We arrive back in the familiar part of the woods, coming into view of the trailer when spot Clifford sitting on the porch steps with his head hung. As we approach closer, we can hear him talking to himself.

    "-believe this. I looked everywhere- everywhere! I'm the best seeker in my school, it's not fair."

    While he gripes about his misfortune, we come into view, causing him to notice and hop off the porch towards us.

   "Where have you guys been? I found Mallory then we split up and she disappears and then- then you guys are wet, why are you wet?"

    "Because," I reply.

    He moans in defeat.

    "This means I lost."

    "It's not always about winning," I comfort. "Did you at least have fun?"

    "No! I thought you guys were playing a trick on me by hiding from me, I called you and everything."

    "Oh, I'm sorry, we didn't mean to."

    "Well you did and it wasn't very nice. Whose idea was it to play this anyways?"

    "Yours." We both answer in unison.

    "Oh, well, talk me out of it next time, alright?"

    I smile, as we head inside. "Alright."

    Clifford leaves us to go watch TV in the family room, so we head to my room to get a change of clothes. I stay in my room to change while Xalale heads to the bathroom.

    Once I'm out of my wet clothes, I hide them away in my laundry basket, that way my parents won't know, though it's rare they catch my dirty basket anyway. Once Xalale returns, I toss his in as well just for safe keeping.

    Since Clifford's watching TV, I distract myself with my laptop and Xalale, of course, reads another book off my shelf. After a bit, though, I come up with a suggestion on how to spend our time. I suggest we spend this time practicing his abilities.

   "Now?" He questions.

   "What better time to do it?"

   Sighing, he sets aside the book but doesn't get up.

   "What about Clifford?"

   "What about him? He probably wouldn't know if a meteor was falling right now. He won't notice our absence for a bit, plus, we're only outside."

   He appears to be mulling it over in his mind, then slowly gets up and indicates for me to lead the way.

   Like I said, Clifford doesn't even hear us leave he's so entranced with his cartoon, so we head to the back of the trailer to work.

   It's nice to see him putting genuine effort into improving his abilities after all the fighting and bickering and blowouts, it all seems to be going smoothly now. I actually find his abilities very intriguing and am completely baffled to why it's viewed so negatively in Edalirwen. I mean, I can understand in the beginning when I first met him why people could coward away from such things, but looking at them now, it seems so unique and useful to have.

    It's actually odd how people in Edalirwen view people like Aelita, who has shown a darker side to her, as someone "blessed by the Fates" while people like Xalale, who, grant it isn't God's angel from above, has shown some traits and tendencies to be (what's an adequate word?) decent, are automatically labeled as cursed by the Fates. I think that's the part that rubs me the wrong way the most- the mindset of it all. You possess "dark" magic, you therefore must have deserved that. You have "light, good" magic, the Fates found favor in you. It kind of weakens my views of Edalirwen because, in a way, it's exactly how Earth is. People here discriminate on things other people can't help or control. I guess people are people no matter where in the universe you go.

    "What's wrong?"

    "Huh?" I hadn't noticed him talking to me until I realized he's watching me intently.

    "You seem upset."

    "Oh, no," I brush it off with a, hopefully, convincing smile. "Just thinking to myself."

    I hate how he gives me that suspicious look then never says anything more. It's like he can see right through my bull and it kills me because the only other person who can do that is my mom and even she doesn't catch the smallest things he can.

    We head inside after about an hour or so, coming in without any questions from a still preoccupied Clifford glued to a weird looking movie or commercial or something.

    Returning to my room, we resume the tasks we had previously set aside. Even though I'm scrolling through my computer, I want to ask him about the mindset on Edalirwen regarding abilities.

    I actually attempt to, acting nonchalant about it.

    "What are the people like on Edalirwen? Like what holidays do they celebrate? What are their traditions?"

    And that's about as close as I'm getting to the actual thing I wanted to ask.

   Below me, I hear him set the book aside and I'm sure he's staring out the window.

    "The people don't have much to celebrate. As for traditions, I couldn't tell you. I barely spent my time among the common people. Why?"

    "I was just thinking is all. Thanks."

    Back to my scrolling and when I peer down, he's back to reading diligently again.
   

I'm surprised Clifford didn't come pester us to do something with him for the rest of the day (I'm not complaining). I guess whatever he was watching was interesting enough to suck him in till his mother came. She came as she always does, asking her routine questions about how he's been, how was the day, how my parents are faring, etc.

    Once they leave, I return to my room where I and Xalale have been playing checkers, this time him teaching me on how to improve. Unfortunately, either he's a terrible teacher or I'm a terrible student- or both- because I still get bested every time. I can't say with absolute honesty it doesn't get under my skin still, but it's not as bad as it was the first time around.

    "I don't understand how your brain processes these moves you're making." He comments, looking disapprovingly at my pieces.

    "I can say the same for how you function overall."

    I shrug, moving another piece.

    "It works for me."

    He moves his piece, capturing mine and getting kinged at the same time.

   "If that is what you want to believe, sobeit."

    When my last piece gets captured, the game is over and I sigh in defeat.

   "Can you let me win at least once?" I beg.

    "If I let you win then how would you learn?"

    "Alright, I'll remember that whenever you ask me something along those lines," I reply smugly.

    "I could try, but it's impossible to let you win is what I'm trying to tell you."

    "Literally, just do crappy moves."

    "I will try."

     Turns out he does suck at something: letting me win.

    "You understand what crappy means, right?" I ask, impatiently.

    "I said I would try, not succeed."

     None of his moves are crappy enough and even though he believes he's making a poor move, it actually backfires on me and I'm stuck in the same situation. I even try copying and memorizing some of his strategies, but he changes it up all the time and the set up won't allow for me to use it.

    "Succeeding you are not." I scoff, moving another piece only to have it captured.

    "The only logical way I can get you to win is by telling you where to move your pieces," He says, winning this round.

    I sigh, rubbing my temples.

    "No, it's alright. You're just better at checkers than me. We all have our things."

    I set aside the checkerboard then, instead of getting on my bed- I'm just too wonderfully lazy- I stretch out on the mattress and stare up at the ceiling. It seems Xalale doesn't mind, so I continue to lie there, watching the dust particles float freely through the air.

    "What do you believe could be your ability, your gift?" He asks, lying back as well.

    Thinking long and hard about it, I'm wracking my brain trying to conjure up something that could accurately pass as my talent in life, but again, like usual, I'm left with no answers but a meager shrug.

   "Maybe my talent is having no talent. Yeah, let's go with that for the time being."

   "That's impossible."

   "Says who? I mean, everyone acts like every single human being is meant to have some sort of talent or special ability, but what or who says we have to? Let's be philosophical here for a second, who says everyone possesses a talent?"

    "You says that if you touch fire you will be burned? No one says these things yet we know them to be true."

    "Touché," I admit. "But really, I've waited sixteen years to find my talent and I haven't."

    "Sixteen years is not a very long time."

    "It is to me."

     We say no more about it, just letting the silence take over us. I've noticed that our silent periods have evolved. No longer are they filled with tense, awkward, unspoken words, they're instead moments of thought and something we can sit comfortably in without having to dive into another messy thing. This change is refreshing, at least for me.

     We lie there like that, staring up at the ceiling until I hear my mom come home, earlier than usual. I leave to go greet her and talk for a bit. By the time I return to my room, Xalale has already turned on the light and continued reading.

     My dad comes a home a few minutes later and settles in front of the TV, like Clifford, to watch, instead of cartoons, sports. My mom is cooking some spaghetti in the kitchen, humming to a song I couldn't guess because I've probably never heard of it. So I retreat to my room where I spend my time typing on my blog until dinner, pushing the idea of not having a special talent from my mind.

   
I don't know what it is, but I toss and turn in attempting to sleep for about an hour until I throw in the towel, getting up to creep into the kitchen.

    Everyone has long since been gone to bed, even Xalale isn't aware of my absence. It's nearing midnight and even though I put away my laptop in pursuit of sleep, my mind refuses to relax and my eyes shut.

    Hoping a midnight snack will soothe my nerves, I rummage around in the fridge, deterred when I don't find anything I want, that is until I remember the yogurt Ruthford gave me to take home. I pull out a sampling of orange banana and take a seat at the table to eat and let my brain unload.

    "How come I'm exhausted when I'm awake, yet the moment I hit the pillow, all my mind wants to do is think? Why is fate so cruel?"

    I take the time to just sit and breathe, thinking about everything that has come about the last few weeks. People, places, and situations play across my mind's eyes like a film, causing certain feelings to arise from them. I think about falling through that wormhole, meeting Elle and Coxen, experiencing Edalirwen and the people, meeting Xalale- hating and fearing Xalale- riding a horse, Valda, for the first time in my life, the garden balcony which holds many feelings and memories, meeting Sephora and Olivos and Eniorad, talking to Shaykh, wandering the castle, being thrown curveballs (God knows I'm an expert at dealing with those now), gazing at the stars, losing hope, crying, getting drunk for the first time, kissing for the first time...

    I don't know I've dozed off until sitting up from a small pool of drool. Rubbing my eyes, I notice my yogurt is wasted- it probably kills Ruthford when yogurt goes to waste- and the time reads a little past 1. Groggily, still floating between sleep and consciousness, I stumble back into my room, still carefully avoiding Xalale and then snuggling under the covers for a bit.

    Sleep pretty much overtakes me at that point and my eyelids feel like lead. In fact, I do drift off for a while, but like a fish caught on a hook, I'm being pulled back out of the peaceful waters of sleep into consciousness again. I fight back through the reeling and keep my eyes closed and my body stilled.

    This taunting cycle occurs at least five times, making sleep an unenjoyable experience- which should be a sin because sleep should always be restful.

    I don't even know the reasons behind these wakeful and restless periods, but as each one passes, I hope that would be the end of it until a new one begins. The seventh time I'm being reeled back, I hear, faintly, talking from within the room. I actually do wake up a little more due to this, opening my eyes to the darkened room. Automatically, I figure it's just Xalale talking in his sleep again (it's starting to become as common to me as somebody snoring), but listening in, there's a difference. It sounds like he's just talking to himself, awake.

    "-very hard, extremely so, especially for me. I suppose I could say I am in denial, but it's been quite some time since I've recognized such...It frustrates me- you frustrate me sometimes-"

    "Hold up. I frustrate him!?" He's clearly delusional. I start to listen in a bit more closely.

    "-because I know what it is that's happening, but I refuse to let such a thing happen to me again. But yet, you never did give up on me, you've kept your promises which you didn't have to uphold, that confuses me the most. We clearly have our numerous pits and quarrels yet you, of all people, never gave up on me. You've had so many opportunities to do so, but you don't and that baffles me. Why are you so much like her yet so different?"

    Okay, now I'm not sure if he's actually expecting an answer from me or he's talking about something else or someone else completely different.

    "She never made me as infuriated as you have at times, that is for certain-"

    "Right back at ya."

    "-she made me happy, but you make me feel hopeful," He scoffs. "I'm a fool for feeling such a way, but you cause it. You also cause me to do things I wouldn't normally do- I haven't figured out if that is positive or negative yet, but I get through them which must mean it's fine. You look at me with such a strange perspective, then there are time where you don't seem to understand at all-"

    "Isn't this the pot calling the kettle black."

    "-then again, I don't expect you to...I'm not making much sense, am I?"

    "Nope."

    "You keep at me regardless of how I might respond and I want to tell you everything. It's very infuriating when I want to tell you everything and I don't know why. But you're so easy to talk with at times-"

    "Exactly! I need a filter on this mouth!"

    "-it catches me off-guard," He sighs. "You told me that if I were to knock down my barriers, I would see that not everyone is looking to betray me and I have tried, but- you may find this foolish but- I'm not sure how exactly to do that. It's hard to break old habits, but you try with me and for that I'm grateful, but often times, I feel like a lost cause. Being here, though, and with you...I feel it too taboo to say it aloud least it isn't true, but on my part it feels so and that- that's unfathomable and...frightening for me, if I'm being honest, and I do want to be transparent with you..."

    There's a silence that stretches so long I begin to believe he's stopped talking completely and has dozed off, but he speaks up again, sounding torn and frustrated.

    "I want to be transparent with you yet you can't even hear any of this. I have so much I want to say to you, but I feel like you wouldn't understand. I fear you not understanding and ignorance leads to false conclusions and I know full and well where that leads to and that ends in betrayal which- then I'm stuck in this tireless cycle that I despise and which you don't understand...then I feel hopeless and you give me hope and..."

    I'm confused yet so engulfed in this. It's very ironic that he doesn't know I can hear all of this like an audience to a character's soliloquy.

    He breathes a tired breath.

    "I can't keep living this way, but I thought I could. Then you came and I knew it from the beginning where this was going to go. It would be a reassuring thing to know that you understand even a little bit of this. So do you?" He scoffs to himself. "Of course you don't because I'm talking to myself. I want to tell you all this- I will, hopefully- and I sincerely hope you at least understand some of what I'm getting at, but I wouldn't expect-"

    "I do." Stupid!

     It came out before I could catch it. I want to slap myself for such a slip-up. Damn me.

    I've never heard anyone shut up faster in my life than him once I spoke. The room grows dead still and I'm sure we're both holding our breaths. I want to lean over the edge of the bed to see if he's still up just not talking. I'm sure it surprised him- I surprised myself.

    There's no more talking after that. I couldn't keep my mouth closed, could I. This mouth has gotten me into so many sticky situations it's unbelievable. He was finally opening up to me- kinda- and was saying what was on his mind without any fear of being judged and there I go saying things like "I do". Damn me.

    I don't know how this is going to affect how we act around each other tomorrow. I'm crossing my fingers that we both brush it off like it's nothing.

    "We just got out of the awkward, tense phrase, I don't wanna relapse."

    Shaking my head at myself, I attempt to go to sleep since what's done is done, and eventually, I do fade out, thankfully not resurfacing again.