"So, who comes up first?"
"Parents of Missing Persons."
"Does Portman, the academy's top officer, have any advice for this interview?"
"Keep it clean."
"No poop. But what about the talking points?"
"It's like everything else now. We need to establish the timeline, the suspects, the motive. Most importantly, is this a kidnapping or a runaway case."
"I don't know, the kid seems pretty clean from our basic knowledge. You think he's a bunny?"
"There are some people you never know. No matter how good or smart a person seems. There is an animal instinct inside everyone, you just never know how deep it will be buried."
"I thought we were talking about runaways, not murderers."
"Fight or flight. Running away from home usually begins with some kind of argument with a parent or guardian."
"That flight?"
"Don't be cute. Pay attention to the road."
Carl stormed off and all I could think about was how much I wanted to be like him.
Not being able to see Blake was a crushing blow to me, even though I already knew it. I guess there was a little hope in me - like Carl - that Blake would be there this morning. I often bump into him on the way to school when he gets off the bus, or in class because we all have the same class on Wednesdays. After the first class, doubts crept in.
After the second class, my hopes were dashed.
Blake was really completely missing. I expected it, but I didn’t want it. Of course I didn't. Blake and I are good friends. We should play basketball together tonight. Playing basketball in the park on Wednesday is a common thing. Blake never plans to play basketball again.
Carl, I feel so bad for him. He's not going to have an easy time. If Blake and I were good friends, he and Carl were closer than brothers. While we split up in Skyler, Blake left me looking for Carl for weeks. So much time wasted, but Blake never gave up just like Carl couldn't give up on him now.
As he snaked his way through the cafeteria tables, it was clear he couldn't care less. He almost knocked over a poor freshman on his way out. I can't blame him for wanting to leave. I'd also like to leave if I could. But I am the leader. I have a responsibility. I don't know why it happened to me. Maybe it was just my bad luck that I was the only one with a car that night.
No matter what it is, I have the final say. All decisions were left to me. No matter how old their children were, it changed their lives, and they entrusted them to a kid from suburban Oregon. The whole country went crazy. Every one is. They trusted me to make tough choices.
Like now. If Carl doesn't come to terms with Blake's death soon, I will have to make another difficult choice.
"Matt?"
My sister's voice snapped me out of my stupor. She was still staring at the space Carl had vacated, her face full of worry.
"Yeah?"
"what should we do?"
I sighed. I really hope to never hear this question again. "He needs to vent. Blake is his best friend. One day. We can handle it. One day won't hurt him."
“What if it hurts someone else?”
I shook my head. "Carl's not stupid. He doesn't just attack people. He just needs to get over his grief."
Je
He frowned. "Matt, he's not sad. He's angry. He thinks there's a chance."
"Yes, isn't it?"
"That's great, Matt!" Her voice was the harshest of whispers. I was startled. What's going on? I don't know how to answer. I don't even know what she said. Jane narrowed her eyes and her expression suddenly became fierce. "I know, okay?"
It was like a battering ram hitting the wall of denial inside me. "...you know?" I replied, desperately hoping she meant something else—anything else. But I know exactly what she's going to say next
"I was there. In the front room. I know why Blake died," she said, her voice cracking. I froze, trying my best not to react. I didn't answer. My eyes were fixed on the wall well above Jane's shoulders, although I couldn't see clearly what I was seeing. I try to block everything, everyone.
Jane has been there. She saw what Blake had done. what I did.
After a while, Jane continued without answering. "I get it, okay?" I'm not blaming you. You did what you had to do. Blake and I both understand this. That son of a bitch needs to die. He deserves to die. But Carl didn't know what was going on. "
"Explanations won't do him any good," I said quietly.
"Maybe," she said, leaning forward on her elbows. "But there's no way Black is still alive."
"……No."
"Carl will keep trying until he finds the answer himself."
"Maybe," I said, looking away. The cafeteria continued to bustle around us as if everything was normal. As if we weren't discussing something so brutal that I'm still having nightmares a week later.
"Wouldn't it be easier to just tell him?"
"I don't think he'll believe me," I answered honestly. Carl and I were not on good terms, even before we left. He was with me because Blake and I were together a lot. I mostly ignore him unless he's in my way.
"Well, if the two of us-"
"No," I interrupted him firmly.
"No?" Jane asked. She looked up in surprise.
"You shouldn't get involved."
"Matt-" she started, but I stopped her.
"You have a life to live. A happy, normal, safe life," I said. "Nothing happened to you there, you were just an ordinary girl," I added in my head.
"I can't go back, Matt," she said, her expression grim.
"why not?"
"Well, first of all, I think my daughter is a very bad person. Or have you forgotten?"
"No," I replied calmly. "Of course not. It's my responsibility."
"Dove?"
"It's my fault, Jen," I said, still steadfastly refusing to look her in the eye. I can't bear to see her face now, even if it's the little sister I grew up with and not the scarred Sylva I came to know
da
warrior. "All of them. If I hadn't asked you to—"
"Stop. Now." Her hand grabbed mine. I finally looked at her, at that face that emerged from my past, and I felt so hopeless that it almost consumed me—only her expression wasn't sad or dark anymore. She seemed determined. "It's not your fault. How on earth did you know that?"
"But even when we get there—"
"We're separated. All of us. What happened to me has nothing to do with you." Several people walked by, making Jane pause. My eyes were wet with tears. I rolled up my sleeves and wiped them off before she noticed. I can't show weakness. I am the strongest and the center of the team. Fearless leader. I have a role to fulfill.
By the time the kids walked away, my eyes had cleared and my expression was under control.
"It's okay, Matt. I'm fine. You're fine. We're home," she continued in a low voice. "I'm back to normal. Ish." She smiled. "Well, if I'm a little kapa for a while
What about -litashave? "No big deal."
"In English?"
"Oh, screw you." Jane threw another grape at me. "Ugh... impetuous. Kind of. That's not a direct translation."
I shook my head, amused. I have never learned this language. I knew a few words, enough to understand some of Jen's missteps, and I also knew some of the phrases we'd practiced. They are useful in combat for quickly giving direction. In an insurgency, the ability to communicate on the battlefield without being understood is priceless. I also learned how to reply to some insults, like the one Jen had used the night before. I had heard this phrase so many times that I asked Jen to explain it to me. This is simply racist. Elves and humans don't get along very well.
Carl keeps saying that the language is beautiful and special, but to be honest, I really don’t understand what he’s talking about. To me, Etolin sounds like any other language. I mean, most of the time I can't understand what they're saying, but it's no different than listening to French, Spanish, or Japanese. It's all gibberish, even if it's not human gibberish like the others.
However, the language means a lot to Jane. I got so much. Living with the elves changed her in many ways. In the back of my mind, I feared she would never return to normal. But I'd be damned if I didn't try to get her there.
"Are we okay?" Jane asked. I knew all this, but I could tell she was trying. I appreciate it.
"Yes," I nodded. "We're good." I started eating again, and so did Jane. For obvious reasons we were all distracted and lunch time passed quickly. I devoured the lunch I had hastily prepared that morning. Not my best creation, but for a first meal back, not bad.
I always put our lunch together. Mom was like this before, a long time ago, but everything changed after Dad left. Jane was too young to remember him well, but I remember him. We are better off without him. Still, our mother got a second job, and suddenly she couldn't stay with us anymore except on weekends. On weekdays, unless we stay up late, we have the pleasure of seeing her except when I reluctantly wake her up at breakfast.
But she kept the money flowing, and on top of that, she kept the rest of the house clean and tidy. (Our bedroom is a whole other story). On weekends, after she comes home in the evening, we always have dinner together and do some family activities. Watch a movie or TV, or play a board game. When we were little, we often went to the park. In the beginning, it was basically just Jen, me, and other neighborhood kids playing on the swings and in the playground. As I grew up, I spent more time sitting on the bench with my mom and watching.
We talk about everything. Mom was always there to listen to my complaints. She would listen to what was going on at school, or anything else that came to mind, no matter what it was. At one point, I started complaining about a problem I was having with a video game for over 30 minutes. About how I had trouble figuring out how enemies made certain moves, and how I couldn't defeat them. I can't remember the specific details, but my mother just sat there quietly and listened. When I was done, she asked me if I had finally solved the problem, and I still hadn't.
She told me with a laugh: "Sometimes solutions show up where you least expect them. Never forget, everyone fights for a reason. Everyone wants to think they are the good guy in the end."
This doesn't apply to video games at all. I don't know if she didn't hear what I said and thought it was a book or something. Her advice was completely useless at the time. But, in Sierraville, this simple advice saved my life more than once and helped me build an army. It saved the entire kingdom more than once.
I hope one day I can express this to my mother in some way. But I never will. If only my mother had never heard of that place.
"Hi Jen."
"Mmmph?" Jane muttered with her mouth full of pretzels.
"We should do something for mom."
She swallowed it and answered thankfully. "A
Alas?" I started to remind her, but she held back first. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. like what?"
"I do not know yet."
"We could bake her a cake," she added, her mouth slowly opening into a smile.
“…you just want cake.”
"That's not a no," she retorted.
I sighed. "Good. We'll pick something up."
"You have to go see it, Matt."
"You're not even trying anymore."
"Marsal," she giggled.
"You never change," I complained. "Speaking of which, where are your accomplices?"
"Oh." She frowned. "She has something to take care of at lunch."
"Ah," I said quietly. Actually I'm a little disappointed. When I walked over, Sarah was sitting next to her, and the moment she turned and looked at me, I remembered exactly why I always wanted to ask her out.
We had been chatting for the past week or two until last night when Blake called and everything went wrong. She had been Jen's best friend for years, but somehow we never crossed paths much. Jane never seemed to invite her; they were always hanging out at Sarah's house or somewhere else. But recently, I started noticing her more. She's smart, confident, and most importantly, beautiful. I want to ask her out but something keeps getting in the way. It could be caution, or it could be fear of rejection.
This looks silly. Sarah is worth the risk. Even better, she's normal. ordinary.
Humanity.
"What, what happened?" Jane asked.
"Nothing," I replied quickly. She seemed suspicious, but the ringing came to my rescue. Lunch is over. Jane glanced up in disappointment and started packing the rest of her lunch back into her bag. "You should get this done. It's going to be a long day."
"Do you still have a headache?" she asked, zipping up the bag.
I nodded. “Leftovers, but it’s there.”
"A bunch of lettuce." Jane stood up and zipped her bag.
"Seriously, Jen. I warned her, but she just grinned and walked away.
The last thing I needed was Jen spouting curse words in a language that was not of this world. I doubt anyone will take it as anything other than gibberish, but the more she talks about it, the more likely she is to keep talking and the more attention we get. It was bad enough that Blake was missing. I still don't know what to do with it.
I watched Jen leave, join Sarah at the other end of the cafeteria, and disappear down the hall. My only plan now is to pretend we don't know anything. What else could I do? No one could prove Blake's disappearance. All the evidence is safely hidden in another dimension - or whatever the hell it's called Cy
aveil. Without any clues, we go back to our normal lives as if nothing happened, and any investigation will be in vain.
With this comforting thought, I finished my lunch and set off for my next class.
＊＊＊
I don't have any issues with my other courses. After a messy lunch, I barely noticed the rest of the day go by. I kept worrying about what Carl would do. I wasn't lying when I told Jen he might have a better day, but he had more to lose than I did. Can I really understand how he feels?
When I got home, I put the incident behind me. Mom is still outside, although she didn’t go to work for the first time. She had a day off today, it was a special day and she only had to work tonight. But she promised to go home for dinner. Wondering what she was doing, I tossed my bag into the room, grabbed my keys from the table, and headed downstairs to the garage. I turned on the light gently, and my father's relics were placed there.
It's in great shape and runs better than you'd expect, but it does look like a pile of scrap metal. The paint was chipped everywhere, the driver's side door was badly scratched, and the door to the bed had been closed for fifteen years. Still, it's mine. After Dad disappeared, Mom found all the papers in the car glove compartment with her signature on them. She had her own car, but when I got older, she taught me how to drive a truck.
Why am I always ashamed of this? This is a very useful tool. I shudder to think how much I avoided using it out of resentment toward my father and fear of what others would say about its appearance. Why did I care so much? I was such an idiot. I'd rather walk an extra 30 minutes to a basketball game and then go home than let anyone see my beat-up truck. I even just drive it with Jen to go shopping or run errands. Plus the trip to Sierraville Park.
Now, it looks more like a trusty old machine. It may not win any games, but it doesn't deserve the hate. I put a hand on the hood, feeling the hard metal under my fingertips.
For a moment, my memory flashed back. Instead of cold steel, my hands touched Haldama's warm mane. He snorted loudly and clawed at the blood-stained grass. The stench of decay filled my nostrils and the sounds of battle filled my ears, filled with female voices and the slick sound of swords piercing necks and gaps in armor.
Then I came back and my finger hit a small chip in the paint on the side of the hood. I got in the car and opened the garage door. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Jane holding her backpack close to her chest in the rain and hurried in. She ran in through the front door and a few minutes later came out of the garage and jumped next to me.
"You remember how to drive this thing, right?"
In response, I turned on the engine and backed into the street, as smoothly as yesterday. Jane raised her eyebrows. "Oookay." She leaned over the side of the seat as I pulled onto the main road. Suddenly, she disappeared from the corner of my eye. "Daphut!"
"Are you OK?"
"Yeah," she murmured. "I forgot how intense it was." Jane returned to my peripheral vision and slowly adjusted her seat to a reclined position. Her eyes slowly closed. "I'm going to take a nap, okay?" Wake me up when you get there. "
"It only takes fifteen minutes by car..."
"There is plenty of time."
I shrugged. I glanced over and she looked really tired. In my memory, music always helped her fall asleep. I leaned forward and fiddled with the radio, trying to remember how to use it. I parked my car neatly between a minivan and a delivery truck waiting at a red light. I set up the static and then after some experimentation with the dial, I started playing some pop music. I wanted to change it right away, but I vaguely remembered that it was one of Jen's favorite songs.
I hit the highway and sped up as a blaring rhythm blasted from my useless speakers. The truck made a female voice as it slowly passed 55 miles. I held the steering wheel with one hand and rested my other hand comfortably on the open window, letting the breeze blow through my arms. The clouds broke from time to time, and rays of sunshine broke through the rain. I looked around and saw patches of rainbows in the distance.
Without any warning, the music turned off. I thought it was the truck's stereo that had taken a particularly hard hit, but a second later, when I looked back at the road, I saw Jen's retracted hand.
"What's wrong?"
Jane just shook her head and closed her eyes again.
"I thought you liked that song."
"I don't know," she replied, eyes still closed. "I guess I just can't feel it anymore."
We drove the rest of the way in relative silence, filled only by the roar of trucks and the roar of engines as it traveled along a poorly maintained highway.
＊＊＊
"Jane".
“…He said: ‘I don’t know who you are, I don’t know who you are. "She was talking in her sleep. The only word I recognized was Naef, her friend."
aeffi
abbreviation. I patted her shoulder as gently as I could. She woke up suddenly, and at lightning speed a hand flew down to grab my wrist. In less than a second, she let go, blinking angrily. "Going to Sunana?" Oh, wait. sorry. Stupid question. "She looked around. After adjusting for a while, she reached out to unbuckle her seat belt, only to realize that she had never worn a seat belt before. "...Ouch. Why didn't you remind me?"
I glanced down and realized I wasn't wearing either. Je
chuckled. After a few seconds, I started laughing. We sat there, with the car turned off, in the parking lot of the grocery store, laughing for over a minute. It was a small, silly thing, but for whatever reason it pissed us both off. Maybe I'm just too tired. Regardless, this sentence went a long way to lightening our mood as we got out of the car and walked into the store. I finally regained my composure, but I wondered what Jen had been mumbling in her sleep before I woke her.
For as long as I can remember, she has always talked in her sleep. This part is not new. But it was always written in English. She seems to have switched it wholesale to Etoli
e, this bothers me greatly. I could reasonably tell myself that this was to be expected, but it brought her one step closer to reality.
I didn't want to just take it away from her. I can see how important this is to her identity. Sometimes, I feel as if she has become an adopted foreigner, with a completely different culture and upbringing than mine, even though we have spent 16 years together on Earth. I could never understand what she went through, or how she became the huntress I finally reunited with at the negotiating table in the secret cellar of a tavern in a border town.
As I walked behind her, she looked like a very ordinary high school girl. More importantly, she looks like the girl I grew up with, spent every Christmas with, bought gifts with, watched TV with, and cooked almost every night with. She is my sister.
I started walking down the aisles, picking up the usual stuff, as per my normal cycle. Jen was in the other aisle, presumably getting what she decided we were going to have for dinner. After all, I promised. There was no way she could forget this.
But to my surprise, I had everything packed away before she got back. I wandered aimlessly until I spotted her, staring intently at the bread on the shelf.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" I shouted, stepping forward to join her. Jane didn't answer. Her head slowly moved to the next piece of bread in the aisle. "Ugh, Jane?"
"Se develd. I study here."
Curious, I bent down, holding the basket under my arm. "What are you doing?"
She turned around, her face flushed. "Learning. Or...relearning, I guess."
I checked the bread. This didn't seem weird at all - until I noticed they were all upside down so Jen could read the ingredients there. "name?"
"Forgot the word bread, a. Or cinnamon. Wheat, nuts, raisins, peanut butter." Jane sighed. "Don't make fun of me?"
"Can I honestly guarantee that?"
She snorted. "Okay, you're right. Anyway, do you mind if I walk around a little longer? You'd be surprised how useful this is."
I shrugged. "That's good. Remember, we have to get home and cook before mom gets home."
"Yes, yes." Jane waved me away.
I suddenly remembered Jane's request at lunch. I can't deny that I was craving cake too. The store had a bakery, didn't it? I thought about it for a moment before remembering where it might be, then gave up and started wandering around the outer edges. I knew I would eventually encounter it.
Instead, I discovered something else. other people.
She came around the corner of the aisle and I almost bumped into her. Oddly enough, I nearly knocked her over because I was so distracted by the sight of the deli and the thought of fresh ham for dinner. There are no pigs in Sierraville. I hurriedly helped her to her feet, realizing with a shock that it was Sarah again.
"Oh, hi," I said awkwardly. "Ugh...I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "My fault entirely. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
"Well, I'm not serious either. Let's just call it a draw, shall we?"
"Of course," she said with a smile. Her face is the kind that completely lights up when she does it, with a huge smile and sparkling eyes. It reignited every spark of my fascination with it from a smoldering ember to the flame it once was, doused over the years while my mind was distracted by endless other things . This time, I decided to fan it into a real fire.
"Yeah. If you don't mind, I'd like to see you again sometime."
"Oh?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, though she suppressed a smile at my bad line. So I was never the best at that, no matter what. But I don't care anymore. All I know is that I want to spend more time with her.
"Are you busy on Friday?" I asked, the plan already forming in my head.
"No. I don't think so. Yes, no. I'm free."
"Want to go out?"
Sara smiled slightly and nodded to me. "Of course, Matt."
"Cool. I'll pick you up then."
"Well," Sara began, glancing around. It wasn't part of the script in my head. A ball of anxiety began to form in my mind.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh! Nothing. I have to walk home with Jane anyway. Why don't we meet at your house?" she said quickly. Is she embarrassed about something? Her eyes kept darting around. Something to avoid. I Don't know how to interpret it.
"Okay." I laughed, trying to tell him it wasn't a big deal. She returned it, and the world seemed a little lighter.
"So, you're making dinner?" she asked casually.
"Jane told you?"
Looking super excited. Like exaggerated excitement. Are you some kind of super chef?"
I shrugged. "I dabble."
"Ah, playing cool. Smart choice." Sarah grinned. "Maybe I'll have to come over and try your cooking sometime."
"I don't know if I can handle the stress of cooking for someone as beautiful as you."
Sarah's eyes became glazed for a moment. Her face flushed. "Save something for Friday," she murmured.
I grinned. "Don't worry. I have to go home now anyway." I turned to leave, but Sara grabbed my hand. Despite the sudden change in her tone and change of tone, there was still a spark on my skin, feeling that touch.
"Wait." Her voice changed. It was a tone that made me feel scared, worried and serious, full of fear and confusion. It foreshadows the panic and terror to come, where terrible things are bound to happen. "Look, Jen asked me not to say anything, but I'm worried about her."
My fears came true. People outside our group learned things they shouldn’t. I tried to suppress my panic. Jane is not an idiot. Usually smarter than me. She must have a reason for Sarah to join us and we will discuss it once we get home. Most importantly, I don't know what exactly Jen told her. I have to play it safe.
"Worried?" I asked, my tone not casual. I'm just a brother who cares about him.
“Have you noticed anything lately? Especially today?”
I shrugged.
Sarah frowned. "Oh, come on, don't tell me that. You two are super close. As close as thieves."
"Occasionally I actually steal something."
"Um?"
"Nothing." It's not a story I can share with Sarah, although it's a pretty good highlight. Carl's armory guards didn't see us coming. "I mean, yeah, she's been a little different lately. But people change. Nothing stays the same forever."
"Now that you say so," she sighed.
"Talk about me behind my back?" So shameful. Jane whispered from somewhere nearby. Sarah and I were startled, but we didn't see her anywhere.
"...Jen?" I asked in the thin air, unsure of where she was.
"Now," she answered, poking her head from the shelf in the adjacent aisle.
I frowned. "Are you standing on the shelf?"
"Don't worry."Je
Grinning. "By the way, you two are so cute. After many years of dating, you're finally dating."
My cheeks were on fire. I'm sure my face was as red as Sarah's.
"Jenny, I - - -"
"Jen," we corrected her automatically.
Sarah shook her head in disbelief. "You're all crazy."
“Also smart, insightful, and forward-thinking,” Jen added. "Also, Matt, should we go?"
I nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave. "Have you decided what to eat tonight?"
In response, Jane held up a plastic bottle. It caught the light from the lamp above, illuminating the translucent amber liquid inside. She threw it over and I caught it. A bottle of maple syrup.
"Just pancakes."
