This… this is insane! I’m standing outside of my body, and I did it on my own! Just like that! How?

“I see that you’re amazed, and it’s awesome, I’m excited for you. However, I think it’s best if the departing reporters don’t see you. Could you please move away from the window?” 35 requests in my head (?)

Right! Right… get away from the window! I quickly sidestep away from the window, then fall to the floor. Wait…can’t I just close the curtains?

“Not in spirit form,” 35 answers. “Only your physical body can do that.”

Right…that makes sens- what’s going on? Why is the world gray?  Why is my door fuzzy? Why is the lining on the wall by the floor…morphing? WHY IS EVERYTHING FLICKERING?!

“That’s because you’re not looking directly at them, you have ADHD, and no one else is in the room.”

What?!

“Remember how I said it works? Spirits don’t have any actual sensory organs. You rely on the brain you normally otherwise inhabit.”

Right…right…

“So how come I can still…see the rest of my room like this?” I wonder.

“Because you still conceptually know the rest of your room exists, If we were in an unfamiliar area, the whole world would be blacked out.”

“Like you?”

“Yep, like me.”

I keep staring at my grayed-out room. Objects continue to flicker in and out of existence, distorting each time. Some get smaller and smaller. Even the door gets smaller. And less…realistic? It starts to look more and more like a photograph of itself and not like an actual door.. I’m not gonna be trapped here, am I?

“Why is everything flickering?” I ask anxiously from the thought of not being able to leave.

“That’s your ADHD. You don’t have true object permanence… so, whenever you’re looking away from a silent and scentless object, it disappears in your mind. Generally.”

The lining on the wall, and everything on the floor has disappeared, but the door, floor, and wall remain.

“The main-ish exception would be things related to navigation, such as doors, roads, and landforms. At least in your brain’s case.”

“My brain’s case?”

“I’m not going to assume it’s the same for everyone who has it.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just say “okay.”

“Just remember, you cannot touch objects like this. You have to get back in your body for that.”

Right, I remember.

Just then, there’s a knock at my door.

“Hey Brock, did you leave your mic on?” asks somebody

Oh no! OH NO!!! What am I going to do? I can’t let him see me like this! Shoot! I gotta get back in my body! Now! I get up…

“Stay down, kid,” 35 instructs.

I fall back down.

Just then, 35 grabs my body making it walk over to me, then drops it on top of me.

There’s another knock.

“Brock, you in there?”

 I look around. Everything looks normal again. I look at my hands. Yep! I’m back to normal!

“Brock?”

“Yeah, just give me a second!” I respond as I get up. Once I’m all the way up, I reach for the door, and open it. One of the crew members is on the other side.

“Hey, we think you left your mic on you, could you let us get it off real fast?” he asks.

I notice Agent Collins standing behind the guy a little ways.

“Yeah, sure,” I say without a thought.

I step out of my room to let the guy take the mic off. As soon as he finishes, he thanks me and walks away. As soon as he does that, Agent Collins walks up to me.

“Hey Sport, just wanted to tell you to be more careful about that in future instances,” he says calmly. “My partner and I will be confiscating anything they might have recorded. Don’t worry, anything secret will be safe with us. Just, again, try to be more careful next time, okay?”

Oh no. Ohno. Did they hear what we were saying? Shoot! Quick, act natural!

“Yeah, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sport.” He turns and walks away.

I step back into my room and close the door.

“Please tell me the microphone didn’t pick anything up,” I beg 35.

“It shouldn’t have,” they assure. “We were thinking to each other. We weren’t speaking out loud.”

I exhale in relief, tucking my head down. I slide down against the door until I’m sitting on the floor. I exhale again.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I respond.

One more breath. Excitement washes over me. I can astral project now. I CAN ASTRAL PROJECT! I giggle briefly. Then, I’m squatted down by the foot of my bed. Outside of my body. I look back towards it. The bottom of my feet are grayed out, but the rest of it stays the same. My face keeps distorting, but keeps looking vaguely like me. Though, it does start to look a little cuter. Almost like…

Whatever. OOH. I gotta show Delilah!

“You’re gonna show Delilah?”

“Yes I am!”

“Okay.” They shrug. “It might be a good way to connect with her after she came out to you. Just be careful, alright?”

“Alright!”

I hop back in my body. It’s like…putting on a pair of jeans to me. I…hate it. Why does it feel better to be outside of it? Is that why 35 likes to stay outside? Oh well. I stand up, turn around to open the door. I don’t hesitate for even a second to do so. I walk by the living room; the crew are all gone.

“Let’s look outside and make sure everyone really is gone first,” 35 suggests.

You know what? Good idea.

I walk outside, and check all over the house. There’s no news van, nor black SUV. I even look over at the road. No cars. In fact, no cars anywhere. Did Mom leave? I run inside the house and peek into the garage. Nope, her Outback is still there.

“Mom?” I call out.

No response. She must be in the shower.

Alright! I hop on over to the door to Delilah’s room and knock on it. She’s quick to answer.

“Hey B, what’s up? Did the interview go well?” she asks plainly.

“I gotta show you something!” I respond excitedly without answering her question. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. I-“

I impatiently rush through her door. I stand next to her bed.

“I’ve got something I want to show you!” I tell her. “Could you close the door?”

She turns around and closes it. “What’s up?”

I look towards 35, who is standing between us and off to the side. They give me a signaling nod.

I turn towards Delilah’s window, and then I’m standing right by it. I turn around to face her. Her face looks a little fuzzy. Oh no. What is she thinking?

“Woahhh,” she says. “So you can do that too now?”

“Uh, yep,” I reply, not knowing how else to.

“Yo, That’s cool.”

I remember how I looked in the mirror last time. It was, pretty scary actually.

“You’re not freaked out or anything?” I ask, wanting to be sure.

“Oh no, this is beautiful” she says. “I LOVE it.”

Uh, what?

“Beautiful? That’s impossible!” I look at my hands and arms. Just like last time, they’re covered with metal plates bolted into my skin. “See?” I say, raising an arm. “I’m literally covered in metal!”

Delilah looks confused. “Uh, what are you talking about?”

What does she mean “what am I talking about?” I’m literally covered in metal plates!

“What do you mean? They’re literally right there!” I exclaim as I point them out.

“I don’t see it,” she says, still confused.

I turn towards 35. They looked shocked. Come on Delilah, even they can see it!

“You can see it too, right?” I ask them.

All they respond with is “Uh…”

“35?”

“Maybe we should take a look in the mirror,” they suggest.

“…what?”

“Yeah, can we go into the bathroom, please?”

I stare at them. Do they not see my metal plates too?

“Please?”

Okay, fine.

I walk over to my body to grab it.

“Actually, I’ll handle that,” 35 assures. “Delilah, could you lead the way?”

Quietly, Delilah opens the door to her bathroom and leads me in. I follow her, as far as I can before the gray-out doesn’t let me. I turn back towards my body. And what do I see besides 35 squatting down, grabbing my body’s legs, and making it walk forward into the bathroom? It’s…kinda funny actually.

It takes painfully long, but 35 gets my body in there, turns my head towards Delilah and the mirror, and- oh my god.

Somehow, this feels…worse.

I remember my skin looking…rotten. My head looking…bulbous. Not to mention bald. Or my ears being pointed. My teeth being fangs.

Nope. None of that.

Instead, I look more…human. My skin looks like my normal skin now. My hair is back. And it’s blonde, like always, except its longer than it actually is, covering my ears entirely, stopping halfway through my neck instead of halfway through my ears. My eyes are not blue. Instead, one is still yellow and catlike, the other now is green and human..ish? There’s also…blood?...pouring out of my eyes like tears. My teeth don’t stick out anymore. Heck, they’re perfectly straight and clean now too! Can’t quite say that about my real teeth.

But I’m still robotic-looking from the shoulders down. Although I think more skin is visible on my arms now. There’s still a hole in my chest. Except now, there’s a…computer chip? Circuit board thing? It’s suspended in the middle of the hole by a bunch of wires. Sparks fly off of it sometimes.

And there’s still a chain around my neck.

I look down at my hands. They too look normal, aside from the metal plating. Drilled directly into me.

I look back up at the mirror. I see Delilah next to me. She’s both amazed and horrified.

“Is that what you really look like?” she asks.

Isn’t it? It’s my soul, right? It’s really what I look like, because I’m…

I’m...

I’m… lousy.

Lazy.

Apathetic.

Pathetic.

Inferior.

An Abom-

“It’s an accurate representation…” 35 answers, snapping me out of my thoughts. “…of your sibling’s self-perception and beliefs.”

What?

I look at Delilah, who’s switching between looking at me and looking at my reflection.

“What? Oh my god. B…are you okay?”

Uh…since when is she ever truly concerned about me?

“Yeah, sure,” I respond, turning directly towards her so I don’t have to keep seeing my reflection.

“It doesn’t look like you are,” she states. She then turns to 35 and asks “What’s with the chain?”

“It means someone is manipulating or controlling you against your will or desires,” they explain. “They might, might be abusing you.”

Well, clearly not me. I’m just living with my parents, and they tell me to do a lot of things. And my teachers too. Sure, I hate it, but that’s just how things are, right?

“Anyway, when dealing with souls directly, nonviolent communication might be best,“ 35 explains to the two of us. They turn to me and ask “Remember how it goes, kid?”

Uh, right. “Observations, feelings, needs, requests.”

“Good!” they exclaim. They turn to Delilah. “Did you catch that?”

“I think so,” she answers.

“So you say. But I’m worried that you didn’t. I would like some assurance. Could you repeat it back, if you don’t mind?”

She inhales. “Observations, feelings, needs, request?”

“Good job. That was good. Now it would be a good idea to try it on your housemate here in order to express the concerns you tried to earlier.”

She turns to me. “Okay, so B…Your reflection looks…damaged, not to mention scary. It must be painful for you. It scares me, and I’m worried for you.”

“Not bad so far,” comments 35. Now what are your needs? Do you need someone to do something?”

“Yes. B, please be honest with me. Are you really okay?”

I stare at her. Am I okay? I always say that I am, but that’s because it doesn’t matter. Or didn’t. Or at least, they just believed me and left. But she’s not gonna do that. Not while I look like this. Why doesn’t she get that…

“…it doesn’t matter. I don’t nee-deserve your help.”

“Remember what we said about need vs deserve?” asks 35.

“Yes, but-“

I look down and pull at my spiritual hair. Ughh. Why?! I don’t…UGH!!!!

I sit down on the floor with my knees tucked up into my chest. I bury my head in them.

Why.

Why.

WHY?!?!??!

I pull my hair harder.

Why do I have to exist? I’m miserable. I’m lazy. I deserve nothing. I’m not gonna survive past twenty-one. It’s a waste. I’m a waste!

WHY?!?!?!

I pull my hair as hard as I can. I nearly scream. But suddenly…

I’m met with an overwhelming sense of pleasant warmth. What is this? I look up from my knees. Something is covering my legs. What is this?

“It’s a spiritual blanket,” 35 explains. “I’m having your sister get your body a physical one.”

O-oh.

“Here, come with me. Let’s get back to your sister’s bedroom.” They reach out with their right hand.

I stare at it. They’re really reaching out to me. After what I just did. I guess I’m supposed to take it.

I reach out to grab their hand. Our hands…touch, despite neither of us being…solid?

They pull me up with ease. It almost takes me off guard. I’d probably fall into them if I wasn’t weightless. I stare at them for a second before we turn towards my body. We walk as far as we can go. Before the gray-out blocks us. 35 turns my body’s head, and Delilah’s room is clear again.

“You can sit on my bed,” she offers, holding a blanket in her hands.

Okay.

I walk up towards her bed, turn around and sit up on it. My head hangs low as I stare at the floor. 35 gets my body to walk up next to me, and makes it sit on the bed to my right. Delilah pulls a blanket over it.

“How are you even comfortable in those cargo shorts?” she comments.

I guess “I’m…not?”

She scoffs. I glance up to see it fade to a frown.

“So kid,” 35 starts. “You are not okay. It is visible based on not only your soul form, but your reaction to seeing it, and being asked if you were okay. Your sister is worried for you. I’m worried for you. We want you to be okay. Could you please let us help you?”

I sigh.

“You’re not gonna let me refuse, are you?” I ask defeatedly.

“What? No!” they exclaim. “Of course I’ll let you say ‘no.’ You can’t force someone to be okay! They need to help themselves to that. But that doesn’t mean they have to do it alone. That’s why I’m here.”

Right, right.

“Is ‘needing’ really more important than ‘deserving?’” I ask them.

“You certainly thought so for a second. You showed Delilah your ability to astral project because you thought you needed connection, right?”

I don’t answer. I do glance at Delilah, who raises an eyebrow.

“And you sought connection because that’s what you thought you needed, right?”

“Yeah? But why should I help myself?”

“I mean, it pains your sister and me to see you like that. You feel better, we feel better. We all win. Most importantly, it helps you, but it does help us all.”

Okay, fair enough. But…

I turn to Delilah. “Why does it pain you to see me like this?”

“Because you’re my sibling, B,” she answers. “I care.”

She cares? Then-

“-why do you annoy me, then?”

She hesitates, before admitting “I don’t know. I just do it sometimes.”

“I have an idea as to why,” says 35. “Something to do with power and control.”

“Over me?” I ask with disgust.

“Over her own life,” they clarify. “But that’s a convo for another time.”

That doesn’t make sense, but okay.

“I do care about you,” she repeats. “You’re the only sibling I got.”

I shift the subject a little bit.

“So, when you told me that you’re a Lesbian, 35 thought you were trying to connect with me. Is it true?”

She thinks for a second. “Yeah, I guess I was. And you were trying to connect with me when you showed me your spirit?”

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

“Thanks B.”

“What’s with that?”

“What’s with what?”

“Calling me ‘B.’ You never used to do that.”

“Oh, I just think it sounds cooler. Got more swag to it.” She gestures as she says that.

35 snorts. “She’s not wrong about that!”

Hmm. I guess it does.

“Besides, there might be other reasons to go with a nickname,” they add.

“Like what?”

They freeze, like they just ran into a wall. “They just escaped my mind.”

There’s a pause before Delilah asks “Can I do that? Can I astral project too?”

Ha! No!

“Yes, if I enable that,” answers 35.

What? Oh, come on?

“Is that jealousy I feel?” thinks 35 to me privately.

Oh, uh…

“Do you want to?” they ask out loud towards Delilah.

She thinks about it for a second. “Maybe later.”

“Kids! Food’s ready!” Mom calls out from the kitchen.

“Coming!” Deli and I shout in sync.

“Jinx, you owe me a soda!” we jinx.

35 starts laughing.

I scoff as I return to my body. We work our way to the kitchen where we see…Mac and Cheese, Chicken Nuggets and Applesauce? Not complaining, but Mom usually doesn’t let us get away with just this. I sit down to eat, as does Delilah.

“Hey, Mom, what’s with the food?” I ask her as I reach for the ketchup bottle.

“It’s been a long day, so I decided to take it easy,” Mom explains as she sits down.

I pour the ketchup on my mac and then dig into my food while everyone else starts talking. I practically inhale it. It’s too good not too!

“Can I have some more?” I ask as soon as I’m finished.

“Yeah, sure, there’s more in the pot,” says Mom. “Help yourself.”

I get up, grab myself some more mac and cheese, and sit back down at the table.

“By the way,” Mom adds. “Thank you for doing the interview with me. I think you did good. Well, except for that part.”

Ugh. I’m never gonna hear the end of it.

“Yeah, thanks…” I respond before burying myself in my food again. I also don’t like how Mom brought up the destruction of the prairie dog. What if Alexia sees it?

Speaking of, I should text her!

I pull out my phone. And type “Hey, sorry about the interview. I didn’t want to say why 35 is making me write down my feelings, but-“

“Are you texting at the table?” Mom asks suspiciously.

Uh-

“No phones at the table.”

“Look, Mom, I just gotta-“

“Put it away, Brock.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, the message being sent is actually quite important, and if it’s not done now, it will not be remembered later.”

Thanks 35!

I finish typing “But Mom brought it up.”

“Well, he should have sent it earlier, then,” Mom argues.

“Not how brains work. Especially not a kid’s. Even more especially, an ADHD kid’s.”

I hit “send.” It sends. Yes! I give Mom the phone.

“All done,” I tell her.

“Thank you. You can have it back after dinner.”

“Thanks Mom!”

35 briefly feels a spike of disgust. Oh well. Back to eating!

It isn’t too long before I finish up and get ready for bed. In my room, I glance at my Feeling Log. Should I skip over most of today?

“It’s up to you,” 35 answers.

Okay then. I take the time to write down the feelings I can remember. Feeling bad at my reflection. Feeling jealous at the idea Deli can project. Embarrassed and regretful over what I said during the interview. And maybe, just maybe…good? That Delilah wanted to make things better? I don’t know.

I put the book away and crawl up into my bed. Just then, there’s a knock on the door and in comes, Mom?

“Hey Sweetie, it’s been a while since I’ve tucked you in,” she says. “I would like to if you don’t mind.”

“Uh, sure, I guess.” I answer.

Like she usually does, she grabs my hands and says her prayers.

“Thank you Jesus, for this day and for giving us the strength to make it through, for watching over us, for our friends, families, neighbors, for the food we ate and the water we drank, and…if you sent 35 to look after my son…then I thank you for them as well…”

I can feel the shock from 35. They were definitely not expecting that.

“…may he wake up tomorrow, happy and healthy, and in Your name, Amen.” She looks up into my eyes. “Good night sweetie. I love you. Jesus loves you too. And so does Brownie.”

I turn to him. He’s tucked away like I am.

Mom then turns to 35. “Good night to you as well.”

“Oh, well, good night,” 35 responds, still recovering from being included in the prayers.

Mom kisses my forehead, walks out the door, and gently closes it behind her. It’s not too long before the two of us fall asleep.