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“Are you sure about this, Kiddo?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Zillon Brax confirms, “I don’t wanna be famous anymore.”
Bill Green, who Zillon has taken to calling “Father,” sighs like fathers often do. For such a simple sound, it portrays a complex mix of emotions: frustration, relief, pride, annoyance. But most of all, it just sounds tired.
“Okay,” Bill says with a weary smile. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go home, and we’ll figure things out from there.”
The Green family, and Zillon, pile into Bill’s truck. The Kludge starts up with a loud roar, and then they’re on their way. Cricket, exhausted from the rollercoaster of a day he’s had, immediately falls asleep with his head resting on Tilly’s shoulder. Tilly herself soon starts to nod off in the pillow of Cricket’s hair.
Sandwiched between Cricket and Gramma, and lulled by the steady rocking of the Kludge, Zillon finds that his own eyelids are becoming quite heavy. He leans against Alice, but catches himself and pulls away. He glances at her, expecting disapproval, but is instead met with a warm smile. She gives a nod, silently inviting him to use her shoulder as a pillow. He graciously accepts the offer. He snuggles up against her, and quickly drifts off to sleep.
Soft laughter rings out from the passenger’s seat, so Alice meets Nancy’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“They’re all tuckered out,” Nancy coos affectionately.
Alice brushes some hair out of Zillon’s face and says, “They look so peaceful, like nothin’ even happened.”
At that, something crosses Nancy’s mind. Her face falls. She turns around in her seat to get a better look at her son.
“D’you think Cricket’s gonna be okay?” she asks. “I mean, that crazy fangirl kidnapped him…”
“He’ll be fine. He’s a tough kid,” Alice points out.
“Actually,” Bill chimes in, “strange as it may seem, I’m more worried about Zillon.”
Nancy looks at Bill, eyebrow raised. “Really? Why’s that?”
“I’ve just got a bad feeling. Don’t it strike you as odd that he chose to impersonate Cricket in order to live a normal life instead of, I don’t know, stayin’ with his parents?”
“Now that you mention it…” Nancy trails off, lost in thought.
Alice glances down at Zillon, who’s still fast asleep. “I hadn’t thought about that,” she says quietly.
A heavy silence overtakes the truck, broken only by the revving engine and gentle snores from the backseat. Noticing the sudden tension, Bill tries to lighten the mood.
“I’m sure everything’ll be fine,” he reasons. “I’ll have Zillon call his parents and get things cleared up as soon as we get home. It’s probably just a simple misunderstandin’.”
“Yeah,” Nancy agrees halfheartedly, “Just a misunderstandin’.” It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
Shortly after the conversation has ended, they arrive at the farmhouse. It’s tiny and out of place, surrounded by Big City’s massive skyscrapers, but it’s home.
While Nancy steps out of the Kludge to stretch, Bill wakes the kids. Tilly and Zillon stir, but Cricket is still out like a light. With an affectionate sigh, Bill reaches back and gently lifts Cricket into his arms.
The family, and Zillon, slowly pour out of the truck one by one and head towards the house. Phoenix greets them on the front porch with a lazily wagging tail. Zillon stops to pet her while the Greens continue inside.
Alice heads straight for the bathroom to start her nightly routine. Tilly leaves her shoes by the front door and then stops, seemingly to wait for Cricket. Phoenix finally steps inside, so Zillon follows, shutting the door behind him.
“What a day,” Nancy sighs as she kicks off her boots.
Bill quietly replies, “No kiddin’.” Cricket doesn’t stir in his father’s arms.
“Poor thing,” Nancy says and lightly strokes her son’s hair. “Let me take him off your hands.”
“Sure. Thanks, Nance.” Carefully, Bill hands Cricket over. Cricket mumbles something in his sleep, but still doesn’t wake up. Bill gives him a peck on the forehead and says, “Straight to bed with him. You too, Til.”
“Okay, Papa,” Tilly agrees. She gives her father a hug. “Goodnight.”
Bill kisses Tilly on the forehead too. “Goodnight, Sweetie.”
Nancy, holding Cricket in one arm, takes Tilly’s hand with the other. They start towards the kids’ shared bedroom.
Zillon gets the picture, he can take a hint. He gives Bill a quick hug, which takes the older man by surprise, and exclaims, “Goodnight, Father!” Then Zillon tries to follow the others, but Bill catches him by the shoulder before he can leave.
“Woah there, hold on, Kiddo,” Bill says. He releases his grip on Zillon’s shoulder in favor of pulling off his hat and holding it against his chest. “Your real parents must be worried sick about you. Why don’t you call ‘em and explain what’s going on first? Then we can figure out with them if you’ll have to stay the night.”
“Okay. Whatever you say, Father.” Zillon pulls out his smartphone and calls his parents as instructed.
While waiting for the call to go through, Bill runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh. This one is even more tired sounding than before, and there’s no hint of relief, just frustration.
To lighten the mood, Zillon gives Bill a big smile and a thumbs up when his parents answer the phone. Bill returns the thumbs up, as confused as he is charmed.
Zillon turns his attention back to the call. “Hi, Mother! Hi, Father!”
“Zillon, thank goodness you’re still alive,” his mother says. “We were so worried when you disappeared. We thought we’d lost our favorite little popstar forever.”
“I’m glad you’re still alive too!”
Bill ruffles Zillon’s hair affectionately, eliciting a giggle from the boy, before stepping away to hang his hat by the front door and remove his boots.
“So where are you, my little angel?” Mrs. Brax questions. “Were you taken by another obsessed fan? Please tell me they don’t want any money.”
“No, Mother, I wasn’t kidnapped this time. You don’t have to worry about a ransom, I promise.”
Bill doesn’t mean to be eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help but overhear that. He’s concerned, but doesn’t want to interrupt, so he returns to untying his laces.
Mrs. Brax replies, “Okay, good. Well then where are you? I’ll send a driver to pick you up.”
“Uh, well…” Zillon hesitates. “I don’t know the address. I’m at the Greens’ house.”
“Huh? Who’re the Greens?”
“The Greens are… They’re a nice, normal family. I spent the day with them, and-”
“Oh. I get it.” Mrs. Brax’s voice is suddenly cold. “You were actually serious about that whole ‘not being famous anymore’ thing.”
“Of course I was serious.” Zillon holds his phone with both hands, hoping to hide the speaker and prevent Bill from hearing what Mrs. Brax says.
He can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but Zillon’s behavior is enough to make Bill worry. He distracts himself by lining up his, Nancy’s, and Tilly’s shoes. Then he grabs a nearby broom and starts to sweep.
Zillon continues, “I really don’t want to be a popstar anymore.”
There’s a brief pause, and then, “Seriously? Seriously, Zillon?!” Mrs. Brax raises her voice. “After everything we have done for you, this is how you repay us?!”
“I-I know how much you’ve done for me, I do, I just-”
“Just what?!”
“I thought that maybe I’d finally, y’know, earned a normal life.” Zillon flinches, expecting what’s to come. He knew from the beginning that his mother wouldn’t react well. That’s why he didn’t go to his parents in the first place.
Mrs. Brax lets the silence linger long enough to make Zillon hold his breath, before hissing out her response, “Okay, Zillon. If you want a normal life so badly, then you can have it. You can have your normal little life with the happy little Greens, and you can all be so normal and happy together. Until they get sick of you and your whining, like I am, or you get bored of being a useless little burden. Then you can come crawling back and I’ll give you a second chance at being a star. But until the day that inevitably happens, you are never stepping foot in my home ever again.”
Zillon releases the breath he’d been holding, then takes a quick breath, then another, then another. His heart is racing, and his lungs are struggling to keep up.
“Mother, are you serious?”
“As serious as you are. I’ll change my mind when you do. Until then, goodbye, Zillon-”
“W-Wait,” Zillon chokes out, clutching at his chest, “Father? Are you going to just let this happen?”
Mrs. Brax scoffs in offense. Zillon ignores her and tries to calm his breathing so he can hear his dad’s response.
After a moment, Mr. Brax responds, “Whatever your mother says goes.”
It feels like a punch in the gut. The air is forced out of Zillon’s lungs into a twisted, broken little laugh. What else can he do but laugh?
“Okay!” Zillon shouts, throwing his free hand up in disbelief, “Then I guess I’ll just stay here with the Greens forever!”
There’s a loud clattering sound, and Zillon turns to see that Bill has dropped his broom on the floor. His eyes are wide with shock. He rushes over next to Zillon and kneels down, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“What the heck just happened?!” Bill asks in a strained whisper. “What did your parents say?”
Zillon covers the phone’s microphone. He puts on a forced smile and says, “They told me that if I’m not going to be a popstar anymore, then I don’t get to go home!”
“What?! That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” Completely baffled, Bill reaches out his hand. “Give me the phone. I’ll talk to them.”
Zillon complies, and Bill stands back up while he addresses Zillon’s parents, but leaves his hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. Zillon stares at it, surprised, as the smile slips from his face. The feeling of being comforted is foreign to him.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Brax, are you still there?” Bill questions into the phone.
Mrs. Brax is the one to answer, “Yes. Who is this?” She sounds annoyed, more than anything.
“My name is Bill Green. I’m hoping you can clear something up for me. Is it true that you told Zillon he wouldn’t be allowed home if he isn’t a popstar?”
She lets out a huff. “Yes, I did tell him that.”
“Wh-” Bill has to shake his head in disbelief, “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. We’re managing so many other, far more talented prospective musicians. We have no need for a client that won’t do his job.”
“A client? He’s your son! You can’t just abandon your child because he doesn’t want to work for you anymore. That’s insane!”
“Listen, Buddy, you don’t understand how cutthroat this industry can be. If we had to waste our time with Zillon-”
“NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME!” Bill yells into the phone. Zillon flinches. He grabs Bill’s hand for comfort.
Bill continues, still enraged, but at a lower volume, “Zillon is a good kid. He deserves a normal life just like anyone else, with parents who love him for who he is, and not for the money he can make ‘em.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Brax drawls, her voice icy, “Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to provide that life for him, since you’re insisting that he deserves it. I’ll just leave him with you.”
“That- That’s not what I meant! You can’t just leave him here!”
“Goodbye, Mr. Green.”
“Don’t you hang up on me!” Bill raises his voice again. “You are his parents! Why don’t you try acting like it?!”
Startled by the unexpected loudness, Nancy emerges from Cricket and Tilly’s room. “Bill? What is goin’ on?” she asks. Concern is evident on her face, especially once she spots Zillon.
Bill hears a beep, and the call ends. He looks at Zillon’s phone. It’s nearly midnight.
“Dangit,” he says to himself quietly, before clearing his throat and turning to face Nancy. “Uh, well… I guess Zillon is gonna be staying with us tonight.”
Nancy lets her shoulders slump and looks back down at Zillon. He’s clinging to Bill’s arm, with tears welling in his eyes, but he still forces a smile.
He utters a pathetic little, “Hooray…” before breaking down in sobs. He buries his face in Bill’s side to hide that he’s crying.
The sight of a child, who happens to look exactly like Cricket, crying makes Bill and Nancy react instinctively. They both immediately kneel down to comfort Zillon.
“Woah, hey,” Bill says softly. He takes Zillon’s hands into his own and squeezes. “You don’t need to hide. It’s okay to be upset.”
Nancy rubs gentle circles in Zillon’s back. “I may not have any idea what’s goin’ on, but we’re both here for you.”
“That’s right. You’re gonna be okay, Zillon.”
He takes a few desperate breaths, and manages to choke out, “H-How? What am I gonna do?” between more hiccuping sobs.
Bill explains, “We’re gonna figure that out together, okay?”
“B-but where am I gonna go if I can’t go home?”
“You can stay here with us for a while.” Bill brushes Zillon’s hair out of his face, and wipes away his tears with his thumb. He leaves his hand resting on Zillon’s tear-dampened cheek. “We’ll take care of you while we get everything sorted out, okay?”
“Okay,” Zillon says with a sniffle, leaning into the touch.
“It’s just like Nancy said, we’re both here for you. You got that?”
“Yeah. I’ve got it.” He doesn’t sound completely convinced, but at least his sobs are subsiding and his breaths are steadying out. Even as he’s calming down, the toll of the stress tiring him out is starting to show in his voice and the drooping of his eyelids.
“There,” Nancy cuts in, noticing the signs of exhaustion. “Do you feel a little bit better now? Ready to sleep?”
Zillon peels himself off of Bill’s hand in order to nod.
With a nod of her own, Nancy says, “Good. Then let’s get you to bed, Kiddo.”
She suddenly scoops Zillon up, taking both him and Bill by surprise. That was intentional, and her plan works: Zillon is so shocked that he doesn’t cry another tear. Actually, he laughs as she whirls him around before settling into holding him with one arm, just as she had carried the fast-asleep Cricket to bed.
“I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can get ready for bed,” she says to Zillon. “I’m sure there’s a spare toothbrush around here somewhere.”
Bill shakes himself out of his surprise to tell Zillon, “I’ll find some pajamas you can borrow. Oh, and a pillow and blanket for the couch-”
“No need for those,” Gramma suddenly interjects from her room, “I’ve got ‘em right here.” She steps out holding a pillow and blanket, just as she said. “Extra toothbrushes are in the medicine cabinet.”
Nancy nods and carries Zillon to the bathroom, so Alice starts preparing the couch for him to sleep on. While she lays out the blanket, Bill clears his throat.
“Uh, thanks, Ma,” he says, somewhat awkwardly. “Did you, uh…?”
“Hear everything you said?” She finishes his sentence. “Yup. Well, most of it, anyway. You do owe me a full explanation of everything those no good parents of his said, but I got the gist of it.”
“And you’re okay with Zillon staying?”
“Of course.” Bill is surprised to hear that. His mother is usually averse to strangers. She continues, “He slotted in with the family pretty darn seamlessly. Heck, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t Cricket ‘til Nancy pointed it out.”
“Right.” Bill’s face turns pink. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t embarrassed that he couldn’t recognize his own son. “He, uh, fits in real good.”
“‘Course there was some discourse between Tilly ‘n’ him, but I’m sure that’ll clear up quick. She’s awfully forgiving. They’ll be the best of friends before ya know it.”
“Yeah… Friends…” Bill catches himself envisioning a future where Zillon stays and, even though he’d never once wanted a third kid before, the thought of it suddenly doesn’t sound so bad.
He shakes the thought from his head. It isn’t that simple. Zillon isn’t a stray cat that they can just keep. He could end up back with his parents, or even in the foster care system. It’s best they don’t get their hopes up. Besides, they’ve only known the kid for a day.
“Well, uh, we don’t know how long he’ll be staying,” Bill points out. “He’ll probably only be here for a day or two.”
Alice fluffs the pillow and rolls her eyes. “Sure thing, Billy Boy.” She sounds skeptical.
“I mean, I'm sure Zillon will end up going back home soon, so there’s no use looking forward to getting to know him, spending more time with him…” Bill’s expression slowly drops. “Tossing the ball around in the backyard… Taking him on his first fishing trip… Watching him thrive in an environment where he feels safe and loved…”
“Bill,” Alice says flatly, snapping him out of his spiral. “Don’t you have pajamas to look for?”
“Oh, right!” Bill exclaims. “I’ll go get those.”
He rushes off to grab a change of clothes for Zillon. He picks out one of his old shirts that shrunk in the wash, the same kind Cricket wears to bed, along with a pair of sweatpants that belong to Tilly. She never wears them anyway. He brings them to Nancy, who passes them along to Zillon.
Once he’s finished changing, Zillon steps out of the bathroom. The pajamas are adorably oversized on him, making him appear even smaller than he already is. Nancy leads him back to the living room, where Bill and Alice are waiting by the couch.
“All ready for bed?” Bill asks jovially. He’s trying to hide his stress over the situation to keep the mood light, so Zillon will be able to rest easy.
Zillon replies, “All ready, Father!” with a big smile, although his undereyes are still puffy and red from crying. Bill ruffles his hair affectionately, before immediately regretting it and smoothing it back out. Zillon giggles, which brings out a smile on all three adults’ faces.
Nancy helps Zillon up onto the couch. He settles into the cushion and she pulls the blanket up to his chest. She leaves her hand resting there for a moment, long enough for Zillon to place his hand on it.
“Do you need anything, Kiddo?” she asks. “Like a glass of water, or maybe a stuffed animal to keep you company?”
Zillon shakes his head. “No thank you, Mother. I’m okay.”
Amused, Nancy exhales through her nose. She takes his hand into hers. “Y’know, I didn’t expect a world-famous popstar to be so polite. You’re really somethin’ else.”
Now he tilts his head, questioning “Is that a good thing?”
“It sure is,” Nancy states confidently. She gently squeezes his hand. “Goodnight, Zillon.”
Zillon smiles. “Goodnight, Mother.”
Nancy releases his hand so she can go flick off the living room light. Then she steps over to the entrance, pulls on her boots, and grabs her helmet and keys.
“You’re not stayin’?” Bill asks her.
She shrugs in response. “I’m just gonna head back to my trailer. I was gonna crash on your couch, but it’s currently occupied.” She speaks quietly enough that Zillon doesn’t hear.
“Freeloader,” Gramma grumbles to herself.
“Didn’t quite catch that, Alice.”
“I said drive safe!” she says with a mocking smile.
“Sure ya did.” Nancy straps on her motorcycle helmet. “I’ll come back first thing in the mornin’. G’night, you two.”
Alice just waves her off, but Bill says, “Night, Nance.”
With that, Nancy leaves. Alice also says her own goodnights and heads off to bed, leaving just the two alone in the living room. Bill turns his attention back to the boy on the couch. Zillon is laying on his back and, even though he can barely keep his eyes open, he’s staring up at the ceiling.
Bill asks him, “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just thinking, which is annoying, ‘cuz I hate thinking.”
That makes Bill chuckle a little. “What are you thinkin’ about?”
Zillon lets out a sigh. “Just… What my mom said earlier on the phone.”
“Oh,” Bill says, deflating. “What did she say?”
“She said if I stay here long enough you’ll get sick of me, like she is.”
“Did she now?” Bill asks, trying to suppress his anger at Mrs. Brax.
“Yeah… So, I was just wondering, is it true? Are you gonna get sick of me?”
He speaks without thinking, “Of course not.”
Zillon sits up, looking surprised. “Really? Even if I’m a useless little burden?”
“Wha-” Bill is completely shocked. He sits on the edge of the couch and puts his hand on Zillon’s shoulder. “Zillon, you’re not useless, and you’re not a burden. Don’t ever call yourself that.”
“That’s what Mother called me.”
Bill has to clench his free hand into a fist to tamper down his rage. “Well, she’s wrong. It ain’t right for a parent to talk about their child like that. Raising kids can be hard, but that doesn’t give your parents the right to mistreat you, or abandon you like they’re tryin’ to.”
“But…” Zillon looks conflicted. He wrings his hands nervously. “If I’m not a popstar, then I’m not making money, and if I’m not making money, then I’m just a burden-”
“Zillon, stop.” Bill’s voice is firm yet gentle. He makes sure Zillon is looking him in the eyes when he says, “Listen to me. You are not a burden. You are a human being. You’re a child who deserves a happy life with people who love him. Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Zillon falls silent and just stares, searching for signs of dishonesty in Bill’s face. On not finding any, a warm feeling blooms in his chest, and a smile grows on his face.
Suddenly, Zillon springs forward to give Bill a tight hug. Bill is frozen in surprise at first, but he quickly melts into the embrace and wraps his arms around the kid. Even though he feels strange hugging a child he’d met less than 24 hours ago, he can tell that Zillon needs this.
“Thank you,” Zillon says quietly. “You're the only person who's ever treated me like a person. I hope I get to stay here a little longer."
Bill releases Zillon from the hug, and smooths his hair out yet again. Then, with a tired yet affectionate sigh, Bill agrees, “Yeah. I hope so too.”
With that, Bill stands, and Zillon lays back down. Bill tucks him in and, after a final onceover to make sure Zillon’s okay, starts to walk away.
A barely audible, exhausted little voice rings out, “Goodnight, Dad-man.”
Bill stops, smiles to himself, and says, “Goodnight, Kiddo.”