The final bell rang, and I gathered my belongings, ready to leave school for the day. Joining the bustling crowd of eager students heading towards the buses, I realized I hadn't seen Nezami since lunch. At this point, I knew I wouldn't find her. The thought of her after-school art class lingered in my mind.

  Both Nezami and Yaj were deeply involved in after-school activities. Yaj's parents insisted he participate for the social benefits, so he was required to be part of various clubs. Nezami, on the other hand, took an activities bus that left 20 minutes before school ended, conveniently dropping her off near the high school close to the PineCrest District, just a block from her mother's work.

  Nezami's adoption by Melina was under some dark circumstances. Melina had used much of her deceased husband's pension to be available for her adopted daughter. Much of Nezami's younger years were spent in intense therapy, which contributed to the financial strain—ultimately requiring Melina to return at least to part-time work. She had worked at Yaj’s mom's bookstore, which allowed flexibility and kept her closer to school and Nez’s activities. Interestingly, Melina wasn't overprotective despite the circumstances. If she was, no one would fault her, but their relationship was built on the deepest of trust and communication. Who knew that would work?

  I often considered joining Nezami in her art class because I enjoyed being around her. However, I knew she took her art seriously, and I didn't want to intrude on her space. Now, I found myself oddly regretting that decision as I stood in the lobby of the main building, watching the crowd of students head out to their buses.

  “Yo,” Robbie said, towering above the other students. We passed through the double doors of the main building, and I could feel Robbie hesitate for a moment before sharing his mind.

  "Well, hey, can I ask you something? Honestly, between you and I," he began, "do you think that maybe you acted out knowing that something was off with Nez? That she had something obviously in the pit of her stomach that bothered her about having to tell you?"

  I thought about it for a moment, my expression contemplative. "You know, I thought about that. And trust me, it bothers me, but I'm not entirely sure why. I think it's mostly because I felt like she held something from me. And that's not cool," I responded.

  The two of us continued up to the bus stop. The school had no bus route that dropped directly in the PineCrest District, so we had to take public transportation. The stop was just on the other side of the lunchroom.

  "The problem I have with it is that you guys are basically family, and you didn't even know that she was slightly interested in some dude. I mean, you guys have been attached to the hip since I met you," Robby said, expressing his surprise.

  "Yeah, but this last summer was a little bit weird with us. It's like... I don't know if it happened or not. I feel like we're two people just existing in the world right now, you know? But she's also been through a lot, and I know she can shut things down. And it's not always intentional," I continued.

  Understanding the situation’s complexity, Robbie playfully pushed me into the double doors at the top of the stairs. It was a lighthearted gesture, but it also served as a way to change the topic. I knew Robbie could relate to adoption, having been adopted himself. Even though I was just a kid, I was wise enough to understand that people aren't adopted under good circumstances. There's often a deeper story behind it. “Happy families just don’t give up their kids,” I thought.

  We boarded the relatively empty public bus and began the journey from school to the skate cafe. The route took us along 6th Street, a major road that effectively divided the island into north and south. The south consisted of large meadows of rolling hills that led to the ocean, while our north side was densely packed with trees, towering mountain ranges, and fjord cliff edges to the open sea that would make anyone feel a little queasy.

  Robbie and I sat quietly as the bus covered several miles before turning left onto PineCrest. I took in my surroundings, a sense of nostalgia washing over me. These streets held countless memories of skateboarding, hanging out at the skate shop, and spending time with my friends and family. Once again, that peculiar feeling crept in. I reached into my bag and pulled out a notebook, quickly jotting down my thoughts.

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  "What are you up to?" Robbie inquired, observing me attempting to scribble notes while walking.

  "I had that feeling again. I just wanted to write it down for myself. Consider it a reminder," I explained.

  Stepping off the bus, Tora’s skate shop provided an excellent hangout spot for the local skateboarding community despite its relatively small size. It had become a focal point for skaters in the town, offering them a place to gather and connect.

  "Alright, let's head in. You can sit down and jot down whatever you need. It's not likely to be very busy right now," Robbie suggested.

  We entered the cafe and were immediately greeted by a massive chalkboard sign. Tora would regularly update it with the lunch special and the featured sandwich or crazy idea of the day. Today was no different. He had made some pickle character on fire tail sliding a pig, with it saying in big, bold letters. “Tailslide Pickles of Fire”

  Tailslide Pickles of Fire

  One jar of Dill Pickles with pickle juice emptied. One bottle of hot sauce filled to the brim. A special blend of Ranch type seasonings. Marinate in the fridge overnight. Wrap in bacon, deep fry, and cover with hot sauce. - Served with a dipping sauce.

  The sign served a dual purpose. I loved this spot. I’d be virtually hidden away on the bench closest to the sign. The cafe's booths, on both sides, were covered with grass awnings, creating the appearance of huts in a surfer's haven. Some of the older men in town, including Tora, Robbie's father, were avid surfers. They'd brave the freezing waters of our native Island of Artisan, wearing hefty wetsuits. The islands' northern location meant water temperatures rarely went above 63 degrees.

  Tora had been a surfer and skater since his early years. Although he was a local, he'd traveled extensively in his life. "Why don't you take a seat? I'll grab my dad. You can talk to him about what you're feeling. You know he's into all that mystical stuff," Robbie said as he closed the door behind him.

  "Sounds good. I want to get this all down while it's fresh," I replied, situated behind the sign with my bag carefully positioned to avoid accidental spills. This place held a special spot in my heart. I envisioned creating a similar space when I was old enough to strike out on my own, a haven for the connections and the skateboarding community we cherished.

  As I sat there, pen dancing across the paper, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. The familiar scent of coffee mingled with the autumn breeze that slipped through the cafe's open windows. The low hum of conversations formed a soothing backdrop, punctuated by the occasional clink of ceramic.

  Robbie returned with his father in tow, both wearing welcoming smiles. Tora settled in across from me, his weathered hands clasped together, a silent invitation to share my thoughts.

  “Robbie tells me you've got something on your chest. What's been tugging at your thoughts?" Tora's voice was steady, his eyes warm and understanding.

  I took a deep breath, finding comfort in Tora's presence. "It's been this feeling, you know? It’s like I'm remembering something, but it's beyond my grasp. And every time I try to hold onto it, it slips away."

  Tora nodded thoughtfully. "Memories are tricky things; sometimes they're like waves, crashing in when you least expect it. Other times, they're elusive, like mist over the ocean."

  "That's exactly it," I said with relief. Someone at least understood. "But what if these memories... what if they're important? What if they're trying to tell me something?"

  Tora leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. “Our roots run deep in this land. Your grandmother understood that connection better than anyone. Sometimes, the land itself holds memories. It whispers them to those who listen closely."

  His words gave me goosebumps. Could it be that the ground beneath our feet held secrets waiting to be uncovered? I looked at Tora, his eyes filled with a quiet wisdom that beckoned me to explore further.

  "I want to understand, Tora. I want to know what these memories mean and why they've chosen now to resurface," I said, determination firming my voice.

  Tora smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "You've had a brave heart, kid. Don’t stop trying to find your answer. I believe the answers we seek are sometimes hidden in the places closest to our hearts."

  The conversation with Tora and then Robbie had gone on for a while, so it didn’t seem like much time had passed before Yaj arrived.

  "Yo, I read something in the book on my way here,” Yaj said. “We can find a marker like your grandmother did in the book. All the blocks with the purple Arcadia veins pointed out the lantern for her. She said that she followed the purple lines to the ‘guiding light.’

  “Since that was considered your grandma's secret path, there were lines from the old bridge to the watchtower, where she found the Magic Lantern,” Robbie added.

  “So then we should find the stones that lead to the real secret path,” I said, feeling some adrenaline.

  "Well," Robbie said, "what are we waiting for? Let's go,"

  I knew my two friends were up for the adventure. The idea of this reoccurring dream and my weird visions was my priority, but having companionship and some muscle was nice.