"This has got to be some kind of sick joke," I said. "What the hell, you guys!”

Were they messing with us? It would make sense; those jerks were messing with us. I knew it! Maybe Yaj was right, and I just needed to meditate and make sure my chakras were aligned or something.

"So it was you guys, that's a freaking dirty trick," Yaj said disgusted. I could tell in his tone because these fools had duped him.

"What are you talking about?" Koda asked, walking in from the other room and sitting beside Mika on the bed.

"You guys put him at one of those exits to scare the shit out of us, didn't you?" Yaj said very accusatorially; he was furious.

"Dude, I swear we didn't. We stole it and hightailed out of there." Kern urged.

As Yaj explained the story, I stared at this creepy porcelain rabbit looking at me maniacally. I was not a fan. "Did you see if Nez was on?" I asked Robbie again. "Yeah. Calm down, Mr. Stalker,” he said, irritated. "Hey, don't get all pissy pants because I didn't like this creepy rabbit?" I responded.

Mika, laughing, said, "I think it's so funny you’re tripping out, and Yaj's completely sober, but you both ran from an imaginary rabbit.”

“Like this is some coincidence if I've ever seen it,” Koda says while Mika rolls behind him, laughing. Yeah, maybe it was funny, but not yet.

It was true, though. The coincidences don't hit any closer to home than that. But I was tired and bothered that Nez hadn't logged in yet because she always did. So she's either super mad at me, or she's hanging out with older kids. "OK. Clearly some boy.” I thought, feeling frustrated.

“She hasn't logged in yet," Robbie said.

Yaj had made his way to the couch with Yara, where a large pile of candy sat on the middle cushions. I flopped down in the bean bag. It wasn't much later that people started to file out; Yaj wandered home soon after, exhausted from the adventure and the whole thumper reveal.

Shay’s mom, my ‘Aunt Bee’ as we called her, had agreed to pick him up and was dropping Kern off on the way. The two of them were pretty tight. Kern at least lived in the direction of my cousin's house, although not as far.

Mika and Koda left while I was dozing off in the bean bag. I vaguely remember Mika rubbing my head and telling me to cheer up before she left. I sat there listening to Robbie's keystrokes as he played the game. (Or I looked through game documents I had written, trying to find a clue.) I wanted to ask him every 5 minutes if Nez had logged in, but I knew better. If something terrible happened, we would have already learned. It was too late for her not to be home, and her mom would have called immediately. So, I was at least confident she was safe. Although bothered, I focused on keeping myself asleep for longer than ten minutes.

Robbie kept spare clothes at my house and, like Yaj, would crash wherever and whenever they felt like it. Robbie would take the couch or my bed because I prefer the bean bag. I closed my eyes and retraced my steps through the night. It appeared to have been quite an eventful Halloween. I could see myself walking through a forest path again after my little ‘explosion,’ although it felt different. I could feel the memories of tonight mixing with other thoughts. I could see things coming together now.

“Oh, I’m dreaming.” I thought. I knew I was in a dream, yet it was strange to find myself reflecting while in a dream. The road I was standing right now wasn't even real and was miles from the comfortable bean bag I was sitting in.

The path before me led to an old writer’s cottage I knew well. A quaint little place where I spent countless hours. When my parents were away, my grandmother Josie would watch over me; she was the only person I ever saw in this dream. Somehow, it made sense; we had shared many adventures. Fighting off ghosts trying to invade the forest, using the cottage as a castle or secret base in the stories. This game had been a cornerstone of my childhood, so the dream always felt familiar.

The shadows swirled and churned around the path and the cabin but dared not breach its protective barrier. “My grandmother had ensured its sanctity,” I told myself repeatedly. I had seen this dream so many times and experienced it. I was looking for clues now. A message it was trying to tell that I couldn't seem to hear.

I knew when I got closer to the cabin, he could come, and we would run. We always ran. The phantom would draw closer, its presence suffocating. But even as fear coursed through me, a glimmer of defiance sparkled in my grandmother's eyes. She stood resolute, a beacon of strength in impending doom. With every step, we closed the gap between our trembling forms and the safety of our yard.

The lantern above us pulsed with intensity as if rallying its strength for the final stand. Sensing their impending defeat, the shadows hissed and recoiled, unable to cross the threshold. It was a testament to my grandmother's power, a force of protection woven into the very fabric of our sanctuary.

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And then, with one final surge of energy, we made it. Bursting through the yard's entrance, my grandmother turned around, reaching for the floating lantern, grasping it firmly in her hands, as a brilliant flash of light washed over every object in their yard. It moved like water, the edges sparkling radiantly, a rainbow of every color.

“If you looked closely enough, the colors seemed to dissolve into the air.” I thought as it hit me. I would be bathed in warmth, and then, like clockwork, I sat up in his bed, opening my eyes.

My younger sister was here now, saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her yet. I just squinted my eyes.

“Are you stupid?” she said slowly.

“Are, yooooooou, stuuuuupiddddddd?” she repeated even slower.

“What am I stupid about?” I asked, still shaking off the fog of sleep.

“You were screaming. I was asking you why you were screaming,” she said.

“What do you mean, screaming?” I said, looking at her as if she was trying to play a joke on me.

“Yeah, you were yelling loudly, like breathing in and out,” she said, mimicking someone obnoxiously breathing in and out.

“I was just having a dream about Grandma.”

“Don't care, time to get up,” she said, closing the door. She said something else, but he couldn't hear it behind the closed door.

I knew my dad was going to lay into me, mostly about yelling at my grandma. Even though she wasn't his mother, my father always considered her mom too. So, the treatment for yelling at my grandma, whether she was his mom or not, would have been the same.

My dad was pretty flexible about us taking accountability for ourselves and having friends over until, who knows, when it was never an issue. But disrespecting people was a cardinal sin in his eyes. The only blessing I might have now that I did know was that he was going to be gone for a couple of days. So, if I could make a quick exit, he'd have a couple of days to cool down before I caught the brunt of it. My mom, I can deal with it. My dad was a different kind of monster when you crossed the line, as were all the parents these days, it seemed like.

This was all the more reason to get my stuff and get moving, but I was immediately drawn to my skateboard. Nez had painted my grandmother’s lantern on it—an immediate reminder of when I had boldly declared my aspiration to become a professional skater.

With the skillful assistance of my grandma, Nezami crafted a tribal bracelet, ensuring it was perfect for my constant companion—my bag. It's more than an accessory; it's a symbol of our heritage, a connection to our tribe. “It’s funny how I can sit here and think of this. Like the world on both sides seems to be crumbling.” I thought. Nezami, even at a younger age, understood its significance, making me promise to keep it, regardless of any future fame as a skater. "She's good people," I mused.

As I sat there, lost in thoughts of her, the sudden interruption of three loud stomps on the floor brought me back to the present. In our family, that distinctive sound served as the ultimate warning. "Coming!" I hastily responded, snapping out of my reverie and preparing to face whatever awaited me.

"Good afternoon," my father, Rowan, greeted gruffly. He was of average build man, with olive skin and ruggedly handsome features. After serving in the military, he transitioned into the trades, eventually starting his own construction company. Interestingly, he was the one who built the house we are in now, back when he and my mom first got married. My mom, Winona, now resided with her new partner in the North End of town. Funny, it’s almost at the exact opposite distance from where this house is. The neighborhoods were also quite opposite fiscally.

"You must have been out late. Your sister tried to wake you up for five minutes," he remarked.

"Yeah, I must have. I don't even remember. I was so tired. Did Robbie leave?” I responded, feeling a bit caught off guard.

“No, the man-child is in the shower. Well, did you at least have fun? Everyone got home safely," he continued. Now, I knew something was amiss. This was like the calm before the storm. I was bracing myself for what was about to come. I was so on edge that when the front door slammed shut, the sound made me jump out of my skin.

"What's up, family?" my older sister, Aurora, said.

"Rora, what are you doing here?" my younger sister, Zoe, mumbled, her mouth full of cereal.

"I'm here to watch over you, gremlin. Mom's busy with a bake sale at the shop, so I said I'd take care of you today while Dad's gone,” Aurora explained. She was the eldest of us three.

After pouring the last coffee into his thermos, Dad patted my younger sister on the head, exchanged farewells, and left. For a brief moment, I wondered if “maybe my grandma didn’t say anything; no way I was quiet, though.” Maybe he opted for silence instead of confronting me for using the F-word in front of Grandma.

"Hey, do you wanna ride or what?" Aurora asked, her tone indicating she'd already asked once.

"Nah, I'm going with Robbie; we’re heading to his dad's shop after school, too,” I replied, glancing over as Robbie emerged from the bathroom, dressed in fresh clothes.

"Oh my Arcadia, I need a coffee and a stripper from there so bad," Aurora chimed.

"What's a stripper? Can I get a stripper?" Zoe asked, still chewing.

"No, it's a sandwich, a kickflip stripper,” Robbie explained, finally walking in to join us.

Tora, always known for creative names, had named all the sandwiches at the cafe after skateboard tricks. He'd add a sprinkle of pepper as his signature touch, a small act of rebellion.

"Yes, we'll go there before school, as long as you're not a crackhead," Aurora quipped.

"Hey, did you talk to Dad earlier?" I inquired.

"No, I literally just got here. Why?" Aurora replied.

"No reason, just curious," I said, my mind racing. If Aurora hadn't spoken to Dad, maybe Mom hadn't either. And if Mom didn't know, perhaps Grandma hadn't said anything.

"Alright, ladies, we’re out. They're going to be mad I'm late," I said, grabbing my younger sister's spoon from her hand, taking two massive bites of her food while she struggled to stop me, and then heading out the door. Robbie, putting his Viking helmet back on, we left for school.