Epilogue

by Etzoli

  Their faces were blank masks. They could be hiding anything. Planning anything. They outnumbered me twenty to one. They could take me, if they wanted.

  My chair was up against one of the walls. I turned slowly, as subtly as I could manage, orienting myself toward the crowd.

  If one of them made a move, I was ready.

  I might not be armed, but I knew dozens of ways to escape a hold, or quickly knock someone down larger than me, and I felt confident I could outrun most of them.

  They wouldn’t ever take me again.

  What the hell am I doing?

  The moment passed. Nobody in the room was looking at me. No one had any designs on me. My mind was playing tricks. Relief ebbed back into my brain, but it was still tinged with lingering dread. I’d been completely gone for a minute, sunk back into the corner of my mind where I’d never wanted to go again.

  The moment the bell rung, I was out the door. Second period was Journalism, that one I remembered for sure. Again, not a huge journalism nerd, but this class had a lot of my friends—and most importantly, Sara was there. Friendly faces. I needed some friendly faces. People I could relate to, of my own age.

  Relatively speaking. Naeflin was way older than me by any sane measurement. But that didn’t matter right now. She was a world away, and I had to get to the journalism room.

  The crowd of students pouring into the hallway formed a teeming maze, seemingly impossible to navigate. I hugged the wall, avoiding the main body and sticking near the banks of lockers on the edges. It meant running into more individual students, but I could get around them more easily than trying to move through the constantly shifting pattern in the center of the hall.

  Why was this suddenly so difficult for me?

  Oh, right. I haven’t been to high school in over seven years and I’m suddenly in the body of a sixteen year old again. That sort of thing would probably throw anyone off balance. Literally, actually. More than once. My brain expected me to be just a little bit taller, a little bit stronger. I’d nearly tripped over my feet a few times.

  There. The doorway to the journalism room was in reach. I was inside, and in the corner we usually hung out in, long before the class bell rang. Consequently, I was one of the only kids in there. A few of the normal early-comers shot me odd looks, but I was mostly left alone. We were a tight-knit group back here, the ace reporters, the cream of the crop. Or something like that.

  Let’s be honest. It was high school journalism. We mostly just hung out and screwed around.

  I felt exhausted from my trek across the school to get here. Not physically exhausted, apart from lack of sleep; I might not be in peak shape anymore, but sixteen-year-old me still kept herself fit. I was mentally drained. I closed my eyes and laid my head down on the countertop, carefully orienting myself so the corner was behind me. I could still pick out the sounds in the room, the slight currents in the air from people moving around.

  At least that hadn’t been taken from me. I’d trained myself to pick up every clue I could, from every sense my body had. I could keep a perfect mental picture of the room and everyone in it, and even keep it up to date with my eyes closed. It was very, very hard to sneak up on me—as Sara was about to find out.

  “ Shasi, vis hila, ” I said, throwing my hand up to catch hers. She’d been about to tap me on the shoulder to wake me up. “What do you totev dou to tolal? Dov litev dou seddeka evel naland vei. ”

  I opened my eyes, grinning. I expected to see her frustrated, maybe make fun of her a bit before we got back to class, but all I got was confusion. In my sleep-deprived state, it took me a few seconds to realize I’d dropped the ball on English again.

  “My turn, I guess,” she said slowly. “I have no idea what you just said.” Sara’s worried expression from the morning crept back into place, like an annoying pest that just wouldn’t leave us alone.

  Not that I think Sara’s annoying. That was poorly worded. I just really wasn’t doing well in general.

  “Oh, uhh…” I scrambled around for a moment, picking the first thing I could come up with that sounded halfway believable. “It’s a fake language I made up.”

  “Huh,” Sara replied, clearly unconvinced. I flinched. My best fridnd was not having it. I really, really didn’t want to lie to her.

  Matt would understand. I hoped.

  I sighed, mostly to myself, and took a deep breath. “Okay, Sara. Look. Something did happen. I can’t tell you what. Not yet.”

  Sara raised an eyebrow, as the final bell rang and students started to filter in. She glanced toward the classroom door. I could tell we both had the same thought. The other two members of our little group in this class would arrive soon. I liked them both plenty, but Sara was my best friend all the way back to when we were four. That sort of friend, you know? The only person I could even consider telling my story to.

  “I assume you’ve got a good reason?” she asked quietly, edging closer so we wouldn’t be overheard.

  “I promise I’ll tell you. I just can’t yet.”

  “Are you okay, though?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. I took a few seconds before I spoke again. I had to compose exactly what I wanted to say in English, make sure I got everything across. “Honestly, I’m fine. Not dying or anything, and I’m not in any trouble. But my head’s gonna be in a weird place for a while. I’m having trouble remembering a lot of things. I’m sorry to dump all this on you, but I’m going to need a lot of help for a bit, and you’re the only one I can really trust.”

  I waited, impatiently, as she appeared to consider my words. Her face was an unreadable mask. I was never that great at reading other people, I was just good at hiding my own emotions. Finally, she spoke up again.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I believe you. But I do want that explanation.”

  “I promised, didn’t I?”

  “Still waiting on that pony you promised,” she added, with a forced giggle. It worked, though, despite being an ancient joke that neither of us even thought was funny at the time. I started to laugh too, and soon we were both doubled over even as Kersey and Mirai showed up, eager to hear a joke neither of us could explain.

  But finally, things were starting to feel normal again. We settled into class, and broke into groups, and everything was going okay. Kersey and Mirai were still calling me Jenny, though.

  I’d have to fix that.

  It wasn’t long before I started feeling it again. Discomfort, and the inklings of adrenaline pumping into my system. I felt like I was getting overwhelmed by something I couldn’t actually see. There were too many unfamiliar faces in the room. They shouldn’t have been unfamiliar. Seven years ago I would have known the name and face of every single person here. Today… they may as well be complete strangers.

  This time though, I had an out.

  I poked Sara. “Hey. Let’s go out for a walk?”

  “Sure.”

  Two minutes later, we were wandering the grounds behind the school, supposedly to go interview a staff member with a free period right now—but really just to get outside for a while. Press passes, aren’t they the best?

  Even better, I didn’t have to explain it to Sara. This was totally normal. We used this excuse to head out all the time. We were talking about nothing in particular, joking and laughing like usual. Luckily, the rain I’d expected had already rolled right on by. Patches of sunlight swam across the well-kept rain-soaked lawn, growing larger as the clouds were swept away. A few birds were swirling above the trees at the end of the field. It looked like it might be a beautiful day after all.

  I was so busy watching the sky as we walked that as we rounded the corner behind the portable classrooms, I almost missed Carl, sitting in the shadows with his face in his hands.

  Chapter 4 — Carl

  “Clark, man. Callin’ me West makes me feel like I’m fifty years old.”

  “Right. Well, have you ever done an abduction, Clark?”

  “No, but I sure as hell know some ki
ds who deserve it.”

  “I meant—”

  “Yeah, no, never landed a kidnapping case. This’ll be my first.”

  The fields were much better. The school was way too squeaky-clean. Even if the place was too even, too maintained—it was still nature . The clouds loomed ominously in the distance, but I figured I’d have plenty of warning if the rain picked up.

  I was lounging behind one of the portable classrooms situated around the back half of the school campus. The classroom made a nice L shape, which blocked me from view in every direction from the main school building. The only window in the classroom was pointed away from me, high enough on the wall that someone would have to deliberately look down toward my corner to spot me. I didn’t think that likely for any teacher, and what student would bother to report a loner kid hanging out?

  With my luck, I’d probably get that one stickler kid. Or even worse, it’d be Matt, and then I’d really be in for it.

  At least I had the internet again. I had one of the first phones available with an actual 4G connection on the U.S. market, with speeds that blazed circles around everything else. It sucked compared to my home connection, obviously, but it was way, way better than the school’s shitty wi-fi. I was checking through the forum posts I made last night. It was obsessive and unnecessary, as I well know. I’d double checked them this morning. Here I was, just an hour or two later, trying it again. I doubted I’d get any responses even by tonight. Most of these boards were sinking ships by now.

  At the same time, I had my private IRC logged in and running too. Kyle and a few others were signed on… as was Blake. That didn’t mean anything though; he always left himself logged in. I’d bugged him about it a few times. He’d been marked away automatically by my bot days ago—the last time he’d sent a message. I scrolled back through the log, but there wasn’t anything I didn’t at least vaguely remember. Then it hit me.

  One of the logged-in users was Jacob. Jacob was in the same class as Blake right now, unless I was remembering wrong.

  I opened a private message with him and started poking him for a reply. Nothing came back. I waited anxiously, watching the cursor flick on and off in the text box as if I were hypnotized. The screen stubbornly refused to print a new line.

  “ Dov lavack? ”

  Her voice was way closer than I’d have expected. Startled, I brought my hand up in a defensive posture instantly, but I needn’t have worried. There was only one person who’d be cursing in Etoline on this entire planet.

  There she was. Standing just slightly askew on the balls of her feet. She was ready to move at an instant. Her eyes were alert, and the most beautiful shade of deep blue. If I closed my eyes, I could picture the first day I saw her, clad in hand-crafted elven clothes and a quiver over her shoulder, stumbling her way through broken English like she’d just immigrated from overseas. She could barely make herself understood—but at the same time, I could tell how graceful and powerful she was. Even now, seeing her as she’d been so many years ago, I could still see that fierce, brave hunter hiding inside.

  Her hand was clapped over her mouth, as if she’d said something wrong. I thought that weirdly out of character, since Jen had never been reluctant with the more colorful parts of the elven lexicon, but then I noticed her friend a few steps to the side, looking very concerned.

  “Hi,” I greeted awkwardly, shifting back to relaxed again.

  “Carl, why are you out here?” asked Jen. She seemed to be calming down quickly enough.

  I shrugged. “Felt like a walk. You?” I was too embarrassed to admit the truth—that I couldn’t find one measly classroom. In response, she pulled out a laminated piece of paper from her pocket, showing me the press pass.

  “Ahh, shirking class. Nice.”

  Jen rolled her eyes.

  Her friend finally spoke up. I struggled to remember if I’d ever met her before. My instincts leaned toward no. “Jen, you know this guy?”

  “Uhh, yeah. This is Carl. Carl, Sara.” Jen gestured to each of us in turn.

  “ The Sara?” I interjected.

  “What does that mean?” asked Sara pointedly. Jen looked confused as well.

  Shit. I hadn’t gotten the whole story. Back in the first year or two, before we’d gone our separate ways, Matt used to go on for hours about Sara, a girl he’d had a crush on. Whenever girls came up in a conversation between us guys, Blake and I would talk the whole field, but Matt only had eyes for her. He’d just been too uncertain to ask her out when he had the chance, and (this being the old Matt) I’d called him out for it. I hadn’t realized she was Jen’s friend. Suddenly, his reluctance made a lot more sense.

  This was getting tricky.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “Nevermind.”

  “Nuh-uh,” said Jen. “You don’t get out that easily.” She lowered her voice a little, enough that it wouldn’t carry, and leaned in so Sara wouldn’t hear. “ Tol la nalv tola ta Cyraveil? ”

  My Etoline was never that great. I struggled with learning the wider vocabulary, and I was too busy to study it in detail, not when there were so many more interesting things I could be doing. When I spoke it, I always felt like I sounded ridiculous. Anyone that wasn’t an elf sounded stupid trying to speak it, in fact. There was a wind-like quality to it that just wasn’t taught, the way the sounds moved through a sentence. I could never grasp it.

  Jen was a natural. As far as I knew, she was the only human to ever become fluent in Etoline. She sounded so perfect, and every time she used the language it tickled my ears with joy. Jen had spaced out the words a bit so I could more easily understand them, but normally it flowed like a river through the woods. She’d once tried to explain to me how it connected to the wind and the trees and something-or-other nature nonsense. I didn’t really pay attention—until she started to sing.

  I cannot possibly describe what it was like to hear Jen sing in Etoline. Transcendent is probably the best word we’ve got for it in English. I could have died happy right then, if not for the fact I would never want the song to end.

  Jen’s expectant stare pulled me back out from reminiscing. Oh, right. She’d asked me a question. I glanced pointedly at Sara, still watching the two of us curiously. Jen sighed, and turned to her friend. “Hey, Sara. Can you give us a minute?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Remember what I was telling you?” That brought me a shock. What the hell was Jen up to? Behind our backs? Forget that, behind Matt’s back? She might not have been a part of the team nearly as long as the three of us… but still.

  Sara nodded. “You owe me big here, Jenny.”

  “Jen,” both Jen and I corrected automatically.

  Sara frowned, but turned and walked a few paces away, keeping watch around the corner for any students or teachers. A good friend, it seemed. Jen came and sat down next to me, smoothing out the grass. She leaned back against the portable wall and closed her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a frown.

  “So what was that about?” she asked, eyes still closed.

  I hesitated. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you.”

  Jen cracked an eye open, giving me a death glare. “Do I gotta remind you what I can do to you with just my pinky?”

  I laughed, but with an honest kernel of truth hidden somewhere within. I’d seen what Jen could do. Not with her pinky, but still. She earned those titles, they weren’t just for show.

  “…Matt had a massive crush on her. I assume it’s her, anyway.”

  She looked genuinely surprised. “He told you?”

  I shrugged. “In that first year, we had a lot of long nights stuck in barn hay lofts or stables. We didn’t have a whole lot to do. Blake and I got it out of him, and after that, he just wouldn’t shut up about her. You know how he loves his speeches. The description matches up, so I’m pretty sure that’s the right Sara. She was always the one for her, at least for the first couple years.”

  “Oh,” Jen answered noncommittally. She closed her eyes a
gain, slouching a bit. She looked like she was exhausted beyond belief.

  “ To dou valensel? ” I asked tentatively.

  “Ugh, no. Well, yes, I’m okay, but stop that. Sorry,” Jen added, rubbing at her temples. “English, please. I’m having a hard enough time remembering to use it already. Ala dou daendalasas valensyl masadalel, snekkiva litashav. ”

  “…So’s your mother.”

  She giggled. “You don’t have a clue what I said, do you?”

  “Something-something squirrel brain?”

  “Glad you picked up on the insult. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” She yawned, leaning against the corner of the building. “What’s up with the migraines, anyway?”

  “Consequences of magic?” I ventured.

  “Doesn’t usually feel like that.”

  “You’re the expert.”

  Jen must have noticed the tinge in my regret, as her eyes reopened. “I’m sure you would’ve felt it someday,” she said quietly.

  “I dunno.”

  I looked up at the sky, watching a bird fly down and land on the rooftop near us. The clouds had rolled away, leaving an empty expanse of blue above us, hiding the endless void of space. I picked off a blade of grass and threw it at the bird. It caught the air almost instantly and fell to the ground, defeated. The bird cocked its head, as if it were mocking me. If we were still in Cyraveil, it probably would have been, as the eyes of an elf magician.

  If we were still in Cyraveil, it would have had an arrow through it a second later. Couldn’t take any chances. But we weren’t, and that meant I probably wouldn’t ever get to learn magic. “I couldn’t even acquire a single etolend… ”

  “ Etolendei ,” she filled in. “And that was the problem, you know. You thought of it like you were taking something. Like there were single pieces of spells you could just pick up out of the blue.”

  “I’ve heard this lecture,” I muttered.

  Jen’s eyes slid shut again, the frown returning to her face. “I wasn’t the best teacher.”