(Journal — Robby, Age 9)

  I know I haven’t written in a while again. Spring is all the way here. Like really here. Everything smells wet and green and alive and it’s loud at night now. Frogs don’t shut up. Birds scream at each other in the morning like they’re mad to be awake.

  I’ve been busy with the garden. Really busy. It’s big. Bigger than I planned. Bigger than I probably need, but ARKNAD says “Pirates don’t plan for ‘probably,’ they plan for storms, matey.” So I kept going.

  I don’t have to glean corn anymore. I learned a new word so I’m writing it again so I remember it right: gleaning. That’s when farmers let kids and old people pick through fields after harvest. See I’ve been studying. ARKNAD says, “Aggressive gleaning when yer belly is rumbling ain’t theft, matey.” Pirates say matey a lot. I don’t know why.

  Spring kept happening even when I wasn’t ready for it.

  I thought once you plant stuff you just wait and it grows. That is not true at all. Stuff keeps trying to die or get eaten or grow wrong. Some of the seeds didn’t come up and I waited a long time thinking maybe they were just shy. ARKNAD says plants don’t get shy, they just fail sometimes and you have to try again. He says that’s not their fault or mine, it’s just how things are.

  I replanted the corn and beans. The beans did better. The corn took longer and I kept worrying I did something wrong, like planted them too deep or not deep enough. I dug one up to check and ARKNAD told me not to do that again because then it definitely won’t grow. So I said sorry to the corn and put the dirt back.

  I built little dirt walls so the water doesn’t run away when it rains. I learned that from a book but also from watching how the creek makes shapes on the ground. The creek is smart. It’s been here longer than books.

  Some days my hands hurt so bad I have to stop. They get blistery and then hard. I like when they’re hard because then stuff doesn’t hurt as much. I still wash them real good because dirt gets in everything. I’m being responsible.

  I made a scarecrow too. It’s bad looking but that’s probably good. I used some old shirts and pants I found in one of the abandoned houses. I think it’s the same size as dad was but it’s hard to tell now that Im so much bigger. Making another one tomorrow in a nice pretty dress and a big straw hat tomorrow. That way i dont forget you and you are still here with me.

  I did a lot of reading this winter. More than before. When it’s dark early and cold, there’s nothing else to do but read and think and listen to the fire crack. I practiced my words too. I’m better at spelling now. Not perfect, but better.

  I memorized my multiplication tables up to one hundred. All of them. I check myself sometimes just to be sure. I started decimals and fractions too. The toy I got to practice numbers broke already. I didn’t even drop it that hard. Why do they make things so weak?

  So, being the adult of the house, I had to fix it.

  I learned how to write a program on the OmniPad. It’s a kid tool, but it still counts because I’m learning. I made it quiz me. It keeps score and tells me when I mess up. ARKNAD says, “A pirate who can count supplies lives longer.”

  Break time is over. Garden won’t weed itself.

  Summer came fast.

  It got hot in my house so I opened more of the vents I made and put wet cloth by the window. That helps a little. Sleeping in the car is cooler sometimes but it smells like old things and Moonlit Kisses and smoke. Still, it’s safer when storms get bad.

  The garden got huge. Bigger than I thought it could. Some of the plants leaned over and I had to prop them up with sticks and string. The weeds came back faster than everything else, like they were mad I pulled them out before. ARKNAD says “Weeds are just plants that don’t listen to nobody's rules, matey”. I think that’s funny.

  I learned about bugs. Some bugs are ok and some bugs are not. I tried squishing the bad ones but there’s too many, so I read about mixing stuff to spray. I don’t have real spray stuff so I made one with water and ashes and some plant leaves I read about. I don’t know if it worked or if the bugs just left on their own, but fewer plants got eaten after.

  I had to water every day when it didn’t rain. Carrying buckets from the creek is annoying and heavy. I made a little track with boards so I don’t slip. I fall less now.

  I also learned that plants don’t all get ready at the same time. Some stuff you pick early, some late. Some stuff you leave in the ground because it’s safer there. I messed that up once and picked too much lettuce and it went bad. I felt really stupid. ARKNAD says “wasting food feels bad because it should, but beating yourself up too much doesn’t un-rot it.”

  I dried herbs in the house and hung them from strings. It smells good. Like food and outside.

  I went scavving more in summer because I needed jars and cloth and metal bits. I only borrow from places nobody is using anymore. I always leave things neat and sometimes I leave something useful behind if I take something big. That way it’s fair.

  I found a book about preserving food and another about basic machines. Gears are cool. I think I like gears. They make sense if you stare at them long enough.

  I also practiced writing more. Words are still hard sometimes but I’m better. I write lists now so I don’t forget things. The lists make me feel like a grown-up.

  Sometimes I talk out loud when I’m working. Just to hear a voice. I know ARKNAD is just me thinking, but it helps to pretend he’s there. I don’t think that’s wrong. It’s like reading a book but the book talks back.

  Gardens are never done. I learned that. You water. You weed. You water again. You pull the wrong thing and panic because maybe that was food. Trust me, I know.

  I don’t have spray stuff, so I weed by hand. My fingers get sore and dirty. Sometimes I sit there staring at two little green plants that look the same, trying to remember which one I planted. ARKNAD doesn’t help with that. He just laughs.

  I put little stone markers near rows so I don’t forget. Geometry helps with that. Shapes make sense even when plants don’t.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I’ve been searching further out now. Scavving. That’s scavenging, but shorter. Me and ARKNAD decided long words waste time.

  There are a lot of abandoned places. More than before. Houses with dishes still in the sink. Beds still made. Clothes folded. I don’t like those ones. I like places where it looks like people meant to leave.

  I only take what I need. Tools. Metal. Stuff that can be used again.

  I found a big piece of metal once. Too heavy to carry. I had to fix a little wagon to get it back. Took all day. I kept stopping to rest and check behind me. I’m making charcoal now so I can try forging. I filled a pot, put the lid on, and buried it in coals. You have to leave a tiny gap or it explodes. Don’t try this. Trust me.

  I’m going to make a pirate sword. Maybe. Someday.

  I struck pirate gold. Not real gold. Wheat.

  ARKNAD says wheat is pirate gold because it keeps you alive on long trips. It was ready to harvest, but nobody was at the farmhouse. Tractor had a flat tire. Garden still growing wild. Tools everywhere.

  I thought about moving there. It’s better land. Bigger space.

  But if you come back, you won’t find me.

  So I stayed.

  I promise.

  Late summer is when I realized I could mess up really bad.

  There was a dry week and the creek went low. I didn’t panic but I got close. I had to ration water for the garden and for me. I chose the plants first because if they die then I die later. That sounds dramatic but it’s true.

  I dug a little deeper channel to reach wetter ground and it helped. My hands were bleeding again but I wrapped them. I don’t cry when that happens anymore. Crying wastes water.

  I learned how to tell when stuff is almost ready by how it smells and how the leaves look. I don’t know how to explain it. You just know after a while. Like listening.

  I also learned that animals notice gardens.

  Deer mostly. They don’t care about scarecrows. I had to put up lines with scraps of metal and old cans so they make noise. It worked some. Not always.

  That’s when I started thinking more about weapons. Not for fun. For keeping things.

  I’m really busy now. Two gardens. Not much time to write. But I always think of you. I still love you. I don’t hate you. I promise.

  Early fall smells different.

  The air gets sharp at night and everything slows down. I started harvesting more seriously. Corn takes forever to dry. Wheat is easier but still annoying. I spent days just shelling and cleaning and storing. My fingers cramped so bad I had to stop and shake them out.

  I made more storage in the car. The car is like a big metal pantry now. I trust it. It’s stupid but I do.

  I also fixed up the abandoned farmhouse more, just enough to use the lake and tools. I didn’t move there. I promised I wouldn’t. I want you to know I kept that promise even when it would’ve been easier not to.

  I practiced metal work more before my birthday. Mostly nails and little brackets. Nothing fancy. Fancy is for later. ARKNAD says “Function over fancy, matey”.

  I figured out how to get the OmniPad to alert me before my birthday so I could make sure I prepared a party and got a cake and enough candles. Just in case you decided to visit me at my home. We will wait for you to show up again. But if you don’t then no cake. Please?

  Birthday soon. I went into town again. I cleaned up. Cut my hair. Took the wagon but parked it far away. Made lots of trips.

  I got medical stuff because my teeth hurt sometimes. I brush them. I promise.

  I also got a tattoo.

  Please don’t be mad.

  It’s on my chest. A halo with wings. It’s so I remember you. And remember to forgive you. I worked for it. I cleaned basements. Hauled trash. Scrubbed floors. I earned it. I didn’t borrow it.

  Her name is Trixie. She made me stay in town while it healed. She didn’t trust me to keep it clean. She was probably right.

  She doesn’t like guardians. Doesn’t trust them. I like her.

  I tried to tell her about ARKNAD. She got worried. Then she said ARKNAD wasn’t real. I told her I know. She didn’t believe me.

  That’s okay.

  (Journal - Robby, Age 10)

  I’m back home now. I got a cake, so you know what time it is.

  Being an adult is hard. Lots of work. I didn’t write much this year. Sorry.

  I’m studying geometry now. Shapes help with building.

  I have so much food it’s silly. I keep most of it in the car. Safe place. The radio still works. Not much else does.

  I bought mom perfume. “Moonlit Kisses.” It’s in the car where she left the old bottle. I got the right one. I checked.

  I didn’t buy me any. It makes you stink.

  I practice metalwork. Nothing good yet. Lots of bad things. I made a bow. It’s not great. I practice anyway. I made a spear. Arrows too. I rebuilt the walls with nails I made myself. Stronger now.

  I insulated the dugout. It’s warmer. I’ll build you a room when you come back.

  I’m fixing the tractor. It’s electric. I think I can get it running if I find the right wheel.

  I got hurt. Don’t panic.

  I stitched it myself. Fishing line works. It’s ugly but fine.

  There was a boar. Big one. Mean. I hunted it. The bow hit didn’t stop it. It charged. Hit my leg with its face tooth. I fell. Rolled. Stabbed it.

  Bow broke. I didn’t.

  I have meat now. Lots of work. Jerky. Lard. Leather. I brought some to Trixie. She cleaned my wound. Checked my tattoo again. She laughed.

  It’s nice having another person sometimes.

  First snow.

  Trixie says I can’t visit anymore. Guardians asking about a red-haired kid. I told her I’m not a kid. She didn’t laugh. She said if they find me they will hurt me and I can’t come back to town anymore. It’s not safe. Trixie thinks they found out I’ve been borrowing stuff too much.

  I took the long way home.

  I made armor. Not great. Better than nothing. I made a knife. Handle is boar tusk. That’s what it’s called, not a face tooth. ARKNAD says face tooth sound better.

  I’ll make dad one when he gets back.

  The car smelled like dirt, decay, and Moonlit Kisses.

  Robby sat in the patched driver’s seat, candle flickering on the crude table where the passenger seat used to be. Sewing supplies lay scattered. Grain filled the back. Smoke stained the roof black.

  He turned the radio knob.

  Static.

  “…new drone fleets launch from Lunar Prime…”

  Click.

  “…defense grid reconstruction on schedule…”

  Music bled through, warped:

  “…Mama said the stars were friends, Lights that never lose their way.…”

  Click.

  “…First Fleet reporting devastating losses…”

  Click.

  “…asked her, Mama, why’s the sky all red? Why do my wishes in the sky all…”

  Robby went back to the Seattle station. Kept sewing. He wished he’d stop growing so fast.

  He pulled out the photo. Mom. Dad. Park. Smiles.

  He pressed his forehead to the glass.

  Robby was still here.

  Still brave.

  And very, very alone.