Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
When Aruan has taken a seat, I tell them more or less everything, minus the fact that I’m still Aruan’s captive of sorts. I start at the beginning and end with how we got here. They listen quietly, letting me tell my incredible tale without interrupting me once. All the while, they stare at me as if I’m an apparition. It’s only when I’m done that they look at each other.
“I’m sorry.” Dad faces me slowly again. “The story you told is hard to believe.”
“Ask me anything,” I say. “I’ll do my best to clarify it for you.”
They have a ton of questions, which I answer as honestly as I can. Mom wants to know where Zerra is because the concept of a parallel world sounds too fantastical to her. Dad wants to know how the so-called Alit powers work, so I tell him about my theories about AI and the advanced ancient civilization on Zerra.
When Mom starts wondering out loud if I could be an alien clone of her daughter, I remind them of childhood incidents that only I can know about, such as the time during that camping trip when Mom doused me in mosquito repellent to which I developed an allergic reaction.
By the time the clock on the wall says we’ve spoken for over an hour and they’re still frightened and confused, Aruan cups my nape to draw my attention. “I think your parents need a demonstration.”
Mom and Dad watch him with tense shoulders and pale faces.
He turns his gaze on the curtains. They dissolve and reassemble in a snazzy coat on Mom’s body. She jumps to her feet, dropping her phone in the process. Dad stares open-mouthed at the floral curtains she’s wearing.
“I-I don’t know—” She presses her fingertips on her mouth, trembling as she looks down at herself. “How—?”
“Good heavens,” Dad mutters.
I go to the window and open it. A white-throated sparrow sits in the tree on the front lawn. “Do you see that bird over there?” I point in that direction. “What would you like it to do?”
Dad bounces his leg. He thinks for a moment before saying, “I want it to bring two leaves to me.”
“Two, huh?” I laugh. “You’ve always been a stickler for leaving absolutely no cause for doubt.”
The bird does what I command it to do, bringing first one leaf and then a second one that it drops on Dad’s lap.
“Do you need more proof?” I ask gently.
They look at each other again. After a moment, Dad jerks his head sideways, which I take as a no.
Mom falls into her seat again, covering her mouth with a shaky hand. “It’s true. You’re not from Earth. Dear god, Elsie… you were never from Earth.”
“But she’s alive,” Dad says, having a hard time keeping his voice from breaking. “Alive and well.”
“I am. And I’m so sorry, Mom, Dad. I’m really sorry for making you worry.”
“It…” Mom lets out a sniffle. “It’s not your fault.”
Dad remains the logical one, even in the midst of the unreal situation. “The important thing is, you’re here now. Does this mean you’re coming home?”
I inhale deeply, bracing myself for telling a white lie. “I love you very much. You know that. But on Zerra, I’m strong and healthy.”
“Not dying,” Dad says.
“Exactly.” I hold out my arms, displaying my new body. “Feeling better than ever. I can run and climb stairs without getting tired. I even have an appetite.”
Mom gives me a teary-eyed look. “We’d never deny you that, Elsie. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.”
“I know,” I whisper, biting my cheek on the inside not to cry.
She shrugs out of the coat and turns her face to Aruan with a lifted chin. “If you don’t mind, I’d like my curtains back.”
He obliges with a smile. “Of course.”
In no time, the curtains are back in front of the windows.
“You have to keep everything I’ve told you to yourself,” I say. “You understand why, right?”
Mom bobs her head up and down. Dad makes a sound of agreement.
Mom’s question wavers. “Are you happy?”
My smile freezes in place, becoming stilted. “Very.” I’m not going to put them through more pain by telling them Aruan will never let me leave. That there is no choice but to stay.
Dad glances at Aruan. “This is what you want?”
Aruan puts a hand on my knee. The touch is light but the warning it carries is clear.
“Yes,” I lie.
It’s so much more complicated than what I want. I’ve decided to stay because I don’t know what will happen to Zerra if I leave, and I don’t want to hurt Aruan. I can’t stand the thought of him suffering. A voice in the back of my head says those are good reasons but not necessarily the right reasons.
“Well.” Mom sniffles some more as she looks at Dad again. “That’s all we want for you, honey.”