Page 94 - NS 2024

“Sorry,” Sienna added. “I shouldn’t have called it a party.”
“No, it’s okay. Here, I’ll ask Owen if he wants to open them.”
We had to wait another thirty minutes for all the guests to clear out. In that time, I was
handed a platter of brownies, a bouuet of owers, and three cards. I tried oering a brownie to Owen.
“I don’t need anything sweet right now,” Owen turned the brownies down.
I put the brownies on a table and accepted defeat. “Should we open the letters?” I asked. Owen sighed. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”
I wanted to yell at him. ese letters were the last words we had from Mom. She used to
leave notes in our lunchboxes. I found myself wishing I’d saved every single one of them. I knew I would cling to every single word in the letter, no matter if it was praising every action of my life, or damning me to hell.
Owen should have cared more about these letters, but he was treating them like another task on his to-do list. I couldn’t nd the words to reprimand him. Time had cracked open a chasm between us and my voice could not penetrate it.
“You two should open your letters rst,” Sienna said. “I don’t even know why I’m here.” “Yeah, I don’t know why you’re here either,” Owen replied. “Unless you donated a million dollars to our mom or something, I don’t see any reason for her to write you a letter.” “I’m sure it’ll make sense when we open them,” I mediated. I just wanted to see what was inside the letter.
I tore my letter open like a hungry animal. I almost started crying at the sight of my mom’s handwriting. It looked just like those lunchbox notes I’d taken for granted throughout elementary and middle school. I think the lunchbox notes stopped around the same time our playset got taken down.
Dear Everly,
You have been called to your quest. With the accompaniment of Owen and Sienna, you
must cross the magical sea to the island where the dragons lay their eggs. It is imperative that all three of you embark on this journey together. Do not wait. The sea grows more restless by the day.
at was it. ere wasn’t even a signature. I knew it was her because of the handwriting, but nothing else indicated that the letter was a product of my mother. is wasn’t even the way she talked, either. She was usually more straightforward. I was expecting a letter that poured her heart out and said all the words she wished she could have said before her death, not whatever this was.
Owen threw the letter to the ground and began to stalk out of the room. It was Sienna who grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.