“Thanks, but we’ve spent a good portion of the day searching, and you look exhausted,” were the last words Random said before kissing me and walking inside her house, leaving me feeling abandoned, almost useless. I couldn’t tell if she was tired or tired of spending time with me, but I kissed her back, shrugged reluctantly after her door slid shut and headed home myself. Now it was Sunday morning and I was staring up at the ceiling in my bed, debating just what I should do today.

 

I had agreed to help Random search for someone named Dizzy yesterday, but even after going through pretty much the entire city, we never found her or someone who had seen her. It was like she didn’t exist. I’ve never met her myself, but I went to help Random look anyway because she was my girlfriend, even though I’m not sure if she sees it the same way. We did start dating recently, and I thought she was having a great time during the school festival with the stalls, but I could have been wrong.

 

“I’ve got to get up and make breakfast,” I mumble, recounting all ofyesterday’s events. I was the only one able to make meals around the house; the rest of my family being too young, barring my one sister who was constantly watching over my mom, so she couldn’t just leave and make meals. When she fell into her illness it fell onto us to start taking up more responsibility and grow up a little quicker than other teens.

 

“Cody…” a disappointed voice moans from my doorway. I sit up and notice it’s my little sister, Chantelle. “When are you making breakfast?” she asks, giving me her puppy dog eyes.

 

“Soon Chantelle, I just needed some time to think. I’ll be down in 5, let everyone know.” And with a bright smile she rushed off. Must be nice being young again; no problems and so carefree of the world. I don’t even remember most of my time being young… Pushing the thought aside I slide into a white t-shirt and khaki camo pants before heading downstairs.

 

When your part of a big family, it’s often troubling getting from point A to point B. My 2 little brothers are usually at the bottom of the stairs, 2 of my sisters ran through the house either playing or screaming at each other almost every day and my second oldest sister sat on the couch reading “A Tale of Two Cities”, the light reflecting faintly off the rim of her glasses. At least she didn’t run around the house or get in the way. Even now I had to leap from the second step of the stairs to overshoot my brothers, landing near the front door.

 

“You guys got to find somewhere else to play. What draws you to these stairs anyway?” I ask regaining my composer, even though I know it’s a waste of time; they were 4 and 5 respectively.

 

“We aren’t drawing on anything,” my 5-year-old brother replies.

 

“That’s not what I-,” I stop and sigh realizing it’s pointless. “Never mind, breakfast will be ready in 20 minutes,” I tell them before finally heading off to the kitchen.

 

Once inside the kitchen I breathe a sigh of relief; it always felt like this place was a second home. Almost no one else came in here after I made my first meal a few years ago, other than for dish rotation. The words that came out of their mounts were literally “heavenly” after taking a bite. After a few more meals I found out I enjoyed making food for everyone, coming up with new recipes and attempting to do new things. They wholeheartedly agreed and nothing I’ve made since then has been rejected.

 

“Cody, do you need any help?” Chantelle’s small, cute voice whispers from the dining room. She’s always wanted to make food like mine, and insist on helping whenever she can. For the most part I let her, but for harder meals I have to tell her no, which hurts a little.

 

“Um, sure, Chantelle. Can you butter the waffles and cut them up for me when they’re done?” A bright smile and solid nod ensure me she’s happy to do it. She tells me she wants to cook as well as me, so I’m happy to help when I can.

 

Walking over to the refrigerator I open the door and bend down to pick up a dozen eggs. I’m not going to use them all, but having the container by me does help. I also make sure to grab the blue berries and strawberries; everyone had their favorite and I catered to them all. No one liked chocolate chips though, which I always found a little odd. Carrying everything back to the counter and pulling out the cutting board, Chantelle strikes up a conversation with me as I cut up the strawberries into halves then quarters.

 

“So what were you doing yesterday,” Chantelle ask innocently. “You ran out the door pretty quickly.”

 

Dumping the strawberries into a bowl I tell her, “I was out helping a friend. Did you need help with something?” Being the second oldest sibling here meant I needed to help out when I could, especially due to our situation.

 

“No, I was just curious.”

 

After I finished dicing the strawberries I grabbed three mixing bowls so I could make plain, strawberry and blueberry waffles. I had Chantelle start up the 4 x 4 waffle iron while I cracked the eggs and mixed the batter with the blender, making sure to throw the fruit in after. As the iron heated on the outer counters, I began taking things off the center counter and putting them back, Chantelle watching the entire time.

 

Before pouring the batter onto the waffle iron, I turn over toward Chantelle who has a look on her face of, “I hope I get to do it”. Smiling, I gesture for her to come over, and help her pour it into the various molds. They weren’t your typical squares either; some were hearts or diamonds or even triangles. It made making waffles much more entertaining than something like pancakes or French toast. It was also helpful for distinguishing between which waffles were what that day. Like making triangles blueberry only or have diamonds be strawberries.

When I closed it to allow the waffles to cook, Chantelle immediately ran over to the refrigerator to retrieve the butter.

 

“Getting a head start?” I smile at her. She nods and eyes the waffle iron, watching the steam rise up around it as the waffles cook. The best part of being the cook is I already know what everyone wants, more or less. It hasn’t really changed in the last few years. I just didn’t know what Cindy wanted, because her mood fluctuated so much with taking care of mom… I wander if she even wanted anything for breakfast…

 

“Cody!” Chantelle shrieks, point to the waffle iron, letting me know I let the waffles sit too long. I’ve only done that when I’ve felt truly sad and cut off from reality; it was just all too much to bear sometimes.

 

Darting from the center counter top I quickly lift the tray and remove the partially burnt waffles. My younger sister who was reading, Mel, came rushing into the kitchen, book dangling in her hand, her smooth, round face completely panic stricken.

 

“Is something on fire?!” she asks, passing glances between Chantelle and I.

 

“Everything’s fine,” I tell her. “Tell the others before everyone barges in here,” then I add please quickly so it doesn’t sound like an order. Without arguing she was quickly off.

 

Making the rest of the waffles went off without a hitch and before long Chantelle and I had the dining room table outfitted with plates, forks, knives, syrup, and 3 plates of waffles representing the different fruits or lack thereof. Everyone happily gathered around and started snatching up waffle after waffle, pouring unhealthy amounts of syrup onto them then digging in. “Slow down, that’s a little too much,” I tell them, reminding them that a little bit of syrup is baked into the waffles, along with a few other various things I’ve put in, like cinnamon and nutmeg.

I glance around and notice that Cindy isn’t anywhere to be seen, partly because she’s probably taking care of mom. So I decided to bring her up a plate of half blueberry, half strawberry waffles.

 

After grabbing a plate and swerving past various siblings, I managed to reach the stairs, plate of waffles in one hand, syrup in the other. I also remind myself to be quiet and see if my mom wanted some waffles, as my mom could be asleep or not hungry.

When I reach the top, the door was left slightly ajar, allowing me to peer inside. I noticed Cindy staring out the window, wearing her cyan tank and black shorts. She had a faraway look on her face, and some tissue balled up in her hand that looked moist. Was she crying?

Not wanting to be rude, I knock lightly on the door and see her quickly straighten up, wiping her eyes one last time and chucking the moist tissue in the garbage bin next to her.

 

“It’s just me,” I whisper as I enter the room, noticing my mom was asleep and keeping my voice down. “Thought I’d bring you some breakfast,” I say, offering her the plate and syrup. She takes it, although a bit reluctantly, like something is distracting her. “You feeling okay?” I ask, backing around to the other side of the bed. “Because if you need someone to take over I could-“

 

“No, no I’m good. Thanks for the food, Cody,” she says, pouring a small amount of syrup over her waffles then slowly cutting into them. Her voice sounded cold when she said it, and being the closest in age to her I could kind of understand why. The most stress was put on us, right after our dad. We had to take charge and watch over the house, having to have grown up faster than most teens. And even though she had her whole life ahead of her, she still gave it all up to watch over our mom.

 

Noticing I was still here, she lifted her head toward me until our eyes met. Even before she spoke, I could feel her pain reflected from deep within her eyes; she was suffering and putting a brave front on for me. “I’m fine Cody, really. Go out and have fun; you look like you need some fresh air.”

 

In a way she was right; I needed a break. I had a great week: spending time with Random was always fun. But yesterday felt different, and I was left with more questions than answers. Who was Dizzy? Why was Random frantically searching for her? Why call me and not her best friend Cocoa? Were we really dating or was she just going along with it to make me happy?I wanted to ask Random these things but I never pushed; she seemed to want to keep some things secret from me and always had a distracted look on her face when I did feel like pushing. But what did stick in my head was the junkyard, and how we avoided going there yesterday. It had been nagged me in the back of my mind since I got home; something was telling me to go there today. Not wanting it to bug be any longer, I went upstairs, jumping over my two little brothers who resumed what they were doing, and changed into something more comfortable and left, letting Mel know I was leaving before I did so.

 

 

 

“So I’m on my own in the end after all.”

 

Ever since that night with Random I left and headed straight to the junkyard with nowhere else to go. One thing Random was true to on her word was that the gatekeeper didn’t ask questions when I told him who had sent me. I guess Random did have physical ties to people in this town, not that I could relate. My real home was among the various piles of tossed out computers, old appliances, and various robotic work scattered across the junkyard. I could hear faint whispers from each one, hearing its tale through life. “She only used me till the newest model came out,” or “I worked just fine and was still tossed aside without a second glance.” It was a lot of sad stories of how humans never had any real care or concern for the devices that made their lives easier.
I did however manage totake some of the parts and repaired most of them, giving them new life. In doing so I’ve managed to make myself a small shelter within one of the junk piles near the far back corner, just out of the sight the of the city.

 

“Finally managed to fix you,” I mumble as the iPad I found slowly boots up. “Careless humans, throwing away perfectly working electronics just because something new comes along.”

 

Within the short time I’ve been here I’ve managed to fix a few computers, repair some old robots and build a few defenses to keep out and keep away unwanted visitors. The lack of food wasn’t a problem either as someone had thrown away a food materializer, although it was incomplete but I managed to finish it.

 

“Pointless emotions, blinding everyone from reaching their goals.”

 

I decided to live my life out here, surrounded by things that I could understand. Machines, electronics and other devices that didn’t lie, didn’t hide anything, didn’t betray. No one even comes this deep into the junkyard by what I could gather, so I thought I was far out of sight and out of the away of everyone, free to live my life here in seclusion. And yet even as I’ve seen various people come in and out of here today, one of them actually came all the way back here; a blue haired girl with pink streaks in her hair. She was quite surprised when she had a laser defense system targeted at her. I’m guessing that was the last thing she was expecting.

 

“Quite the set up for a kid,” she told me, a smug look plastered on her face. “Look, I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m just looking for something.”

 

“I’m not a kid,” I murmur, annoyed by her comment, immediately judging me by my size. “Speak now or I won’t be responsible for what my friends will do to you.” I nod toward the lasers, legs pulled to my stomach, arms wrapped around them. That’s when I notice a small glowing rock in her left hand.

 

“Litolemite…” I whisper, awestruck by the fact that she even had it. I’ve only recently discovered it, but I’ve never actually seen it.

 

That’s when a confused look followed by a wide smile spreads across her face. If I could understand human emotions and their body language any better, I could have anticipated she was plotting something. But my mind just avoided comparing the two together, assuming she only came up with an idea.

 

“So you know what this is?” she asks, holding it up for me to see, the various colors swirling about the wires, giving off a faint yet powerful glow. “I’ve been coming here to get these, right around this very spot in fact. No one knows what it is or what it’s capable of, not even a certain someone… But that aside, you’re preventing me from getting more of it. Look, I won’t tell anyone you were here or even why you were here. But I’m not leaving till I get more of this here.” She held the Litolemite up higher, indicating she was set on getting it.

 

A silent stare then passes between us as I decide to let her go or not. What could she possibly do to me when laser are pointed at her? But I just sighed and willed the lasers to return to standby. That’s when another look of shock appeared on her face, but it quickly melted away and became serious as she stalked past me.

 

When she reached the front of one of the junk piles, she took out what looked like a drill and started it up by inputting a few commands. It then started spinning and emitting a small beep at equal intervals. My guess is it was a locator. The roar of the drill echoed through my mind; it was excellently powered and built. For the week I lived with Random, I’d never seen anything made so well.

When she began drilling into the ground it didn’t even really make a sound, it just almost silently spun downward into the ground. The beeping then began to pick up in speed as she drilled deeper and began to widen the hole. When it finally sounded like it hit its peak she withdrew it, turned it off and scraped away the remaining dirt using her hands. That’s when a small faint glow started to appear from where she was digging,, and I knew she had found more Litolemite.

 

Once collected, she takes something off of the drill, drops it in the hole, and it begins refilling it faster than any man could possibly do, even with technology how it was right now. When it finished, she picked it up and reattached it to the drill, then returned it to the bag on her side.

 

“In exchange for keeping you secret, you keep me secret.”

 

And without another word, she was gone and I began to question what she meant by that and if I could trust her. In truth, I didn’t want anyone finding out I was here, and to do that I couldn’t leave, which prevents me from telling anyone that she was here. Then I was debating if I could trust her word, like I trusted Random. It seemed like such a small thing then, until that night… Now I was expected to trust someone else, someone I barely know? Looking around at all the machines around me and how she had a perfect, finely tuned machine with her, I decided to keep her being here a secret if anyone decided to come out here. Only because she knew how to create; she didn’t have emotional ties and I knew she was someone I could try to trust.