I find it comforting to know that we won't have to worry about my parents catching us today at all. Monday morning may be a drag to them, but it definitely helps relieve an extra amount of stress to my day.

    Clifford does- thank God- show up on time and in his regular mood of unlimited energy and questions. The most pressing matter he gets out the way first thing the moment he thunders through the front door, out of breath and barely in the house.

   "Where's Axel? How does he spell his name?"

   This poor kid probably stayed up all night tossing and turning trying to figure out how Xalale's name is spelled. Well I didn't, lucky, since he told me last night- Clifford would never have guessed it in a million years. I smile, slyly, enjoying his desperation to know.

   "He's in the bathroom getting changed, he'll be out in a few. Do you want any eggs?"

    I was in a cooking mood, so I decided to make eggs in any method they could be made.

   Clifford, for once, clearly isn't in the mood for food. He won't be satisfied until he knows how Xalale spells his name. Rocking in his chair anxiously, he gnaws on the string of his hoodie.

    "What's taking him so long? Do you know how to spell it?"

    "I-t," I giggle, beating some eggs in a bowl. "Are you sure you don't want any eggs? I'll make whatever you want, though I can't promise it'll be perfect."

    He continues to chew on his string impatiently waiting. Luckily, he doesn't have to wait for much longer, springing out of his seat with excitement the moment Xalale enters the kitchen.

   "How do you spell your name? Your real name?"

    Xalale completely brushes him off, instead rushing over to me with urgency that catches my attention.

   "Mallory, I need you to see something."

   "What? What's important?"

   He sighs then holds up his hand for me to see. For a second, I'm confused as to what I'm supposed to be seeing until I notice something missing- a burn mark suppose to be seared in the center of his hand.

   "How the-"

    I thoroughly inspect his hand, making sure I'm not missing anything, making sure I'm not crazy.

   "How?" Is all I can ask.

   "I'm not certain myself. I take off the bandage and the mark has vanished."

   Leaning against the counter, I have to wrack my brain around this. Burn marks- especially the one he obtained from that stone- don't just heal miraculously overnight. There's definitely something else behind this, some magic maybe.

   "So you have a burn mark on your hand then you wake up and you don't? How?"

   Running his hands through his hair, I can tell this baffles him as well.

   The one person this doesn't baffle is the one piping up from his spot at the table.

   "Can one of you just tell me how that name is spelled?"

   He continues to be ignored. Shaking my head, I feel a slight headache coming on from this.

   "And so the plot thickens," I mutter. "What do you think this means?"

   With furrowed brows, he appears in thought on this, yet neither of us have an answer to this new riddle. Behind us, Clifford groans in frustration, dropping his head on the table in exaggeration.

   How I would wish to swap problems with Clifford, where the biggest thorn in my side would be not knowing how to spell a name.

   "I think," I begin. "This has something to do with that stone. It burned you so maybe it healed you? For some reason."

   "Such a complex piece of enchantment," He growls. "Why would it injury me in the first place if its main purpose was to heal me?"

   "I haven't the slightest clue."

   "Hey, guys, what are we gonna do today since you clearly don't want to tell me how to spell that name."

   I sigh once more, "I wish we had more answers than questions."

   Clifford finally gets from his chair and joins us, though annoyance is written all over his face. With his arms crossed, he speaks up.

   "What are you guys talking about?"

   "You wouldn't get it," I reply. We don't even get it.

   "You guys keep talking about a stone. What about this stone?"

   He's not going to leave us alone until one of us answers his questions and judging by the irritation prevalent on Xalale's face, I'm going to be the one answering the questions.

   "Alright," I look him dead in the eyes, attempting to convey the seriousness of the situation. "There's this stone that's really important and dangerous. We have it, but we don't exactly know what it does- I mean, we do, but we don't know how powerful it is or what its limits are. This stone is also-"

   "Oh!" He lights up. "Is this the stone that that bad lady wants, the one you told me about?"

   "Yeah, that's the one."

   "Cool. Can I see it? You said you have it, right?"

   I'm a bit uneasy giving something so unstable and important over to an immature eight-year-old, especially seeing how he appears eager to get his hands on it- making me more worried that he'll break it or get hurt somehow.

   "I'd rather you didn't. It's probably best if only me and Xalale handle it."

   "Aw! Why?"

   "Because it's dangerous."

   "You're no fun." He grumbles, crossing his arms again. "What makes a stupid stone so dangerous anyway?"

   "The fact that it can destroy an entire universe or two."

    I catch myself too late. Why don't I have a gate on my mouth?

   "That sounds cool! Like something from Star Wars or something!"

   "No, it's not cool, it's horrible- ugh, this why I didn't want to let you in the know in the first place." I turn my attention back to Xalale. "I think the best course of action now is to see if anything else drastic occurs and just work on your abilities. Maybe it might be useful when it comes to this."

   He seems unsure of this, but I sigh, brushing the hair out if my face.

   "It's the best we got. At least it's a start."

   Finally, he nods in agreement, "Of course."

   Suddenly, Clifford animatedly waves an arm in the air like he has to use the bathroom in the middle of class.

   "I have an idea!"

   Taking a breath of patience, I ready myself before asking him to explain his idea.

   "Okay, okay, so what if we, we use the stone- well have the stone be used with another magical thing?"

   "We don't have another magic thing."

   He pauses to regroup momentarily.

   "Where does it come from, anyway?"

   That's actually a good question, one that I thought about before and that might be important to us. But again, we're left with little to no clues on how to figure that out.

   "I don't know, but I found it in a river when I was younger," I begin. "I don't know how it got there."

    He sighs, "This is hard, like a math quiz because you never know the answers on a math quiz."

   "A math quiz indeed."

   "We'll figure this all out eventually." I'm actually surprised by this hopeful sounding reassurance coming from me- I barely believe myself.

    "Let's not worry ourselves over-"

    Just then, the shrill exclamation of the phone ringing catches my attention. I excuse myself to answer, the moment I leave, I can hear Clifford whining about wanting to know Xalale's spelling of his name.

    I pick up on the third ring.

    "Hello?"

    It's odd of me to automatically know the identity of the caller on the other end, but I figure it out right away due to the initial silence.

   "Ruthford?"

   He barks, startled, into the phone, causing me to nearly drop it.

   "Ho-how-how- um...," A brief pause of recollection. "Hey, Mallory."

   "Hey, what's up?"

   "Oh, um, I just wanted to know if...I was just curious...maybe you'd- did your mother enjoy the yogurt I sent? I mean, that you took with you..."

    That didn't go where I thought it was going to go. He must've changed his mind about asking me something else. Even still, the awkwardness has revealed itself.

   "Um, I haven't asked her about it yet. I'm sorry."

   "Oh, no, no, no, you're fine, I'm- it's all dandy..."

   A light nervous chuckle on his end then our usual silence. I glance out the window, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear though it's destined to rebel and pester me again.

   "So..." I begin. "Alright, I'm babysitting right now and-"

   "Oh! Sorry, I- I'll hang up first- I meant-"

   "It's fine. Thanks for calling to check up, I'll remind my mom about the yogurt in the fridge when she-"

   "Do you want to come over tomorrow or Wednesday?"

    It was so abrupt and hastily spoken that I'm taken back for a moment, not sure how to answer. Eventually, sound does find its way back into my voice.

   "Uh, I'd love to, but," I glance in the direction of the kitchen, hearing Clifford's endless ramblings. "I babysit on those days. Maybe on the weekend-"

   "Could it be sooner?" His voice was hoarse and his speech rushed like he had to quickly spew out every word before his voice was gone. "When do you stop babysitting, I mean, get off of the job?"

   "Usually around 7, but..." Even if I left for his house, I'd still have to worry about leaving Xalale home alone and I knew if I kept pushing my luck with that misfortunate would catch up to me. "Really the weekends are the-"

   Even with my reluctance, Ruthford seemed on a mission to get me to come over earlier. He was bolder than usual, which made me believe there might be a reason for this urgent meeting.

   "I mean, I could always come over, if that's fine with you."

   Finally, I rub my forehead methodically, letting out a little sigh.

   "Alright, let's meet Wednesday, 3 o'clock, 4 at the latest."

   He lets out a fluttery little chortle of his own, returning to his awkward stiff self by not knowing how to end the conversation.

   "Okay, Wednesday then." Another pause. "3 in the afternoon, right?"

   "Yeah, 3 in the afternoon."

   "Cool...thanks..."

   He said he was going go hang up first so I expect him to keep his word even if it means we sit in awkward silence for a second or two longer. Finally, after another nervous chuckle, he squeaks goodbye and we end the call.

     "And thus another thing to prepare for." I don't have a history of migraines, but I might develop it soon with all this extra stress being introduced into my life.

     Going back into the kitchen, in the middle of a story that Clifford is reminiscing about to Xalale,  who for the most part is trying to be an attentive listener, but Clifford isn't the greatest storyteller; he rambles on irrelevant, minuscule details, loses track of what he was saying beforehand, switching between scenes, and just overall not explaining properly.

    While Clifford continues to flounder through his tale, Xalale notices my reentry, his eyes questioning but never voicing it.

    Taking a seat to join them, I push around the now cold eggs on my plate.

    "I'm going over to Ruthford's on Wednesday at 3 so you guys might be alone for a bit."

    Clifford barely acknowledges what I just said, waving me off to finish his story. Xalale, on the other hand, gives me another questioning look.

    Answering as though he asked a verbal question, I shrug looking at the calendar which hung over the table. "He really needed me to come over, it sounded like something important so I couldn't say no."

    The question in his eyes diminishes, but I notice the slight frown that he still doesn't get the reasoning behind this and really, I don't either, the only person to question is Ruthford.

    "Hey," Clifford interrupts. "You guys aren't listening. I'm nearly done. The funniest part is at the end, promise."

    So we half-heartedly listen to the rest of Clifford's choppy story, let him laugh like a madman at the ending that only he gets. Once he's done cracking up about whatever was so funny, he calms down then curiously stares at us as if waiting for something.

   "So?"

   I frown. "So what?"

   "So what are we going to do?"

   I blink. Even though I'm sure he's talking about how we're going to spend the day overall, his question makes me think about what we really need to do in order to fix everything in general.

   Coming out of my thoughts, I look to him, "What do you want to do, Clifford?"

   His face lights up as if he was waiting for me to ask.

   "We should play hide and seek outside. I'm the best seeker in my class," He beams proudly. "Did I tell ya that?"

   I couldn't answer affirmatively if I tried, but it sounded familiar. For Xalale, though, memory is no problem.

   "Yes, you did." He mutters.

     Clifford starts to get up, eager to head outside. I see no harm in a game that barely requires me to move too much or strain myself, so I get up and follow the happy eight-year-old outside. Xalale, whether he wants to play or not, follows behind me.

    Once we'll all outside, Clifford sets up the perimeters.

   "So you can't go farther than that shed, the end of the driveway, and to the bushes, okay?" He plops down on the steps and covers his eyes. "I'll count to ten then I'll find you guys."

    "Okay," I call over my shoulder, already searching for an area to hide.

    "One, two, three, four-"

    I hurry to the side of the house under my parents' bedroom window, tucked between the generators.

    "Seven, eight, nine-"

    Risking a peek around the corner to see where Xalale might have wandered off to, I surprised when he's nowhere to be found.

   "Ten! Ready or not, here I come!"

    I hear him thunder off to the woods, probably looking for Xalale first. Holding my breath, I'm hopeful that I might win something for once even if it was a simple child's game.

    After a bit, I hear him come out of the woods.  I'm tempted to sneak a peek around the corner but stayed glued where I was.

    "Found you!"

    Startled by his booming, sudden voice behind me, I slam into the generator, burning my forearm slightly.

   "You know, you're not very good at this." He says.

    Wincing at the irritated, tender burn, I bite back my snippy remark.

    "Now let's find Axel!" He exclaims, already heading around the corner with me trailing behind. "I wanted to find him first, but he was hiding better than you."

    He pauses, glancing between the woods where the shed lies and the woods in the back.

   "You search there,"-He points to the woods where the shed is- "And I'll try to find him over there. Call if you see him."

   He hurries off to the back leaving me to wander into the woods that always reminded me of the Dark Forest in fairytales. Though now- now it doesn't feel the same, it doesn't seem so eerie and I can't figure out why.

    I do scan the area in search of him, but my eyes spot nothing. I stop at the edge of the boundaries- the shed- and stare further into the dense woods that suffocate out the sunlight overhead.

     "He couldn't have passed further, or at least he shouldn't have."

   Ready to turn around and comb more carefully through the beginning area of the woods, I linger by the shed a bit longer until unconsciously I take a step forward out the boundaries then continue farther into the woods.

    My mind isn't in full communication with my feet who are taking the lead. I can't say why I'm going past the boundary lines, but it's just one of those stupid intuitions you have to follow through on or else it eats at you the rest of the time.

    I'm not positive if I've ever been this far in these woods before, nothing rings familiar. Now I'm sure it's my curiosity driving me forward. Each step makes me more mystified as I explore a section I've never had the guts or interest to go before. It's almost like a mini adventure that lets out my inner child, in awe of everything around me.

    It seems I've misjudged these woods because the farther I go, the more the treetops thin and the clear, bright, summer light leaks through, splayed rays creating natural spotlights to guide my way.

    I stop finally at the edge of a narrow, small stream that babbles. The clear water bubbles due to its swift descent downstream to the ocean it's destined for. The water's so clear I can see my distorted reflection staring back at me.

     "Is this the place I found the stone when I was younger?" It's a thought. Maybe that's what brought me down here, but a part of me feels like it's not. Another, wider stream in a different place.

    I'm tempted to stick a toe in the water just to feel the temperature, maybe splash some on my minor burn. At first, I fight off such a childish urge, but after a few seconds of contemplating, I say what the hell and emerge my whole foot in there- sandal and all.

    "Ah." A pleasant, cool stream for a warm summer day. I smile then put my other foot in as well, enjoying the cool water running through my toes.

     "This is so nice. There should be a thing called river therapy. Almost like spa therapy, but even more natural." I think such stupid, weird thoughts sometimes, but they make me smile.

     I even feel like splashing around a bit and would do so, but unfortunately I'm nearly scared shitless when I hear a voice behind me speak out of nowhere.

    "You have an awful sense of noticing when other people are around, I see."

    If this was anyone else, they simply would've placed a hand to their chest, startled. But this is me we're talking about so, of course, I yelp, twisting around, ultimately tripping over myself giving myself a watery landing.

    This sours my gleeful mood quicker than the stream that brought it. Getting up, grumbling, I see that it was Xalale who startled me.

    He joins me by the stream, offering a hand up, but I ignore it, getting up on my own.

    "Where did you even come from?" I ask, inspecting my completely soaked capris.

    "I saw you wander down here and I was concerned."

    "Well," I wring the water out the bottom of my shirt. "You clearly don't understand the rules of hide and seek. You're supposed to hide, not seek me."

    That's as much water as I'm going to get out on my own so I give up with a frustrated sigh.

   "Well now that that's ruined my mood."

    "Forgive me for frightening you."

    I grimace, "You said it yourself, I have an awful sixth sense. That mixed with clumsiness doesn't go over well with me."

     We should probably head back within the perimeters of the game so Clifford can find us, but I'm still a tad bit curious about this area that I've never bothered exploring.

    As if reading my mind, Xalale asks me, "Why did you come here?"

   "I don't know," I shrug. "But we should go back."

   "Is this where you found that stone?"

    I look down at the stream and frown.

    "I'm not 100% sure, but I don't think it is- it's not as big as I remember the stream being."

    "Hm."

    "I actually don't think I've ever been this far in before."

     The peaceful atmosphere of the area felt strange because it didn't resemble the feeling I usually have near the shed. It was also brighter back here, making it hotter than in the front of the woods.

    When I fell in the stream, my forearm did as well. The cool water felt nice on my burn, but now out of the water the burning returns and I just want to head back to the trailer to put some ointment and ice on it.

    "What's wrong with your arm?"

    "Huh?" I hadn't realized I've been cupping my burn this whole time. I quickly remove my hand, trying to play it off. "Oh, nothing, just a minor burn. We should start heading back now."

    "A burn never feels minor. Let me see."

    I hold it, continuing to play it off even though it does irritate a good amount.

    His hands are surprisingly cool as he takes my arm to inspect it.

    "How did you burn yourself?"

    "I'm clumsy, remember," I reply flatly.

     I'm wet and have a burn on my arm, I just want to return to the house to change and care for my burn. Pulling back my arm, I step out of the stream.

    "We need to head back, my clothes are soaked due to you."

    "You're blaming your clumsiness on me?"

    "No, I'm blaming you startling me hence bringing on my clumsiness."

    I never figured how annoying it'd be having wet sandals. Now I'm silently cursing myself for acting like an idiot and stepping into a stream with them on, so I undo them, shaking them out.

    "Why would you wear shoes in a stream?" He questions me critically.

    "Because I'm an idiot, something you clearly never are, so this must be completely foreign to you."

     I wish that last part didn't come out, but for some reason it did and he gets on me about it.

    "What are you talking about?"

    "Never mind."

    "I want to know what you meant by that. What are you trying to say?"

    "Don't worry about it."

     I pray he'll brush it aside, but unfortunately I've said too much and he wants to know.

    "I make mistakes, I'm not perfect."

     Oh, I know that. Believe me, I'm aware.

    "But you just make mistakes, not stupid mistakes like me." I think I'm beginning to see why my mind unconsciously brought this up. This all goes back to him being better at everything and me being a failure.

     He looks ready to cut in again, but I beat him to it.

    "I mean, you said it yourself. I fail at everything and if I stop helping you I go back to making foolish mistakes again."

     Funny how I remember the one thing that hit me with the most, blatant truth.

    He frowns, not responding to that. By now, I'm all worked up over this and continue on my tirade.

    "What? Don't remember that? Funny, seeing how you're gifted with a perfect memory and the ability to solve a puzzle just by glancing at it and how you're a master strategist and even though you don't want to show me, I know you can sing because you're just wonderful at everything," Just as I'm about to turn away, something else hits me. "And everyone likes you. You don't even have to try, they just flock to you for some reason. I've lived in this town for sixteen years and all it takes is one day for a handful of people in town to like you. I mean, Clifford just adores you and I can't get a single kid to like me if I tried my hardest and gave them everything in the world. So no, we both can't be talentless together because I'm the one stuck in the talentless boat here while you have a plethora of talents to choose from."

    Finally, I'm done my ranting and go to push past him, but he grabs my arm, only irritating me more so I try to knock him off.

   "Mallory-"

   "Leave me alone."

    I hate to sound angsty, but it's the truth, every last word- there's nothing discuss. But he won't let go as he keeps trying to get me to stay to say something. I try to pull away with more effort.

    "Just let me go."

    "Mallory, wait for-"

    "No, I just want to be alone."

    He's still holding firm, making me mad that he won't listen and just leave me alone.

    "Mallory, just wait for-"

    I do it faster than I can catch myself- my body tends to want to act before it can get permission from my brain- and in a second I put all my anger and frustration into that one push. It does its trick alright and I'm free from his grasp, but unfortunately for him the stream hadn't moved anytime soon and the water's there to greet him when he lands.

    It's a louder splash than when I fell in and definitely more of a wet aftermath. Sitting up, he's absolutely soaked.

    The anger has left my system now and is replaced with regret since I really didn't mean for him to fall into the stream.

   "I'm so sorry," I begin apologetically, offering a hand up. "I didn't mean that, really."

    I'm not sure how he'll react to this. Hopefully, he'll understand that I didn't mean it intentionally- it was solely the heat of the moment.

    His expression is hard to read, but there is a trace of contempt I'm picking up on.

    He accepts my hand in getting up- at least that's what I thought until he yanks me down into the water with him. I yelp in surprise, making a minor splash forward, my shirt now wet, or at least the front.

    At first, I'm pissed, ready to tell him off for doing this until I notice the faint curve of a smile on his face and the anger melts away. It's a relief he didn't do it out of spite.

    "So this is what my payment is for trying to help you up?" I ask.

    "Well, you initiated it, did you not?"

    I shrug, smiling. "You forced my hand, though in all honesty, I forgot the stream was right there."

    "Of course."

    "You see, now we're even. You're wet and I'm wet."

    "Even? I'm soaked, you're barely touched."

    I roll my eyes. "Barely touched, alright, if that's what you want to believe."

    "Only your bottoms are wet."

    "Please." I give him a small, playful splash.

    He takes up my game with a surprising splash of his own that nearly soaks me through. I'm startled, to say the least.

    "Okay, now you're asking for it."

    I stand up and kick up a huge wave of my own at him which does that trick. I smile in triumph, daring him to beat that.

    He does accept my dare, getting to his feet, kicking up an impressive wave that soaks me thoroughly, mostly on the bottom, but a good amount on the top.

   "It's not fair when you have a stronger kick than me."

   "Then adapt rather than compete." He replies, simply.

   "Huh?"

   "If my legs are stronger than yours, find something you can do that I can't."

   "On the border of impossibility. What can't he do?" But I think for a moment before trying to kick up another wave, but I ultimately end up losing my footing and landing on my butt into the water.

    "Are you okay?"

    Rubbing my butt and grimacing, I get up.

    "Yeah, just my dignity dented."

    My burn is a bit irritated too, and as I rub it, I start to step out of the stream.

    "What's wrong?" He asks, now concerned.

    "Just my arm, I think we should head back."

    "Of course-"

     And just like that, he's fallen for my trap and before he can step out of the stream completely, I quickly place my leg behind and trip him back into the stream. It was a very clever trick that was once played on my in fourth grade and I never forgot it.

    It takes him back surprise which, of course, I was aiming for.

   "Very cunning," He says, smoothing back his wet hair. "Perhaps you should join me."

    Already I know his next tactic and I smile, hurry down the edge of the stream. But foolish me, trying to run from someone who can easily outrun me. He, of course, catches up to me, dragging me down with him into the cool water. A gleeful laugh escapes me as I fall in with a great splash. I don't think I've laughed like that in a while, a very long while.

    Now we're definitely both soaked from head to bottom, but our wet clothes are the farthest trouble from our minds.

    It's a sight to see him smiling again- there's only one other time I saw a genuine, carefree smile from him, but it's nice to see him have it again. I don't think he realizes how much more inviting and familiar he is when he does smile.

    I stand up, letting the excess water running down my body back into the stream. Xalale follows suit and for a moment as I wring the water from my hair, I can't help but stare. The wetness of our clothes, of course,  makes them cling to us and I know it's immature and inappropriate, but I just ogle for a moment. His lean, yet strong, body was very apparent at that moment, causing me to think back on the time in his bedroom where he-

    "Curse these damn female hormones."

    Still, I'm transfixed, letting my mind wander uncensored to things it shouldn't. It's awful because I can even feel the heat of my blush creeping up my neck trying to reveal my sultry thoughts.

    "Mallory."

    "What?" Like an idiot, I jump a little at being broken from my inappropriate daydreaming.

    His expression is a bit more serious now, as is his tone when he addresses me again.

    "I didn't actually mean what I said to you that day, about you being a failure. I did at the time, but it was said in malice."

    "I mean, you're fine. We all say things out of anger." You tend to most of the time albeit.

    He looks off in the distance for the quickest second before sighing and stepping out of the stream.

    "Should we return?"

    "Oh, yeah."

    So we start our journey back, departing from the stream in the bright part of the woods that I never knew existed.

    Even though he said he didn't mean what he said about me anymore, it still gnaws at me because although he said it out spite, it doesn't make it any less true. I think that's the fact that kills me the most.