THE SECRET FILES

THE SECRET FILES: (Better Than) Best Behavior"Amberrr, my dear, you're always trying to drag me down!""No, I am simply trying to pull you back down to earth, because you are always trying to find the next party you can host."Mr. and Mrs. Chasey were riding in the back of one of their many expensive cars. Amber was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, while her husband Cyrus bounced excitedly."I wonder if Daryl is going to spike the punch bowl again…""Cyrus." Amber said with the same snap as her shutting the handheld mirror. "You need to be on your best behavior. This isn't a party. This is an important committee meeting for the major construction businesses. Gregory Landingson will be there, and we're trying to develop a good partnership with his company, remember?'Cyrus waved away her concerns. "Oh, please. I can do better than the best. I'm a Chasey.""And it's that phrase you've used before you do something irresponsible, like when you jumped and broke a pool table back in college.""Well, I broke it marvelously, didn't I?" Cyrus leaned towards his wife and gave a sly smile.Amber, doing her best and successfully hiding her blushing face, pushed Cyrus' head away. "No matter. We do not need you breaking anything today. Especially not tables. You will be on your most polite, pristine behavior, even if it's not what you consider to be your best."Cyrus opened his mouth to protest, but Amber cleared her throat and went back to her makeup, signifying that the conversation was over- end of discussion.Cyrus huffed and crossed his arms like a child. "Fine."Mr. and Mrs. Chasey pulled up to the meeting, where lines of paparazzi were waiting outside. While this was only a committee meeting, the Chasey's doing anything almost always warranted attention. Especially if it involved the infamously grandiose and wildcard that is Cyrus Chasey. But this time around, Cyrus Chasey gracefully stepped out of the car, spun around, held out his arm, and an equally (if not more) graceful Amber Chasey took his hand and stepped out of the car herself.The two walked down the sidewalk. Amber Chasey lifted her head and walked like a model- a picture perfect shot at any angle. Cyrus would glance at a cameraman and give a wink- a hint of his unseriousness shining through.They entered through the doors and were greeted to a large, yet quiet, formal gathering. Light jazz was being played from the far side of the room, and circular tables were filled with soft, professional banter between the elites, the powerful, and the rich. Amber saw the women in the room see her and begin to fix their own looks, trying to match Amber's poise. Mrs. Chasey, however, didn't notice all the men in the room perk up in anticipation when they saw Cyrus.Amber straightened her back in confidence- all eyes on her was simply more fuel to be perfect. "Now," she said calmly, "let us go and find Mr. Landingson and see if we can negotiate. Cyrus, won't you-"She turned to see that Cyrus was, in fact, no longer at her side."AMBER!!!" a voice boomed in excitement.Mrs. Chasey winced and shut her eyes, the poise fleeing. She barely opened one to look in the direction of the yell to see her husband, Cyrus Chasey, scooping a cup into the punch bowl.“I SPIKED THE PUNCH BOWL, BUT DARYL ALREADY SPIKED IT!! NOW IT’S DOUBLE SPIKED!!!” Cyrus, with the same speed and vigor he had in college, proceeded to chug the drink and slam the cup on the counter. He wiped the remaining punch off of his face and cheered, "NOW THIS IS A PARTY!!!"While she shouldn't be surprised after this many years, Amber could only stare in shock.Cyrus scooped another drink and pointed to the band. "Hit it!"The jazz band kicked into full swing, playing loud, fast, and loose for their new party host. The men in the crowd began to clamor over their own alcoholic beverages they snuck in, and their wives accepted the state of things and began to dance. The lights dimmed to reflect a nightclub, and someone took the liberties of ordering copious amounts of food for the new theme. What was once a civil organization slowly evolved into a night to have fun and forget the uptight life for a while.Amber watched all of this unfold, still holding onto her pristine composure until the bitter end.Cyrus, with the same cocky grin he had in the car, shimmied over to his wife. "Hey! I took a couple of shots with Gregory, and he said that he'd love to work with us! We're meeting up with his team on Tuesday afternoon!" He kissed her hard, creating an incredibly red Mrs. Chasey. He grinned at her, "I told you I'm better than best!"Amber looked at her beaming husband, and a smile appeared on her face. "You always manage to surprise me, Cyrus."Cyrus smiled even more, as if her approval was the only thing he ever worked for."Don't drink too much now, okay?" While Amber's seriousness was front and center, there was a twinge of a smile on the corner of her mouth."Honey, if not listening to you got us our deal, did you really think I'd listen to you now?" He pulled a flask out of his suit jacket and popped it open. Before Amber could protest, she received another giant kiss on the lips.Cyrus then danced away, drinking the flask in the process.Amber picked up a drink, and, using the reflection in the glass, she raised a handkerchief to wipe the smeared lipstick away. However, she stopped just before, and she smiled at the ridiculous love Cyrus had for her. She then wiped her face, and, when she was satisfied, she took a sip.She did marry the best.

THE SECRET FILES: My Type"I think you should go for it!""What?! Are you nuts?!"Oliver looked at Roxanne like she was crazy. Roxanne, being used to Oliver's "you're crazy" face, simply looked at him like he was the one being crazy. They both walked out of the classroom and down the hall towards Oliver's locker."Homecoming is in two weeks, Oliver." Roxanne explained. "If there was any time to ask Priscilla, it would be now!""Roxanne, you know me," Oliver replied. "Every time I think about talking to her, I get all clammed up and I start stuttering because she's just so cool and-""Do I really know you?" Roxanne objected. "Why do you get so embarrassed around her? Usually it's the case that a guy like you wouldn't be able to talk to any girl, but you talk to me just fine."Oliver stopped stammering and stared at her, a bit confused on why she'd ask that. "… Cause you're not my type." Oliver said casually. He then turned to fiddle with the locker combination."Wha-" Roxanne almost got offended, but she quickly swept it under the rug with an idea. "Hey! I'm a woman- why don't you practice asking out Priscilla with me-""Uh," Oliver's face soured and he messed up his locker combination. He began to spin it to try again. "If I even pretended to ask you out, I wouldn't throw up from nerves- I'd throw up out of how gross that would be.""Okay, what? There's no reason to be so rude." Roxanne grumbled."What! It's true!" Oliver protested. "I thought you liked the truth."Roxanne crossed her arms. "But it's not true! I am cute! This is a factual piece of information!"Oliver opened his locker, and he looked at Roxanne. It wasn't just that they were childhood friends, but Roxanne simply wasn't Priscilla Harrison. It wasn't a matter of who was better, it was just a matter of preference. "Isn't beauty in the eye of the beholder? Isn't art subjective? All that jazz?""So now you're saying I'm ugly?!"Oliver grabbed his lunchbox. "Look, it's not like you have a crush on me or anything."Roxanne squinted her eyes. "You're not answering my question.""I'm not answering because it's going to be some stupid thing where no matter what I say, you're going to get ticked off at my response. Besides I probably didn't even pass that boyfriend standards test you have for guys." He closed the locker and the two of them walked to the cafeteria."Hey- is it too much to ask for a man to speak multiple languages, have combat abilities, AND be a skilled alter?" Roxanne said."Wow. What a simple girl with simple needs." Oliver rolled his eyes. "Surprised salary wasn't part of your criteria.""Well, you see." Roxanne began. "Given the fact we're in high school, I don't expect my future husband to have a six figure salary JUST yet. If anything, college plans will be factored into my requirements. But don’t worry, it's being added into the 7th edition of my boyfriend test."Oliver sighed. He mumbled under his breath, "And this is why I don't find you attractive.""So you DO think I'm ugly!!!" Roxanne yelled.He continued to dodge the comment. "Hm, those standards are something that only that one rock alter can fit… what was his name…" Oliver pretended to think. "Oh yeah- Flint!""Flint Chasey?!" Roxanne proceeded to gag. "Eugh! why even bring him up?!""Oh, I don't know…" Oliver knew he struck a nerve. He grinned. "Remember that magazine you had back in middle school?"Roxanne shoved her hand over Oliver's mouth. "Stop it!" she hissed.Oliver pushed the hand away and lifted up his head. "150 Fun Flint Facts?" he said a little louder.Roxanne became more frantic in her attempts to shut Oliver up, now just swatting at Oliver's face. Oliver simply lifted up his arm to block her. "It was purely for investigation purposes!!!" Roxanne said. "And besides, I was twelve!!!" She said that last part slightly louder and looked around awkwardly to make sure people heard.Oliver began laughing. "What, so Flint isn't your dream man? He knows French and German -you told me that fact several times when we were younger. You couldn't stop talking about him, cause you thought he was a spy… But we all know what you really wanted!""Shut up or I'll steal your identity! I can figure out the safe combination where your social security card is! I won't hesitate to find out!" Roxanne screamed as she tried to cover up his mouth again.
Oliver only laughed harder. "He's one of the most powerful rock alters in the country, and I'm sure that a rock to the face is pretty decent combat! And do I even need to bring up his net worth?" Oliver began to make fake kissing noises."I'M NOT LISTENING ANYMORE!" Roxanne began walking faster.Oliver caught up easily. "What's the matter? Why are you getting so flustered over a guy? Can't you talk to me?"Roxanne pointed down a hall. "HEY! IT'S PRISCILLA!!!"Oliver ducked. "SHOOT! WHERE?!"Roxanne grinned."YOU LITTLE-"

THE SECRET FILES: Genuine ParentingAuthor's Note: This is one of my favorite stories that I've ever written.Oliver was a young kid when he was adopted by Hank and Pamela Brooks- he had just barely started first grade. Oliver didn't know what to expect when he stepped into the Brooks' home for the first time.The house was just begging for a child to live in it. The couch in the living room could seat four people. There were two rooms that were completely unused, holding only a couple of random odds and ends. There were dozens of pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Brooks over the years, but the frames looked lonely against the vast, blank wall that held them. Mr. and Mrs. Brooks wanted children, one way or another, and Oliver would be their first.Oliver was quiet. Silent. Oliver stepped carefully around the house, trying not to interfere with anything. He did well in school, but at home, Oliver didn't say much. He'd say a few words here or there- just enough to get the point across. Most of the time, he'd express himself through his actions. His new parents learned what his favorite color was because Oliver wouldn't let go of an orange crayon- even when he slept. He liked the park, because when his parents would talk about anything related to it (even if the word was used in a different context, like if someone said "swing music"), Oliver would stop whatever he was doing and put on his shoes to leave. If Oliver did something, it was deliberate.Pamela was able to meet Oliver where he was, her being the quiet one between her and her husband. They developed a soft and sweet relationship. And that was through stories.Oliver loved reading books. Well, Oliver didn’t do much reading- that was Pamela’s job. Oliver would grab a book from the shelf, carry it over to Pamela, and place it gently in front of her- whether that be in her lap while she knitted, on the table while she was sorting through mail, or any other means of getting her visual attention (one time, Oliver was too impatient and slid a book under the bathroom door while Pamela was using it). Noticing the book, Pamela would look at Oliver and smile. Sometimes, she would say that she needed a minute or two, but most of the time, she'd take the book and pause her work. A big grin would appear on Oliver's face, and he'd run over to the big couch and climb into it. There, he’d kick his feet happily until Pamela walked over and sat down next to him. There, she’d quietly read the story, making sure to tilt the book so that Oliver could see it, who was peering over her arm with the biggest eyes.Hank, on the other hand, had concerns. He knew Oliver had the worst issues with his biological father. He was horrified on how Oliver was treated. But, on top of that, Hank wasn’t particularly known for being calm and quiet. He’d come home from work every day with a big “Honey! I’m home!” and proudly kiss his wife until she was giggling uncontrollably. He sang (horribly but confidently), he laughed (loud and long), and he loved telling stories that made everyone laugh.But around Oliver, Hank refused to do anything that he believed would make Oliver upset. He tried being more like his wife. He didn't talk loud. He didn't talk about his day. He behaved much more calmly, to an unnatural degree- even making sure to answer phone calls from his friends and family outside. However, even if he couldn't express it as big as he wanted to, Hank made sure Oliver knew how much he cared. Hank would say he loved him every night before bed and every morning before he left for work (although then it would be said much more quietly. It didn’t mean Hank meant it any less, Oliver was just a rather light sleeper). Hank would also take Oliver and his wife out, like eating ice cream, going to the park, or to the library to let Oliver pick out a new book.But despite everything Hank did, simply holding out his hand for a fist bump would be met with a reluctant tap from Oliver’s palm.Pamela reassured Hank to give it some time, that he would find something that him and Oliver could bond over, but Hank wasn’t so sure.“I know you don’t want to scare Oliver,” Pamela said one night in bed, “but how is Oliver supposed to be comfortable around you when you’re not even comfortable with yourself?”“I don’t know…” Hank sighed. “I want to cheer for him when he finishes his vegetables. I want to pick him up and spin him around. I want.. to be a dad to him, you know? But that’s not going to happen if he only sees me as some monster… like his father. I can't even bring myself to ask him to call me 'Dad.'” He put his head in his hands.His wife put a hand on his shoulder. “Hank, give him more credit than that- he’s a smart and observant kid. You're not a monster. His mother wasn’t good to him either, but Oliver and I figured out how to click. I think you should try to be yourself. Your genuine self.”“I’ll think about it,” Hank replied.He did think about it, like his wife always suggested, but he always came to the same conclusion: be calm. It's what Oliver needs.Until one fateful day.It was the weekend. Pamela had just taken a chicken pot pie out of the oven. Oliver was standing on one of the chairs, just finishing setting the table. Hank was on the front porch, talking to his brother.Oliver smelled the air and smiled. He loved chicken pot pie.“Oliver, honey, could you go tell Hank that dinner is ready?” Pamela asked.Oliver nodded. He, carefully and methodically, slid off the chair before walking over to the front door. He opened the door, and just as he was about to tap Hank to get his attention-Hank let out a big laugh. “… and then Rick told me-” Hank lowered his voice in a mockingly tone, putting a hand on his hip, “‘Gosh, Hank! Could you be any more stupid?’ Yeah! You don’t remember him saying that? Oh- wait, you were busy trying to get with Stacy Manning! She was so annoying- what the heck did you even see in her?-” he then did his best valley girl impression, snapping his fingers in a Z formation as he talked- “‘Ben, buy me lipstick! Ben, take me to the movies! Ben, I want to go out for dinner!’ No, I’m not going to stop teasing you about that! You-”Hank stopped, having turned to see Oliver looking up at him with big eyes.“Ben, I’ve got to go- I think dinner’s ready.”He hung up the phone, cleared his throat, and calmly asked. “Is dinner ready?”Oliver nodded, refusing to take his eyes off Hank. It looked like Oliver thought about something, but Oliver ran off before Hank could think any more of it.Dinner started like normal, with quiet conversation with the occasional clink of a fork against a plate. Except this time, Oliver couldn’t stop staring at Hank. Oliver also ate quickly- another oddity, and carefully climbed out of his chair. He ran to the bookshelf. He stopped and carefully picked through each book, before finding the one he wanted to read. He ran back over to the table, holding the book high above his head, and placed it gently…… in front of Hank.“Are… are you sure?” Hank asked.Oliver nodded.Hank nervously wiped his hands on his napkin and picked up the book- "Click, Clack, Moo- Cows That Type." Oliver grinned, ran over to the couch, and kicked his feet excitedly. Hank looked over at Pamela, who motioned for him to go sit with Oliver.Hank sat down next to Oliver, but Oliver didn't scoot in to see the book. Instead, he continued to stare at Hank, with those same big eyes."Click, Clack, Moo- Cows That Type." Hank read the title.Oliver stared.Hank took a deep breath and read, nice and slowly, "Farmer Brown has a problem. His cows like to type. All day long he hears click clack moo, click clack moo, clickety clack moo."Oliver tilted his head in confusion."At first," Hank continued calmly, "He couldn't believe his ears. Cows that type? Impossible. Click clack moo, click clack moo, clickety clack moo."Suddenly, a small hand appeared on the page. Hank looked over at Oliver, who shook his head. He was stopping Hank from reading."Read big." Oliver said."Big..?" Hank repeated questioningly.Oliver nodded. "Big."Hank flipped back to the first page. He took a deep breath."Farmer Brown had a problem. His cows-" he gasped quietly, "-liked to type!"A small smile appeared on Oliver's face.Hank returned the smile, and he spoke a little louder. "Alll dayyy looong" he said with a irritated tone, "he hears click clack MOOOOOO."Oliver grinned.Hank's smile got bigger, and so did his voice. "Click clack….. MOOOOOO!"Oliver began to giggle."Clickity…" Hank paused, letting the anticipation set in. Oliver leaned in excitedly. "Clack…" Hank took a deep breath, and Oliver tried to hold in his laugh. "MOOOOOO!"Oliver fell over, too busy laughing to keep himself upright.Hank looked over at Pamela, whose smiling face had a tear in it."At first," Hank continued, "he couldn't believe his ears! 'Cows that type?!'" He said with a deep, southern farmer-y voice. "That's pretty impressive with the hooves," he said with his normal voice. He leaned in towards Oliver. "Do YOU know any cows that can type?"Oliver nodded his head excitedly."You- HUH?!" Hank exclaimed.Oliver was grinning from ear to ear."I don't remember introducing you to any cows!" Hank scratched his head with the book. "Did I take you to a farm without realizing it? Hm. I'll take your word for it. I'm probably just getting old. Well, either which way, I think you'd disagree with this Farmer Brown. You know why?" He then switched back to the farmer voice. 'IMMMM-POSSIBLE!'"Oliver laughed again.Hank continued to read the story, making sure to draw each page out dramatically. Not just for the storytelling sake, but just so that Hank could hear his son laugh for as long as he could. When Hank inevitably reached the end, he sighed, a bit sad that the story couldn't last forever.But Oliver had a different plan."Again!" He yelled excitedly.Author's note: That's the end of the story proper, but I did write a couple of epilogues of sorts.. . .From then on, Oliver would go exclusively to Hank for story time. Hank happily accepted his new role, but, every once in a while, he'd get his wife to help act out a few scenes. Oliver would watch Hank in awe.While Oliver doesn't remember this day in particular, possibly due to how casually Oliver behaved, Hank will never forget it. Hank had just finished his third book. It was getting late, and Oliver had to calm down for bedtime at some point, and Hank told Oliver that, unfortunately, that was the last book he could read to him."That's okay!" Oliver said as he hopped off the couch. "Thanks, Dad!"Hank couldn't stop smiling that night.. . .Eventually, though, things changed, as all things do. Oliver didn't need Hank to read him stories. Because Oliver had a new goal."This is 'Click Clack Moo- Cows That Type!’ It's my favorite book." An eight year old Oliver held the book up to his mother's stomach. "Mom told me that babies can hear stuff outside of the tummy, so I'm gonna read this to you! And all the other ones!"So every day, Oliver read a new story to his unborn sister (but occasionally he’d reread a few favorites or stories he thought his sister liked). He'd use all sorts of tones and voices as he read, all while making sure to exaggerate with his arms. He learned a lot from his dad. Sometimes, Oliver would put a hand on his mom's stomach and he'd feel a little kick. Oliver assured his mom that this was Holly's way of laughing before she could.The months flew by like the flip of pages. And, when Oliver's sister was born, let's just say that nobody was surprised when the first thing Holly did when she was born was laugh.

THE SECRET FILES: Hair CareOliver stared at himself in the mirror. He held up a hairbrush, looked between it and himself, then he shrugged, dropped the brush, and threw on his beanie.If only the other guys could be that fast when they're getting ready.Or at least learn to take proper turns."DON'T YOU DARE GET ANY DYE ON MY PRISTINE HAIR!!!" Flint screamed."IT'S MY TURN TO LOOK IN THE MIRROR!" Vale yelled back. "IF YOU DON'T WANT THE DYE GETTING ON YOUR CRAP, MOVE IT!"Vale had to touch up his dyed hair while Flint had to perform his seven step hair care routine. And there was only one bathroom. One tiny bathroom. That can only fit one at a time. And they were on a time crunch.It was a match made in hell."FINE!" Flint huffed and stormed out of the bathroom. He began spraying down his hair again, still set on continuing his routine."Hey- HEY!" Vale exclaimed. "WATCH WHERE YOU SPRAY THAT HAIRSPRAY! WHY DOES IT EVEN HAVE GLITTER IN IT?!"Oliver sat on the edge of the hotel bed, duffle bag in his lap. He could only see what unfolded outside of the bathroom, but that didn't mean he couldn't hear their argument devolve into madness.Flint finished putting in the hairspray, and he impatiently tapped his foot. "O-KAYYY, I'M DOOONE. I NEED MY BRUSH NOW."A hairbrush flew out of the bathroom clonked Flint square in the face.Flint awkwardly fumbled and caught the hairbrush. "I DON'T HAVE MY CONTACTS IN, YOU IMBECIL!""I DELIBERATELY THREW IT KNOWING THAT INFORMATION, GENIUS!"Suddenly, Flint screamed. "YOU GOT DYE ON MY HAIRBRUSH?!""YOU LEFT IT SITTING NEXT TO MY DYE! WHAT'D YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?!"Oliver realized he never had to wonder what it was like to live with multiple sisters."IS THAT HOW IT'S GOING TO BE?!" Flint screamed. "YOU'RE GOING TO GET A WHOLE FACE FULL OF GLITTER!""DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!" Vale screamed."NO NEED!" Flint grinned devilishly as he aimed the spray. "THIS HAIRSPRAY HAS AN EXTRA LONG RANGE!""HOPE YOU LIKE PURPLE THEN!". . .Flint and Vale sat in the hotel lobby, cross-armed and seething. Vale sparkled like the stars in the night sky. Flint's hair had streaks of purple, the color reminiscent of an ancient king. Oliver looked like he had just witnessed a murder."Woah!" Roxanne exclaimed as she approached the two of them. "I love what you guys did with your hair-""SHUT UP!" they both screamed at the same time.

THE SECRET FILES: Blushing"'Bend your arms at the elbow at a slight angle. It's subtle enough to look natural, but it also accentuates your arm muscles'?"Oliver sighed and folded the paper in his hands. "And this is why you don't have a boyfriend, Roxanne." he mumbled to himself as he put it in his pocket. Roxanne had written an entire document to "help" Oliver flirt, but it comprised of so many specific sections and subsections and footnotes and highlights and… Yeah, this wasn't going to do much.His best friend, Jett, had tried giving him pointers as well."You just need to just let the words flow, man!" Jett told him. "Girls like it when you're a little sappy.""Yeah, right." Oliver rolled his eyes. "Did your 'girlfriend' tell you that?"Jett dropped his arms in annoyance. "Come on, dude! Why don't you believe I've got a girlfriend, huh? After all this time?""Because I've never met her in the, what, four years you've been supposedly dating?" Oliver said."It's a long distance thing!!!" Jett protested. "She lives in Colorado, remember?""Uh-huh.""Look, you'll know what to say. It'll come out so naturally, you won't even realize it. Heck, I don't even realize half of the stuff I say!""That's because you don't care about what you say, period.""Ha! Maybe."Oliver knew that him getting choked up every time he saw Priscilla was a pretty easy thing to be teased about (everyone makes sure to never let it go), but how would you feel if the most gorgeous woman in the world looked in your direction?You'd feel exactly how Oliver felt just then.Turning the corner, chit-chatting with a group of girls, was Priscilla Harrison. She was already a couple of inches taller than Oliver, but that day she wore a flowing yellow sundress and pink two-inch heels. Her hair was a picture-perfect afro, topped off with her blooming pink flowers, the exact same shade as her shoes. Priscilla had her classic gold hoop earrings, and the gold bracelet on her wrist had a little pink jewels that matched everything else. She walked so confidently and proudly, she stood out even more against the crowd.One of the girls told something to Priscilla, and she began to laugh. Priscilla's laugh was contagious- she laughed so much she would nearly fall over, which made people laugh even more. Priscilla then said, in between laughs, something about how badly she ate the ground when she tried to do a difficult spin.Priscilla loved to roller skate (she was in the small, local skating club and had won a few of the competitions held between the neighboring towns), but she also spent a lot of time helping the elementary school. She wanted to be a principal after college, but, for now, she read books to the kids to help build up her resume. And, you know, because reading books to kids is incredibly fun.To say she radiated beauty would be an understatement.As she walked past, she noticed Oliver, smiled, and waved.Oliver's face turned bright red. His hair became pink, and he began slowly floating off the floor. Oliver quickly grabbed the lockers behind him and pulled himself onto the ground. He then waved back at Priscilla, both to return the greeting and to attempt to play it cool.Then, Priscilla looked down at Oliver's chest. "WAIT! Oh, my GOSH! Is that the Iron Giant?"Oliver grabbing whatever random T-shirt from the top of his drawer was the full extent of his morning wardrobe decisions, so Oliver didn't actually realize what he was wearing until he looked down himself.He looked back at Priscilla, eyes wide in surprise. "Yeah, yeah! It's one of my favorite movies.""No way- me too!!!" she beamed. "It's such an amazing story, and the animation is just so beautiful, I literally cry every time I watch the end…" Priscilla continued to praise the film.Somehow, Priscilla became more attractive than ever before.Priscilla snapped out of her trance and shook her head. "Woah! Sorry, I've been talking for WAY too long. So, uh, where'd you even get your shirt? I've got to get one for myself!"Oliver thought for a moment. "Oh- my mom got it for me for Christmas this year! I think she got it online…""Online? I'm going to look as soon as I get home!"One of the girls gave Priscilla a look. "Girl, you already have enough clothes as is. You're going to end up buying a whole outfit to go with it!""Sarah!" Priscilla laughed. "I promise I won't do that- I already have this skirt at home that would go so well with it- I swear!""And if it's off by a single shade or anything like that?" the other girl raised an eyebrow."Hey, hey! I take color coordination very seriously, Gabby!" Priscilla replied. "It can make a huge difference. And especially when it comes to lighting- oh my GOSH. I hate it when a color looks a certain way in my room but then the moment I step out of the house it's, like, ten times brighter-""And you think that matters in the slightest?" Gabby asked."It does," Oliver replied, smiling. "Or, at least, I can see how much it means to Priscilla. Priscilla's a new work of art every day when she comes to school. It's incredible."Oliver only realized what came out of his mouth when he saw the girls staring at him. He quickly cupped his mouth with his hand, his face now matching his very pink hair.Priscilla blushed. "Oh, thank you, Oliver! No one's ever said that to me.""Uh- UM." Oliver began backing up slowly, using the lockers as a support. His hair became an even brighter shade of pink, but not as pink as his face. "I, uh, I GOTTA GO. I LEFT THE STOVE ON OR SOMETHING!" He turned to run, but he tripped over a student digging through one of the bottom lockers, and Oliver fell flat onto the… ceiling. He pushed himself off, grabbed the top of the lockers, and began pulling himself down the hallway and turned the corner."See you in math!" Priscilla called out.Suddenly, she turned towards her friends. "AGH! That was so embarrassing! I just kept rambling on and on about The Iron Giant and clothes and barely gave him any time to talk and-""Priscilla. Relax." Gabby said. "Why do you get so worked up over him anyway? You've never acted like this with any guy in the past.""Yeah, you're acting like you just saw Michael Jackson or something." Sarah added."Because he's just so cute!" Priscilla buried her head in her hands. "And sweet, and I had the PERFECT chance to talk to him like a normal person and all I did was talk and talk and-""Girl, you're a serious case." Sarah took Priscilla's hand and began leading her down the hall. "Let's just get you to English."

THE SECRET FILES: Where There Is no Struggle, There Is no Jelly“Gosh, this lid is screwed on pretty tight.”Oliver twisted and tugged at a jar of jelly. He was simply trying to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but he didn’t think he’d have to get in a full on arm workout in order to do so. He twisted harder, but the jar lid wouldn't move.“Well this is pathetic to watch.”Oliver looked up and saw Roxanne standing across the bar. She held out her hand, waiting for Oliver to hand it to her.He sighed and tossed her the jar. “Good luck with it.”Roxanne smiled. “Oliver, I know all the tricks. I can open any jar I want.” She twisted at the lid, realized how stuck it was, and then took the jar and lightly tapped the lid end on the countertop. Then, she twisted again. Still wouldn’t budge. She ran the lid under water, hoping to loosen it. She twisted it again. Nope."How many tricks do you know, exactly?" Oliver asked.Roxanne was now shaking the jar violently. "As many as it takes to open this jar!"“Want me to go get Flint?” Oliver asked."Heck. No." Roxanne grunted as she pounded on the lid.Oliver rubbed his head. "I mean, the jar is made of glass. Glass is sand. Flint's rock powers could really come in handy.""Please." Roxanne began turning the jar. "Like I'd accept defeat and take the easy way out just like that. Besides, he'll probably just shatter the glass. Flint's way too full of himself to not force all of his power onto a small jar.""Maybe…" Oliver watched Roxanne struggle with the lid. "But I am hungry though.""Persistence can't happen without patience, Oliver!" Roxanne exclaimed. "You're going to get this jelly one way or another! Even if it takes all day!""All day?! Okay- I'm not that desperate for jelly!" Oliver turned back to his sandwich. "I'll just eat the sandwich without it." He grabbed the bread and was about to put his peanut butter sandwich together-A laser of light hit Oliver's bread. He dropped the bread in surprise. "Dude! You almost hit me in the eye! What the heck was the laser finger for?! Are you trying to make me blind?!”"I wasn't aiming for you!" Roxanne lowered her hand, a dim glow on her finger left over from firing. "You wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and you're going to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich! Now step away from that bread and let me do this or else I will aim for you!"Oliver took a few careful steps away. "I can't believe you're threatening my life over jelly."Vale, hearing all of the commotion, walked into the kitchen. He looked between Oliver staring sadly at his incomplete sandwich and Roxanne biting the jelly jar."Hey, why don't you at least let Vale try?" Oliver asked."Not a chance." Roxanne said in between biting the lid. "I don't think Vale's gloves are that grippy anyway.""First off, my gloves have plenty of grip." Vale replied. "Second, it's much more entertaining watching Oliver have a literal mental breakdown over a sandwich.""I'm not having a mental breakdown!" Oliver said. "I'm just hungry! And Roxanne's threatening to shoot me! Is it too much to ask the world for a gosh darn sandwich?!""Uh-huh." Vale sat down in one of the bar stools. "Sure.""Okay wise guy." Roxanne stopped gnawing on the jar. "If you're so high and mighty, why don't you try to open it?""I thought you said you didn't want to give up." Oliver said."This isn't giving up." Roxanne set the jar in front of Vale. "I just want to be assured that Vale knows the severity of this situation. This jar is literally impossible to open."Vale picked up the jar. He tugged on it once. He then set it down. "Eh, just get Flint to open it."Oliver eagerly pointed at Vale and looked at Roxanne. "THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING!!!""You're pathetic!" Roxanne snatched the jar up. "You're both pathetic! Where's your determination? Your drive?! Don't you want the internal gratification of accomplishing a difficult task yourself?!""Not for a stupid jar of jelly." Vale replied."UGH!" Roxanne went back to work.Flint burst into the kitchen. "Is someone in need of my assistance?"“NO.” Roxanne hissed.“If it’s entertaining.” Vale yawned.“I just want a sandwich…” Oliver sighed.Flint leaned over Roxanne. "And all of this over a measly glass jar?"Roxanne hunched over the jar. “This is none of your business!”“Oh, but it is my business.” Flint replied. “Do I need to remind you of my incredible abilities when it comes to the manipulation of rock and gems? Which would just so happen to include glass?”“Okay, hand the jar over to Flint.” Vale said. “I’m not listening to the musical number for the fifth time today.”"Alright, alright." Roxanne held up the jar. "But at least try to open it without shattering it."Flint picked the jar out of Roxanne's hand. "Thank you."Flint gripped the jar and twisted. It wouldn't move. "Hm. This jar is asking for more than my raw strength." Flint tossed the jar around in his hand. "I guess I'll have to use my magnificent powers this time!" He gripped the jar, concentrated hard, and-SMASH!The jar was shattered in Flint's hands. Thankfully, none of the glass flew anywhere, and Flint's skin couldn't get cut by glass. As for the jelly, however…Roxanne wiped jelly off of her eyes. "What did I tell you."Oliver looked down at his sandwich, now slathered in jelly. He picked up the bread, smushed it together with a schhhlop, and took a bite. "Finally." He said with a mouthful of sandwich.Flint stared at his ruined clothes in horror. He then looked in his hands- the jar lid was still tight on the top of the glass, despite the rest of the jar being in pieces. "WHY?!" He cried out.Vale stood up, wiping the jelly off of jacket. "Welp, sorry to hear about the jar, but that's about all the fun I can stand." He began to walk out of the kitchen. He then turned around. "Oh, but if you need help putting it back together…" He held up a small bottle. "I've got some gorilla glue." He grinned.

THE SECRET FILES: Flint's Morning Routine6AM sharp. Flint yawned and reached for the blaring alarm. He picked it up- 6:28.Close enough.Flint, for as long as he can remember, had always been able to sleep through loud sounds, including alarm clocks. It might be because his dad threw a party for three days straight when he was born, or it could just be that Flint was a heavy sleeper. No matter the reason, Flint made sure to set his alarms earlier than when he actually needed to be up to compensate.Before he ever steps out of the room, Flint gets fully dressed and ready to go. Not because he was disciplined (he sometimes dreams of having a day where he could eat breakfast in his pajamas), but because there were always people watching him. People with expectations. People like his mother.After the one groan of tiredness he allowed himself, Flint stretched and climbed out of bed. He sleepily picked up the schedule left on his nightstand, took one glance at it, and tossed it over his shoulder. Even though he supposedly wasn't going to have anything important until the evening, that didn't mean his mom wouldn't spring a surprise interview or sponsorship deal on him as soon as she saw him.There was a knock at the door. "Flint- your mother has scheduled a jewelry photoshoot with your sister's new line of products in L.A.. The jet is preparing for flight as we speak."And sometimes, the surprise happens before Flint's mom saw him at all.Well, Rock. Flint sighed. He stretched his arms out one more time. Showtime."Thank you for telling me, Miss Jamie! I'll be ready in a few." Flint called out.He grabbed a breakfast bar from the small shelf of snacks on the wall. Flint always woke up hungry, so he always ate a little something, even if he was going to have a meal not too long after on the jet (besides, with how much he moves around in the day, he needs every ounce of energy he can get). Holding the unwrapped bar in his teeth, he rummaged through his clothes. He pulled out his signature outfit, and, shoving the bar into his mouth, he changed his clothes.Flint brushed his teeth while he made sure his clothes weren't wrinkled or tucked under something wrong. After brushing, Flint performed his twelve step hair and skin routine. He had to rush it, but even a swift routine had better results than a no-routine. A bit of this, a lot of that, and a mix of those later, he was ready. He did one final turnaround check, looked at himself in the mirror, and he snapped his fingers and winked. "Hello, handsome!"He quickly gathered his essentials into a duffle bag- his hair care products, his skincare products, toiletries, and an extra change of clothes. The butlers were usually very good with making sure Flint had everything he needed, but Flint liked knowing for sure that he had his important stuff on hand. He quickly brushed his hair one more time, threw it into the bag, and zipped it up.Flint slung the duffle bag over one shoulder and threw his school backpack over the oher- something he rarely used since his tutor taught him in the sunroom down the hall. Flint would have to work on his homework on the plane, but he didn't mind. Looking out the window at all the clouds was Flint's favorite way of brainstorming.Flint opened the door and walked quickly down the stairs, hopping across the last few steps to save time. He was just about to get to the door when a voice called his name."Flint, dear!"Flint spun around and saw his mother making his way towards him."Did you pack your schoolwork?" she asked.Flint nodded. "Yes ma'am, I did.""Good." She kissed Flint on the forehead. "Now go and make me proud like you always do! I love you!""Love you too, Mom." He smiled and walked out the door."Oh- Flint!" Mrs. Chasey called out. "Don't forget your-"Flint held up his hand, and, out one of the open second story windows flew Flint's golden staff, which landed flawlessly into his grasp."That's my Chasey!" she beamed.Flint climbed into the backseat of the limo that would take him to the airport. He closed the door, put his seatbelt on, pulled some math homework out of his backpack and began working. Today was going to be a long day.

THE SECRET FILES: A Morning with HollyHolly woke up to the sound of her alarm. It's time for school. Yay…. She groaned and rolled out of the bed and onto the ground with a thud, taking the blanket with her. She slipped on her hedgehog slippers and walked into the kitchen. Luckily, the smell of breakfast would wake her up just fine."BACON!!!" she exclaimed. She scrambled over to the table, where a plate of eggs and bacon waited for her-The plate was snatched up by none other than her big brother, Oliver. "Good morning to you too. But you haven’t had any sun or soil yet. And stuffing dirt into your boots before you leave doesn't count, Holly.""Ughhh, you're no fair!" Holly grumbled. "I'm hungry!""I promise the food will be just as good when you come back." Oliver said. He turned to the oven and smiled. "Especially when these… cinnamon rolls are done.""CINNAMON ROLLS?!" Holly yelled."Shh!" Oliver laughed a little. "Don't wake up Mom!""Too late!" their mom's voice called from down the hall.Oliver sighed and playfully smacked Holly on the head with a hand towel. "Just stand for a few minutes, okay?"Holly ran over to the big window next to the living room that faced the morning sun, where three giant flower pots sat. She took off her slippers, rolled up her pajama pants, and dug her feet into the dirt. She reached over to a small table and picked up a hairbrush and brushed her hair out- ensuring that as much of it got sunlight as she could. She then took the hose (the Brooks family had a hose that was installed inside the house) and watered the dirt she stood in. After positioning herself, she simply relaxed.Holly didn't know much about how everything worked when it came to herself (nor did she really want to- taking one look at Oliver's biology homework made her head hurt), but it didn't take a high school class to look at plants. Most plants kinda just stand and sway with the breeze. Sturdier plants with thick branches and strong roots could stand pretty still on its own and only get really shaken up in storms. She also thought about how horses sleep standing up. She's not a horse, of course, but she imagined that there's something that connects them together. Holly's sturdy branches were her bones, and when she relaxed, instead of flopping over like a rag doll, she simply just stood upright.So, Holly stood there, soaking up sun and nutrients. The smell of cinnamon filled the air, and Holly closed her eyes. You could easily fall asleep here. Heck, there had been many nights when Holly fell asleep in the pot and Oliver had to dig her out and carry her to bed.Sometimes, Holly wished her brother was a plant alter. He never really seemed to relax, even on family vacations to the mountains (which was Oliver's favorite place to be).One time, when Holly was really little, she dragged Oliver over to the flower pots and dug Oliver a spot for his feet. She was determined to get her brother to relax. He awkwardly stepped into the pot, and Holly patted the dirt down very carefully, ensuring everything sat nicely. Then, she hopped into her own pot. The sun shined, the window was open and letting in a wonderful breeze, and the dirt was cool. It was perfect. She beamed at Oliver, and Oliver did return the smile. But for Oliver, he was just, you know, standing in dirt."Breakfast is ready!"Holly snapped out of her trance. She eagerly yanked her legs out of the dirt and ran to the table, leaving behind a trail of dirty footprints. Holly began to climb into her seat-“Who left a trail of dirt in my kitchen?!” Pamela Brooks exclaimed.Cinnamon rolls would have to wait a little bit longer.

THE SECRET FILES: Christmas Fright (a Twas the Night Before Christmas Parody)Twas the night before Christmas, in the house that was jollyNot a creature was stirring, with the exception of Holly;She sat behind the stockings on the chimney with fear,Knowing that St. Nicholas soon would be here;She couldn't get nestled all snug in her bed,While phantoms of sugar-plums played with her head;With Mom and Dad out cold as they napped,No one was there to help Holly when she gasped-Out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,Holly clutched the wooden bat, there was no time to scatter.Away to the window, she prepared to bash,She tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.The moon on the horizon of a long-dead lawnMade the entire world ghostly, the color long-gone.When, what to her terrified eyes should appear,But an animated sleigh, and eight mythical reindeer,With a dwarfish old driver, so vicious and quick,Holly knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.More feral than wolves his coursers they came,And he whistled, and shouted, and evoked them by name;"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"As dry leaves that swirl before the wild hurricane fly,When they meet with an obstacle, they surge to the sky;So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,With the sleigh full of coal, and St. Nicholas too.And then, in a heartbeat, Holly heard on the roofThe thundering and pawing of each rugged hoof.As she drew in her head, and was turning around,Breaking in through the chimney, Santa landed with a bound.He was dressed in fur, from his head to his foot,But his clothes were tarnished by the ashes and soot;A bundle of coal he had flung on his back-The punishment for falling short, for which there is no slack.His eyes twinkled unearthly. His dimples- how scary!His cheeks red like blood, his nose like a cherry!His sideways smile was wider than mostAnd the beard of his chin was as white as a ghost;The stump of a pipe he clutched tight in his teeth,And smoke circled his head like a snake seeking meat;He had a broad face and a stubby round belly,That shook when he laughed, like a devilish melody.He was chubby and plump, a terrifying elf,And Holly laughed when she saw him, in nervousness- needing help;A snap of his head and a wink in his eye,Soon gave Holly to know he's sparing her demise;He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,And filled stockings with coal; then turned with a smirk,And laying his finger aside of his nose,And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;Holly sprang up in bed. Just a nightmare, she can feel.Her brain had fed lies- Santa's not real,But she heard him screech, despite waking from her fright,"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-fright!"

THE SECRET FILES: Alone. Not LonelyNote: This (along with one of the other stories in the secret files) is something I'd not only consider to be canon, but hopefully, whenever I finish the entirety of the story, this will be part of it. So, enjoy this little look into the main storyline!"You're a weird guy. Did you know that?"Holly wandered outside of the motel door to see Vale sitting on a railing overlooking the parking lot and a highway. As she closed the door behind her, the sound of Roxanne, Oliver, and Flint arguing with each other faded away.Holly loved the little adventure she had been going on, but no matter where they went, Vale always opted to spend a good chunk of the evening outside. Headphones in, staring out into some distant world. Alone.To distract herself from the more perilous parts of her summer, Holly had made it her mission to become friends with Vale for the short time they’ve known each other. Despite there not being much in common between a kid made out of plant and a twenty one year old computer scientist, that didn’t deter Holly from starting every conversation under the sun, from the weather to cartoons and favorite colors. Every time she tries, though, she’s met with the same responses: “get lost,” “go bother someone else,” and “I already told you- my favorite color is purple.”"Weird, huh?" Vale replied with a small turn of his head towards her. She was taken aback by Vale’s abnormal reaction.He took an earbud out- the sign to Holly (and anyone else for that matter) that Vale would tolerate the train of thought from the hyper eleven year old. At least for now.Holly internally celebrated (she didn’t think she’d make it this far), but then she thought hard about what she’d say next.Holly scratched her head. "Well, not Flint weird- he's full of himself. Not Roxanne weird- she's overanalytical. And my brother Oliver's more of a nervous wreck weird. But you… you're like a… an 'I don't care' weird."Holly sat on the ground and scooted her legs through the railing bars. Swinging her feet, she wasn't afraid of heights, but she was perplexed by how nonchalant Vale was about sitting on top of the railing itself. One small lean forward and he could fall. And yet, his face was the same emotion it always seemed to be- stone cold."Wouldn't call it weird." Vale replied. "It's just me.""So… do you like being by yourself all the time?" Holly asked."Eh." Vale shrugged. "'Like' is a strong word. Feelings are kind of irrelevant to whatever's going on. But to answer your question, you're your own best company. Nobody knows you like you do.""Well, you can still be your best friend and still be with other people, right?" Holly asked. "I sit and imagine stuff all the time in my own head, even when I'm with my friends. Can't you just do that with us?""Imagining isn't the same as being by yourself.” Vale said. “But, God, if you guys weren't so loud, maybe I would hear my own thoughts. Or at least my music.""So you like- no, wait, don't mind being lonely? Isn’t that still by yourself?""Let me tell you something real quick.” Vale began. “Being alone isn't the same as being lonely. Lonely is for people who can't handle being alone. They don’t trust themselves. The silence eats at them. Alone is for the people who can stand on their own two feet. Completely independent. Self sufficient. Alone is for me.”"I'm confused… isn't 'lone' in 'alone'-?" Holly waved her fingers in the air like she was doing some kind of English mental math.Vale sighed. "Look, Bud, you're pretty observant. You like to ask a bajillion questions, and I’m not the best teacher. But, if you want to know so bad, why don't you just try being alone yourself? Let the breeze flow thoughts through your head. Watch the cars go by. Soak in the silence. You might like it." He mumbled under his breath, “I know I'd soak up the silence."Holly shook her head a little. "Uh, I'm not sure. I don't like being lonely." She pondered for a moment. “I like knowing there’s people that care about me that I can depend on. And I know that people need their me time, but I guess I just don’t understand why you would want to be alone all the time, you know?”She swung her feet back through the railing. "I’m gonna go back inside, but I think I just broke my record for how long I could talk to you before you get annoyed! See you later, Vale!”Vale watched her pick herself up and give him a friendly wave. He tugged on the end of his gloves, pulling them tight. God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this."I get not wanting to try.” Vale said. Holly stopped and turned around. “And I'm not sure how happy Oliver would be if I let you wander off alone." Vale took out out a small, brightly colored box from his pocket.Holly gasped. “Wait- is that a Flavor Blast Juice Punch Juice Box? I knew I saw you buy those at the grocery store! I can recognize my favorite drink from anywhere! I knew it knew it knew it!”"And if you keep your little mouth mouth shut,” Vale hissed, but then he paused and cleared his throat. “You can, uh, learn how to be alone right here. With a juice box." He gestured to the spot Holly had just got up from."Really?" Holly eagerly scrambled back to the rail. "You don't want to be lonely anymore?"Vale gave Holly a look. "Hold on. First off, it's still not lonely- it's alone." He tossed the juice box to her, and she fumbled to catch it. "Second, we're still going to be alone. Just… in the same general vicinity." He pulled out another juice box, tore off the straw with his mouth, and stabbed it through the top."Okay!!" Holly began swinging her feet excitedly. "I'm glad I can keep you company. And I'm glad you saved this juice box for me.""Can it, pip squeak." Vale replied. "It's supposed to be quiet. And before you get any ideas, I didn't save that juice box for you. I grab two because those boxes are way too small.""Yeah, they're kid's drinks."Vale glared at Holly, who had a mischievous grin. He then zipped his fingers across his lips. "I won’t say it again. Don't say a word here, and don't you dare say a word about the juice to anyone else, okay?"Holly zipped her fingers across her lips and threw away an imaginary key. She gave a thumbs up. She then brought the juice to her mouth and pretended to not be able to drink it with her sealed lips. She then pretended to panic and tried to find the imaginary key she tossed.Vale shook his head. He looked out across the scene. Him and Holly eased into the peace and quiet. Blobs of cars and headlights zipped along the road in the distance. The breeze carried a plastic water bottle across the concrete, creating a soft tap tap tap as it hit the pavement.He didn’t really know why he asked Holly to stay. Heck, he couldn’t even tell why he even responded to her in the first place. It wasn’t like anything was different, right? They were just sitting outside drinking juice with way too much sugar.The breeze then ran through Vale's head, this time carrying the sound of Holly finishing the last of the juice box. She wasn't wasting a single drop.A smile broke through Vale’s cheeks for a brief moment.Maybe being alone doesn’t have to be so lonely after all.

THE SECRET FILES: Cyrus Chasey and the PrincessAmber Chasey, most days, was calm and collected, and she could handle a bit of stess.Today, however, was not her day."No no no," Amber sternly said on the phone, "I need turquoise flowers, not sky blue. Please correct this immediately." She hung up and dialed another number. She grew a bit more agitated as she listened. "What do you mean you're out of steak? I set up this catering weeks ago! Just- just figure it out!" She hung up, and she collapsed onto the couch. Throwing her hand over her face, she sighed. "This can't be happening. Not today.""Mrs. Chasey, ma'am?""What is it, Harold…" she groaned without bothering to look. "Is the golf course on fire or something?""Um, yes, actually…" Harold, the butler, replied. "Word must travel faster than I can."Amber shot up. "WHAT?!""But do not be alarmed! Please don't be alarmed." Harold was professional, but the slight quiver in his voice made it clear that he was closer to begging for Amber to spare his life than simply relaying information. "The sprinkler systems were turned on- it got rid of most of the fire, and the damage is minimal. I can assure you that your gathering tonight is not ruined.""But with everything else going wrong, it might as well be!" she exclaimed. Amber collapsed back onto the couch. "Just… just leave me alone for a while. I can't handle all of this right now."The butler turned and left without another word, not even daring to bring up how Flint accidentally destroyed one of the lion statues at the front gate, and him and his brothers were desperately working to try to put it back together before she noticed. If Amber's seismic abilities were stronger, she'd overhear one of her sons ask the brilliant question, "Which way does a lion's head face again?"Amber then heard footsteps, something a lot closer in proximity and something a normal pair of ears could pick up. "Whoever it is, it better be good news, or else." she demanded."It's better than that! It's your loving husband!" Mr. Chasey strode into the living room as if he was expecting an applause.Cyrus was shocked to see his wife exasperated and defeated. Quickly rushing to her side, he exclaimed, "Honey- what's wrong? I haven't even done anything to make you upset with me yet!""Then you'd be the exception today." Amber sighed. "Nothing is going well today."Cyrus replied, "Ohhh, yeah. I thought I heard you talk about the steak and the flowers on the phone. The lion statue must've been the cherry on top, wasn't it?""The WHAT?!""Nevermind!" Cyrus quickly said. "Look, I know you've got this. You always have a way of getting things in order! Remember the swarm of turkeys that bombarded our Hawaii statue unveiling?""I know, I know," Amber replied, "but there's just so many things that are falling apart so quickly- today, of all days. There’s no time to fix anything- I might as well just cancel the whole thing!""CANCEL?!" Cyrus cried. "A PARTY?!""Cyrus, this is a professional gathering, not a gala.""NO ONE'S CANCELING ANYTHING ON MY WATCH!" Cyrus began doing something that always made Amber worried- he began to think."Whatever crazy ideas you have, please keep in mind…" Amber said. "The gala is tonight."Cyrus paced back and forth, list in thought. "Yes, yes, I'm taking care of everything! Nobody makes my wife feel like dirt! Not when I'm around! And then, I'm going to make you feel better!" He then cleared his throat. "HAROLD, MY MAN! Get over here!"Harold quickly walked into the living room. "Yes, sir?""Tell the restaurant to make a trip to that meat market off the highway, and give them as much money as they need to get there, get all the meat in stock, get back, and cook it. Also order beer. People like beer. Then tell the flower people to place the flowers in the shady parts of the patio- nobody will notice the off color if the whole bunches are in the shade! And as for the grass, spray-paint it! Or, wait! Better yet, tell the boys to get their paintball guns when they finish with the lion statue. Let ‘em have a little fun. But when they do finish with the lion statue, get the girls to look at it. There's a good chance the head might be put on backwards."Harold was jotting everything down on a notepad. "And as for everything else, sir?"Cyrus nonchalantly picked up one of the many abstract marble statues laying around the mansion. He turned to face Harold. "Tell them that if it's not up to my wife's standards, they'll have to deal with her very.” The statue began to crack. “Very.” More cracks “Very.” The statue crumbled. “Very supportive husband.” He brushed off his hands, still keeping his eyes fixated on Harold. ”She's been through so much this morning alone, and I will NOT tolerate her being irritated by anyone else other than ME. Understand that?"Harold nodded, turned, and quickly walked away.Cyrus turned to his wife, who was in the middle of adoring all the reasons why she married him in the first place. "Now, about making you feel better…"He scooped her up in his arms with ease, and Amber laughed a little- equal parts nervousness and anticipation. "Honey, what are you doing?"Cyrus gave her his signature mischievous grin. "I think I just freed up your schedule for the rest of the day, didn't I?" He kissed on the cheek and nuzzled her neck.Amber, who was now blushing, smiled and ran her hand down his chest. "I suppose you did. But I think we should still tell everyone how terribly busy we'll be.""Mmm-hm!" Cyrus hummed as he kissed his wife on the lips.He carried her up the stairs like a heroic prince, taking his princess far, far away from all the stress, kissing her up and down the whole time.

THE SECRET FILES: The NoteOliver, still in bed and had barely just put on his glasses, squinted at the sticky note left on his hand, fiddling with his phone in the other. He lifted the phone to his ear and waited.Roxanne answered immediately. "I'm impressed- you completed all of my challenges far sooner than I imagined! Well done!""What, no…" Oliver rubbed his eyes. "What… what on earth are you talking about? I'm calling about this note you left.""On your bike?""No.""On the cereal box?""No.""In the washing machine?""No- no- wait, how many sticky notes are there?""Unimportant information- just tell me what note you're looking at." Roxanne replied.Oliver looked up to see dozens of sticky notes covering various items in just his room alone."Uh, right." Oliver said. "The one on my hand. It's complete gibberish.""Gibberish?" Roxanne exclaimed. "Are you calling Latin gibberish?""Wha- why do you think I'd be able to read Latin?!" Oliver asked."It's not about understanding it, it's about the thrill of the mystery!" Roxanne replied. "Don't you want to know what it says?""Yeah… so I called you.""That defeats the whole point!" Roxanne said. "You clearly don't have a drive for adventure.""This isn't about adventure, Rox," Oliver explained, "this is just me wondering what the heck you're doing.""Making fantastic use of the spare key your family gave me!" Roxanne replied."But… this isn't an emergency." Oliver replied. "We gave you it for emergencies only.""Oliver, an emergency is just a situation you haven't planned for. I'm helping you prepare for any situation using fun and engaging activities!""So… stuff like how to put out a fire are written on these sticky notes… in Latin?""Exactly!" Roxanne cheered. "But there are also a few in a mix of Egyptian hieroglyphics and Wingdings! Then, after translating, you have to figure out which step goes with what plan AND the order it goes in! If you need help, recruit your family members! It can become a family bonding moment! I'm literally creating new memories for you guys to share that not only will last a long time, but will help you live a long time! Isn't that exciting?""I'm… just going to clean up all of these before my parents think some crazy serial killer broke into the house." Oliver sighed.

WELCOME TO THE SECRET FILESGood job! You clicked the underlined word. That's going to be a running theme in the character pages. Maybe you should click more underlined words. Be wary, though! There will be some red herrings!(If you're found this page after finding some of the other pages first, then you still did a good job! You charted your own course and dove right in to find things for yourself.)

THE SECRET FILES: Nothing HalfwayNote: I am merely the editor of this story. After talking about my characters with a friend of mine, they surprised me with this incredibly crafted story. While I do believe this story should be canon, the relationship these two have is a lot more genuine than it is depicted in my own work. Maybe it's a result of creative differences between writers, or maybe it's the case that these two characters did, at one point, share a strong love together. But either way, I hope you enjoy reading this work as much as I have.Amber was deeply confused on why Cyrus invited her to a volcano. She didn't mind the heat- many of her early jewelry modeling shows were located in warm climates, but she did hope that she wouldn’t have to call her heli-pilot for an emergency exit. The volcano may have been dormant, but with Cyrus around, not even that was guaranteed.As she exited, she found herself being attended to by several rock alter monks, each wearing blindfolds. She hesitated, and one of the monks turned to her."Do not worry, miss. Our eyes may not be able to see the light, but our ears can sense every footstep. Every monk in the valley can in an instance discern where every other is without confusion. For example, the one you are here for is pacing rather eagerly as we speak."Amber was quite surprised—for a usually chaotic man, this was oddly well thought out for Cyrus. The monk began to walk towards the mainland, and Amber quickly followed behind.“I suppose I should introduce myself, I…”“You are Ms. Amber Du Monte." the monk smiled. "Madame, there is no need to stress yourself. Young Master Chasey has already taken care of all the details. In fact, he’s taken care of nearly everything in the valley—we had fallen under hard times in recent memory until the young Chasey heir heard our plea. He bought the whole volcano and all the land around it, and allowed us to stay and cultivate the land as we've been for generations.”“That is… quite generous of him. Cyrus is quite good at extravagant gifts.”“Indeed madame. All he asked in exchange is that he would be able to arrange trips to the volcano every now and then.”Amber didn’t have much to say—even if she was adjusting to the heat, all of this was overwhelming. Their relationship in college had been very on again and off again—not from breaking up, but more of getting busy. Amber was always designing new fashion lines or premiering in new shows. And Cyrus… well, he was busy balancing making his family very wealthy and making his lawyers very wealthy. One day he’d call her and promise a date, and then she wouldn’t see him for a week until he showed up in a full gold suit and a golden tiara on a pillow for her to wear. He was sweet, charming, and often romantic, but also wild, unpredictable, and infuriating. She never quite knew what to do with him.“Either way you take it, Ms. Du Monte,” said the monk, nearly startling Amber in how he could sense her unsure expression. "I wouldn’t worry. Young master Chasey has a big heart in every direction—joy, anger, passion, pain—he feels it all and always grandly. But his eye does seem to be tuned to the subtler things in life.”The monk stopped. Amber’s eyes stopped drifting and she noticed a small tram car waiting ahead.“Young Master Chasey is waiting on the other end of the line. I can accompany you if you wish.”“Thank you sir, but I think I can take it from here.” Amber needed some time to think. Or at least, that’s how she rationalized it in her head. More than likely it would be sitting as her brain churned over what inane plan Cyrus had concocted this time.The trolley car was brand new. Inside the trolley were two opposite rows of comfortable seats and a simple control panel. On the inner wall across from the panel was a brass plaque: “Cauldera Monastery Trolley Line — generously funded by The Chasey Foundation”.As the trolley began its descent into one of the volcano’s ravines, Amber tried placing her hand on the railing—her fine tuned senses were great when it came to her work designing jewelry, but it didn’t have quite the range most rock alters had. Even her nephew Darius, who’s father married a light alter and who’s children ended up the same way, still had a bit of the vibrational sense. But not Amber—she was a woman of precision. She preferred regularity and accuracy. Perfection, nothing less; that was the Du Monte way. It was a bit dull at times, but such are the demands of a woman like herself. The Du Monte’s were a dynasty built on certainty, not risk taking.“Speaking of risk taking…” Amber watched as the trolley entered the ravine, and as it entered the corridor the sunlight slowly faded out of reach. But the trolley didn’t darken—instead, the yellow of day was slowly replaced by something more purple in nature. As her eyes began to adjust, she started to make out the ultraviolet floodlights that paneled the walls; they spilled out their invisible beams throughout the cavern, lighting up every gem and geode like it was Christmas and the Fourth of July all at once.Leaning closer to the window, she finally spotted him. He was still pacing back and forth until his head perked up; sensing the trolley, he suddenly stopped, brushed back his hair with his hands, and adjusted his collar. All with a goofy, cocky grin on his face.Just like when we first met, Amber thought. Always confident to a fault. Always over dramatic no matter the circumstance. Always leaving butterflies in her chest, even if she couldn’t tell you why.At last the trolley lowered onto the platform, and the door swung open. Amber gripped her armrest, expecting some sort of cinematic fanfare with horns and bugles and a full marching band. Instead, a soft violin began to play in the background, like a mother might play for her children. In to the cabin walked on Cyrus Chasey. He nearly sputtered out some clever line, but before he could, his eyes began to cling onto Amber’s. He looked at her and smiled.“Hello, my dear Amber. It’s been far too long.”“Cyrus,” Amber smiled playfully, “I saw you two weeks ago at the gala, remember?”“I do remember, but a memory is only so good compared with the real thing.” He paused for a moment, as if he was an actor who couldn’t remember a line. “I hope you don’t mind the music—I would have gotten someone to play live, but I wanted tonight to be just for the two of us.”He leaned in and before she knew what was happening, he had one hand around her waist and another holding her left hand. Guiding her out of the trolley car, she founded herself in a clearing within the mountain caves. Aside from the floodlights, all she could see was a table for two with a candle already lit, and a simple platter still covered.“Oh Cyrus, I hope you didn’t prepare some fancy dinner for us—I ate dinner with the ambassador to Bohemia during…”Cyrus quietly laid a finger to her lips. Most other women would have found this condescending. Amber found it odd; it was… gentle.“Just a simple dessert for the two of us Amber. A little refreshment. What I have in store for us… well, you’ll just have to wait and see.”Under the platter sat a simple selection of fruit flavored ices—remarkably cool and perfect for their otherwise molten climate. As Amber enjoyed hers (raspberry), she noticed that Cyrus barely touched his—and it was his favorite flavor too, strawberry kiwi pink lemonade.“Cyrus?”“Yes Amber?” That smile of his was still genuine, but a hint of reserve showed through.“Is something wrong?”“Oh no, no… not at all Amber. Have I done anything to make you upset?”“Less what you’ve done, and more… what you haven’t. I’ve never seen you so quiet, so contemplative.”“Well, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” Cyrus began to pick at his food as if he was trying to find the words. “My father just closed a huge negotiation with the Armstrong Mining Consortium, and I’ve been noticing something…”Amber saw for the first time, a hint of fear in Cyrus’ eyes. Not quite regret, but something close.“He’s not as quick as he used to be. Sure, he’s just as sharp and the doctors say he’s strong. But… I can tell. No one lasts forever.”“Oh Cyrus, I…”Cyrus, noticing Amber’s concern, quickly reassured her. “No, no! I think he’s still got plenty of time, but it got me thinking about my own life. My own place in the family dynasty. What I’ll do with everything my father has built. What will I do with his legacy.”Cyrus leaned in and took Amber’s hand. He took a deep breath.“Over the course of his life, my father always had many ‘life lessons’ for me, a lot of them I never really understood. But there’s one that’s always stuck with me, one that I’ve always tried to live by: if you’re going to do something, never do it halfway. Always go for the gold.”Cyrus reached his other hand into his suit pocket, and pulled out a remote. On it were several buttons, the main of which was an icon with the sun and moon.“Amber, I know what I want to do. You’re right that I am not a quiet man. I have my father’s gusto, but I’m not patient like he is. I need someone with more elegance. Someone with more grace. Someone… like you.”Cyrus pressed the button on the remote. Suddenly, all the floodlights in the cave went from a dim ultraviolet to showering the room in a golden glow.Amber’s eyes lost focus for a moment—all she could see was a cool white blur in front of her. As her eyes began to adjust, she realized the cave was far larger than she had thought.“This is where I’ve been these past two weeks. I’m not very good with words, but I do know what I am good at.”Amber slowly tilted her head back, not fully believing what she was seeing. A few hundred feet high but in perfect detail stood a pristine marble statue, depicting the two of them waltzing together in a smooth white tux and a long flowing dress.“Marble was always my favorite to sculpt with.”Amber wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry, scream, laugh, or whether she just wanted Cyrus to hold her in his arms and never let go.Until of course, Cyrus put away the remote, and reached into a different pocket. He pulled out a silky black box, and got down on one knee.“Amber Lazuli Du Monte, will you be the polish to my chisel, the beauty to my strength, and the love of my life till the earth itself crumbles and is reborn?”It’s a good thing Amber was sitting down, because even still she began to fall over. Cyrus didn’t miss a beat and caught her in an instant. Carefully bracing her with his chest, he asked if she was okay. She didn't respond- she simply lifted a finger and pointed to the box.“Do you want me to open it?” he grinned.She nodded.Within was a ring: two bands, one gold and one silver, wrapped around in endless spirals dancing between one another. In the center was a beautifully charming yet playful, pristine yet chaotic cut diamond.Amber let out a small gasp. She didn’t recognize it as anything her or her team would make. This was all Cyrus’ creation. Amber held out her hand, and Cyrus gently put the ring on her finger.“What will I ever do with you, you crazy crazy wonderful man?”“Well, if I remember correctly, I get to stay Mr. Chasey and you get to be Mrs. Chasey. And then we get to kiss.”Amber giggled softly. “There’s the Cyrus I remember.”Cyrus smiled down at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”And, in one smooth motion Cyrus twirled Amber around and dipped her into a kiss.Because when Cyrus Chasey falls in love, it’s never only halfway.

THE SECRET FILES: One Dysfunctional Phone CallSLAM!Flint jolted up from the homework he was doing. Even though the front door was a hall and a whole floor away, Flint's seismic senses gave him a clear picture very quickly: someone slammed the door. Angrily.Quickly making his way out his bedroom, down the hall, and down the grand staircase, hopping off the last few sets of stairs to see Harold, the Chasey family's butler, looking out one of the windows in the foyer. Flint looked out himself, and what he saw sent a shiver down his spine.Mrs. Chasey was storming down the sidewalk. She was going to war (despite wearing tall, sleek, expensive heels). Her eye twitched in anger, desperate to break free from the calm façade she wore for the public."I'd hate to be whatever rival company she's going to face, am I right?" Flint elbowed Harold jovially. "Now, how about some lunch-""It's your father, young master Chasey." Harold replied.Flint was taken aback. "Excuse me, what?""Your mother is heading to the county jail to bail out your father. According to the late night news and the papers this morning, master Chasey enjoyed the drinks at a business meeting a bit too much and decided to go swimming in the Parlor Central Lake.""Again?" Flint sighed.Harold nodded. Amber Chasey was much too uptight, but Cyrus Chasey was a wild, untamed man. Flint Chasey was the result of their lifestyles clashing together, and occasionally the sides came together in such a way to create some semblance of a reasonable human being."Why couldn't he just wait until the weekend? The cops are way more relaxed then."Emphasis on occasionally."That still doesn't change the fact that what your father did made people very upset with him," the butler replied."Oh, please." Flint waved his hand in dismissal. "It's just the law- what are they going to do? We're the Chasey's.""I wasn't talking about the police, young master Chasey."Suddenly, the house phone rang.Harold turned away from the window. "I'll go fetch it.""Well, who are you talking about then?" Flint called out as Harold turned the corner. "The public can't touch us either! The only people who have a chance of impacting us is anyone on equal footing, and that's impossible. We're the Chasey's! We're the most powerful rock alter family in the world! We can't be stopped, we can't be moved!"Harold returned with the phone in his hand. "I wouldn't be so sure, sir." He lifted the phone to Flint. "It's for you."Flint took the phone. "Greetings! If you are wanting to secure a brand deal, please direct your call towards my agent-""FLINT! Thank Rock. This is your dad. Has your mother left yet?!"Flint stopped. "Wait, what?"Harold took this as his cue to leave the room."It's Dad," Cyrus Chasey repeated. "Has your mother left to come get me?""Yeah! Don't worry, she left about a minute ago!" Flint replied."Rock!" Cyrus cursed. "I wasted my one phone call hoping you could come pick me up instead!"Flint wasn't used to the slight quiver he heard in his father's voice. But he conversed like normal. "Dad, you know how Mom is about following the law. As much as I could bail you out, Mom usually does it. Or Daryl. Couldn't you have gotten him?""I wish. Daryl had to actually attend a meeting this morning. Apparently he follows the word 'mandatory.' But I can't handle your mother.""Don't… don't you want to get out of jail?" Flint asked."Well, yeah…" Cyrus began, "but your mother is really mad at me. Like, really really mad. This is the third time she's had to come get me.""Third time?!" Flint exclaimed."Third time… that she knows about." Cyrus mumbled."Dad! Why are you keeping things from Mom! She knows you like to party. She's fine with me going out every weekend- and even I have had my fair share of legal troubles. Why is it any different with you?" Flint's maternal side of the family began to poke through. His mother always knew the next question to ask."Flint, your mother loves you. She's willing to let a lot of things slide with you.""Are you saying Mom doesn't love you?""What- no. It's… you'll understand this when you're older, but no matter how bad you get in trouble by your mother, it'll never be as bad as how much I get in trouble by my wife. Mothers have this sort of nurturing instinct to hold back how angry they get, especially for you. But for Mrs. Chasey, the love of my life…" Flint could hear his dad shudder. "She doesn't pull any punch.""So, you're scared of Mom?"Cyrus sighed. "My days used to be free and easy. Don't get me wrong- I love your mother. But all she ever does is worry about trivial things like 'looking presentable' and 'not cursing the family bloodline.' Suddenly, I went from partying every night in college to only partying on the weekends, and my weekdays are filled with boring business meetings, branding, and all this other junk.""But… isn't that a good thing?""Of course it's a good thing! It's why I married your mother. Her business skills are incredible. But sometimes, I feel like a bird in a cage! I want to be free!""Be free?" Flint questioned. "You're Cyrus Chasey! You're unstoppable!""Not to your mother I'm not!"The phone began to buzz. "Oh- Dad! Mom's trying to call the house. Look, I'm sure everything is going to be fine. Just woo her with some smooth words and kisses like you always do. I'll even throw in a good word for you!""TELL HER THE MANSION SET ON FIRE TO STALL FOR TIME!!!""Bye Dad!" Flint hung up. He then cleared his throat. "Hey, Mother! I just got off the phone with-""YOUR FATHER IS IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!" Mrs. Chasey roared.Flint froze in terror."AFTER ALL WE DID!" she continue to rant. "ALL THOSE PRESS MEETINGS ABOUT HOW SERIOUSLY WE CARRY OURSELVES. THE DONATIONS TO CHARITIES. PAYING FOR DAMAGES. ALL OF THAT. DOWN THE DRAIN."Flint could hear the car window roll down."Hello!" His mother's gentle voice flipped on like a switch. "Yes, I'm just here to pick up my husband… Oh- thank you! It's designer!"Mrs. Chasey never passed up an opportunity to showcase something dazzling or expensive. That, Flint always knew.The window rolled back up."AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF, I JUST FOUND OUT THAT YOUR FATHER HAS BEEN IN JAIL MORE TIMES THAN I KNOW ABOUT?! NOTHING GETS PAST ME. I BET DARYLL HAS BEEN BAILING HIM OUT TOO- THAT WEASEL!!!"Suddenly, Mrs. Chasey made the switch for Flint. "Now, sweetie, who did you say you were on the phone with?""Uh- NO ONE!" Flint's fight or flight instincts kicked in. Or maybe it was his father's side showing. "I mean, I didn't say anything about calling anyone! Or answering anyone! What's a phone, anyway?""Right…" Mrs. Chasey replied. "Are you okay? You sound a bit on edge.""I'm fine, Mom! Just, you know, being peppy! You know me! Whoop de doo!" Flint faked a smile and hoped that he said the right thing to get her off his back."You know you can tell me anything, right sweetie?""Mhm!!!" Flint replied, nodding. He didn't understand why he was acting this way despite his mother not being able to see him."Okay, well, I won't be home until after dinner, so make sure you eat a good, balanced lunch and a good, balanced dinner. As in, there better be vegetables- you understand me?""Yes ma'am! Love you, Mother!""I love you too, sweetie!"Flint hung up the phone, and, right on cue, Harold walked up to Flint and took the phone back. "Is everything alright, young master Chasey?"Flint looked like he had just seen a ghost. "I think I just witnessed what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.""But you're the Chasey's!" Harold replied with a smirk. He turned to put the phone away, but as he turned the corner, he said, "You can't be stopped! You can't be moved!"

THE SECRET FILES: ExplorationNote: This (along with one of the other stories in the secret files) is something I'd not only consider to be canon, but hopefully, whenever I finish the entirety of the story, this will be part of it. So, enjoy this little look into the main storyline!I think the most interesting place I'd ever been in was a Cracker Barrel… Holly thought.Holly gazed upon the majesty that was the interior of the Chasey mansion. A huge chandelier glistened. Perfectly aligned underneath it was a fountain, complete with gold, gems, and swans with cute little bowties. The floor was made of marble, but it reflected colors from the light pouring in from stained glass windows. Jazz music echoed the walls like a choir of angels.… But this is a close second!The thing about the Cracker Barrel restaurant Holly liked were all the random knick knacks and pictures on the walls- it made her feel like she was looking at the history of people's favorite things. Everything was worn down with age and love. And it had a gift shop!The Chasey's, on the other hand, kept everything… pristine. New looking. Even if things were there for years, it was probably cleaned four times a day. Giant statues of Flint? Polished. Fancy plates? Not a single scratch or dent. Even the fruit looked like it was picked from a garden no longer than an hour ago.Holly then looked around at all of the guests. It was a wild clash between dignified conversations between the elite and party animals. Each side ignored the other perfectly. Holly saw this as a good thing- that meant nobody would care about if she did her favorite thing: explore.As long as she could remember, Holly loved getting lost in her environment. Every park in her hometown has been walked a dozen times. She's gotten stuck in the Walmart ball pit thing at least five times that year. And Holly didn't find that racoon under the front porch by accident. The mansion wasn't the woods by any means, but rich houses were always promising. Lots of nooks, crannies, and secrets. Or at least a junk drawer. All houses had a junk drawer.Holly decided she should first make her way upstairs. The further you make something away from the front door, the more potential it has. But she couldn't just walk up to one of the two grand staircases at the back of the foyer- that's too easy. Too obvious. So, Holly began to walk towards the back of the foyer, but not before taking off her pink boots, scooping water into them, and putting them back on, of course. The water was nice. Filtered.She was just about to pass the stairs when all of the guests, whether in the middle of closing a business deal or chugging a beer, stopped what they were doing and looked up. Holly turned to see a woman looking over the balcony. She was in a sparkling, form-fitting blue dress. She stood confidently - not just because she was tall, but because she relied on her presence to carry exactly who she was.Mrs. Amber Lazuli Du Monte Chasey.Holly didn't know much about the Chasey's- every time their reality show would come on the TV, her brother Oliver would quickly change the channel. When she asked why he changed it, he simply said that she was too young to be watching it. Roxanne gave a slightly more wordy explanation- "To the Chasey's, all press is good press. Cyrus and his kid Flint get into all sorts of trouble, and Amber is good at cleaning up after them."Turns out, Mrs. Chasey didn't even have to do any of the cleaning herself.She simply raised an eyebrow, and all of the guests quickly straightened out, even if they weren't even drinking any alcohol. The red solo cups and beer cans were quickly picked up off of the ground. People stacked their little empty appetizer plates for the busboys. And did one of them pull a cleaning spray out of their jacket pocket and began wiping the counters?Once the room was to her satisfaction, Mrs. Chasey smiled, turned, and walked away. The room slowly swung back into normal conversation, but even the party people were drinking more modestly.Holly continued her journey. Passing underneath the second floor balcony, she found herself in the grand dining room. A good expedition always starts with a good meal! Holly praised her subconscious for reminding her that she needed to eat. Walking up to the long table, she tapped a man on the shoulder."Hey, Fancypants, does this joint make macaroni and cheese or what?"The man scowled. "Why on earth would the Chasey's allow something so… common in their establishment?"Holly wasn't playing any games. "Dude. I just dunked my boots in the fountain over there and nobody batted an eye. Are you seriously telling me that this giant house doesn't have noodles, milk, butter, and cheese?"The man looked down at the trail of water Holly had been leaving. "Oh, you're from Cyrus' side of the invites." he replied. "Well, I have no tolerance for your absurdity. They are serving everyone steak, whether you like it or not. It's an honor to be served any food from the Chasey's- even if you don't eat it."Holly looked at the man's plate- it had the most delicious looking steak she had ever seen. "Wait- why aren't you going to eat it? This looks amazing!""Like I said, you get served whatever they make. I'm vegan."Holly's eyes went wide. She looked at the man, now ten times more uncomfortable. "You ONLY eat PLANTS?!"Before the man could say anything in response, Holly quickly snatched the plate and ran. "THIS IS FOR ALL PLANT KIND!" she screamed. "EAT YOUR DANG MEAT!"Holly weaved through the crowd, nearly spilling her bounty several times. She found herself against a side wall and spotted a plain door. So, looking around, she slipped through and closed the door behind her. She found herself in a back hall, probably used by butlers and cleaners and stuff. There were some interesting odds and ends- a random, expensive coffee table here, a nice looking lamp there. They didn't exactly match the golden-diamond-marble aesthetic, so Holly assumed they were just placed back here to dress up these halls, even if none of the guests were ever going to see it.Holly sat down at a small table, and-She realized she didn't have any silverware. But, she couldn't go back. What if the vegan was out there?It's an eat or get eaten kind of world out there, Holly thought. But a plant's gotta do what a plant's gotta do. She shrugged, grabbed the steak with her hands, and began to eat it like a burger. When she finished, she realized no silverware meant no napkin. Holly was just about to wipe her hands on her overalls, but then she stopped herself. She was on a road trip wearing her favorite outfit. She had to keep her overalls clean, and she didn't even want to know what sort of fancy washing machine the Chasey's had. Heck, maybe they don't have a washing machine at all because they buy a new outfit every day. Either way, no wiping on the overalls. But, just down the hallway, there was a tapestry on the wall. Holly approached it. She wasn't familiar with the story, but she at least recognized the guy in the middle.Hey, Jesus, you cleaned feet and healed people and stuff, right? Hope you don't mind me cleaning my hands real quick. Don't let me get caught. She opens a drawer underneath it and found a fancy, folded up tablecloth. Bingo! She swiped her hands on the cloth. Surprisingly, the steak residue was very similar in color to the table cloth. Or, Jesus did in fact hear her prayers and cleaned the tablecloth too.After meandering through the halls and passing a few butlers who gave the occasional odd look, Holly found a back stairwell. Perfect! She climbed up the stairs, to which there were more meandering halls. So, taking a chance, she walked up to a door she thought lead to a main hall upstairs.But, it wasn't.She opened the door and smiled wide.Now this is more like a Cracker Barrel!Behind the door was the most country looking room in the entire house. The Chasey's claimed to be southern (the mansion was in Nashville), but this was the first time Holly actually thought they could be. The wooden décor, while just as clean as the rest of the house, were definitely from an era long gone. There were shelves of random items, old books, and framed pictures. Walking to what Holly believed to be the front of the room, she began to look at the little museum.The first picture frame had an old photograph of a group of men standing proudly in front of railroad tracks. Next to it was a hammer, some bolts, and what looked like a couple of love letters. Holly sucked at reading cursive, and it didn't help that the letters were very swirly and long. But it still looked pretty all the same.Moving onto the next picture, it was a family standing in front of a town entrance. They had bags and suitcases, and they looked excited. Around the picture was an old pocket watch, a gold necklace, and someone's childhood stuffed animal.Holly smiled at the teddy bear. That person has their priorities straight!Next was a picture of a father and his son, smiling at each other. Behind them was a street sign labeled "Filmore Road." Under the picture was, well, the sign itself.After that was a picture of a school with a different father and son in front of it. Wait, no- the father was the son from the last picture- just grown up! Holly loved finding little secrets like that. Well, maybe it was supposed to be intentional. You know, like a history. But Holly was still proud of herself for figuring it out. Anyways, the two were standing in front of a building named Cyrus Elementary. Under the picture was a whole set of expensive-looking China.Suddenly, Holly heard the door she walked through open. She quickly ducked behind a couch.A voice sighed. "Come out- I am a mother. I can tell when a child is attempting to sneak around.""Drat." Holly nervously stood up to see-"Mrs. Chasey?!""Yes, it is me. Now, you have some explaining to do.""How long have you been watching me?" Holly asked. "I thought I was pretty subtle.""Did you think I wouldn't notice someone scooping water into her boots in my foyer? Or yell in the dining room about eating meat? Or the stain on my tablecloth?!"Shoot- Jesus ratted me out. I'll rat him back then. Holly threw her hands in the air. "Don't blame me- I had an encounter with Jesus.""Religious experiences do not explain why you're in places you are not supposed to be." she replied.Holly sighed- Mrs. Chasey had no room for funny business. "I'm sorry, ma'am- I just really like exploring places. And I think I just hit the jackpot with this room. Are these pictures of your family?"Mrs. Chasey nodded. "As best as I'm aware, this is as complete of a record of the Chasey family.""Why don't you have these pictures out there? This is the coolest thing in the entire house!"Mrs. Chasey almost looked offended. "There is a weight to the Chasey name. People care about the product, not the process. You are the family. You carry the name. You cannot depict that with these… less than ideal pictures."Holly looked around the room. She spotted a giant portrait (she didn’t know how she didn’t notice it before) of Mr. and Mrs. Chasey. Mrs. Chasey was laughing in excitement in a flowing white dress while her husband was in a bedazzled suit and the biggest smile. "Wait- not even your wedding picture?!” Holly exclaimed. ”What's it doing here?!""Cyrus' tie is crooked, I look like I'm squinting, Cyrus' hand is placed too high on my arm-""Why'd you even bother having it framed if you hate it so much?" Holly mumbled under her breath.Mrs. Chasey sighed. "My husband had this framed. It's his favorite picture of us, for some odd reason. So, I had to humor him when I was choosing the pictures for this room.""A room nobody's allowed to be in?" Holly pressed."If Cyrus wants to throw a party, he and his guests are not allowed in this room. As parties go on, things tend to get… broken."As if on cue, the two of them heard something shatter on the other side of the front doors."That better not have been Alexandrite's vase…" Mrs. Chasey grumbled."Sooo, let me get this straight…" Holly gestured with her hands, weighing the options. "You care about this stuff so you don't want it damaged but you don't care enough to actually let anyone see it. You're really confusing, ma'am.""You would understand if you were in my shoes." she replied. "And speaking of shoes, yours have been leaving a trail of water. Clean them."Holly shook her head. "No thanks.""That was not a request." Mrs. Chasey said."And you can't run in heels." With that, Holly made a mad dash out the door, laughing hysterically.By the time Mrs. Chasey got to the door, Holly had disappeared into the crowd. Mrs. Chasey would've called out to have someone stop the girl, but she wasn't known for raising her voice. So, she straightened her back and calmly walked the other way, giving a smiling nod to guests as she passed by.