• I woke up slightly before the sun rose, my dark grey-blue eyelashes muting the already grey predawn light as I stared out the window with half-closed eyes. My alarm blasted into life as six o’clock bleeped onto the tiny screen, so I slammed my hand down on it so hard I could hear the plastic wail in protest. Groaning, I stretched and sat up, blinking to keep myself from yawning back to sleep. As I stretched, I noticed the muscles and tendons beneath my olive-toned skin flex and relax, a positive result after weeks of working out.

    This was the day we went to the Forgotten Hole. Well, it wasn’t named that per say, but that’s what Dad and I called it. Mom called it the village, but that was just her proper upbringing talking. It really was a forgotten hole: there was not a smidge of new technology to be seen in the whole place. Mom was determined that in the three years we haven’t been there they’ve updated and such, but I doubt it. If keeping un-updated kept us coming back to gossip about, that place would never change.

    Since Mom and Dad owned Berkly Merchandising, they worked to sell as much new technology there as possible, though they rarely—no, excuse me, never—did. And of course, I have to come with them even though I have plenty of friends and plenty of things to do here at home.

    “Tristan! Breakfast, honey!” Mom called from down the stairs, and I could hear the click of her heels as she walked back to the dining room.

    I groaned again, throwing the sheets to the side, and got up, rearranged the new silky boxers Mom bought me the day before—I’m never wearing them again, they tickle too much—and took the stairs two at a time, jumping when there were four steps left.

    “Tristan!” Dad called as he heard the thud of my landing, obviously trying to ward off Mom’s outburst about ruining the nice hardwood flooring. It was nice: oddly soft for being, well, hardwood.

    “What?” I asked innocently, walking into the dining room.

    Dad scowled when he saw me in my boxers. “You know your mother will send you right back up to change.”

    “Then I’ll just jump down the stairs again. No big deal.” I answered, plopping down in my usual seat and pulling the steaming plate of waffles toward me.

    “Good morning--,” Mom walked in, a bowl of fruit in her hands. “Oh, Tristan. Why do you do this?”

    “Do what?” I mumbled through a mouthful of waffle. I swallowed noisily, gulping my orange juice to wash it down.

    “Never mind. I guess you’ll just have to stay here today, then.” Mom told me loftily, obviously hinting that staying here shouldn't be my choice over the Forgotten Hole.

    I rolled my eyes. I knew this trick. “Why?” I drawled, yet I knew it was just another trip to the Forgotten Hole to sell amazing things to less-than-amazing humans. Worthless, wasted time.

    “There’s a family of humans that are moving to the village and want us to show them around. They’re really interested in new technology, so figure we would be the best to do that. They have two daughters. One of them is your age.” Mom smirked at me, glancing slyly at Dad.

    “But she’s human.” I commented. “Right?”

    “So?” Dad asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. His dark blue-grey hair was starting to streak with grey, looking like a stormy ocean: the stereotypical sprytan look.

    “I’m not. It wouldn’t work.” I shoveled more waffle into my mouth, noticing the significant look between Mom and Dad. I’m a sprite; she’s a human. Can’t Mom and Dad see that? Sprites are tied to water—hence the numerous fountains, sinks, and ponds in the backyard—while humans are tied to, well, nothing. They’re the only race not bound to a single element. As such, they have shorter lives, but yet can live wherever they want. Just like we needed to be near the water, yet can live a hundred years or so longer than any human.

    “But look at Ginger and Jason: he’s human. She didn’t let that get in the way. They’ve been married, what, fifteen years?” Dad glanced at Mom for confirmation.

    She nodded, adding, “They’re happy together. Who says you wouldn’t be?”

    “You both are ignoring the fact that Ginger is entering her prime and Jason has left it. There’s too much of a life span difference.”

    Mom sighed, sinking her teeth into a green apple and going silent. Dad followed suit. I won the argument! Grinning, I finished my breakfast with ebullient abandon, and as I passed the front door on my return to my room, the doorbell rang. “It’s Ashleigh; she said she’d stop by before we left.” I walked to the door, not caring if my best friend since childhood saw me in boxers. “Hey, Ash—,” I stopped mid-sentence as the door swung inward.

    It wasn’t Ashleigh.

    “Um, hi.” A girl—she looked about my age—stood at the door, running a hand through her dark brown curly hair and looking very uncomfortable. “You must be Tristan?”

    “You must be one of the daughters.” I said through gritted teeth, hiding behind the door while I let her in. She was one of Mom and Dad’s guests, after all. “Hi, I’m Tristan.” I didn’t offer my hand; I was too embarrassed.

    “Hi. My name is Emily. Nice to meet you.” She smiled awkwardly, trying to be polite but avoiding looking at me too long.

    These had to be silk boxers.

    “So, Emily, um, Mom and Dad are through there. I’ll be back.” I pointed to the dining room archway, waiting for her to move before I made my dash up to my room.

    “Emily? Where are you?” A child’s voice called through the open door, and before I knew it, a young dirty-blonde girl stood next to Emily. She looked like she was six or seven, with big dark blue-green eyes—matching Emily’s, I noticed—full of blissful innocence. “Hi, who are you?” She looked at me with those young eyes, and for once in a lifetime, I melted.

    “I’m Tristan. Who are you?” I crouched down to be on her level, completely forgetting my issue with only wearing silk boxers.

    “I’m Izzie.” She giggled, running to hide behind Emily’s leg. “You’re naked.” She whispered, like she was telling me something I wasn’t aware of at all.

    Which, at the moment, was partially true. I had forgotten my three-quarters nakedness, so blushing, I stood up, and pointed in the direction of the dining room once again. Izzie kept glancing back at me, giggling childishly.

    “By the Gods, why me?” I mumbled to myself.

    “Hey, why is the door open, Tristan? Oh, whoa, man, what’s going on?” Ashleigh popped up in the doorway, her sparkling red hair straightened and pulled back into a pony tail. “Aren’t you supposed to be ready by now? Why aren’t you gone?”

    I glared at her. “I’m not leaving, I guess. Mom said I didn’t have to. Can I go change now?”

    “Gods, yeah. Why the mood?” Ashleigh asked, following me up to my room. She waited just outside the door while I changed.

    “If you didn’t notice, there are two girls downstairs that just came in. I happened to answer the door. In my boxers.”

    “Why?” Ashleigh was dumbstruck.

    “Because I thought it was you!” I snarled back; her constant questions were starting to pile on to the already bad mood.

    “You’d answer the door in boxers even if was me?” Ashleigh asked, still dumbfounded.

    “Oh, come on.”

    She laughed, her bright turquoise eyes—just like mine—glimmering with mischief. “I know, I know. I’d do the same thing; I just wouldn’t be wearing boxers.”

    “Yeah. Anyway. You want to catch up with Nikki and Kalen?” I offered, heading toward the dining room to tell my parents I was leaving.

    “Sure, but I still think you should go with your Mom and Dad to the village. I’m assuming the two girls are from there? And, plus, you get two girls! All you have to do is pick one and then be like Ginger and Jason.” Ashleigh babbled.

    I rolled my eyes. Why was everyone trying to hook me up with a human? “No, only one is our age. The other is six.”

    “I’m seven!”

    I stopped, surprised to hear Izzie’s voice, but then I realized Mom and Dad were leading Emily and Izzie back out of the dining room, obviously ready to go. “Oh, sorry, babe, I was only guessing.” I smiled at her to try and make it better.

    “I’m not a baby!” Izzie pouted, crossing her arms in front of her.

    “I know, Izzie. He didn’t mean it.” Emily comforted her sister, patting the child on the shoulder.

    “Mom, Dad, I’m leaving. Ashleigh and I are meeting up with Nikki and Kalen.” I told my parents, being the responsible son.

    “No, we’re not.” Ashleigh said, not too quietly.

    “Then what are you really doing?” Dad asked, catching the quick excuse in my voice and Ashleigh’s contradiction. Damn it.

    “We don’t know. Whatever comes up.” I answered truthfully, finally.

    Mom scowled at me. “Well, we’re leaving, if either of you wanted to join us. Be back when we’re back.”

    “How am I supposed to figure that out?” I exclaimed, outraged.

    “Well, if you just stay here, you won’t have to worry about it, will you?” Mom smirked. “You said you had things to do here at home. I’m sure Ashleigh wouldn’t mind letting you clean up the house today, would you, dear?” She directed her last question at Ashleigh.

    “No, not at all, Kristan.” Ashleigh tried to keep the laugh out of her voice. “I’ll tell the rest of the gang you’re housebound, Tristan. See you later!” She dashed out the door, her long legs helping her speed.

    “You planned this, didn’t you?” I accused Mom. I knew she had something to do with this.

    “Don’t blame your mom like that, Tristan; it’s rude and disrespectful.” Emily scolded me.

    I managed to keep from turning my temper on her, but just barely. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Thanks, Emily. You guys have a good time. Bye.”

    I turned on my heel and swiftly returned to my room, letting my anger radiate off me like steam.

    “You could always come with us!”

    Just before I slammed the door, I heard Izzie’s small voice shout up from the doorway. I opened the door fully, stepping out into the hallway and looking to the door.

    Izzie waited a step inside the foyer, the large doorway dwarfing her petite size even more. No one else was with her. “I would. But I don’t like cleaning. Are ya gonna come?”

    And for twice in a lifetime, I melted.

    “Come on, Izzie; let’s go.” Emily came back to keep the little girl moving, like a shepherd keeping a lamb with its ewe. At the last second, the older sister noticed me and looked up, waiting.

    This was the first time I could actually see Emily, every detail, without worrying about silk boxers. I could see the curve of her cheeks, marred only by the wavy curls in her dark chocolate brown hair; I could see the arc of her eyebrows, perfectly accentuating her dark blue-green eyes. Her nose was small and cute, the kind that one could trace a finger down to her mouth, her lips full but not overwhelming. She was proportioned ideally—I felt weird thinking like that, like she was a pie to be eaten, so I switched—she was the right size: small but noticeable curves, not too tall, yet with long legs and enough stature so I wouldn’t have to bend down too much to kiss. . .

    I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, none of us saying anything, but it felt like a few more minutes before I snapped out of my reverie slightly embarrassed. I finally found my voice. “Hang on a second. I want to come.”