Work Text:
June 3rd
I heard Emergency again, out in the forest. It wasn’t any different than usual. She just called my name, while I was picking flowers for Ghost and Angel. She only said it once. “Maximum.” She didn’t sound scared this time, at least. It was more like a whisper, like how she’d get when it was getting close to night shift.
I wish she said it again. I miss hearing her voice.
June 5th
Snuck out to the woods again to see if I could hear Emergency again. Jeb didn’t find out this time - he doesn’t like it when I go to the woods without someone else. The first time I heard Emergency in the woods, I got lost, and he gave me a long talk about how sometimes things aren’t real and you shouldn’t treat them as if they are. Then he made me some hot cocoa as an apology for getting angry and sent me to bed.
I like Jeb but sometimes I wonder if he thinks we don’t know anything he doesn’t tell us first. Because I know what real and not-real things are, and how you’re supposed to react when hallucinations happen. Emergency knew it to, and so did all of us bigger kids. But the first time I heard her voice out here in the mountains, I thought I was dreaming, and that I might be able to find her. It’s still a little hard not to think I’m dreaming all the time here, but it’s not as hard as it was a year ago. I’m still not doing as bad as Ghost used to.
Jeb would be really mad at me if I told him how much time I still spend in the forest alone. He’d be extra mad if he ever found out that Emergency and I sometimes talked. We don’t say much, because I know if I keep talking I won’t ever want to stop, and then Jeb will find out, and I’ll-
I told Emergency how everyone is doing. Last night we talked about how Fang was doing a lot better. They might be able to talk soon too. Emergency sounded so happy. She would’ve loved to hear Fang speak, if she was still here. If she was more than just a voice in the wind.
June 9th
I’ve started hearing Gene too. Sometimes he’s in the forest, but he likes to move around. I heard him in the basement last night, when I was putting away some jars for Iggy. And I can kinda hear it now in the vents. He sounds so far away this late at night. He doesn’t talk like Emergency does, at least most of the time. He sings. The way he always sang, before I thought I was dreaming again, but I’m getting better at “staying close to reality” like Jeb says. But it’s harder to pretend I’m not listening to their voices when I keep getting distracted by his singing. Jeb didn’t notice last time, but Gazzy did.
I don’t think Gazzy remembers Gene. He and Angel were too little to remember anything from the School. Ghost doesn’t remember much either, even though she was older when we left. I asked Jeb once and he said she’ll come around eventually, which wasn’t really and answer, but he’s like that sometimes. Ghost and Gene were so close, but now I don’t think she would even recognize his voice if she could hear him sing.
I wish everyone could hear him. I wish everyone could hear both of them. I wish they were more than just songs and words anymore.
Maybe if I open up the vent, Gene will sing loud enough for Ghost to hear.
June 14th
It’s starting to hurt.
It hurts pretending I can’t hear them all the time. I don’t want to stop hearing them because I need to remember them somehow. But if I don’t stop listening to them, then it’ll just get worse.
I’ve been sleeping a lot less. That’s what Jeb says can lead to a mental break. He told me that after we got back from flight practice. I thought I was in trouble, but he just sat down on the porch and got me some homemade ice cream before he asked me what was wrong. And when I told him I wasn’t sleeping, he said that it “could lead” to psychosis problems. Not “has already led to” or something like that. So I lied and said I just wasn’t sleeping because I was scared that the Erasers were going to come and take us back to the School. And Jeb promised me that he would make sure it would never happen, just like he does every time. Then he picked me up and sat him on his lap, and we rocked back and forth while said he didn’t like that I worried about those things.
I ate my ice cream and watched the wind blow in the trees, and I asked him if, when we died, we all went to the same place Emergency and Gene and all the other kids did. I should’ve said it better - I was trying to ask if they were in heaven, but in a way he couldn’t ignore, because he never says the names of our dead siblings. But this time, he must’ve thought I was just asking about the School, because he promised me again that he wouldn’t let that happen.
June 19th
I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I had to tell Iggy and Fang.
We had to do it when Jeb was out, because he’s a really light sleeper, and he’d notice if any of us used any of the doors in the house. So we waited until he went out for a weekend trip, and once everyone else was asleep, I went to their bedroom and told them everything.
They understand what I’m talking about. Fang sees stuff sometimes - they’ve been seeing stuff for years, but Jeb would never find out, since they only just said their first words a few days ago, and Jeb doesn’t pick up sign language well. I’m sure Iggy’s the same as them - he hears more than he sees now, but it never really occured to me to ask until recently, now that he and Jeb are always fighting about paranoia and anger based on something that maybe isn’t quite real.
And they understand because they remember Emergency and Gene. We don’t talk about it, but we all remember. And they understand why I want to keep them around, too. Even if the ones I keep around maybe aren’t quite real.
We didn’t really have any ideas on how to deal with it. We mostly sat around, remembering. All the good parts we wanted to remember, like Emergency’s soft hands and voice, how she was always there to soothe someone but always ready to shield us from anything dangerous that might come our way. And how Gene kept things light and made up songs and jokes for when we needed something to take the pain away. And then when we ran out of good things to remember, I went to bed.
I really should get to sleep soon. The clock says it’s already 2AM, and I’m supposed to be sleeping better for Jeb.
June 20th
I had a dream about Emergency last night. A good one, not like the nightmares I sometimes get. Only this time she wasn’t at the School. She was here. Home. Our real home, not the School. With us.
I wish I could see her again. Her hair was so long and pretty, and she had little braids with ribbons that looked like something Ghost would make. Her cheeks were rounder and her skin was warm under the sun. And she was smiling - really smiling!! She was laughing! I think she was playing a game with Gazzy and Angel while we did housework. She sat on the porch with me and preened my feathers. She called me her little sister, her little darling, and she held my hand, even though I could feel she didn’t have any callouses or cuts from farm work. It was all smooth except for her sharp knuckles always poking through. And then she said…she said something else to me. But I can’t remember now.
I tried really hard to sleep in more so I could see more of her, but after the rooster crowed, it all slipped away.
June 22nd
I had another dream about Emergency! Gene was there too this time. He looked good with hair and freckles and dirt on him. They both did.
We were playing some sort of game by the goat pens - kinda like the one Gazzy and Ig proposed last night at dinner. The one where we fly high in the air and land in the mud pit, and whoever slides the farthest wins. It worked better in my dream than I think Gazzy thought it would - especially since you don’t feel pain and break bones in dreams. Emergency had Angel on her back and Gene had Gazzy. Emergency lost by a few feet, but that was probably for the best, because Gene and Gazzy sank into the mud like it was quicksand. Iggy dove headfirst for Gazzy - like he could still see, and like mud is good for swimming - but Fang and I got Gene. He collapsed against our chests, laughing and laughing. I’m still lying here, trying to feel him again.
I keep trying to remember every detail of what they looked like, with their long hair and wings in the sun. Emergency’s earthy smell, like she’d always lived in the mountains. Gene holding Iggy’s arm with Gazzy in his other arm, Ghost and Angel following on his heels, listening to him tell dumb jokes about snakes and spiders that live in the mountains. Their voices, the same as they always were, even though Emergency was taller now and Gene had red pimples and wore one of Iggy’s big bulky sweaters. Their eyes, still as big as saucers as they always were, but not because they’re hungry and tired. Their sharp teeth, smiling so much wider than they ever did when we were growing up.
They were so happy up there, flying free like we always wanted. Playing in the garden and getting all muddy. Gene was singing again. I don’t remember the song, though. Maybe it was something new. And we all watched the sunset together from the roof of the house. I could feel Emergency’s wing wrapping around mine.
She said something to me again, but I couldn’t hear it. It’s strange. Sometimes, I could hear her and Gene talking just fine, but sometimes their mouths moved without making any sound at all. Like it’s trapped in the forest and in the vents while their bodies are in my mind. But Emergency held me, like she always does in my dreams, and I wrapped my wings around her. I never even got the chance to hug her while she was alive.
July 13th
I’ve been having so many dreams about Gene and Emergency I haven’t been able to write them all down. It’s always somewhere new. Sometimes we’re digging in the garden, planting flowers that could never grow up here in the mountains. Sometimes we’re by the river, splashing each other until we’re completely soaked, and drying out our wings in the trees. Sometimes we’re making bread in the kitchen, getting all covered in flour and spilling the seeds and nuts on the floor.
Jeb wasn’t there. He’s never there, in the dreams with Emergency and Gene. I guess that makes sense - Emergency never liked him. She’d probably try to rip his throat out if she was alive right now. I really like Jeb, but I don’t really blame her for being paranoid. I like Jeb enough, but he’s never going to be family like they are.
Last night, it was a picnic. I don’t quite remember where we were - somewhere higher in the mountains, away from home. But I remember the field of strawberries and the stream rolling by. And the wildflowers. So many flowers. So many colors. Emergency wove some into my braid. She said I looked beautiful. And she called me her little sister again. I didn’t know how much I could miss that.
Everything’s fuzzy now, and I can’t remember it all. But Gene was singing again. He’s still singing right now, about the garden and joining the circus and being free. Ghost was at his side, all the time, clinging to his shoulder and whistling a pretty melody. And I heard Fang singing too, with Gene’s voice. It was the happiest they’d ever looked - they never really smiled, not like Gene did with his big toothy mouth, but their wings seemed to flutter at their side, and the toothless smile on their face said more than enough.
We picked berries and ate sandwiches and granola for hours. When we got tired of wrangling Angel, and keeping Gazzy from eating all the peanuts and collecting worms in his pockets, Emergency and I held them in our laps and let them fall asleep as the sky turned dark. Ghost and I pointed out all the constellations we knew, because Gene and Emergency hadn’t seen them before. The mountains had never had a warm night, and maybe it was just because of how close we sat, but it had never felt warmer on that peak, surrounded by my siblings.
I tried and linger there, even when the sun is up and I have to wake up. But I had to wake up eventually, because eventually Gene’s singing turns to coughing. I never stay around after I hear it.
But I wish I could stay. Just a little longer.
July 20th
Jeb found my journal.
July—————
I don’t wanna write, but Ghost says I should try, because it helps her. She’s letting me borrow torn pages from her journal so I can hide it from Jeb this time.
He found my journal. He read everything. He called me to the dining room after everyone else was in bed. He said a lot of things. He was ————————- He said a lot of things about reality and unreality, and how it’s really dangerous to give into hallucinations. He said I shouldn’t be dreaming about Gene and Emergency anymore either, and when I asked why I couldn’t understand his answer. But he said he was really worried for me, because Fang and Iggy and Ghost all have problems with delusions and hallucinations, and I’m supposed to be the leader. I’m supposed to be an example of good behavior for them. But it’s not like they have any control over their breaks in reality or brains. It’s not like I can make them better just by acting like a normal person should.
I didn’t tell him that. He was talking too much for me to say anything.
He said Emergency and Gene’s names for the first time. But he only said it to remind me they were dead, and that it was bad to talk to people that don’t exist anymore. I wanted to tell them that they do exist, that as long as I can remember them I’m not going to let them go away. But I didn’t, because I started crying, and Jeb had to scoop me up into a hug and tell me that he loved all of us, and he was just really scared we were going to get ourselves seriously hurt or killed. He carried me to bed too. And I didn’t understand that either, because I’m supposed to be the leader, the example, like he said. Not a little baby.
He told me to sleep well, and to try to dream about good things. About things that weren’t related to my dead siblings, or a happy life with all eight of us in the mountains, or the forest or the vents or being free and planting gardens and growing hair and seeing the stars. I really tried, I really did. In the end, I ended up not dreaming about anything at all.
July 28th
I haven’t been sleeping these past few nights. I don’t think Jeb knows yet. I just end up lying in my bed staring at the ceiling. Gene sings through the vent and I let him. Sometimes I see Emergency’s eyes in the shadowy corner of the room, but never moving. I keep thinking back to Jeb. I can’t get his words out of my head. It’s not like ——- It’s just ———— ——————----------------------------- -------------- --------- --------- ------------------------ ---------------- ------------- ---------------- ------------ ----- --------- ---- -------- ---------------- -------- ------------------ ------ ---- ---- ---------- -------- ------------- ---------- -------------- -------
I’m really frustrated with him, and I know I shouldn’t be. He really means well, he just doesn’t understand, and I don’t know if anything I say will make him get it. I’ve tried before, on better days, when I’m not feeling sick in my head. He doesn’t like it when I talk back to him. He says he’s a doctor, and he understands these things better than us.
I want to yell at him sometimes. I want to get into a real fight like Iggy does. But I can’t. Because he’s the closest thing we all have to a parent. He saved us. He would’ve saved our siblings if they lived long enough. And he really, really loves us. Every time he gets upset, he tries to make it better. Even when Iggy locks himself in his room, or when Angel throws a tantrum, or when I
I wish I could be like him sometimes. I wish I could be like Emergency, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough to be her. Jeb saved our lives once, but Emergency did it every single day of our lives.
I wish I was in the strawberry field with her again. Letting her braid my hair with flowers. Stroking my hair, smiling brighter than I’d ever seen her. Wrapping her wings around me. It feels more like home than anything in this world.
So I went and talked to Fang. It was still awake. It hasn’t been sleeping well either. Apparently it overheard my —-——- conversations with Jeb, and it’s been a little spacey ever since. We talked for a lot longer than Jeb would want but I didn’t care. It was really good to just be with someone who remembered our siblings. Someone who really understands.
Fang says when humans want to move on from death, they do something to honor them. It read that in a book in Jeb’s library. If Jeb wants me to move on so I can be an example, I can at least do something nice for Emergency and Gene before I go.
July 30th
I found the book Fang was talking about and I’ve been reading it between chores and tutoring with Jeb. There’s way more practices and rituals I thought there’d be. I thought people just dug graves for bodies and put flowers on them, but some people get cremated, or put in mausoleums, or tossed into the sea. Not like I can do any of that now. Maybe I could line up some rocks in the garden like tombstones? Jeb would probably say we shouldn’t disturb the crops.
I didn’t know about all the different ways people honored the dead all over the world. There’s holidays and festivals and parades just for remembering people’s lives. They hang photos of them on the wall, or light candles in lanterns or in windows, and they visit places that were important to them while they were alive. Still can’t do any of that. Looking at all the photos in this book, I can’t imagine what it’s like. I’m happier now that we’re safe in the mountains, but I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy about a dead loved one as the faces of dancers and gathered families in these pictures. I guess they all live in a world where they don’t have to worry about death as much as we did.
A lot of these rituals mention food. People have big feasts to honor the dead, or make food for someone who’s grieving. But some people will make food that they give to the dead. Rice and sugary rolls and other stuff I don’t know how to make. I don’t know how to make anything, really. I burn everything I make, even when I use the microwave. But I can’t ask Iggy to do it, because he’s in enough trouble with Jeb already and if I get him involved it’ll just get worse.
Maybe I can make cookies. That’s easy, right? And we’ve got spare cornmeal in the pantry, and all the berries Gazzy and Iggy picked…
August 1st
The food offering didn’t work out.
I did decide to make cookies. Jeb walked me through making them once, and his recipie is still in the cookbook cupboard. At the School, we never had sugar or cakes or anything nice like that. Our siblings deserved to try some of it while they were still here.
I did it really early in the morning, before anyone woke up. Jeb’s started taking sleep meds and they keep him in bed all night long, so I didn’t have to worry about him hearing the creaky stairs or the egg bowl nearly falling to the floor. I thought they looked pretty good when I put them on the tray, but I must’ve done something wrong, because they didn’t come out like Jeb or Iggy’s at all. They alway make them soft and puffy. Mine just came out like flat hard discs. I burned the bottoms too. At least theyd didn’t smoke enough for the fire alarm didn’t go off.
I put them on the back porch, the one that looks over the whole mountainside, because I figured they’d be able to find it easier if they could fly to it. And then I sat with them and waited. I know that they can’t really take the food. But I was just hoping. Just maybe…
And then I must’ve fallen asleep, because Jeb woke me up. He gave me the usual talking-to - I was supposed to stay asleep in my bed; I wasn’t supposed to use the oven at all, much less without permission; I was going to attract ants if I left food outside the door; I was wasting food on something meaningless. He thought I just woke up in the middle of the night to make cookies for myself, or to surprise everyone. I told him it was for Emergency and Gene, and that I just wanted to remember them before I stopped thinking about them again. He got down next to me and cupped my face with his hands, and said that he understood that death was hard, but I just needed to let them go on my own. He said that they died, yes, but I lived and that’s what was important. That my survival was a miracle. That I was so, so special, that my continued existence was proof of that. He hopes that one day I’ll understand that.
A part of me really wanted to ask why my siblings weren’t special enough even though they were dead. But I know better than arguing. That, and Ghost and Gazzy were already awake and watching us from the living room, and I’m supposed to set an example for them.
We still served the cookies to everyone. Even the ones I specifically put out for an offering. I helped clean up and did extra chores for Jeb, and at the end of the day he patted me on the head and said I was a good older sister.
August 21st
I’ve got a new plan.
Jeb left for town two days ago to visit some family. He left us older kids in charge - and he put his hand on shoulder for a long time and told me as the oldest I was the most in charge, and I was supposed to keep my “unruly siblings” in line if they messed up. He’s started trusting me more now that I’m not acting weird or psychotic or anything. Even though I still hear voices, and sometimes see shadows move in the dark. I just stopped telling him. I pretend I’m sleeping better and all that, but I just end up lying in bed hearing Gene sing all night, until it turns to coughing again, and I have to cover my ears with my pillow until he goes away. Emergency is still out there, somewhere. In the wind now, mostly, now that I don’t go to the forest. But she keeps calling for me. “Maximum. Maximum. Maxiumum.”
That’s why I need to do something. I still haven’t done anything for them. If I can’t make cookies and I can’t hold festivals or bury their bodies or leave candles in the windows, I need to do make something up on my own. Something that they’d like for me to do.
I’ve given it a lot of thought this time. Emergency would never accept gifts, really. She’d say we needed everything more than her, or maybe that it was good enough that we were alive. Gene would like food maybe, if I just snuck berries from the garden, but he’d always try to share. He’d never take them if he couldn’t give me half back. I needed to do something for them that wasn’t a gift. Something they can’t give back no matter what.
Ghost and I have been pouring over a book on gardening - she wants to grow flowers in the front yard, because it’s a little drab, and she wants to make a butterfly feeder and a birdhouse for the finches we keep seeing. She’s been doing a lot better these past couple months. She’s way more energetic than she used to be, and she wants to learn everything about the world. She reads all those American history books Jeb got for school and tells us everything she learned the same way Gazzy tells us about the new cartoon episodes he watches. I wouldn’t change a thing about it. At least one of us managed to shake off the School.
Anyway, we found a passage on tall grass, and they talked about how many cultures braid sweetgrass together. They showed pictures, too. Really, really good braids of grass, all dried out and pale, like Gazzy’s hair. If I didn’t know they were grass, I’d think they were real hair.
We’ve got lots of tall grass in the forest, and I’m pretty good at braiding - I had to learn how to do Ghost’s hair last year when she was too sick to do it on her own, and I really try to get my hair done without her help (not that it ever works out). I should probably borrow one of Ghost’s hair care how-to books, just so I can make sure I’m getting it right. My siblings deserved nice hair to flow in the wind while they flew wherever you went when you died. That was the one thing I could give them, the one thing they could never try to give away, something for themselves and no one else.
August 22nd
I went to the forest today. I told Fang and Iggy I was going to be gone for a few hours to pick berries, but I think they both knew what was really going on. They kept the younger kids busy, while I took Ghost’s hair care book and her supplies, and flew down the ravine and into the forest.
It doesn’t take a long time, in the forest, for Emergency to start talking. She’s always somewhere I can’t see, around a tree or up in the leaves. I asked her if Gene was there. She didn’t answer, but I could hear him singing in the river.
There wasn’t a lot of talking while I was braiding - well, there was sound, but it was mostly me being frustrated and saying a lot of words Jeb would get me in trouble for. Sweetgrass doesn’t grow in the Sangre De Cristo mountains, and the tall grass we had was a lot harder to work with. Or maybe I’m just bad at braiding. I ended up holding clumps of grass together with bobby pins so they’d hold in place while I tried twisting them. I had a lot of duds, and only a few good ones. My right arm was killing me by the end of it, and I’d definitely been out longer than I was supposed to be.
I could hear Gene babbling in the river, and I asked if the braids looked nice. He didn’t say anything, but I swore I heard Emergency whisper something. “It’s all lovely.” I think. I guess she liked the duds too. And maybe my good braids weren’t too bad either. I found some wildflowers and tried weaving them in with my left hand. Gene started singing again, about the garden again, and about flowers, and bugs, and sunsets. I must’ve started singing along to, even if I don’t really remember it. Talking with hallucinations always made my head fuzzy. But I was still humming it when we got to the clearing.
There’s a little clearing in the forest, where a giant boulder has been sitting for probably a thousand years or more. I like to climb it whenever I’m down here and try to leap to the branches. The top’s flat enough to stand on without wobbling, enough to lay out all the braids I had and pin them together in two long chains. They were still fresh and green, but I doubt they would care. It’d match Gene’s feathers. And Emergency could use some color. Maybe it’d go well with her yellow eyes.
Maybe I shouldn’t have kept talking, maybe I should’ve just kept going, but I couldn’t help it. I needed to say something before leaving them again. My memory’s all fuzzy again, but I know I told Emergency I wished she was still with us, because she said something sweet. Called me darling like she always did, called me little sister again, and told me to come to her. As if I’d ever find her. I don’t remember what I said to Gene, but I remember his laugh, like a bell ringing and echoing through the canyon. I remember him saying goodbye, too, when I jumped from the boulder to the first branch. I only remember that, because I had to stop and steady myself, and swallow my tears, because I was the leader now, not Emergency. Not Emergency…
I got more lucid when I reached the top of the tree. Maybe the rough bark and sharp pine needles against in my skin poked and prodded at my mind enough to get back to reality. I took the sturdiest top branch I could find, and wrapped the braid chains around them. They needed to be up high, not on the ground. They needed to fly away someday, and go somewhere even better than our farm.
I didn’t get home until sundown, but no one said anything. Fang asked about what happened, when everyone else was in bed. I told it they were just the same as always. It liked the braids idea. Said it was only fair. We watched them from the living room window, watching them sway in the breeze, flying gently but still hanging on.
I asked what would happen if they stayed forever. It didn’t really have an answer. We’re never going to forget them, so I guess they’ll never leave. But maybe the real Emergency and Gene, the ones whose spirits still roam free in the forest, maybe they’ll get to go home. And maybe that’s enough.