Chapter 51: The Call.
『"Some feelings grow into a hope, which turns into a quiet thought..."』
Amara carefully reached for her buzzing device without waking Ethan and opened the messages.
The sender had no name, just "UNKNOWN NUMBER" in the header. And her blood ran cold as soon as she started reading the message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Amara Murray. The Sword. You really think you have what it takes?
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Four days until Tokyo. I’ll be watching. Curious to see if you’re worthy of the name you carry.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Do try not to die too quickly. We have such high hopes for you. Just as Louis and Ayana do.
She sat up, slowly extracting herself from Ethan’s embrace. Her hands were shaking slightly as she stared at the screen, reading the messages again.
***
Earlier that evening...
The rest of the evening after dealing with the ghosts had been surprisingly normal, or at least as normal as things got for them anymore.
After escaping the haunted library, the group had ended up back in the Relaxation Center, still running on adrenaline and needing something mindless to come down from the terror.
What started as "just one round" of Mario Kart quickly turned into a full-blown gaming tournament that lasted for a while.
There were several boxes of it, because Raj ate like he was trying to fuel a small army.
There was also loud trash-talking, with Amara dominating every race while Hiro insisted the game was rigged.
At some point, Raj had fallen asleep on the couch mid-race, controller still in his hands, his character driving straight into a wall on repeat.
"Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?" Amara said to Hiro.
Sophia shrugged, putting another slice of pizza into her mouth. "I guess gaming isn’t for everyone."
Hiro froze for half a second, controller still vibrating from his latest on-screen crash. Then he turned to Amara with an expression of betrayal.
"You know what? Maybe I’m not ’good at this.’ Maybe I’m operating on a level so advanced that your feeble brains can’t comprehend the strategic depth of what I’m doing."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "You crashed six times in four minutes."
"Exactly! " Hiro threw his arms up. "Now you all think I suck. Now you feel safe. And that’s when I strike."
Sophia sighed, rolling her eyes. "You do suck."
"Speaking of gaming," Ethan said during a loading screen, "when we went to go see the book, anyone else get a really funny feeling about the weird looking board game in the library."
"You’re going to have to be specific," Amara said, settling next to him. "There were so many weird looking stuff there that gave me the jitters."
"Oh, yeah, I saw that too, placed really high on the shelf." Hiro snapped his fingers. "Can’t help but wonder what a board game is doing in a library."
"You guys better not be thinking of what I think you’re thinking." Sophia stood up and walked over to Raj, tapping him awake. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go psychically decompress."
"Huh? Where..." Raj grumbled and rubbed his eyes.
"Come on, tiny." Sophia grabbed his arm, leading him away.
Raj yawned as he was being pulled away. "Who you calling tiny?" He asked with a sleepy voice, barely awake.
One by one, they started stumbling back to their rooms, exhausted from the combination of ghost-busting and competitive gaming.
"I’ll leave you two to it," Hiro announced. "Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do." He departed from the Relaxation Center.
Which left just Amara and Ethan.
Amara paced near the holographic fire place. Her arms were crossed, and she kept checking her device, then putting it away, then checking it again.
"Hey," Ethan said quietly, approaching from where he’d been cleaning up pizza boxes. "What’s wrong?"
She turned, and he could see the conflict written across her face. "I’ve been putting off calling my parents. For weeks now."
Ethan set down the trash and gave her his full attention.
"I know they think I’m on some academic fellowship program," Amara continued, still pacing. "Which isn’t technically a lie, but..."
She exhaled sharply. "I just want to hear their voices. Know they’re doing okay. But every time I think about actually making the call, I freeze up because I hate lying to them."
"So don’t lie," Ethan said simply.
Amara’s eyebrow shot up. "I can’t exactly tell them the truth. They’ll freak."
"No, but you can tell them true things." He moved closer. "Tell them you’re learning a lot. Tell them you’re making friends. Tell them you’re being challenged in ways you never expected. All of that’s true."
Amara stopped pacing and looked at him. "When did you get so good at this?"
"I’ve had a lot of practice compartmentalizing my life," Ethan said with a slight smile. "Comes with the territory of being a Bass."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. I’ll call them."
"Good." He reached out and squeezed her hand briefly. "And when you’re done, meet me in my room. We can talk about it if you want. Or not talk. Whatever you need."
Something warm settled in Amara’s chest at the offer. "Yeah. Okay."
***
Amara sat on her bed, device in hand, staring at her parents’ contact information like it might bite her.
Then, before she could overthink it further, she hit the call button.
It rang three times before her mother’s face appeared on the screen, lighting up with immediate joy.
"Amara! Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you!"
"Hi, Mom." Amara felt her throat tighten unexpectedly. God, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed them.
"Louis! Louis, come here, it’s Amara!" her mother called off-screen.
A moment later, her father’s face appeared beside her mother’s, both of them crowded into frame.
"There’s our girl," her father said, his deep voice warm with affection. "How’s the fellowship going? We got your last message but you’ve been so quiet lately."
"It’s... intense," Amara said, which was perhaps the understatement of the century. "The program is really challenging. I’m learning things I never thought I’d learn."
"Are they working you too hard?" her mother asked, maternal concern immediately sharpening her expression. "You look tired, baby."
"I’m fine, Mom. Just a lot of late nights studying."
"Are you eating enough? You need to keep your strength up—"
"Ayana, let her talk," her father interjected gently, then turned his attention back to Amara. "Tell us about it. What kind of work are you doing?"
And there it was—the lie she’d have to tell, the line she’d have to walk.
"It’s hard to explain," Amara said carefully. "A lot of it is hands-on training. Practical applications of theory. Team-based problem solving."
"That sounds wonderful," her father said. "Very different from law school."
"Yeah." Amara forced a smile. "Very different."
Her mother leaned closer to the screen, studying her face. "Amara, are you sure everything’s alright? You seem... I don’t know. Different."
"I’m fine," Amara said, perhaps too quickly. "Really. Just adjusting to a new environment. New people. New challenges."
"Have you made friends?" her mother asked, her tone gentler now.
"Yeah," she said, and this time her smile was real. "Yeah, I’ve made some really good friends."
"Good. That’s good." Her mother relaxed slightly. "Your father and I worry, you know. You’re so far away, and we can’t just drop by to check on you."
"I know, Mom. But I’m okay. I promise."
They talked for another twenty minutes—her parents filling her in on neighborhood gossip, her father’s work, and her mother’s book club.
This was the kind of comfortable conversation that made Amara’s chest ache with homesickness.
"We’re so proud of you, sweetheart," her father said as they prepared to end the call. "Whatever you’re doing out there, we know you’re going to excel at it. You always do."
The words landed like a weight. Proud. They were proud of her for something they didn’t even understand.
"Thanks, Dad," Amara managed. "I love you both. Stay safe out there. I hear the wraith attacks have gone up. And I’ll call again soon."
"We love you too, baby," her mother said. "Take care of yourself. And eat something!"
The call ended, and Amara sat there in the silence of her room, feeling hollowed out and full at the same time.
They were proud of her. They loved her. And she was lying to them about the most fundamental aspects of her life.
She grabbed her hair scarf and headed for Ethan’s room before the feeling could consume her entirely.
***
Amara knocked on Ethan’s door, still wearing the simple cotton sleep shorts and tank top she’d changed into after the call.
It was comfortable, simple, and apparently enough to make Ethan’s gaze linger for half a second when he opened the door.
"Hey," he said softly. "How did it go?" He stood there in sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt, his hair slightly damp like he’d just showered.
Amara said nothing, but her expression must have given her away because Ethan’s face shifted into understanding sympathy.
"That bad, huh?"
She nodded.
"Come here." Ethan pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her hair and the door closed behind her automatically.
"They don’t get it," Amara said finally, talking into his shoulder. "They can’t get it. And I can’t tell them. So I just sat there lying to the two people who’ve supported me my entire life."
She took a step back and ran both hands through her locs, feeling the frustration build. "I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to think about it. I just want—"
"What do you want?" Ethan asked, moving closer.
Amara looked up at him, at the way he was watching her with complete focus. "I want to do something other than talking."
"Yeah," he said, voice dropping. "I know a few ways to shut your brain off for a while."
The distance between them evaporated.
Comments