After a week of poring over every book I could find on neurology and brain maps, I finally have a plan. A real one. Something concrete that I can stand in front of these people and present—something that will ease their anxiety, calm their worries, and show them that I'm not just making this up as I go along.

I had everyone gather here in this same room, where I'm going to tell them about the idea I had and the plan I came up with.

I feel that same excitement as when the idea first entered my head as I stand before them, just as I did before.

The tingles are gone, and the "dissolving" incidents haven't happened since that first time. But there's still something... off. A faint, constant buzzing in the back of my mind—a sensation so subtle you might think it's imaginary, but there enough to remind you that whatever's happening, it's not over yet. We've barely scratched the surface.

Everyone seems to have calmed down a bit, but still seem restless, as the anxiety might not be as fresh but is still very present.

I've prepared a PowerPoint presentation, and have my laptop perched on a wooden podium often used as a prop or by the Speech & Debate team. As I connect my laptop to the Smart Board (we call it the dumb board, though, because it tends to glitch and not do what we want it to), I mentally run through my imaginary script so that the words are ready on my tongue.

Once I'm ready, I stand in front of these 14 people. What a group they are. My sister, who keeps rubbing her face and skin, Lex, my cocky best friend who doubles as the very bane of my existence, and Jaiden, yet again curled up in His Corner™, to name a few. I clear my throat to make sure they're paying attention.

Inhale, exhale. Here we go.

"We all know the Pixar movie Inside Out, right?" I ask. Everyone nods. "And even if we haven't seen it, we all know the plot, yes?" More nodding.

"Good. A quick recap, in case you forgot; the two emotions, Joy and Sadness, are accidentally sent from their headquarters to long-term memory, which they go through and visit other parts of the mind as they try to figure out how to get back. Long-term memory consisted of hundreds of huge shelves, with hundreds of thousands of memories, which were depicted as these little spheres you could pick up and hold and, if you swiped them, you could replay the memory." I've been clicking through the slides of my PowerPoint as I talk, showing screenshots from the movie as well as the memories I described.

"Now, you may be wondering why I'm bringing this up-"

"Yeah," Lex interrupts, then stares at me silently as everyone else laughs before he starts laughing too. I can't help it. I join in.

"Sorry, continue," He says once the laughter has died down, still chuckling to himself. I roll my eyes before I start talking again, secretly glad for the moment of lightheartedness. We could all use that at a time like this.

"In order to explain why such a movie is relevant, I'll need to explain some things first," I say, clicking to the next slide. "Had to do actual scientific research for this."

I click to the next slide, which holds several different brain diagrams. One in particular has each part of the human brain labeled and highlighted in different colors.

"The human brain is split into various sections, each dedicated to specific functions. For example, the occipital lobe–" I point to an area in the diagram that is highlighted with blue. "Is located at the very back, and is for vision." I point to another area, near the center of the top, highlighted orange. "Sensory cortex, for senses. Is everyone getting that?"

They nod, and I wait another moment to be sure before continuing.

"Now, let's talk about where we might fit into all this," I say, pointing to an area near the front of the brain highlighted in pink. "This is the frontal lobe, responsible for executive functions like planning, organizing, and problem-solving. It's also where thinking happens. And considering we're all a product of imagination, it seems safe to assume that we exist somewhere in this part of the brain."

Things seem to be going smoothly. I've been able to explain, and they seem to be understanding. Let me cook.

"Under the frontal lobe is the temporal lobe," I gesture to an area highlighted yellow. "It's for language understanding... and memory."

"Whatever is going on with Writer that is affecting us must have either been an incident outside or inside the brain, something they'd likely remember, meaning the very reason all this is happening could be found in a memory. Maybe multiple, depending on what it is."

I suck in my breath. Here comes the hard part.

"My plan is to essentially access Writer's memories, and use them to figure out what's happening and then make a plan on how to fix it."

Austin raises his hand, but his hesitation tells me he's already second-guessing himself. I nod at him anyway.

"I do not understand," he says, voice flat, but his eyes are wide, searching mine for any sign that this is real. His words hang in the air, and the room stills. Some of the others glance at each other, expressions tight with confusion. A few nod slowly, unsure, the uncertainty distinct in the air.

"I know," I tell them. "But you will."

Thankfully, I anticipated this, and have an explanation prepared. Even if they did understand I'd explain anyway.

"Think about it," I urge. "We are essentially thoughts, right? We are a product of imagination. As characters, in order to stay in existence as long as Writer does, they would need to remember us. Because of that, wouldn't it make sense for us to be able to exist in an area of the mind dealing with memories?"

Finally, I allow myself a collection of moments to rest my voice and allow them to fully process what I'm saying. Most look confused, understandably.

Busaba's muttering to herself. Austin is muttering to Juno, who occasionally mutters a few words back along with hand squeezes. Amani had seemed to have stopped rubbing her face, but slowly starts again as she thinks. Lukas is staring into space, as if he's contemplating the great complexities of life and existence. In a way, he could be.

"Wait, wait, wait," Lex breaks the quiet. "I understand what you're saying... mostly, but could you please explain how we would get to Writer's memories? Once again, this isn't Inside Out, so we can't just press a button and have them delivered to us."

A true stage manager is prepared for anything. So, yes, I anticipated a question like this too. I take a deep breath so I can be prepared to talk some more.

"In order to access Writer's memories, I'd have to essentially travel to the memory part of the brain. I would be somehow moving from this part of the brain to that one, finding the memories, and coming back," I explain.

Lex nods, absorbing this information. Then he frowns.

"Hold up– what do you mean 'I'?"

I blink. Was that part not–

"Jesus FUCKING Christ, Samiyah, you can NOT be telling me you plan on going on your own."

"Well, I-"

"You're SERIOUS?!" Busaba exclaims. Now everyone is getting riled up.

The room erupts in noise. People are standing, shouting over each other, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mess of confusion and frustration. Faces twist in anger, concern, and disbelief, and I can't keep track of who's saying what anymore.

I feel the panic creeping up my throat. My hands shake as I raise two fingers to my mouth, trying to block out the noise for just a second.

Then I whistle—a sharp, ear-splitting sound that cuts through the chaos like a knife. Silence follows instantly, the sudden quiet ringing in my ears.

"First off, SHUT. UP," I don't raise my voice often, so they know I mean business. "Second, SIT DOWN."

They quiet down and slowly go back to their seats and places. All except for Lex, who stands stubbornly before me. They are going to be the death of me, I swear.

"Sit down, Lex," I command, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife. He huffs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes stay locked with mine, challenging.

We stand like that for a moment—silent, stubborn. Neither of us willing to back down. I can see the defiance in his eyes, and I can feel my own anger bubbling beneath the surface. Finally, with a long, exasperated sigh, he sinks back into his chair, his body language radiating frustration.

"OK, listen," I begin. "Yes, I am planning on going on my own-"

"Not anymore," Lex interrupts, apparently not yet done arguing with me. "You can't go by yourself."

"Yes I ca-"

"Are you fucking stupid or something? It's too dangerous. For one thing, you don't even know how you'd do it yet. For another, nothing like this has ever been attempted before. We don't know how long it'd take, what you'd have to do to get there and back, or even the direction you're supposed to go. It's a recipe for disaster, Samiyah."

My patience is being worn thin. I don't know how much longer it'll last.

"If I can't go by myself, who would come with me then, huh?"

I'm the oldest. I'm the one they look to when things go wrong. I'm the one who's supposed to have all the answers, who's supposed to carry the weight of their safety on my shoulders. I have no choice but to take this on alone.

Besides, this plan is risky enough as is, even if I spend every second preparing and have everything planned right down to the letter. They can be idiots sometimes, but none would be reckless enough to do this.

"I'll go." Amani's voice cuts through the room, sharp and unyielding.

You have GOT to be kidding me.

I freeze for a moment, my brain scrambling to make sense of what just happened. Then, without thinking, I march over to her and grab her arm, yanking her out of the room. My heart is pounding in my chest, but I'm not sure if it's from fear or the boiling frustration threatening to spill over.

I know damn well the others will want to eavesdrop, so I pull her through the hallway out a back door that leads to a parking lot. We walk until the end of the sidewalk, where I stop. At least here I'll be able to catch eavesdroppers before they can get too close.

Amani opens her mouth to say something, but I start talking before she can.

"You are NOT coming with me," I tell her.

She jerks her arm out of my grasp. "Yes, I am."

I groan, frustrated. "You CAN'T, it's too dangerous. You're just a kid."

"And you're barely an adult," She shoots back. "You've been 18 for what, a month? Two? You haven't even graduated yet. If anything, you're just as much of a child as I am."

"Amani, listen," I say, trying not to lose my temper. "There is a big difference between my age and yours. Three years might not seem like a lot, but it can be. I am more mature, I am more responsible, and I won't be able to do this if I have to worry about someone else along the way, especially if it's you."

"If that's the case, then why aren't you worrying about yourself?" She demands. "For FUCK'S sake, what about you?"

Amani's outburst hits me like a punch in the gut, stealing my breath for a moment. I freeze, staring at her as she stands there, chest heaving. Her face is raw, but it's her eyes that get to me—glossed over with unshed tears, her voice shaking despite how hard she tries to hide it. For a second, I forget everything else and just look at her.

"You keep saying that you don't want anything to happen to us, but what if something happens to you?" Amani's voice is wavering, and she swallows. "What if you don't come back, Samiyah?"

The words hit me like a slap. I freeze, the world suddenly too quiet. She's not wrong. My mind runs through the possibilities—every worst-case scenario I've been trying to push down. But I can't let that fear show. Not now.

My gaze softens. I slowly let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as I take another step toward her.

"Listen," I say gently. "I appreciate the concern, but I still can't take you with me. I can promise that I'll be careful, but you'll just have to trust me on this, ok?"

Amani sighs and stares at her shoes. When she looks back up at me, to my surprise, her gaze has hardened.

"Come on," I tell her. "Let's go back inside."

Amani follows me back inside, her steps slow, deliberate. She doesn't say anything, but I know this isn't over. She might not be arguing, but I can feel it—the tension in the air, the way her jaw is clenched. This isn't defeat. Not for her. 

I'm not sure what it is yet, but I know my sister won't give up this easily.

the plot thickens

haiii pookies 😍 

how are we doing

did we enjoy 

god I hope so this killed me lol 

as you can see, it is quite long. I hope it makes up for the shorter previous chapter. 

2268 WORDS AND 7 1/2 PAGES HUH 

thats crazy 

this is also where I finally address the cliffhanger mwahhahahahhahaha 

I wouldn't say this one also ends on a cliffhanger, but it does add tension I think 

it's come to my attention that Samiyah's chapters tend to be quite long...... that's not intentional- 

she just has a lot to say ig let her cook

also yes, I will have repeating povs, there are going to be more chapters from the povs of characters who have already been shown (like this one) 

I should probably also mention pls don't ship her and lex just cuz they have that tension that people would call sexual tension they are literally just besties please and thanks. 

I might be struggling to publish next week cuz my winter break ends on Monday........ I don't wanna go back to school ugh 

anygays

I hope ur enjoying this chapter and the story so far, as always if u wanna leave a comment or two telling me what you think I'd appreciate it :)

if you have any ideas/theories etc. please tell me I wanna hear them >:D

obvi I can't say anything cuz spoilers but ya

thank you sosoosososoosososo much for reading I love u all smmmm <333333

goodbye my cutie patooties :3 

-JJZ