The Tiff Singularity (A Collection of Lake Wonder Fiction)

This Godless Endeavor #4: The Hope Conspiracy

With sore, shaking hands, she pushes herself up from the ritual circle. Instantly, as the effects of the Dream World wear off, she knows she doesn't want a ride home. She doesn't want much of anything from anyone right now; what she wants is to get out of here.

There's Lewis's body on the ground, between boy and unicorn, hooves growing from hands and feet; the burns are already starting to blister under her shirt sleeves and the stolen hotel robe Mayor Winger told her to wear; her head is throbbing from having participated in something she definitely wasn't meant for. It's early on Wednesday morning, and she just wants to go home.

She isn't sure where home is. Fists in the pockets of her borrowed cargo shorts, Tiff scales the stairs of Chip Winger's basement without a word and exits as quickly as possible. Nobody stops her; if they try, she doesn't hear. There isn't a point to lingering and overstaying her welcome. Tiff knows that better than anyone-- so she grabs her shoes from by the door and starts walking.

It's early enough that the streets are mostly empty. Those who have to make the drive to the city for work are awake, sighing their ways into their cars with cups of coffee in hand, ready for another day of not getting paid nearly enough to do what they do. That's the way things go. Briefly, Tiff thinks about getting a job. Maybe she'll do that over the summer. She's alive, isn't she? She's alive, she's sixteen, she saved the world--

So why does it feel like it's ending?

You just watched a man die, she reminds herself, tripping gently over bits of uneven sidewalk under the lightening black sky. You just killed a nightmare king, and you watched Lewis Ferrier die. You're allowed to feel some kind of way about it-- even if Oneiron was definitely a pervert and Lewis definitely fucked horses.

So maybe it's shock, or maybe she's broken, or maybe she just doesn't know how to feel. Maybe it's just dread.

And what will her aunt say, when she sees her like this? What will she say of the burns across her shoulder and around her ankle, the way the clear pus is already coming to the surface under her skin in a desperate attempt to fix her? There's no need to burden her aunt with that. Tiff knows about burn care; everything she needs is under the bathroom sink, and she can just wear long sleeves and pull up her socks until she's healed. Nobody needs to worry about it.

There were points where she considered telling Aunt Esther what happened. Between hanging out with Greg Dealerman and Eliza late at night at the skate park and getting back into her room through the window, she thought about texting her.

What would she have said, though? Hey, Aunt Esther. Sorry to wake you in the middle of the night when I know you have work tomorrow. I'm involved in an investigation surrounding two comatose teenagers, a nightmare king invading our dreams, an old god, and a benevolent wizard who agreed to help us? Yes, I might die; no, you shouldn't worry about it; why would you ever even worry about it?

And how would she explain that it was magic that hurt those wrestlers she was interviewing, or that she had to face down her parents on Monday night and then lit some donkeys on fire in Drake Galloway's dream? Please. None of that would make sense to anyone who didn't go through it. Her aunt probably wouldn't want to hear it, anyway. It isn't like the two of them talk. Maybe it's better that they don't.

With any luck, her excitement will return tomorrow, or maybe later today. She'll consolidate her notes; she'll put all her research in one place; she'll paint the eyes of Oneiron; she'll sketch out the blueprints of that ray gun that only exists in her dreams. Everything will work out. The feeling-like-shit thing is just for now, she's sure of it.

Things will get better, she's sure of it. Things will be better someday. They have to be. She promised Eliza as much, and what kind of former Girl Scout and maybe-friend would she be if she didn't believe that?