The Flip Side

Flipped

I wake up the next morning with a stinging pain in my shoulders. I go to the bathroom and unwrap the gauze from my arms. My upper arm is dark purple, but the burn seems to have healed for the most part. After unwrapping it completely, I can feel the blood rushing back to it. The pain begins to go away, and I can see the color coming back. I throw the gauze in the trash, and head back to my room.
No Name is sitting up in bed, but his head is down. I can't tell if he's tired, sad, or what he's feeling. He reaches out, handing me the pajamas Father gave him. I set them down next to him. "Mother said you can keep them." I say, patting them. He nods, standing up. He looks up at me. It's fairly dark in the room, so his face is completely hidden as usual.
We stand there for a second, just looking at each other. After a second, a smiles. But it's not like his normal smile. It's not that huge, odd grin that he usually wears on his face. This smile is almost... inviting. It's a comforting smile. It's almost like him saying, "We're gonna be okay. We're safe here."
I blink a few times, looking down. "I-I'm gonna go change." I turn, walking to my makeshift bed, where I left my clothes from yesterday. I grab them, and go back to the bathroom. While I'm getting dressed, I hear Mother yell up, "Breakfast is ready!" I pull on my tank top and grab my jacket, walking out of the bathroom and down the stairs. No Name and Father are sitting at the table, and Mother is bringing a few trays to the table. Father is drinking a cup of coffee, and No Name is sitting silently. I sit down across from him, and Mother hands me a plate.
"Eat up." She says, motioning to the trays full of bacon and pancakes. "If you want waffles let me know, the batter is ready." She sits down, and I grab a pancake and a couple slices of bacon. I set my plate down, and right before taking a bite of my bacon I look up at No Name. He's still just sitting there, his plate empty. I set down the slice of bacon in my hand, and slide my plate to him, taking his empty plate. He looks up at me, then back down at the plate. He picks up a slice of bacon, and takes a small bite off the end. I grab myself a pancake and a slice of bacon and begin to eat.
No Name is enjoying every bite of his breakfast. He finishes the first pancake in seconds, and finishes the bacon a bit slower. After he's done, he sits there, eyeing the trays still full of pancakes. I swallow the bite in my mouth and clear my throat. "Would you like some more?" He looks at me and nods. Mother laughs, and motions to the trays.
"Help yourself, please. Whatever's left goes to the farm." I forgot about our farm. Father purchased the land when I was three. It was originally just a huge field where a bunch of community events were held. Father had a barn built within the first month, and started preparing the field for planting. After a few months, the entire land was covered in cornfields. Father tried to keep me and Jay out of the fields so we didn't get lost, but me and Jay would always sneak off after dinner and chase each other around the field. Jay told me that as long as I walk towards the sun in the mornings and away from it at night, I'd always end up on the entrance side of the farm.
No Name and I left the house a half hour later with a few take-out boxes full of pancakes and bacon. We walk a little ways down the street, and I wonder how we're going to get back to the other side (the un-Flip Side?). After walking down the road for a bit, No Name stops, turning to me. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a picture frame. He hands it to me. I look down at it. It's a family photo. It must be what he picked up from the scrap pile earlier.
The frame is metal, and had a glass pane covering the front, which has protected the picture from being damaged in the fire. This must have been what he picked up from the pile earlier. I notice a small folded up piece of paper in the corner of the frame. I unfasten the backing of the frame, and pull out the picture. I fold it up gently and put it in my front pocket. I grab the folded paper, and unfold it carefully. It's a note. I read it softly aloud.

Dear Artemis/Jason Stewart,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. We've left a few items of yours, I hope they may be of some use to you. We have been searching for you for days, but nobody claims to have seen you. Knowing you two, I'm sure you've found a way to live on you're own. But please know that we've been looking for you, and wish you would come home.
With Love,
Mother and Father