KEEFER Of The Lost Cities

Neverseen- Are You Throwing Shoes At Me?

Keefe didn't sleep the whole night. He was used to it, though not for studying, which was one reason normal people stayed up. 

He stayed up to think. To worry. To be alone. And all that time spent staring at a pitch-black ceiling resembling a starless night gave him an idea.

Keefe got up as soon as the morning alarms rang, shaking Dex and Fitz awake. "Guys. GUYS! Get up, I have an idea."

Dex bolted up immediately, falling into a defensive stance. Keefe remembered too late that he had been kidnapped and being woken up like that probably brought back horrifying memories. It was little things like this that showed how he had changed. Dex was still Dex, but different. Warier. Defensive.

"Keefe?" Dex asked blearily, rubbing his eyes tiredly and relaxing. "What do you want?"

"Wait help me wake Fitz up. He's like a bear."

Dex snorted. "Yeah."

Keefe counted down on his fingers, and once his fingers closed in a fist, they simultaneously shoved Fitz. He rolled over, but still took a minute to it upright. "Ughhhh Keefe what do you want?"

"See, I liked the way Dex asked the question better. I have an idea. About Gethen." Both of their attentions immediately slid to him. "I can mimic my mother. Really well. Fitz knows."

Fitz nodded, looking kinda sick. "Yeah, it's scary."

"If I can get Gethen to think my mother is saving him, he might let his barrier slip and Foster and Forkle ca slip through his defenses and get some valuable information."

Fitz looked thoughtful for a second. "You know, that's not actually a bad idea."

Dex shook his head. "I don't know. It seems like it's relying a LOT on whether your imitation works."

"Oh, it's works." Keefe guaranteed, shifting his voice a couple octaves higher and keeping his words short and clipped. He winced when he heard himself. Dex flinched. 

"That's gonna work." Dex agreed, queasy. "Now excuse me while I try to clean out my ears." He got up a headed toward to bathroom, leaving Keefe with Fitz.

"It is a good idea, isn't it? It might work?" Keefe asked.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'm not an expert, but it seems pretty good. And now I'm going to dunk my head in a bowl of ice water to distract myself."

Once everyone had showered and changed, all three boys rushed downstairs, only to see that everyone else was already ready and getting their breakfasts.

"This forest will miss him, but Calla feels confident she can cover his absence. And I think it's important we get answers quickly, don't you?" Mr. Forkle handed a bowl of green porridge to Biana.

"I do," Keefe said, hurrying to be close enough for a conversation, but not hurrying enough to make it seem like he was late and it wasn't on purpose. "And I have a plan."

"Do you, now?" Mr. Forkle asked, studying Keefe closer, no doubt seeing the bruise like marks under his eyes. But it wasn't Forkle's concern that stood out to Keefe. It was Sophie's.

"Fine. How about I eat if you promise to hear me out?" Keefe asked. He felt all the eyes in the room trained on him as he quickly devoured his porridge, the taste not even registering in his mouth. "I want to speak to Gethen. I know he's unresponsive orwhatever you called it. But his consciousness can't just disappear. I'm sure he can hear me. Or, more importantly, he can hear this." He cleared his throat and his voice shifted several octaves higher as he said, "Gethen—it's time to go!"