Story
Chapter 12: Down Memory Lane
The sun is high in the sky over Neopia Central, without a single cloud in sight. It’s one of those days that seems a little too bright to Ozzy, and he can’t help but feel self-conscious about how dour and grey he looks—like he must be sucking the colour out of the day just by stepping outside.
“Ahh… nothing like a bright, sunny day to clear out those clouds hanging over your head,” Nyx says, stretching her arms up high above her as she turns her head toward the sky. She angles her face down a second later, though, and flashes her brother a wink. “Right, Ozzy?”
Despite himself, Ozzy smiles. “Yeah,” he agrees meekly, clutching his new plushie tighter to his body. It’s the perfect size for hugging, and it makes him feel better.
“That’s the spirit.” Nyx keeps her brisk pace as she heads toward the thick of Neopia Central, toward the hustle and bustle of happy shoppers and other errand-goers. It’s hard for Ozzy to keep up with her—she’s always been much more athletic than him—but he manages with her only pausing twice to let him catch up.
“I’m glad you’re coming with me on my errands today,” she tells him, but Ozzy isn’t sure he believes her. He’s just slowing her down. “They’ll be quick, I promise, and then you can go back to your artwork. Just a quick stop at the bank, and to pick up the payment for my last shift at the Neolodge… Then we can go to the school supplies store to get you those new crayons I promised. Ah, and I missed some mail yesterday, so I’ll have to check the post office to see if they have it. Hmm, maybe we should stop at the Soup Kitchen while we’re at it, too—”
Ozzy clutches his paint brush plushie closer. That’s so much! He wants to say. My head is spinning! But he keeps quiet, because Nyx is in business mode, and there’s nothing that can stop her when she’s set her mind to something.
As she speaks, she holds out her hand. Ozzy takes it without thinking, but nearly drops his plushie in the process. Nyx doesn’t seem to notice; she just keeps talking, listing out all the things she needs to do, until…
“Here we are,” she declares when they come to a stop in front of the bank. “Wait here, Ozzy, I’ll only be a minute. Just have to collect that interest, make a quick withdrawal, and then we’re off to the next stop.”
“The Neolodge, right?” Ozzy asks. “Do you want me to go get your Neopoints for you?”
Nyx laughs. “Are you asking because you want to help, or because you think I’m going to stop and chat with one of the guests again?”
“You always stop to talk with the guests!” Ozzy complains. “Especially when they tell you stories about their vacations and all the places they’ve been.”
Something changes in Nyx’s eyes. It’s as if her gaze grows distant, faraway. “I guess I do,” she mumbles. “It’s just… well, it’s exciting, you know?”
Ozzy doesn’t think so. “I guess.”
“Tell you what,” Nyx begins, “you go get those Neopoints, I’ll finish up at the bank, and we’ll meet at the post office. Then we can get something to eat and head home, okay?”
Ozzy nods. “Okay.”
“Great. See you soon, Ozzy!”
“When we were little, all we had was each other.”
“Oof!”
Dirt and gravel crunch under Ozzy’s fur. He grunts as he slides in the gritty sand of one of Neopia Central’s pathways, spitting out a clump of grass as he comes to a stop. Above him, a shadow looms: a long neck, stubby arms, a plated tail. When he opens his eyes, blinking crust and dust out of them, a pastel Chomby grins down at him with the bag of Neopints Ozzy had just collected from the Neolodge dangling from his hand.
“G-give that back,” Ozzy says, voice much softer and weaker than he wants it to be. He swallows down the waver in it, and tries again, reaching up to tug on his ears. It’s an old trick Nyx taught him—focus on how that feels, not whatever’s upsetting you. He takes a deep breath. “That’s not yours!”
“I’m holding it, aren’t I? That means it is,” the Chomby says. He laughs, and from somewhere behind Ozzy, another voice chimes in,
“And so’s this stupid plushie!”
Alarmed, Ozzy lets go of his ears and opens up his eyes. He tries to scramble to his feet to stop the bullies from ruining his plushie, but his knees crumble beneath him and he ends up back on the ground. “Stop…”
“Aww, what, afraid we’re gonna keep it?” The other bully is a spotted Quiggle, and his grin is big and mean.
“Why would we want to do that?” the pastel Chomby says. “Why would anybody want a grey paint brush plushie? It’s so ugly and drab.”
“Perfect for a washout like you!”
The bullies break out into laughter—loud, grating, cacophonous laughter that echoes in Ozzy’s ears so loudly it feels like the world is shattering around him. He slams his hands to his ears again, squishing them as hard as he can, like pushing them back into his head will make the laughter stop…
THUMP! BAM! POW!
The laughter stops. Ozzy cracks an eye open, just in time to see the pastel Chomby fall on the ground next to his Quiggle friend, holding his face and groaning in pain. He rolls, tail thrashing, and the Quiggle staggers to his feet…
Only to scream and scramble back on all fours as Nyx stomps toward him.
“Yeah, you better run!” she shouts, brandishing her fist. “And you—!”
She turns back to the Chomby and picks him up by one of the plates on the back of his neck. “I’d better not catch you messing with my brother again, got it?!”
“Okay, okay!” the Chomby whimpers, practically flying out of Nyx’s hand once he’s found his legs. He runs after his friend (who’s long out of sight now), kicking up dust behind him as he goes.
“A ‘sorry’ would be nice, too!” Nyx shouts, but there’s no point. She sighs, hands on her hips, and shakes her head before turning to face Ozzy with a smile on her face that makes the tears on Ozzy’s sting just a little less. “I can’t stand bullies like that… They think they’re so tough just because they’re big. Are you okay?”
She holds out her hand. With a tiny sniffle, Ozzy nods and takes it, allowing his sister to lift him gently to his feet. “I—I’m sorry, Nyxie, I shouldn’t have gone off alone, I didn’t mean—”
But Nyx silences him with a hug. “It’s okay,” she says as she lets him go. “You’re all right now, and that’s the important thing. Here…”
She walks over to pick up Ozzy’s fallen grey paint brush plushie. Nyx holds it out to him, and Ozzy takes it back gingerly, tears still in his eyes.
“Don’t listen to them, Ozzy,” Nyx tells him. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
When his plushie is back safely in his hands, and his hair has been ruffled a little for good measure, Nyx doubles back to retrieve the bag of Neopoints that the bullies had nearly stolen—that Ozzy had nearly let be stolen. If only he had stayed home…
“She was my sister. My best friend.
“My protector.”
What’s going on, Luxinia?
As Nyx and Ozzy run their errands, Ozzy encounters trouble. Some bullies try to steal his plushie, only to be thwarted by Nyx. You really did look up to her, didn’t you, Ozzy?