. The light had de-acclimated my eyes to the dark. I turned back to the phone, and I was met with an article, strangely. My eyes fell upon the bold letters of a headline. “BREAKING NEWS: 5 BODIES LOCATED IN NEW EVE; MUMMIFIED IN LAYERS OF TAPE.”

I dropped the phone. It plummeted into the bag with a soft thud. I left it on, and the light illuminated the inside of the pack, only for a moment. I caught only a glimpse. At the bottom lay three rolls of camouflage tape, one of them nearly used up.

Nikhil was often mistaken for scientist because of his bespectacled face, revealed only as much was needed for recognition by his mop of black hair. Sometimes, he looked like a musician when he wore casuals. But he was neither. He had opted out of Science in high school and had the same taste for music as one quarter of the world with access to the internet.

In order to convince his anxious parents that he would not deteriorate into one of those happy-go-lucky and jobless youngsters (which he was planning to do anyways) he became a freelancer. A freelancer might sound like a full-time job, but Nikhil wasn’t very interested. Even his mobile phone winced at the little interest he evinced in it.

Seeing her son’s aimlessness, Nikhil’s mother sent him to buy vegetables one Thursday. “Go straight to the Thursday market. The tomatoes are cheaper there,” she said, thrusting two hundred rupees into his hands, “Moreover, the vegetable man here knows His Laziness very well.”

“How? None other than the Gossip Queen would have told him,” said Nikhil turning red like a tomato.

“Oh, I don’t need to go around telling people things which they can see for themselves,” his mother retorted. “Now go and get the vegetables. Here’s the list and the grocery bag is inside the scooter.”

Nikhil put the list in his pocket and shook his hair, defying his mother’s curt remark. Instead of wasting fuel in going all the way to the Thursday market, he could have bought those vegetables from the omniscient vegetable man here itself. He could also have given him a piece of his mind!

Soon enough, he began to enjoy the ride. The weather was pleasant inspite of the traffic. He felt even more free because his mother had forgotten to make him wear his helmet. Nikhil thought that his thick and curly hair would never fail to protect his brain from injury during unforeseen circumstances. However, such incidents were uncommon in Nikhil’s life despite his father being a lawyer. Not a very successful lawyer, for that matter.

After having bundled the vegetables in his bag, he decided to go for a longer ride, just for fun. Furthermore, it was not very often that he got the scooter so easily and was welcomed to use it. He silently thanked the all-knowing vegetable seller for making him feel so famous.

While he was waiting for the traffic signal, Nikhil noticed a hardware shop. It was quite unusual for him to have done so because in a city, it is easy to see but hard to notice a hardware shop, especially when he wasn’t going to buy anything from there. He somehow made his way to it through the impatient vehicles. He got down and looked up not at the old board which proudly said ‘Loyal Hardware Shop’, but at the weird cloth-like thing hanging from there.

It had four legs and a bushy tail. The face was further up and hidden behind the board. The whole thing was reddish brown in colour. The shopkeeper came out hurriedly from the dimly-lit and not-so-tidy insides of the shop and beckoned Nikhil inside. But the latter kept standing at the entrance as if he was possessed. To this, the shopkeeper, who was wearing dirty working clothes and had a towel thrown over his shoulder, said, “Sir, we may not look as appealing as the ‘Royal Hardware Store’ but we have a lot more options to offer.”

“What do you mean by ‘we’?” asked Nikhil, knitted-brows relaxing and then knitting up again, seemingly unnecessarily for an irrelevant question.

But the shopkeeper at once regretted for saying ‘we’. He had already been confronted by some crazy people for employing a small boy to do odd jobs at the shop. They had even threatened him by saying that he would be charged for child labour. He somehow escaped their wrath but here was another incarnation. Before he could make a suitable reply, the enigmatic boy appeared out of the shop and stood in front of Nikhil as if in answer.

“Oh,” said Nikhil. The man breathed an uncertain sigh of relief but gave the boy furious look before addressing Nikhil again, “Why don’t you step in, sir?”

Courtesy was not what Nikhil was known for. So, he directly came to the point, “What is that? The thing you have hung up there?” he enquired pointing at the brown thing.

“Oh, that one! It is a pelt, sir, but I am very sorry to say that it is not for sale. A gentleman, a patron of mine, has already asked for it.”

“A pelt?” Nikhil wondered out loud, still dumb-struck by the oddity of the commodity.

“Yes sir. It is the skin of a fox. I hunted and skinned him myself when I went to the forest,” said the shopkeeper smiling. His teeth were redder than the fox fur because of chewing paan.

“Is that so? Where did you learn to hunt?” asked a once-in-a-lifetime interested Nikhil.

By this time, the man wanted to make his newly found disciple, if not customer, sit comfortably on a chair. But Nikhil didn’t budge. So, the shopkeeper went on, “My grandfather was a great hunter, sir. He used to hunt deer, rabbits, bird, leopards and even tigers! He taught me how to hunt and gave me his prised rifle when he was on his deathbed. Let me show it to you, sir.”

“No, no need. I was just asking,” said Nikhil and turned away. But he went back and gave the man a ten rupee note for satisfying his curiosity. The little boy who was standing nearby all the time gave Nikhil a grimace.

During dinner at home, Nikhil casually told his parents what he saw in the hardware shop. Now, Nikhil’s father, Rajeev was not only a failing lawyer, but also a failing father, who hardly motivated or encouraged his son. However, his experience had made him opportunistic and suddenly he became a good father.

“Son, don’t you know that wildlife trade is illegal? It is against the law to kill wild animals and sell their parts.”

“Okay, dad,” said Nikhil, a bit startled by his father’s kind voice.

“So tomorrow, both of us go and get that man on his knees before the law. Then you can write an article about it. Don’t forget to mention my qualifications, understand?” said Rajeev in a kinder tone.

“Alright, dad,” replied Nikhil, slightly disturbed.

“Buy some mutton on the way back,” said Nikhil’s mother, who was barely listening to their conversation.

The next day, Nikhil and his father went to Loyal Hardware Shop with a sense of purpose. The shopkeeper recognized Nikhil at once and said, “Have you come again for the pelt, sir. I could give you another one within a month.”

“Yes, we have come for the pelt,” said Nikhil trying to look serious.

“May I know what do you mean by ‘we’, sir?” asked the shopkeeper who hadn’t forgotten his loss for words at the same question the previous day.

“Sure. I am his father and a lawyer by profession. Don’t you know that hunting wild animals is illegal? It could fetch you a hefty fine and years in jail,” articulated Rajeev, showcasing his lack of cleverness in his first dialogue itself.

“Hunt? Who in his right mind hunts when there are so many things to do? I don’t have as many clients as the Royal Hardware Store but nevertheless, I am a busy man,” retorted the shopkeeper.

“Then how would you explain this?” Rajeev questioned in a brutal tone pointing at the fox pelt. The poor thing just hung there, swaying neither to the wind above nor the war of words below.

“It is fake, sir. Can’t you see it? It is synthetic.”

“But didn’t you say that you had hunted the fox yourself? And that your grandfather taught you how to hunt?” said Nikhil, catching the heat of the argument.

“My grandfather was a poor labourer with a wife and six children. How do you think he would have taught me how to hunt? By God’s grace I have secured a nice shop in the street. But now, there are wolves in sheep’s fleece around me to rob me of my peace,” asserted the man turning crimson.

“Really? Fine then. Why don’t you show me the rifle which your grandfather gave you when he was about to die?” challenged Nikhil. By now, his father was quite impressed with him.

“A rifle in a poor man’s house! How atrocious! Even if he did have one, one which I knew nothing of, he would have sold it to fill his children’s stomachs,” argued the man.

“I see. Then let me ask your little helper.” Nikhil proposed coolly. Just like it happened the previous day, the boy appeared out of the shop as if by a magic spell. “You were listening to everything, weren’t you?” Nikhil addressed him, “Tell me whether your master is lying or not.”

The little boy clearly remembered everything. But the ten-rupee being handed over by his inquirer to his master was stuck in his memory. He chose his side at once. It had long-term benefits too. His mouth remained tightly shut.

“Tell me, didn’t he claim that he was the one who killed the fox with his grandfather’s rifle?” The boy stood there, mute like a statue. The shopkeeper gave him a gratified look.

“If that is your plan, then we can search your shop for the rifle,” said Nikhil making his way inside the shop. Rajeev followed him.

They found no rifle inside the shop. Not even anything suspicious. All that was eye-catching had greeted them at the entrance itself. The shopkeeper who had been chanting all along that the fur was fake, was triumphant.

“I told you, sir. It is synthetic,” he said. Both Nikhil and Rajeev were not qualified enough to distinguish between real and synthetic fur. While Rajeev looked jaded, Nikhil spoke up.

“Well then. You are selling fake stuff and fooling the people, including your patrons by claiming that it is real animal fur. Isn’t that a punishable offence?” Nikhil felt his father’s proud arm wrap around his shoulder in affirmation.

PART 1: Your Surrogate Mother Wishes You the Best

Olive enjoys that week-old lollipop you gave her, its residual sugary film cradling her molars in what you imagine she finds to be a comforting embrace. She was a wreck five minutes ago, sour tears forging paths down her swollen cheeks, diving into the folds of her bib—surely you are thankful for this shift in her mood. It's unclear if you are anticipating the approaching lull of her eyelids, but when her antsy irises cease to pierce yours, you respond adequately (frustratingly so).

It was a mere four seconds she was with me, on me, her face embedded in my screaming skin, yet the barren patches of misery stitched along the length of my body recognize our time together, her longer stay—ever-present, never forgettable. Every fiber of fatigue, every chalky breath I take aches for her being, her painful warmth coating my insides. 

Olive uselessly seals her lips around a piece of food much too hard for her unassuming shards of teeth to combat. I remember my original discomfort with her; I resented her and the things she'd done to me. When I'd stand, a cold, metallic taste would scrape the back of my throat, blackness itching at the corners of my eyes. Flavor became a sting of irritation and sunlight became intrusive, an obstacle between 8 AM and a nap on the train. Olive represented my hatred for my body, which, once soft and purposeful, was now lopsided and rife with tufts of sorrow in all the wrong places. She argued with me, too, made her existence known—a deft elbow to the pelvis now and again to remind me that I, too, was cramping her style. 

Olive needed me and I needed Olive but we didn't want each other and then suddenly we did and then suddenly we couldn't.

Now a window is all that separates me and Olive, yet the glass shrieks in my ear and seduces me and kicks my gut and claws at my collarbone with brittle fingernails of stone. I can't need her like I once did, but I do and I can't not. You sigh as she opens her lips and deposits a robust stream of dribble onto your sleeve; you grin but pull away as she attempts to trap a fistful of your hair between her sticky palms. You don't know what it's like to part with her (a true departure), so it’s fine for you to back away so casually like that. 

I'd never known a pane of glass to pierce so hard with pain so numb.

It was the most acidic of goodbyes, her tender flesh peeled off mine in a blood-soaked pool of frenzy. Too many hands were extended towards her before I could lift my own, reeling from having her and losing her (and realizing it) all at once. I didn't know where you were and I wished it didn't matter; my chest, throbbing, yearning for Olive, wished it was as important as yours.

PART 2: Handicapped (Disability Among Abilities)

Residual pulled pork finds a home in the back of the girl’s mouth, nestled between her molars and gums. She enjoyed the meal too much, but no one dares to mention it, her mother staying particularly silent. She knows what they're thinking, of course, but feigning ignorance brings her joy; they perceive her to be unaware anyway, and plus, it gives her a momentary escape. (She finds ways to cram two-second increments of falsely hopeful oblivion into her packed schedule of a lifetime of failing to prove herself.)

She finds it increasingly difficult to forgive the general public as a whole when one imbecile says something in their trademark doltish fashion. Their empty words comfort only themselves, serving as a blanket to quench their own lachrymose emotions of Guilt and Pity and Uncertainty. (They know they can't imagine how she must feel, so they don't bother trying.) She sees right through the hollow interior of their sentiments, repurposing them like the naked paper towel holders her mother collects.

The parking spaces mean nothing (and everything). She wishes a strong gust of wind would steal the sign that hangs from the rear-view mirror of her mother's claustrophobic station wagon. The blue lines on the ground numb her mind; they are a painful reminder of her reality, not a "blessing in disguise," as a waitress once told her ever-so-sweetly, referring to the convenience of the parking spots. She hates how the arms of the tragic wheelchair stick figure man are pointing outwards in a seemingly longing manner, a desperate plea for assistance. She is passionate about her desire not to be helped; she is more passionate about ensuring others are aware of her desire not to be helped. (She knows her lack of control entails an eternity of aid-receiving, and even still her passion is ever-growing.)

She isn't tired of knowing what she can't do—she’s tired of people thinking they're the first to tell her. In fact, she revels in the opportunity to ponder the unaccomplished. (It gives her hope, the concept of more.) Her state of daydreaming has graduated from naiveté to exhilarating mundanity; the imaginary smell of Norwegian flowers has been replaced with the image of her doorstep and the greatly exciting possibility that her mother trips over it on her way in the house. When she thinks about it hard enough, the doorstep begins to feel as exotic as Norway.

Strangers' eyes are her best friends. They've grown comforting to her, slowly enveloping her in the only sensation she knows to be reliable: shockingly unconcealed public stares. She can't remember a time without them—there really wasn't one—and she's learned that though people are unpredictable, their stares (those sneaky bastards) will always manage to weasel their way into her life. They're never far away, either—always around the corner is a crossing guard or a shirtless fat man taking a jog or a briefcase-toting businessperson jutting their chin out or a twenty-something mother with a low cut top and her baby on her hip or a preschool teacher. She manages to find the magic in the scrutinizing pupils that persistently tap on her shoulder (like the irritating classmate she wishes she had). Her favorite type of eyes is brown and jittery, looking her up and down and daring to exchange glances, if only for a second.

Her mother has flat eyes the color of forgotten pool water that slap her across the face on the way out of the room. (It seems Mother is always exiting; her entrances are much less memorable in the grand scheme of things.) Mother doesn't need to fill the void with meaningless mumbles, so she doesn't. The girl knows what Mother's thinking anyway.

Mirrors don't agree with Olive, but she envisions her own eyes to be limpid yet brimming with angst. This is how she would like to be perceived, and she hopes her eyes do her justice by telling wonderful stories to those who have the courage to meet them.