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Thank you! Hello, friends, and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories.
Red can not believe what her father has asked her to do.
All morning she is trying to figure out how she can switch the rocks and convince her friends that there is nothing to investigate.
When she actually does this, she ends up feeling even worse.
The Transfer Student Volume 2, Part 2 For the rest of the day, Red felt sick to her stomach. The same kind of queasy feeling she had felt the first time she tried milk.
drink, a drink that still bewildered her.
On Mars, she hadn't once told a lie to her friends.
Nothing big, at least, but since moving to Earth, she had told two.
The first, hiding where she came from, haunted her constantly.
It led to mistakes and slip -ups and once even caused her to introduce herself as From Mars on her first day of school.
That one had earned her a surprise visit from Ms. Misti and Mr. Shade of the AID, followed by a quiet, stern talk from her mom.
But this? This felt worse.
More personal. She had told her friends there was nothing more to investigate and had swapped the real stone for a fake one.
It felt like betrayal.
When she got home from school, she raced to her room.
She couldn't handle Blue's teasing or face her mom.
Not after what she'd been asked to do.
It was too much. She lay back on her bed and pulled the stone from her pocket, watching how it reacted to her touch, shimmering faintly, all this just to stop the gang from discovering Dr. Hart's secret.
Would anyone have even believed them?
There was a soft knock at the door.
Go away, Blue. I'm not interested in arguing right now.
Red called out. The door creaked open.
It was her mom. Hi, Red, I just wanted to check on you, she said gently, you rushed up here and you usually stop in the kitchen for a snack.
Or at least say hello.
Are you okay? I'm fine, Red muttered, and I don't need to do homework.
Everything here is too easy.
They both knew it was true.
Her mom hesitated, then asked, did you manage to...
Yes. Red snapped, I swapped the stone for Dad.
Is that all you care about?
Keeping these old secrets?
Her voice was sharper than she meant, and she immediately regretted it.
They might disagree about small things, usually about Blue, but she and her mom almost never fought.
Her mom sighed. No Red, that's not all I care about.
Maybe someday you'll understand.
She gave a soft smile.
Dinner will be ready soon.
Come down when you're ready.
After dinner Red slipped back to her room.
She heard her phone buzz, messages from the gang, but she didn't answer.
She needed time to think.
She sat at her desk.
It was an old antique made from wood, and the previous owner had carved shapes and letters into it.
Red hadn't liked the desk at first, but its tactile nature grew on her.
Her desk lamp cast a soft circle of light across the notebook in front of her.
Her room was quiet now but for the occasional rustle of wind against the windows.
Blue was finally in bed and the house had settled into its usual nighttime hush.
She carefully pulled out the charm from her jeans' pocket, the one no one else knew about.
She held it under the lamp, studying its surface.
It looked ordinary at first glance, just a worn metal disk hanging from a thin chain.
An inexpensive piece of jewelry, perhaps, but tonight, something changed…there.
A faint shimmer ran along the edge.
Not light, exactly, more like a ripple of energy, like heat rising off a sun -baked rock.
When she turned it slightly, she saw a small mark, like a symbol or letter, etched so faintly it was almost invisible.
And then she felt it, a warmth in her palm, subtle but undeniable.
You're not just a charm, are you, she whispered.
With her free hand, she opened her notebook.
She flipped to a blank page and began sketching the charm as best she could.
Copying the mark and jotting down everything she noticed, the glow, the warmth, the way it seemed to respond to her touch. Documenting things and sketching helped her think.
Something told her this object wasn't meant to be found by just anyone.
She was halfway through a second note when her phone buzzed softly, a message.
She grabbed it, expecting it to be one of the gang checking in again, but it wasn't from them, it was from her dad.
The text read, trust is the cost of safety, watch the watchers.
Huh? What does that mean?
Red stared at the message for a long second before pressing delete.
She didn't want anyone to see it, not her mother, not Blue, not the AID.
She stood and walked quietly to her window, peering through the narrow gap in the curtain.
A figure stood under the street lamp across the road, too far to see clearly but close enough that Red knew they were watching.
The moment she blinked… they were gone.
She stepped back quickly, heart pounding.
Red crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up and holding the charm tightly in her hand.
She squeezed it once, as if it could somehow answer the questions racing through her mind.
The gang had paused their investigation, but Red hadn't.
If there are answers, she whispered into the dark, I'm going to find them.
Just not where everyone else was looking.
She lay there for a while, listening to the quiet creaks of the house, the wind brushing against the windows, the steady hum of nighttime silence.
Her fingers curled around the charm resting under her pillow, its weight a strange comfort.
Red woke the next morning before her alarm, ruining whatever surprise Blue had in store for her.
She rubbed her eyes, she was awake technically, but didn't feel it.
Reaching toward her bedside table, she blinked in annoyance when she realized her phone wasn't there.
A quick scan of the room revealed it lying in the middle of the floor.
The stinker needs to get more creative, she muttered, dragging herself out of bed.
He could at least strap it to a drone or something, or maybe use magnets of some sort.
She grabbed her phone and shut off the alarm before it had the chance to break the peaceful silence.
No new messages, just a string of unread pings from the group chat.
They were trying to decide whether to meet in the library after school or wait until the weekend.
Charlie had written something about Area 51, whatever that was.
Red wasn't ready to answer yet.
She dressed quickly and headed to the bathroom, only to find the door closed.
Blue's off -key singing and the sound of enthusiastic toothbrushing echoed from behind it.
What was he so happy about?
Hurry up, stinky head.
I need to get ready, Red called, knocking on the door.
Blah, blah, blah, came the reply as Blue swung the door open and skipped past her, like he was in a musical.
Do you have to make such a mess, she muttered, surveying the wet countertop and toothpaste splatter.
He didn't answer, already bounding down the stairs toward breakfast. Red cleaned up after him again, then finished getting ready and headed downstairs.
Blue gave her a look like he was waiting for a reaction, maybe even a comeback.
When she didn't say anything, he frowned and stared down at his waffle.
You okay? I'm fine, she said softly, sitting down and poking at her breakfast. Her voice didn't match the words.
Her mother glanced over but didn't say anything.
Maybe she knew Red wasn't ready to talk.
Red barely touched her food before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.
The yellow monstrosity arrived with its usual hissing brakes and mechanical groan.
Red climbed aboard, ignoring the driver's friendly nod and quickly shuffled to her usual seat in the back.
She made it before the bump.
Her mind was swirling.
The guilt from yesterday hadn't gone away.
The fake stone, the lies, her friends, the charm she hadn't told anybody about, and now her father's message still echoing in her head.
Trust is the cost of safety.
Watch the watchers.
She squeezed her backpack a little tighter, half expecting it to glow or buzz or whisper secrets, but it didn't.
Just silence and the hum of the road.
Charlie, who had been sitting beside Rachel, slid into the seat beside her.
Morning, he said, his hoodie pulled halfway over his head, and his backpack only zipped halfway.
He wasn't sneezing, and his hoodie was on correctly.
Progress, you okay?
You seem, I don't know, quieter than usual.
Red offered a slight shrug.
Didn't sleep great, which was true.
Bad dreams again, Charlie yawned.
Last time I had bad dreams, I ate an entire bowl of chili with spicy pepperoni right before bed.
Big mistake. But worth it.
My mom wasn't impressed, though, and I had to eat green smoothies for a week.
Red smiled faintly.
Charlie had a way of making things feel less heavy, even when they were.
You know, he continued, we don't have to do the mystery stuff all the time.
We could hang out and, like, play video games.
Red looked out the window.
Trees, fences, and power lines flashed by in a blur.
That might be a good idea.
Charlie didn't push, he just nodded.
Then pulled a pack of tissue from his bag.
His nose was starting to run again.
His progress was short lived.
The school day passed in a quiet blur for Red.
In math class, her mind drifted far from the numbers, formulas she could solve in her sleep.
Her pencil hovered over her open notebook, but instead of equations, she found herself absent -mindedly sketching the charm again.
Its curves, its strange, uneven edges.
She'd drawn it at least a dozen times, yet each attempt felt like peeling back another layer, as if something new might reveal itself if she just looked closely enough.
In history, she sat in the back and half listened as the teacher talked about early Earth exploration, some event involving maps and ships.
The words drifted around her like fog.
A few kids in the row ahead whispered about plans for the weekend.
Stand. Someone was having a movie night, but Red didn't join in.
She didn't even lift her head.
At lunch, she walked past the gang without stopping.
Alexa caught her eye and waved her over.
Red, you are late again, but we saved you a spot.
Red offered a polite smile but shook her head.
Can't talk today. Have to study.
Kurt looked surprised.
You? Studying? What class are you even worried about?
Red shrugged, just stuff I want to get ahead on.
Charlie started to say something, but she was already walking away.
She found an empty spot near the library window and sat with her tray, picking at the food but not really eating.
She turned to a fresh page in her notebook and began drawing the charm again.
Slower this time, her fingers tracing every angle with care.
No one talked to her, and for that she was glad.
The rest of the day blurred by.
Red floated through her final classes, nodding when needed, But her thoughts remained elsewhere, on the charm, on the map, on what might be waiting in the woods, just beyond the edges of town.
By the time the final bell rang, her decision was already made.
She slipped out of the school without a word. Her usual route, bus stop, quiet ride home, blues nonsense felt wrong today.
Instead, she kept walking, past the yellow monstrosities, past the corner convenience store where the after school gang gathered.
Past the last row of familiar houses, until the pavement gave way to packed earth and gravel.
She glanced at her phone, opened the map app, and entered the coordinates, the real ones, the ones from the journal before she swapped the stone.
Her breath caught slightly when the location loaded, a spot just beyond town limits, marked only as a decommissioned forest research station.
She didn't hesitate.
Her boots crunched over the dried leaves as she followed the path through a strip of woods behind the town's old maintenance sheds.
Trees rose around her, bare and skeletal this time of year, their twisted limbs rattling softly in the wind.
The sound made her skin prickle.
It wasn't like the gentle white noise hum of Mars's air recyclers or the silence of sealed domes.
This was alive. With each step, the noises of town faded.
The traffic. The chatter.
Even her own thoughts.
All that remained was the whisper of wind the sharp snap of the twig beneath her foot and a low distant hum she couldn't place.
She slowed when she saw it.
Just off the overgrown path mostly hidden behind a thicket of brambles and vines, was a rusted metal gate.
Its hinges sagged. A weathered sign dangled from the fencing.
Its letters long since faded.
The gate was locked but the chain around it looked old, more decorative than secure.
Red stood still. Something about the air here felt different.
Maybe it was her. She didn't move closer, not yet.
Instead, she took a quiet step back, eyes still locked on the gate.
Her fingers brushed the charm in her pocket as if to reassure herself.
She wasn't ready, but soon, maybe very soon, A gust of wind tugged at Red's hoodie, snapping her out of her thoughts.
The chill bit her cheeks now.
It was cold out, and she wasn't dressed for long walks.
She then realized just how far she'd come and how little daylight was left. Red turned and began walking quickly, then jogging back through the trees, retracing her path toward town.
Branches scraped against her sleeves as she passed, and every rustle behind her made her glance back.
She didn't see anyone, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, was aware of her.
By the time she reached her neighborhood, her pulse had settled, but her thoughts hadn't.
She'd found it, the place from the journal, a real, actual location.
Something waited out there.
She climbed the front steps two at a time, slipped through the door, and greeted her mom without slowing down.
Just tired going to rest before dinner, she called out as she headed up to her room.
Once the door was closed, Red opened her closet and pulled out a small backpack.
She didn't know exactly what she needed.
Not yet, but she'd have to be smart, careful.
She added a flashlight, an extra battery pack, her sketchbook, and a printed copy of the journal notes.
The charm went in last, nestled safely in a side pocket.
She zipped the bag closed and set it beside her desk.
She wasn't ready to tell the others, not yet, but she was going back, alone.
And this time, she wasn't just following a map.
She was following a question that wouldn't leave her alone.
A question even the AID might not want her to answer.
And that is the end of this part.
Good night. Sleep tight.
So, thank you.
