Dang it.
I really didn't want to bring up Dad.
Don't take it the wrong way, though. I'm not like one of those female protagonists who have abusive daddy issues or whatnot. My dad's pretty great. But the whole "abandoning thing" is still kind of uncomfortable for me to talk about.
Even June and Dirk weren't completely aware of my . . . odd family situation until a few years ago, and we've practically been friends since we were toddlers.
That's why I was kinda hoping to keep it all under wraps until the apocalypse ended.
Which would probably be never.
And with that logic, I'd never have to tell anyone.
But of course, my dramatic self had to bring up a traumatic situation so I could feel like the main character for one minute.
Darn you, theatre kid syndrome.
So right now, I was hiding out in my room, making sure the ginormous lock on my door was secure before heading over to the couch.
As I flopped onto it with an exasperated sigh, I heard the distant calls of my friends shouting for me.
"(Y/N)! Where are you?"
"Friend (Y/N)! Please come out!"
"Hey, look, I'm sorry! I'm not sure what I did, but come on out! Let's have a talk."
"Yeah! Why don't you have a talk, Jack . . . with my fist."
". . . Was that a question?"
"No."
". . . H-Hey, Dirk, let's put the chair down, buddy . . . wait, no, Dirk, wait—(Y/N), COME OUT PLEASE—(Y/N), HELP—"
I smiled. Dirk wouldn't actually kill Jack. They're friends, after all, and he's just not that type of guy.
Probably.
My smile soon faltered as I realized that June hadn't called out for me. In fact, I hadn't even seen her in the halls or in any of the classrooms when I ran up here to hide.
She was probably sulking somewhere off in the school, still mad about the fact that Jack called her a feat.
Although I get that the kid didn't have any bad intentions, I can understand why June felt crummy. Nobody wanted to be called a feat, which is basically—
Wait, hold on.
. . .
"Feat: an achievement that requires great courage, skill, or strength."
I frowned at the dictionary I had found lying near the empty water cooler. "That's stupid," I muttered, jabbing a finger at the word on the page. "And you know it. Why is this the definition? Explain yourself!"
The dictionary stayed silent.
"Fine," I scoffed, dropping the book onto the principal's desk as its pages fluttered in the wind, the cover closing shut. "Keeping quiet, are we?"
I circled around the desk, keeping my eyes trained on the book. I nearly stumbled into the principal's rolling chair once or twice, which I eventually kicked away, but I never lost sight of the dictionary.
I stopped walking.
Suddenly, I slammed my hands loudly on the desk, glaring at the book harshly.
"Don't play dumb with me," I hissed with a big scowl on my face. "Now spill the beans."
"Oh, stop it, would you?"
I reeled back, staring at the book with wide eyes. Did . . . did the dictionary just talk?
The book itself, however, seemed to be unfazed.
"You're being overdramatic!" it said, the cover opening and closing animatedly with each word. "Shouldn't you be asking why Jack labeled June as a feat instead of questioning the definition of the actual word?"
I glanced around the room, trying to figure out if this was all a dream.
"And what's wrong with the definition itself? I don't even think you're mad about that; I think you're mad that it's implying that Jack had the courage, skill, or strength to go save your friend, even though he still kinda failed!"
I pinched my arm, which stung painfully, but the book did not stop speaking. ". . . What the hell are you?" I muttered, inching closer.
"I'm a dictionary, genius," it snapped, the pages within it fluttering madly. "And maybe if you cracked open one, you'd know what I am. But no, you were always too busy playing Candy Crush and reading fanfics on your phone!"
"I, uh . . ."
"And don't even get me started on your—"
"Now, now, Smarty Fudge, there's no need to be rude."
There was a bright flash of light, the sudden appearance of it startling me as I yelped and covered my eyes. The light eventually faded into a dim glow, and as I lowered my hands, I gasped in surprise.
Standing behind the principal's desk, faintly lit with a soft golden glow, was a tall man wearing a long white robe with a little moustache. A small halo hovered above his hair, which was made with . . .
Fudge. Rich, deep-brown, chunky fudge.
His posture and calm demeanour made it seem like he was royalty or something, and although the man only looked to be in his early thirties, something in my gut told me he had been around for much longer.
". . . What in the actual hell."
The fudge man chuckled and placed a hand on his chest. "Hello, (Y/N). I apologize for the sudden appearance. I haven't gone through my evening routine yet, and as you can see, I am quite the mess."
I tried to close my mouth, which was hanging open in shock, but it just opened again. "Who are you?" I whispered. "What are you?"
Fudge Man raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do you not remember me? You've been making offerings and prayers to me since you were a child. Perhaps I should have alerted you of my presence beforehand."
That's when it hit me. The formal tone, the little halo, the fudge hair. It all added up.
How could I have forgotten? I even made a prayer to this entity right when the apocalypse started.
"You're the Holy Fudge," I said, blinking multiple times to make sure I was still awake. "I . . . I never thought you were actually real. I kinda always prayed to you as a joke."
"Yes, not many know of our existence, as we are some of the lesser known spirits of this world, so we are mostly worshipped by children," Holy Fudge replied. "But we are grateful for your devotion to us nonetheless."
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Uh, we?"
Holy Fudge spread his hands out in front of him. "Yes, my siblings and I. Speaking of which, why don't you meet one of them now?"
Before I could process what was happening, the Holy Fudge grabbed the dictionary, which had been silent for some time now, opened it, and tore out the first page.
An inexplicable shrieking noise filled the room, a noise so loud and shrill that I actually had to cover my ears before they burst. Then there was another flash of light, this time with a hint of blue, and when it faded again, I nearly collapsed.
There was another man now, although he looked younger than the Holy Fudge, so he was perhaps in his mid-twenties in entity standards. He was much more skinnier and was also wearing a white robe, but there was no halo hovering over his head.
Instead, his hair poked up in all sorts of directions, resembling nothing short of a lion's messy mane. His thin glasses gleamed as the eyes behind them glared murderously at the Holy Fudge.
I could understand why. The Holy Fudge was currently holding a chunk of light brown fudge that looked a little like the other man's hair.
"Holy, I swear, I'm gonna kill you—"
"Ah, ah, ah." The Holy Fudge stopped him, holding a hand out. "You know the rules, Smarty—no killing or maiming outside of the house."
"You literally just tore a chunk of my hair out—"
"That is not maiming. I was simply giving you a haircut. You had to go to the barbershop sooner or later. And I just chose sooner."
Smarty, assuming that's his name, opened his mouth to retort, but the Holy Fudge interrupted him once again. "Besides, we have a guest, so please behave yourself."
Smarty grumbled and looked away.
Holy Fudge sighed. "I apologize for my brother's . . . intolerable behaviour. I understand if you feel offended by his actions."
"No, not at all," I mumbled distantly, my brain trying and failing to keep up with all this new logic being thrown at me. "I'm not offended. He was . . . very nice."
"Mm, I hope so," responded the Holy Fudge. "This is Smarty Fudge, the brains of our family. He is my brother, and quite a pain in the bosom when he chooses to be."
Smarty Fudge glanced at me through the corner of the eye. "Hello."
"He is also very iffy about definitions and anything related to language, so I'm afraid that by questioning the plausibility of the word feat, he got angry and went down to the mortal world in a physical form to confront you," continued the Holy Fudge.
Smarty Fudge glared at the Holy Fudge. "I can explain the reasons behind my anger myself, Holy," he groaned. "I'm not a century-old myth anymore."
The Holy Fudge nodded. "Yes, so that must be why you were insulting and threatening to dive into the fears and insecurities of (Y/N), one of our most devoted followers."
I raised my hand unsurely. "Hey—hey guys," I said, waving my hand around so I could grab the brothers' attention. "Um, so first of all, Smarty—"
I turned to look at Smarty Fudge. "Can I call you Smarty?"
"Uh—"
"Great," I replied without waiting for an answer. "So Smarty, I'm sorry I made you angry by questioning the definition of the word feat."
". . . Thanks."
"And, say, Holy—"
I turned to the Holy Fudge. "Can I call you Holy?"
He smiled. "Of course, (Y/N)."
"Right. So Holy, I get why Smarty's here, but then why are you here? You couldn't be here just to take your brother back to Fudge Heaven or wherever it is you're from, right?"
Holy smiled. "Sharp as always, (Y/N)," he replied. But then his smile faded. "You are correct, however. I did not come here simply to rip a chunk of Smarty's hair out and drag him back to our home. I can do that any day."
"Hey!"
Smarty was ignored as Holy continued to speak. "Unlike my brother, I have come to deliver a warning."
My brain, which had been moving lethargically in confusion up until now, was suddenly zapped back to life.
"A warning?" I asked. "Of what?"
"I cannot simply say it out loud," answered Holy solemnly, "as it forbidden to interfere with the fates of mortals directly. But I can tell you this."
I leaned closer, shoving Smarty out of the way so I could hear Holy's words more clearly, to which the former protested to.
"A monster, blinded by both good and bad, is seeking its revenge on a hopeful hero of the future who lies here," muttered Holy in a deep voice. It was almost mesmerizing to see the entity slowly rise up into the air as he continued to chant his warning. "He is not evil, however, for there is a seed of good left in him. But a shroud of darkness has covered his heart, and he is currently lost. You must heal him, but do not kill him, for it will be of a greater loss to you than to the monster himself if his life should ever be lost."
The three of us stood in silence as Holy lowered himself back down to the ground. After some time, I spoke up.
"Do you really think I'm smart enough to know what that means? Like, I'm thankful you have faith in me, but I'm stupid."
Smarty sighed. "He means that a monster is coming this way because someone in this school offended him, and he's not actually evil, he's just under someone else's control right now. And you can't kill him because it'll probably hurt you a lot emotionally."
"Oh." I turned to Holy. "Couldn't you have just said it like that?"
"Holy likes his dramatics," replied Smarty. He turned to Holy with an annoyed expression. "Just like you. You can see how that might be insufferable."
"No comment," said Holy with a small smile. "Oh, and another thing, (Y/N)."
"Is it another warning?" I asked, shuffling my feet.
"No," responded Holy. "More like an update."
I raised an eyebrow. An update?
"I can see that you are concerned for your brother's safety."
I stiffened.
I haven't talked about my family or my brother since the apocalypse started.
Holy must've sensed my uneasiness, because he quickly waved his hands in reassurance. "Do not worry, (Y/N). I assure you, your brother Jamie is safe."
I sighed in relief. I had been worried about Jamie since Apocalypse Day, but looks like I didn't need to.
"In fact," Holy continued, "you will meet him very soon.
I gasped. "Wait, really? This isn't a joke?"
"Nope."
"How soon? Where's he been this whole time, anyway? Should I be cautious or anything?"
"I can only say that he is arriving soon," said Holy firmly. "Nothing more."
My shoulders slumped in disappointment, but hey, at least I had one of my questions answered.
"Now, as much as I'd like to stay and chat with you more, I'm afraid our time is up," said Holy, grabbing his brother's arm. "We must return to our home before we get in trouble for staying here too long."
The two Fudge brothers began to rise in the air, inching upwards bit by bit.
"Remember, (Y/N)," Holy said, gazing down at me with a fond smile. "If you ever need to talk, we are here. Both of us."
"Hey, do not drag me into this."
"Oh, please. You've been eager to meet (Y/N) all week. You are only acting cold and distant now because she questioned the word feat."
Smarty scoffed in offence, pushing his glasses up. "Language stuff is my whole thing. This is kind of a big deal for me—"
"You said it yourself, Smarty. You're nearly seven centuries old now, so instead of whining about how someone jokingly insulted a word in your precious dictionary, why don't you just let it slide for once? You're not a hundred anymore, so get over it."
I just stared at the entire interaction. Whatever this passive-aggressive exchange was, one thing was for certain: these two were most definitely siblings.
Holy turned back to me, his annoyed expression disappearing in a flash. "Before we leave, (Y/N), I would like to give you a gift as well."
He snapped his fingers. I glanced around the room to spot any changes, but the room seemed to stay the same.
"Oh, uh," I mumbled, "thank you."
Holy smiled warmly. "Now we must depart. Farewell, (Y/N). Until we meet again." He began to rise up faster in the air, his upper torso disappearing through the ceiling like he was a ghost.
"Wait!" I jumped, trying to grab Holy's hand before he faded away completely. "I still have so many questions! Where did you come from? Are there more of you? Have you been watching me this whole time?!"
It was no use. The Holy Fudge had left.
I sighed. "How am I supposed to see you guys again?"
"Just go back to sleep."
I looked up, only to see Smarty staring back at me with a raised eyebrow, as if I had said said the most stupidest thing ever. He had almost reached the ceiling, but he was still here.
I paused in confusion at his earlier comment. "Wait, what do you mean go to sleep?" I asked, pointing at the remaining Fudge brother. "Was this entire thing a dream or something?"
Smarty frowned. "Yeah. Didn't you know that by now? You're dreaming. So wake up, dummy."
As I watched his body float up and disappear like his brother, everything faded into black.
And then I woke up.
Sitting up from the couch, I began to look around. Nothing seemed amiss. Could my meeting with the Fudges really have been just a dream?
Maybe.
But there were a few things that made my theory impossible.
First of all, the dictionary. The book was still here, and it was open, but now the first page had been ripped out.
Secondly, Holy's warnings. They were much too detailed to have been figments of my own imagination, created my poor, stupid brain.
And thirdly, I could finally see Holy's little gift to me.
Leaning against the wall in the corner, hidden away enough so that a passerby wouldn't have noticed it, was a small portrait painting of Jamie and I as kids, lying down in the grass with large grins on our faces.
I remembered that event. We were rolling down a grassy hill in early July, laughing and eating dandelions without a care in the world.
It was one of the better memories I had, much better compared to my recent ones, which were full of zombies, monsters, and fear.
But as I smiled at the memory that had imprinted itself onto the painting, a sudden thought occurred to me.
Jamie had been on the bus with me that day.
He had seen me confront Dirk.
He had seen the apocalypse begin.
Which means that he probably saw June and I escape into the school.
So why didn't he follow us?
What could've possibly happened to my clingy twin brother that made him flee?
And why was he coming back for me now?
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