It felt like she was lying mud. The air was thick and hot and she felt heavy. A copious amount of sweat was collecting underneath her back, which had an ache all up and down just to the left of her spine. Lyza sleepily pried her eyelids apart. Suddenly she felt very afraid. There was a muffled thump that kept repeating over and over again. There was only darkness. It was steaming all around her, or at least it felt like it, and the heavy sheet draped upon her felt like it weighed a ton. The thumping continued, and she imagined herself in the belly of a dragon's den, with the beast pacing back and forth right beside her. When she got a few wits about her, she sat up. The sheets peeled away from her like the rind of an orange, clinging to the layer of sweat that covered her arms and neck. The surface she laid upon crackled and fizzed, the stuffing of the couch-cushions throwing a fit at her shifting weight. She sat up stiffly; it like felt she hadn't moved for hours. The line of ache she could feel running through her back made her wince when she turned to throw the covers off. Her hand rested where her head had lain, a soft pillow was there and it probably saved her from an angry crick in her neck. The realization came upon her that she was not in a dragon's cave, much less that dragons did not exist, but that she was in the TV room of her quiet house--quiet save for the thumping. Dark, too. Even with her eyes already adjusted to the light, the stained-glass window-covering muted all but the faintest of moonlight from outside, and even that amount just caste onto the sill. But Lyza did not need light to navigate the lattice of halls. She slid off the couch, her temperature dropping with tremendously wonderful relief, and made her way into the hall to discover where the dragon actually was. Within a few moments, she came across the dim beam of a light that struck into the hallway from the crack of a door. Even as she approached the door she knew where she was going, and sure enough she had guessed the source of the thudding. In the laundry room, the dryer was drying away, off-balance and throwing quite a fit about it. But dryers do not start themselves. At first she thought, as she made her way back down the way she came, that her mom was doing the laundry. But that made no sense, because as she padded to the corridor that led to her and her brother's rooms, she remembered the note tacked onto the fridge. She passed her door, and gently eased her brother's open. The room was dark. Was he asleep? She crept in; her feet sounded like they were making louder thumps than the dryer, even though she tried as best she could to step carefully. The boards beneath didn't make a squeak, she could at least hold pride in that. When she got to her brother's bed, she gently placed her hand on it, creeping it over the unkempt covers. She passed the middle of the bed, and swept her palm up to the pillow. Cold and empty. Just then, she heard the tink of glassware. Clomping her footfalls without a care of being quiet, yet still without any squeak of a protest from the floorboards, she finally tracked her brother down. He sat in the kitchen at the table, facing toward the wall. When she shuffled in, her foot made the brass divide clunk, and he lifted his head. "Well hey there, Aurora," he greeted as she curved the C. Lyza wrinkled the matted fur of her brow. "Who?" Kval slid his glass away from the edge of the table so she could squeeze into the bench seat. "You might know her better as 'Sleeping Beauty'," he clarified, bringing the brown liquid to his lips and taking a swig like it was a scotch. "...What is that?" Lyza asked, pointing at the scotch. "It's tea," he replied, and proffered the glass, "You can test it if you don't believe me." She smirked. "I believe you." She did, but it would have been funny if it wasn't. She had seen her dad drink scotch before, it had a pervasive smell about it that Kval's drink did not. "Then what's that," she said, pointing to the papers that were on the table in front of him. Abruptly, he flipped them over. "S'nothing," he replied quickly. He saw the darting of her lips in that childishly curious way, but he spoke too quickly for her to follow up on him; "It's been a long time since you took a nap like that, little kitty-cat." She flattened her eyelids at his wordplay. "What about you? Since when did you start doing laundry?" He sat back. "Well, only a couple shirts are mine. The rest is yours," he shook his head. "When I went to get the sheets and your pillow I saw a pile of clothes on the floor that was 'thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis taaaaaaaaaaaaaall'..." he spread his arms in such a way that his left hand was above the table and his right hand was below, reaching to the ground. "So I thought 'well she's just gonna hang around in her pajamas all week, so why not'." Suddenly Lyza felt the compulsion to stretch, seeing her brother span his arms like that. She disappeared behind the edge of the table and her groans sounded almost like she was in pain. She actually did kind of feel some pain when it came to stretching her back out, but after doing so she felt much better, and when she sat back up her brother just sipped his scotch-tea, bidding her welcome again like she had just left and came back altogether. Lyza yawned. "What are you doing up so early, anyway?" She asked. "I'm not up early. I'm up late," he replied. "It's eleven forty-five at night." "It...it's not tomorrow yet?" Her brother shook his head. "Nope. You've been sleeping all evening and missed the sun a while ago." She grumbled in dismay and her head fell in between her arms. "Hooooh...." she sighed, "What am I gonna do? I'm not sleepy at all..." She felt a tug on her ear. "You can talk to me," her brother suggested. "Yeah but then when you're done with laundry you'll go to bed," she replied. "Who says I have to?" He sat back again. "I can pull an all-nighter; I have before." She shook her head. "No. I don't want you to have to stay up just cuz I was stupid and fell asleep all day." When she sat back up, her brother had the most stern look on his face. "...W-what?" "I'd really like it..." he said slowly, pausing for a half a second, "if you'd stop calling yourself stupid. Okay?" Her eyes fell downward to the table. "...Kay," she said softly, remembering her report card, and how she had acted in the car earlier. Her eyes fell onto the stack of papers on the table. It was a pretty thick stack, almost two inches. The top paper had a lot of pencil-marks and some red pen marks on it too. There was a note in the upper-right (her lower-left) that looked familiar. In fact, now that she looked at it, the entire piece of paper look fami--"Hey!" She reached forward and snatched the top piece of paper, turning it right-side-up and gazing at it. It was her report on the book she had had to read with Emeral. She peered over the top of the page at her brother. That entire stack of papers must have been all of her school work from the past several weeks. "You've been looking at my schoolwork?" Lyza said with shock, like he'd found her diary and read all of its deliciousness--that is, if she had one. The feeling was the same. Her brother just glanced away, looking toward the old stove. With a sigh, he pushed the stack of papers to the side, and stood up, his chair groaning on the tile. He took his glass with him, and then retrieved another from the cupboard. Lyza watched as her brother refilled both glasses with ice, and then poured tea from a half-empty pitcher. She was not allowed to drink out of the glass glasses, or even use the glass bowls and plates. Her parents had gotten tired of her with the fragile dish-ware when she broke a few of them, and cracked a fourth. They got her a little set of plastic-ware, and dedicated a cabinet entirely to her stuff. So naturally, when her brother set the glass glass of tea down in front of her, she felt a sense of awe. He sat back down, and took a sip. He watched her. She watched him back. Eventually, she grabbed the glass with such care in both of her hands, lifting it and taking a sip, keeping one hand underneath to prevent it from falling at all. It thumped onto the table when she slid it out from underneath. "First six weeks," he said, "Mostly Bs, one C. Second six weeks: all Bs. Third six weeks: mostly Bs, but they're all above eighty-five, one of them an eighty-nine. Fourth six weeks: mostly Bs again, but there's also an A." He sipped. "Fifth six weeks: possibility of failure." Her ears drooped heavily, like they had sand stuffed into their tips. "I know," he began, "that sometimes you hit a snag every now and again. I've had to push you to do your vocabulary or finish your math homework." It was her turn to sip; she gulped, the ice in the glass jingling nervously. "It's okay, sis," he assured, "It's just...your grades were getting better...and then suddenly you're failing? I don't buy it; it's not you." He scooted closer, and reached across the table to take her hand. "I'd like you to tell me what the real problem is." He pressed with careful gentility. Lyza lowered her chin to the arm held by her brother. Now she realized why he had gifted her with the glass glass. He was getting her set up to have a nice long brother-sister talk, and not the kind of talk she wanted. She had always imagined this kind of thing to be about the past. Not about her stupid grades. "Even if you think it sounds stupid to you," he continued through the brief moment of silence, "I'll take it seriously." He squeezed her hand. "This is important to me." He smiled, and added; "You're important to me." Curse her brother for being a psychoflabigus. He was probably using his secret psycho powers on her. And it was working. She raised her head, took in a deep breath and said, "I guess...I just got tired of it." "'it'?" He questioned. "What's 'it'?" She sighed, her cheeks bellowing. "Everyone at school thinks I'm dumb." She sat up straight, her voice toning toward anger, "The preppy girls call me Lyoo-sera all the time and make fun of me when I drop something or don't get a word right." Kval nodded, but he didn't say anything. There was only a second or two of silence before Lyza spoke again. "They just...make me so mad. Why should I work so hard and get good grades when no one cares?" "I care." She huffed. "I know. Of course you care, you're my big brother." Far in the background, the dryer beeped, telling the house it was done. Her brother chuckled. "What?" She said sharply. "I thought you said you were gonna take this seriously!" His face changed immediately. "You're right, I am," he reassured, and that eased her just a bit. "It's just that I didn't expect you to be so angry at the preppy girls. You really let them get under your skin like that?" She bit her lip. "Well...I mean..." "It's okay," Kval said. "Believe it or not, that's perfectly normal." "You sound like the counselors when they talk about 'peer pressure'." "Well cuz that's what this is," her brother said, finally letting go of her hand. "But, honestly sis, if those girls are the reason your grades are so low I'm kind of surprised. You know better than to let it hit you that deeply; if you do, then all their teasing is actually working. You don't want that." Lyza dipped her nose. "Well...it does," she said flatly, and took the glass in her hands to sip. He sat back, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts. When the sound of the glass touching the table peeped around the kitchen, he folded his arms and tilted his head. "So. What are you gonna do about it?" She looked up from below her eyebrows, "Whaddaya mean?" "Well, I ain't gonna have a mopey sister all spring break. Emmy and Ket went to the beach, mom and dad will be gone for a while--not like them being here would make a difference. I don't have any plans. Let's come up with something to help cheer you up." "Like what?" She asked, resting her temple onto her palm. "Well, I was kinda hoping you could tell me that. Maybe you wanna go TP someone's house? Make a few crank-calls? Or there's always egging a car, but that's kind of hit-and-miss what with garages..." "Kval!" His sister scolded. "Those aren't nice things to do! Plus, if I did those things, wouldn't I be just as bad as Rini and her group?" "Rini..." her brother said, "Rini...I heard that name before. Yeah!" He snapped his finger. "Your flute solo. Rini was sitting next to me...so that's who's got you all worked up, huh?" Lyza glowered. "Little prep. Thinks she's so perfect. She was there to make me mess up and laugh at me." "Well, I'm not gonna say anything about that but..." He rested his arms on the table. "It sounds to me like she's the kind of girl that's good at lots of things, huh?" "More like everything!" Lyza exclaimed, spanning her arms. "She's the prettiest, she's the smartest, she's the most popular, she's the one that all the guys crush on even though she already has a boyfriend--" Kval put his hands up, turning away like he was bracing himself from a gigantic eruption. "Okay, okay, simmer down." Thankfully his sister complied without a fuss and he rested back on his elbows. "But really, sis, she can't be good at everything. No one is." "Well she's good at a lot of stuff. Just like Ket's good at math and science and stuff and Emmy's good at all that medical stuff. Heck, even Ritzer's good at something--he's good at beating people up and being a bully." She pushed her drink away and slumped down on the table. "I'm not good at anything. Not at kickball. Not at getting to the swings first. Not at class talks. Nothing." "That's not true," her brother countered, "You're really good at playing the flute. I think if Bach were still alive he'd come to all your concerts." Her brother's attempt at flattery tasted sour. "Duh, everyone knows I'm good at playing the flute, that doesn't count. I need to be good at something that counts. Something that people will think is really amazing. Something that I can stand up and show off in front of everyone and that Rini couldn't ever-ever do no matter how hard she tried." Just then her brother stood up once more. At first she thought she'd pushed a button too many, or maybe her griping and groaning finally got on his nerves. He quickly walked away, and she thought he was going to leave the kitchen in frustration, but instead he stopped at the counter. He picked up a small piece of paper and it wiggled in his hand as he straightened it out. He looked it over, and then turned toward her, still reading it while he stepped back to the table. Once he was halfway to his chair, he looked up. "This came in the mail a few days ago," he said, and it fell on the table with such a flourish that it twisted so the flier faced her exactly.

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Announcing the Opening of Camp Connalake!!!

Dozens of family-sized and troop-sized camp sites! Completely private! Bonfires and other nightly celebrations! Enjoy hearty meals in our cafeteria; or, bring your own! Dozens of activities, including:

• Fishing (Licenses available!)
• Kayaking / Canoing
• Beautiful hiking trails
• Swimming pool (No fishy water!)
• Wildlife Observation
• Archery
• Rifle- and Shotgun-shooting (Certain restrictions apply)
• Arts & Crafts And MUCH MUCH MORE!!!

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She flipped it over; on the back were directions, prices and other things she didn't care to read. She set the flier down, looking it over once more, and then at last looked back at her brother. He was watching her expectantly. "Well?" She yawned. "Maybe..." There was a long pause as she blinked several times. "Can I sleep on it...?" Her brother smiled and, to her surprise, picked her up. "Sure. Looks like that sleepy-tea is hitting you, anyway." He carried her all the way to her bedroom, and left her there to change while he went to get her things from the TV room. When he came back, she was already lying on her bed, half asleep. He did as he did before, gently lifting her head to slip the pillow beneath her cheek, and then laid the covers carefully upon her. "G'night sis," he said, and she mumbled something akin in return. "Dream about what you wanna be good at, and maybe it'll be at Connalake." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and quietly left her to slumber in peace, passing his room toward the laundry business he still had to do.