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“Stop that!”

Eleissa smiled and closed the book. She leaned toward Jackson. Jackson leaned forward to her. Their noses almost touched.

“The Author,” she said softly.

“The Author?” Jackson asked.

“The Author,” whispered Meeka.

Eleissa’s face glowed. “Jackson, you weren’t made by chance. You aren’t something that happened when a couple of cells merged and duplicated. You were created

by the Author, on purpose and for a purpose. Everyone and everything was created by the Author. The Author has written a story for everyone, and he knows how it turns out. If you listen carefully enough, you can hear your story. Of course no one listens anymore. No one has time to listen to stories. They’re too busy trying to be, but they have no idea who they are supposed to be.”

“Hang on. You’re telling me that I’m created by the Author.”

Eleissa nodded.

“And that the Author created everyone.”

“Yes.”

“So this Author, this great Author who wrote my story, this Author wrote that I would be terrible at baseball? That I would fail in school? That I wouldn’t have any…” he broke off, trying not to cry.

“Friends?” asked Eleissa in a quiet voice.

Jackson quickly rubbed his eyes. Meeka put her hand on Jackson’s shoulder and patted him.

“I’m your friend, Jackson.”

Jackson pushed her hand off.

“Oh yeah, perfect! That’s what I need! My only friend is a make-believe little elf who lives in my great-aunt’s hair!”

Meeka shrank back as if she’d been slapped. Eleissa’s eyes flashed angrily.

“You think we’re make-believe?” she hissed. Meeka started to cry.

Eleissa sat back, her face hidden in the shadows. “Jackson, I can’t make you believe anything. That’s not my job. My job is to tell you your story, to tell you about the Author who is writing about you and that’s it. If you make friends, whether you think they’re make-believe or not, that’s up to you. I’m just a Reader. You believe what you want.”

Meeka’s little sobs got a lot louder. Jackson was ashamed. He turned to Meeka.

“I’m sorry, Meeka. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I…thought…you…were…my…my…friend!” she gasped in between sobs.

Jackson reached out, pulled her little body over and hugged her. “I am your friend, Meeka. I’m so sorry. I’ve…I’ve never had a friend before so I…look, you are my friend. I’m sorry.” Meeka ran her arm across her nose, leaving a little trail of wet snot across her face.

“So I’m your first friend?” she snorted.

“Yeah, you’re my first friend,” replied Jackson.

“So, I’m also your best friend?”

“Yeah, I guess you are my best friend.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a tissue. He handed it to Meeka. She snorted, honking into the tissue. She hugged Jackson tightly.

“Best friend! Best friend!” she sang.

“You know, technically she’s also your worst friend,” said Eleissa.

Jackson glared at her. Meeka hugged Jackson tighter.

“I don’t care!” she cried out.

After a few moments of hugging and “I’m sorrys,” which are actually quite boring to read about, so we’ll just skip them, they got back to business. Meeka snuggled very closely to Jackson. This would normally make him uncomfortable, but given that he had just hurt her feelings, he put up with it.

“So, tell me more about this Author.”

“Well,” Eleissa began, “He’s beautiful and smart, of course, and he’s very funny. He spends a lot of time writing, and everything he writes happens.”

Jackson thought for a moment. “Then why did he let those…unhappy things happen to me? To anyone, for that matter?”

Eleissa leaned in close to Jackson. “That’s not for us to know.”

“What?”

“The Author knows better than we do. I mean, he did create us after all. Jackson, the Author really cares about every single character he writes about, whether they are good or bad. The Author cares whether you eat bean burgers instead of greasy ones,” she explained.

Jackson’s face turned red.

“The Author knows everything. The Author plans out every single detail in your life. Everyone has a purpose because of the Author. You, me, the butterfly…we all have a purpose.”

Jackson’s head spun. Eleissa turned