Clifford demands we sit and plan in the family room as opposed to the kitchen where I suggested we sit.

     "It's comfier there," He rationalized. "And comfiness helps your brain work better."

     So we settle down in the family room- me in my mother's favorite spot on the couch, Clifford planted on the ground before us, and Xalale in my father's chair.

     "Okay, so like...you guys need to start explaining." He says, sprawled out on the floor.

     I look over at Xalale, but he's not look back at me. His mind seems preoccupied with something else. I guess it's up to me to sort things out (figures).

     "So..." How much do I explain to him?

      I don't want to spill the whole, honest story then have him blab his mouth to his mother and rat us out. I'll try to explain things in a way that'll give him just enough info to go on.

     "Well, there's this woman named Aelita who...who wants to do something with these stones or whatever they are, but we can't let her get them."

     Clifford raises his hand but is already talking.

     "So is she like the bad guy?"

     "In a way, yes. But she's not like the bad guys in the shows you watch. She's more bad, in a way."

     "Yeah, that's why they're called bad guys."

     "But she's different than that. She'll...hurt you to get what she wants."

     "Um, so do the bad guys in my shows." He says, still not getting it.

     "But she's different, she'll-"

     "Kill you without hesitation to get what she wants."

     Xalale's abrupt interruption causes our attention to shift to him. He's looking at Clifford, who seems to somewhat grasp the severity of her now. This is apparently the only things he wishes to add to the conversation and looks away, again lost in his thoughts.

    "Exactly," I continue. "And like I said, she's looking for these stones that do something, but we don't want to let her get them. Understanding at least a little bit?"

    The dumb, blank look on his face tells me all I need to know.

    Sighing, I rub my eyes.

    "It doesn't sound like you know a lot." He comments.

    "Yeah, that's the whole problem here."

    Looking back up at him, I take a quick breath and continue. "So right now we're trying to come up with the next step in the gameplan. Got any ideas?"

    For a brief moment, he stares up at the ceiling, pondering ideas. After a while, he looks back at me.
    "I have a question."

    "Go head."

    "So, what does this have to do with Axel getting home?"

    "Huh?"

    He sits up criss-cross, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his chin on his fists.

    "You and him keep going on about getting him home. Is this important to whatever we're trying to plan?"

    "Uh..." How should I answer this? "I mean, well, Xalale isn't from here and we do need to get him back before Aelita finds that stone, so I guess, yeah, that's a key factor to this plan."

    "Oh." He resumes staring up at the ceiling searching for answers on the yellowing plaster above- until he addresses me again.

     "So to stop the bad lady, we have to get Axel home?"

     "Yeah, and there's no clear way we can get him back."

     He stares at me for a few seconds before saying aloud, "Well I knew you were kind of poor, but are plane tickets that expensive?"

    I facepalm myself and take a few calming breaths.

    "This is why most children get on my bad side."

    "It's not as simple as that," I say, muffling my voice due to my face still in my palm. "Plus, I'm middle class, thank you very much."

    "Why?"

    I lift my face. "Because, where he's actually from is a lot harder to reach than by plane."

    He slumps back down.

    "Oh."

    We're back to where we started- with nothing. I'm exhausted just conjuring ideas even though I know they won't work.

    "This is hard." Clifford whines.

    "You're not telling me anything new."

     This is getting us nowhere. I stand up and clap my hands together.

     "Well, I don't know about either of you, but I'm about done for the day. I'm going to get on my computer the rest of the day and relax without any further incidents."

     Clifford pops up as well.

    "I wanna watch TV."

     Digging on the sides of the couch, I fish out the remote and hand him it. He snatches it from my hand and lies back down facing towards the screen. In a moment, bright colorful scenes fill the screen and he's entranced. Not enough to not be asking questions, which is second nature to him.

    "Hey Axel, what does middle class mean?"

     I'm already leaving the room, not wanting to be bombarded with what's-this and what's-thats.

    Finding refuge in my room, I plug up my computer to charge while I'm using it and turn it on. Once booted up, I diverge into my blog and then endless YouTube videos, funny posts, and mindless personality quizzes. I'm so engulfed that I don't register the knocking on the front door until Mrs. Mershire's shrilled voice rings out.

    Checking the time, I'm shocked to discover it's already 7.

    I race out my bedroom to greet her.

    "Oh, Mrs. Mershire! I'm sorry, I didn't realize what time it was." I say coming to the front entry way.

    Clifford's already by her side- probably the one who let her in.

    "It's fine," She waves me off, already reaching into her purse for my daily pay. "So how was he today?"

    "Wonderful and helpful as usual." I paste on my cheery, babysitter attitude. But I did mean the helpful part.

    "Excellent."

    I graciously accept the wad of cash she hands me.

    "Same time tomorrow?" She smiles, taking Clifford's hand.

    "Of course," I let them out. "Bye Clifford."

     He waves at me. "Bye, Mallory. We'll finish planning tomorrow when I think of fresh ideas."

     I tense up when he says that, hoping his mother doesn't take note of that.

     Gratefully, she doesn't and slides into the driver's side of her compact car. I watch them drive off, backing out of the driveway then rambling down the road toward town.

    It's only once I shut the door and press my back to it, does it dawn on me that Mrs. Mershire never noticed the missing trees in the back. Relief ripples through me as I cross my fingers that my parents come home too tired to take note of anything in the back.

    Roaming into the family room, I pluck the turner off the ground and switch off the TV, which Clifford left on. I start in the direction of my room when I stop and notice Xalale still in the room.

    "Have you been here the entire time?" I ask, surprised. "You need to be careful, someone might see you."

    There's no response on his part, not even a glance my way. I guess he's still out in space trying to sort things out in his mind.

    "I thought I'd order a pizza or something since I'm not in the mood to cook."

     I wait for even a little something to know I'm not talking to myself, but only silence answers me. Too tired to be frustrated, I throw my hands up and begin to walk away.

    "Okay, thanks for acknowledging me."

     Heading to the kitchen to dial a nearby pizza company, I'm more than a little annoyed at his strange behavior patterns he's been demonstrating all day.

    After placing my order, I return to my room and resume watching videos and taking quizzes until the pizza arrives twenty minutes later.

    I'm setting the pizza down on the kitchen table when I hear someone approaching on the driveway. On my way to the front door, I peer into the family room where Xalale still sits.

    "You might wanna head to my room now, my dad's home."

    Already knowing that waiting for a verbal response is futile, I duck my head out and open the door for my dad.

    From his bright, happy face, I'm judging he hasn't seen the backyard yet- which is good. I play the role and greet him like nothing's wrong.

    "Looks like you got dinner all figured out." He smiles walking into the kitchen and taking a seat.

    "Yup."

     I ask the usual questions about how his day went and he goes on about all the uneventful things that went on at work. Setting out plates and napkins and cups for the meal, I pretend like I'm listening to him, but for some reason, my mind keeps going back to how quiet and distant Xalale has been acting. It's stupid, but I can't get my mind off it.

     Just as Dad's done jabbering on about his scatterbrain co-worker, I hear the front door open and close and my mom comes into the kitchen.

    I freeze, my heart pausing in my chest waiting to see if she took notice of the disaster in the back. It wasn't a big surprise my dad didn't notice it- he's a little oblivious himself- but my mom is a hawk- she takes note of everything.

    "How was work, hun?" My dad asks her.

    "Better start making up a story that doesn't sound like BS."

    "Work was exhausting." She slips into her seat, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "There was so much going on today, it was crazy."

      "Thank you, God!"

      I could almost wipe the cold sweat that was beginning to form on my brow, but instead, I take a seat between my parents and we begin eating.

     Throughout the entire course of dinner, my parents go on about things at work that would usually have me at peak attention, but tonight my thoughts are jumbled. I eat my slices of Meat Lover's pizza absentmindedly, watching the minutes tick by before I can excuse myself. On the outside I appear mildly amused by my parents' bantering, but inside it's a whole other story.

    "Snap out of it," My conscious scolds me. "Xalale's just being Xalale. Moody and irritable."

     As truthful as my overall conscious sounds, it's being countered by the pesky, little voice in the back of my mind.

    "Yeah, but what if something's really irritating him?"

    I literally roll my eyes at my own stupid little voice in my head.

      "If something is bugging him then let him come to me- he's an adult."

    It's time for the optimistic side to reply.

      "That's not how it always goes and you know that. How many times have others come to you even though you didn't ask them to?"

     "But-"

     "No buts, you know it's true."

      Sometimes I even wonder if that damn voice belongs to me.

      "But why do I have to pull it out of him?"

     "Because if you don't no one else will. You're like one of the only people he confines in, think about it."

      Rolling my eyes, I let out a major sigh, "Alright."

     "What?"

      I seem to have forgotten that my parents were in the room with me. While they were off in conversation, I was busy arguing with my thoughts (classic me).

      "Nothing." I smile reassuringly.

      They both exchange a confused glance but drop the matter and continue their meal. I, on the other hand, am done even though a few bites remain on my plate.

      "I'll be in my room if you need me," I say getting up and taking my plate to the sink.

      "You sure? You haven't finished your slice." My dad states.

      "Yeah, just call if you need me."

       I don't risk a glance back in case mom is staring at me with concern and suspicion. She could always tell if I'm acting a little funny; like I said- a hawk.

       As I reach my door, I pause before opening it. For some bizarre reason, I feel as if I should knock before entering even though it's my own house. I push the feeling aside and head into the darkened room.

      "Ugh, why didn't you turn on the lights?" I ask, reaching for the lamp.

      Light floods the room and my eyes adjust.

      "I didn't know how."

       This is the first time this evening that he's responded to me yet it still feels distant.

       I settle down on the edge of my bed, fiddling with the frayed ends of my quilt for a bit before relieving the uneasy silence.

      "Whatcha thinking about?"

      He's staring up at the ceiling with his eyes closed in deep concentration. I hate how hard it is to read his facial expressions sometimes- especially when it would be helpful to know what he's thinking about.

      "I would say nothing but I know how much you despise that answer."

      His eyes remain close, but his voice doesn't seem as distant- just flat.

      "Anything burdensome on your mind?" This is my version of prying- hopefully it will work because if it doesn't I'm all out of ideas on how to get the answers out of him.

     "Many things."

     "Oh. Care to share?"

      I lean closer to the edge of my bed, waiting to hear his response.

      But he becomes quiet again, still staring up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

      Holding back a distressed sigh, I swing my legs up and lie prone on my bed, face cushioned by pillows.

      "Welp, I tried. I really did. I gave it a genuine shot."

      Maybe this is just an issue he needs to sleep on and he'll be fine in the morning. Hopefully.

      "Time to read some fan fics and call it a-"

      "Mallory."

       I turn on my side to face him. Sitting up, he finally has his eyes opened, though his focus isn't on me. He's avoiding eye contact with me.

      "What's up?"

      Hesitating for a moment, he speaks up.

      "Forgive me for my callousness earlier today. I let my emotions get the better of me. In fact, I've been quite ungrateful for the effort you've been doing just to get me home."

      I sit up, somewhat at a loss of what to say in response. It's not that I've never heard him apologize before- I have- it's just that I wasn't expecting that kind of apology. He has been a huge pain in the ass when it comes to getting him home (no doubt about that). But I've been so tolerate to it that I wouldn't expect him to apologize for it.

      Finally my brain kick-starts and I begin to speak.

     "You're fine."

     "Why did you even agree to help me?"

      His eyes finally meet mine. I forgot how piercing his gaze was.

     "Because I want to."

      Even though that's the answer, I feel a ping of guilt in the back of my head as if that answer was a cover up for the real truth.

      "But that is the truth. Right?"

      I bury the feeling and refocus on Xalale.

      He sighs, looking away again. "Thank you."

      I frown.

     "Are you alright?"

      He looks at me again and for a while just stares at me which catches me off guard.

     "What?" I ask.

     He glances down.

     "You're concerning me," I say honestly.

     "Am I?"

     "Yeah."

     A brief silence rolls by. I'm looking at him, slightly bewildered by his behavior, while he stares off at the window.

     "I'm starting to concern myself." It's barely above a mutter and clearly not said for me, but I catch it.

     "What?"

     He looks at me again and shakes his head.

     "What time is it?"

      I check my wind-up alarm clock on my bedstand.

     "A little past 8 thirty."

     He sighs and lies back down, closing his eyes again. Our conversation ends and I lie on my back staring up at the ceiling.

     I can hear my parents in the kitchen clearing the table and laughing at something. Closing my eyes, I drift off a bit before an idea pops into my head and I'm getting up to check the window. This, of course, gets Xalale's attention and he sits up.

    "What are you doing?"

    "Wait here."

     I dash out of the room, stopping in the family room to pick up a blanket before leaving the house and finding a spot outside in the back to spread it out. I hurry back into the house to check in on my parents. I find them lounging in their room; dad on his computer and mom reading one of her many home decor magazines.

    "Hey, sweetie, what's up?" Mom asks, setting aside her magazine.

    "Not much, just coming to kiss you goodnight."

    "Turning in so early?" Dad says surprised. "You're really starting to act like an old person. Not finishing dinner and now going to bed before 9."

     I lean down and give my mom a kiss then head to the other side of the bed to give my dad a kiss goodnight.

    "I'm not going to sleep, just hanging out in my room for the night. I know you two are going to crash before 9."

    Mom chuckles, "You got that right. Work tired me out."

    I pause at the door to glance back at them.

    "Night."

    "Night." They call back in unison.

     Exiting their room, I return back to my room where Xalale waits for me.

    "Mallory, what are you doing?"

     I smile. "Just wait."

     We wait until 9, when I'm sure my parents have fallen asleep before I get up and motion for him to follow. We walk through the dark house into the cool, summer night air to the back of the house where the blanket I had set waits for us.

    "What's this?" He asks, stopping at the edge of the blanket.

    I motion to sky, "Stargazing. I thought it'll be fun."

    I collapse on the blanket and lie back to stare up at the countless stars twinkling above. When I realize Xalale hasn't joined me, I face him in question.

    "What's wrong? I know you have a problem with blankets on the ground, but it's much more comfortable than standing."

     He's giving me this look that I just can't quite read- I'm not sure how to take it. But eventually he gives in and settles down next to me, though not lying down.

     "Why so stiff?" I ask. "Lie back, I won't bite."

      Hesitantly, he does so and adds, "You're out of character tonight."

      I shrug. "So are you."

      We stare up at the stars for a few minutes. Every night I always used to wish for a shooting star to wish on, but ever since I got back I haven't done so until tonight. The stars have always been a magical, mystical fascination to me. When I was younger I could lie under them for hours and imagine made up universes and planets that would house all my fairytale dreams.

      "Do you know how to read them, the stars?"

      I don't break my gaze when answering.

     "Like what their constellation names are? No."

      "Hm."

      "Do you?"

      "When I was younger I used to. I enjoyed watching the stars and learning the night's patterns. There used to be stories about the stars I listened to."

      "Oh," A heartbeat of silence passes. "Do you think we see the same stars? Like does Edalirwen and Earth share the same moon? These are serious thoughts to think about."

     "Perhaps."

     The night ambiance surrounds us for a few minutes. It feels nice to just relax and enjoy nature without having to worry or fret over something useless.

     "Okay," I smile, looking over at him. "Funniest childhood memory, go."

     He gives me a strange look then glances back up at the sky, thinking about my question.

     "I don't have one."

     "Oh right, I forgot, you were the perfect child. I guess perfect children don't have funny moments. Kinda glad I wasn't a perfect child."

     I notice the slightest curve of a smile on his face, but don't hear it in his voice as he asks, "What's yours? I'm sure you're full of funny childhood moments."

     "Well," I lie on my stomach now in thought. "When I was younger I went to Sunday school and it seemed every week we would talk about Moses and the children of Israel. Every time my teacher would bring up the land of Cannan, she would describe it as 'the land flowing with milk and honey'. I honest to God thought it was a land flowing with milk and honey, like doesn't that sound amazing? Then there was the manna from heaven. I always envisioned it as giant muffins that fell from the sky. Turns out they're honey wafers, at least from what I've been told. Then, and don't laugh at me, I asked my teacher one day where all the adults were in the nation of Israel. She gave me this confused look like she didn't understand my question so I explained that every time the nation of Israel did something, it was always the children of Israel. She laughed so hard that day, tears ran down her cheeks."

    I can't help but laugh at my own silliness as a child.

    "So you can kinda picture the child I was."

    Once my laughter dies down, I face him again. He's not smiling anymore, nor is there even a trace of a smile. Sighing, I stare back up at the sky.

     "You know any good stories from your childhood?" I ask.

     He exhales. "Many."

     "What was your favorite?"

     "Blytas Bedlam."

      I make a face at the sky. "What?"

     "He was a hero, an adventurer that traveled the world and did good deeds."

     "Oh," I say with peaked interest. "Why was he your favorite?"

     "Because he was a hero and he was brave and good humored and got to see the world."

      There was that nostalgic tone to his manner when he talked, I enjoyed hearing that from him since it was one of the more pleasant tones he used.

     "Sounds adventurous." I pause before asking, "Any childhood songs or lullabies you enjoyed?"

      When I glance over at him, he appears in thought.

     "I had a few."

      I smile, watching him. "Can I hear one?"

     "Clever, but I'm not going to sing."

      I sit up and sigh, looking down at him.

     "Come on, I won't judge, I really won't."

      He sits up as well, facing me with the slightest hint of a smile.

     "Humans always judge, it's nature."

     "Fine. I won't judge you cruelly. I just really want to hear you sing."

      Smirking, he looks away, leaving me to sigh with exasperation.

     "Fine," I huff. "Favorite childhood poem?"

     "You seem to be rather interested in my childhood even though I already told you I was a perfect child and like you eluded, perfect children don't have interesting lives."

      "Right..."

      The conversation dies with that, leaving me to rest my chin on my knees and toy with a blade of grass by my side. The moonlight bathes us in a ghostly, whitish light that dims and brightens with each, small passing cloud.

      I sneak an inconspicuous glance at him staring up at the sky. For a few moments, I'm memorized and have to force my eyes to look away before he notices me staring.

     "You were raised as a prince, right?" I ask, picking the conversation back up.

      His attention remains on the shining sky.

     "Yes."

     "What was that like?"

     He looks away from the sky, but not yet at me.

     "Different."

     "Different how?"

     "I was different, but I was a child so it's understandable."

     I watch him with keen interest.

     "So, if you had to choice between being a prince or a king, what would you choose and why?"

     This causes him to finally meet my gaze. His expression is unreadable but hints at him being confused.

     Patiently I wait for him to respond, not wavering from his stare.

     "There were things I enjoyed in being a prince and they were things I didn't. Same for being king. I have no real answer to this."

     "Oh." I'm kind of disappointed with this response, but what was I hoping for?

     "Fair enough." I shrug, brushing off my disappointment.

      Crickets chirp all around us in a jumbled chorus of high pitched ranges. Creatures, I can't place the name of, add to the unrhythmic choir of nature that surprisingly eases me into a light sleep, that is until Xalale speaks up with a question of his own.

     "What is the one thing you desire the most?"

     My eyes find his again, but this time, I have to glance away.

     "When I was younger or now?"

     "Now."

      I always thought I'd have the answer for this question- maybe phrased in a different way, yet still answerable. But now, sitting here with no words uttered, I have trouble thinking of what to say to him.

     "A fairytale ending I suppose."

     "Hm."

      Staring up at the stars, I bite my lip then let it go, looking at him, before asking, "What about you? What's the one thing you desire the most?"

      His hair falls into his face so I can't see his eyes.

     "Direction," He finally says at last.

      I can't understand his tone so I don't know how he meant that.

      "The thing he most desires is direction?"

      I don't push it and glance back up at the starry sky, letting myself be wrapped in its mystical scene. With the shambolic choir of nature surrounding us, I let my mind wander as it used to when I was a kid, and carry me further into the unknown crevasses of the universe.