The Story of B.: Part Three

     "My, uh... friend?" Rex questioned. "Is there someone else – you mean you, right?"

     "No, there's a..." He paused and smiled. "Aww, you think I'm your friend?"

     "Well, yes, of course B.! But who were you talking about?"

     "The Kacheek that led you here," B. said casually.

     Rex's eyebrows raised and his jaw went slack. He whispered, practically mouthing the words with as little sound as he let out, "The Kacheek?"

     B. nodded once.

     "You're serious..." His eyes hardened and they searched the room. "Where is he? Is he invisible?"

     "Actually, she," the Techo corrected. "And she's glowing, which is kinda opposite." He snickered.

     "Well, where is she?" Rex almost shouted; he cautiously brought his voice down, still afraid of the traders.

     "Right there," B. said, pointing. Rex and I both followed the path of his finger to a bare stone wall.

     B. took Rex's look of confusion as an invitation to give details. "I think she has to guide you. Whenever you're about to let something important pass, she drags you back and keeps you on the path fate needs you to be on."

     "Fate?" He sounded skeptical.

     "Fate, Fyora, time-space... call it whatever you want." He stared at the wall for a moment before continuing. "She looks a little scared. I think she doesn't want to push you into something that you aren't ready for. She must really care a lot about you... or she's just scared of you." He laughed twice. Rex joined him, despite his apparent nervousness.

     "It's weird," Rex mused. "I don't know why I turned back and chose this place to hide. I could have picked any room. But I felt something pulling me here... maybe you're right."

     "You believe me?" said the Techo eagerly.

     "I don't know... I might. But, if she really is there, why do you think I can't see her?"

     "I'm starting to think I'm the only one," B. said sadly. "No one else pays attention to them, so they stop seeing them." I scribble this down as fast as I can.

     "Mm-hmm," Rex mumbled. "Just one more question, though?"

     "Go ahead."

     "What is she – my guide-Kacheek pet... thing – doing now?"

     "She looks sort of worried... she pointed behind us," said B., "at that spot." He raised his arm to point across the room... directly at me. I stopped writing.

     "Is anyone else here?" Rex asked, sounding exhausted.

     "I don't see anyone." Yet the boy continued to point and stare at the spot I was in. I guess he never did say "no".

     Rex's annoyance slowly morphed into suspicion and anger. He rose slowly from his spot next to B. on the floor -

     But before he could take one step towards me, I ran. I leapt to my feet, flung the door open and went straight down the hallway to the front doors. I left my notebook back in B.'s room; I haven't seen it since then. But it wasn't what little I wrote that helped me in the end; it was the details I remembered.

     ***

     "Uh-huh," I murmur, staring at the chair he was in. I wonder for a moment if he was still there. Or, to some extent, if he was ever there to begin with. Late nights like tonight tend to drive me a bit crazy in my desperate search for inspiration. Such is the routine of an undiscovered author.

     I hear another creak as he get up from his chair. "Please excuse me," he says, "but I'd like a glass of water before continuing."

     "Mmh," I grunt sleepily, waving my hand in the direction of the kitchen. I feel a small, cold breeze as he soundlessly walks past.

     I rest my head in my hand. It must be so late by now. Maybe it's even time to stop the story for the night. I don't know if I should; I don't want to feel like I'm giving up, but Fyora knows I need what little sleep I get!

     That's it; I'm checking the clock. Just one quick look, and if it's too late in the night, then-

     "Hey, could you come and help me out?"

     The voice of my story teller takes me by surprise, just as my drooping eyes approach the bottom of the clock. I stay that way for a second, making no effort to move or look up any more. I'm not sure whether this is out of fear or just laziness.

     "Could you come in here, please?" he says a bit louder. I jump in surprise, as I'd been ready to fall asleep at the desk.

     "Not so loud," I mumble as I get up. "I'm coming. What do you need...?"

     I stop walking just as I approach the doorway, where my favorite glass, decorated with floral patterns, floats in front of me.

     "Um, is that you?"

     The next think I know, the glass jerks toward me, splashing water into my face.

     I nearly scream as it hits me. It's freezing cold, like ice that's just melted. Some of the liquid drips down my forehead and into my eyes, and they shoot straight open.

     "What did you do that for?!" I exclaim, blinking rapidly to try and dispel some of the water from my stinging eyes.

     There is a glint in the air, like a cheerful but mischievous grin. "I could tell you were having trouble staying awake. So, I thought I'd help you."

     "HELP? All you did... I mean, you... I'll never be able to get to sleep tonight! I'll just end up-" My eyebrows raise in realization. I sigh, "Ohhhh," and smile widely, chuckling once. "Thanks."

     "You're most welcome," he says humbly. "Now, shall we continue?"

     "Sure, just-" A drop of water trickles down my cheek and drips onto the floor. I cringe; the water droplets are beginning to feel more like petpetpets crawling on me. "Let me dry off first."

     He laughs, short but sincere. I rush down the hall to the bathroom, grab a towel and wipe off the remaining water, and then run back to my desk in the den. As I pick up my pencil, feeling the familiar grip in my grasp, I know the story is drawing to a close; I only hope the water works for long enough that I get to see the end of it.

     "Now," my narrator begins, already back in his armchair, "where were we?"

     I answer right away. "You'd just gotten out of the pound after spying on B. and Rex."

     "Ah, right," he says sarcastically. I knew he hadn't forgotten, though.

     "After he'd almost discovered me," his voice continues, "I was afraid to go back. I'd worked in the field plenty of times before, but despite my color, I preferred to make my presence known to someone. I was a bit averse to spying, and was not inclined to return to it. So I decided, with all the information I'd gathered, I'd go over all the facts.

     "For at least a week, all my energy was devoted to solving the mystery that was B. I wrote down all the stories he'd told (or the pets that he'd seen) that I knew of, in as much detail as I could. I would spend hours at a time pacing, lounging, meditating, or simply pondering, 'What could it all mean?' I ended up filling one of my journals with nothing but theories and hypotheses, not to mention all the notes I stuffed into the margins." His eyes, though I can't see them, I feel them lock onto mine. "Do you want to hear my favorite one?"

     "Of course!" I say excitedly.

     "As far as I can tell, B. sees pets that follow us to help us accomplish something, or maybe to keep us from doing something we shouldn't. These, I believe... are the embodiments of our subconscious desires. And I think B. has some form of telepathy that makes them visible to him.

     "In every instance I've seen with B., the pets he sees are directly related to the situation: a pet as outgoing as an island Kougra to help someone be noticed; a sweet glowing Kacheek to light someone's way; a graceful golden Ixi, probably there for Dr. Death whenever he felt like he needed to be cheered up."

     "What about the Techos he sees with everyone who tries to adopt him?"

     "That may be his own subconscious speaking," he says. "His desire to have a loving new home, but at the same time, his fear of leaving the pound."

     "It makes perfect sense!" I say, beaming.

     "Not completely," he says, and his voice lowers a bit. "There are many gaps in my logic, holes I haven't been able to fill. But there is only one answer to a riddle, right?" He looks at me again. "And guess what?"

     I nod slowly, like a child captivated by a faerie tale.

     I practically see him smile. "I still haven't solved it."

     "Huh?"

     Is he being serious? I thought he was going to tell me the answer, or at least more of his ideas. "You haven't?"

     "No," he states, almost proudly. "Not officially. I have my own theories, and I make more of them whenever I need to. But as far as a certain, scientific answer, I'm not sure.

     "And I know this may sound like an unconventional way for a scientist to speak," he continues, his voice gaining strength, "but I think it's a good thing. If B.'s mystery has taught me anything, it's that learning the answer to a riddle isn't always necessary, especially if you had fun trying to solve it. With a subject like this, the answer will ultimately depend on the solver; you can choose whatever you want to believe!"

     "Well put, doctor," says a small boy's voice. "I couldn't have said it any better."

     I spin my chair around and gasp; emerging from the hallway is a short green Techo.

     "B.?" the scientist exclaims. "What are you doing here? I told you not to follow me!"

     "Relax, pops," says a gruffer voice beside the Techo. A Darigan Flotsam appears from the shadows. "You know we can't resist a good story." He flashes his shark-tooth grin. "We learned that from you, Larry."

     I chortle and cover my mouth, trying hard not to fall out of my chair. "Larry?" I finally manage.

     "Dr. Larito, if you don't mind," he corrects me, seemingly through bared teeth.

     "What are you two doing here, anyway?" I ask B. and Rex.

     "Allow me to explain, will you?" Larito says. "I ended up going back to the pound many times, at first to simply observe B. or to talk to him. But after a while, we grew attached to each other, and I became more reluctant to leave every time I saw him. Eventually, I realized that we had grown so attached, I simply couldn't leave him there."

     "You adopted him!" B. is beaming with joy, and even Rex is smiling widely.

     "I did. And of course, I adopted Rex as well; I wouldn't want to break his promise." Rex winks at him, and I see a sparkle in Larito's corner; perhaps he's winking back.

     I guess, in a way, this story ended up just as I expected. B. found his home, and they lived happily ever after. Although, that may just be me trying to prove myself right.

     "You've sure been writing a lot, huh?" Rex asks.

     I look down at my desk and notice, for the first time, the huge stack of papers thrown about it. I was sort of absent-minded in my writing, I guess, more focused on hearing the story. I almost forgot about it.

     I hear a sound outside. The winds from the storm have stopped blowing, and in the distance, Naleaps are chirping. I squint through the curtains, and I can just make out a distant light.

     I sigh. This has certainly been a night I will never forget. I just wish I'd gotten to write my story, though.

     "Thank you all for such a good time," I begin, "but-"

     Before I can finish, B. shushes me abruptly.

     "Be quiet, he's reading!" he says in a sort of loud whisper.

     "Who's reading?" I ask.

     "Your friend."

     My eyebrows raise, and Rex and Larito stare at me in apparent awe.

     "Who is her friend, B.?" asks the doctor with a patience that is obviously drawn from experience.

     "He's a green Eyrie," the boy replies, "wearing a silly black hat. He's been standing right next to you this whole time, and he kept grabbing your hand and helping you write. Now he's looking at you story, scanning over it I guess.

     "It looks like he's done. Now he's looking back at you..." he trails off.

     "What?"

     "He smiled at you."

     ***

     Maybe the story is confusing. Maybe it's strange. Maybe I could be a better writer. But this tale simply refused to stay unwritten. It found a pencil and a hand to write with it, and didn't rest until it was done. Neither did I. And after all that, I have to thank you for taking the time to read it.

     I'm glad I could introduce you to B.

The End