I told her the truth.
Or pieces of it, at any rate. Ones that painted the picture I needed her to see. “I was on a trip for work, truly. It was a last-minute trip, and I didn’t have time to deal with the leftovers. My phone died, and I was unable to get a replacement. Since I didn’t have my phone, I didn’t get the alert when the package was delivered.”
A couple of lies framed the picture. “I haven’t spoken to him yet, but my boss must have called you when he learned about my phone.”
Ember looked like she was close to believing me. “Then why didn’t he say that? Or answer when I called back?”
“I don’t know. He was busy, I suppose.”
“And your injuries?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, avoiding her eyes and feigning embarrassment. When I spoke, my words were a little above a mumble. “My coworker and I got mugged by a guy on our way back.”
“Your phone died before you got mugged?”
I flashed her my arm again, pretending it was proof.
Ember crossed her arms. “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”
“It’s the only story there is to tell.”I could tell she didn’t fully believe me, but she let the topic drop and picked up our plates, sticking them in the dishwasher.
She patted a small box on her way back. “I went ahead and took mine already. This is your copy.”
“Thank you for bringing the package in.”
Ember twisted her hands together. “Just…let me or our parents know next time, alright?”
“I will.”
“Good.”
She left shortly after.
I got ready for bed and unpacked my bookbag, setting Cove’s things aside for later. As I pulled the Blu-ray set for Heirs out, I shoved it beneath my bed, knowing my sister made a note to check through my books and moves each time she came over. Heirs was one of her favorite series–she’d know the anime didn’t exist and would ask questions I couldn’t answer.
The photo I’d tossed in my bookbag came out last, buried beneath everything else and half-forgotten. The draw that had pulled me to grab it was gone, and I debated throwing it away before noticing something intriguing. It was unlikely–improbable, even–but there, in the boy's arms, was the teddy bear, Bearard. A theory sprung into my mind, but there was no way to be sure it was true.
I moved the photograph into my study, placing it with my sketches from Heirs, before falling asleep in my clean bed.
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In my dreams, a boy sprinted through the trees of the forest, kicking up leaves behind him. His hands were raised, his face turned to drink in the sunlight, which glinted off his dark brown hair and was bleached with the sun.
“Elm!”
The boy paused, waiting for a woman–his mother–to catch up. She sprinted for him, lifting him and twirling him in the air before settling him at her side. The woman pointed at a tree in the forest, where a pidgeon-sized Chinese dragon rested in the branches. It took off as we watched, flying away like a startled bird. Elm’s mother held him out, stretching up so he could reach his pudgy hands out to brush against the leaves. “That’s an Elm tree.” She nuzzled his face, and he squealed in glee, laughing. “The tree you were named after. One day you’ll grow up to be as tough as this tree.”
The boy’s eyes shone with wonder as he looked upon the tree, and his mother’s smile reached her eyes. “Though that won’t be for a while, my little leaf.”
The forest and the two melted away. In the next scene, a teenager–Elm–sat on a bed in a warm green room, carefully tucking items into a backpack. The items were scattered across his forest-patterned bedsheet, and he paused as he reached for the last one, a well-loved brown teddy bear.
A knock sounded on the door.
Elm looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway with a soft smile. “Are you ready?”
He glanced down at the bear he was holding in his hands, fiddling with its paws. “I just finished packing.”
Elm set the bear gently off to the side, leaning it against the pillows. His mother’s skirts swished as she stepped lightly into the room, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. “You can bring him if you want to.”
Elm focused on her face, uncertainty crossing his own. “But what if he gets lost?”
“He won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
His mother changed tracks. “Is it any better to leave him behind?”
Elm was silent for a few minutes before answering. “No.”
He unzipped his bag, tucking the bear in, lifting the zipper as he sealed the bag shut so it wouldn’t catch.
“If he gets lost, you’ll find him again someday.”
The words faded with his green room and a classroom rebuilt in its place. Elm had grown again, looking almost college-aged. Thunder boomed in the distance, but Elm’s face was joyful under the bright overhead light. A ring sat before him, with knee-high robots on either end.
“You ready, ____?” Elm asked. The scene distorted, skipping over the name. On the other side, the face of Elm’s opponent was blurry, like a memory you couldn’t quite reach. The other person said something in return, and Elm gleefully pressed a button on the remote in his hand, sending the robots into a fierce battle.
They bumped against each other over and over, pieces of metal and plastic cracking away with each impact. In the end, Elm's robot stood firm, and Elm gave a victorious smirk as he reached for his robot. “I knew I’d win this time!”
Thunder cracked again, and the two jumped before laughing at their reactions.
CRACK!
A terrible crack, unlike and incomparable to any other I’d heard, tore through the day, ripping the moment to shreds. Both robots went clattering to the floor, shattering on impact.
CRACK!
It rang again, and the earth and the air split before me. Elm hopped back, his face white with fear. The division extended, separating the sky and the heavens itself. The two suns dimmed in the sky.
CRACK!
The ground shook, and Elm and his friend doubled over, clutching the splits in their chests. Golden dust drifted from each crack–from the sky, the ground, and the people. The air shimmered as it lifted away into the air.
CRACK!
In unison, every living being screamed as they were ripped to shreds. The universe around me crumbled into stardust, scattering away with the wind. The golden remains of the people clutched at their own stardust, trying to put their own puzzles back together as they drifted further away.
Elm turned, and I saw in him the fragment Cove and I had recovered from Bearard and the robot.
“Help me!” he cried.
My chest hummed.
“Help me!” they cried.
“Help me!”
Golden webs thrummed through the air, shining brilliantly before falling apart. Some of the remnants tricked up the threads, escaping this dying universe.
A terrible darkness fell over the scattered lights, and the stardust sunk beneath the waves of endless nothing. My chest burned.
I was left alone in the darkness.
Suddenly, an existence burst into life in front of me. The broken puzzle of Elm, still missing pieces, stood before me.
“I remember my name now,” he said, “though I’m still missing many memories.”
I was silent, shattered by the revelations before me.
Elm smiled, his face cracking. “You’ll find me again someday, right?”
He vanished as if he’d never been there.