'Show my status.'
There was a short delay, then the familiar blue screen blinked into view, gently floating before Arlo's eyes like a glowing ghost sheet.
---
---
Arlo's eye twitched.
'Gee. Thanks for the boost, system,' he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
The system had no response. Probably off somewhere roasting another poor soul.
He sighed and examined the stats again.
His numbers weren't terrible… but they certainly weren't protagonist-level either.
Everything hovered around 3, except intelligence, which barely scraped a 4.
And luck? That one just gave question marks, like even the system was scared to look.
"Well, I'll just have to improve them," Arlo said with the conviction of a man who had just been thoroughly humbled.
The screen folded itself into a small glowing tab, minimizing to the bottom of his vision like a desktop widget.
With that, he relaxed, resting his head against the seat and clutching his bag like it held all his worldly hopes and dreams — which, in fairness, it probably did.
Moments later, sleep claimed him.
...
The loud honking of the bus snapped him awake.
"Hey, kid! Valemire!" the driver barked from the front.
Arlo jerked up, nearly knocking his head on the window.
His fingers instantly reached for his things — bag, duffel, hoodie — all still there.
He got off the bus, stepping down onto a cracked but clean pavement.
What welcomed him was a breeze.
A real, fresh breeze. Not the kind laced with exhaust fumes and mild regret from Gray City's endless traffic — but clean, honest air that whispered: "Welcome back."
He inhaled deeply.
"If only I had a phone to take a picture right now…" he muttered.
Too bad it was smashed to pieces thanks to Gwen's call.
Irony had hands, apparently.
The bus gave a soft hiss as the doors closed and began rumbling down the road, leaving him alone at the small roadside bus stop. The other passengers had gone before he woke up.
The stop itself was just a weather-worn bench under a faded sign that looked like it had seen better decades.
Arlo scanned his surroundings. Valemire had changed.
The town wasn't as sleepy as he remembered.
As a kid, it had felt like a forgotten vacation spot with more stray cats than people.
But now? Now there were people everywhere — walking, laughing, chatting.
Shops were open, cafés had signs out front, and to his surprise, a group of uniformed students were passing by.
"Huh. So there's a school here now?" he said aloud.
The voice of an older man chuckled from behind him. "That's our pride now. Valemire Unified — middle and high school combined. Best in the region, if you ask me."
Arlo turned around to find a cab driver leaning out his window, grinning.
The car was a dusty green sedan that had clearly seen its share of potholes and romantic backseat stories.
"Need a ride?" the man added.
"Yeah. Ernest Resort," Arlo replied.
The driver blinked, then smiled wider. "You're serious? Ernest Resort?"
"Yes?"
"You ain't pranking me, are you?"
"Why would I—"
The man snapped his fingers and pointed. "No way. Arlo? Arlo Walker?!"
Arlo blinked. "How do you know—?"
"It's Uncle Marty!"
Images from childhood came flooding back — summer days, lemonade stands, and a young tall man with a boisterous laugh who used to toss him in the air like a human basketball.
"…Uncle Marty?!" Arlo grinned as he got in the car. "Holy crap, you're still here?!"
"Still here and still un-married," Marty laughed, shifting the gear into drive. "Can't trust anyone who thinks cucumbers are a fruit. But hey, enough about my tragic bachelor life — look at you! You've grown into your ears!"
"Gee, thanks," Arlo replied dryly, shaking his head with a smile.
The cab pulled onto the main road as they drove into the heart of Valemire. Through the window, Arlo took in the view.
The cracked streets of memory had been patched. Colorful new signs hung from shop windows.
A bakery stood where a run-down clinic used to be.
Kids zipped by on electric scooters, and a group of women were laughing over coffee at a terrace café.
Valemire wasn't dead.
It had changed for the better apparently.
"So… what happened here?" Arlo asked.
Marty kept one hand on the wheel and gestured out the window with the other.
"Couple years back, mayor switched. New management, new investors. Some young blood came in, built that school, opened shops, boosted tourism a bit. Nothing crazy yet, but it's not the ghost town it used to be."
Arlo nodded slowly. "And Ernest Resort?"
Marty's smile thinned. "That place… well. You'll see."
The rest of the ride was filled with warm conversation and occasional outbursts of laughter.
Marty told Arlo about how he now owned three cabs and still played poker with some of the old-timers from the neighborhood.
Arlo caught him up on life in Gray City, how he'd just graduated and inherited the resort.
Marty whistled. "Didn't think old man Ernest would leave it to you."
"Guess I'm the only one dumb enough to accept."
They both laughed.
Eventually, the cab began climbing a slightly sloped road surrounded by trees.
The buzz of town life faded behind them. Birds chirped in the branches above, and the sunlight pierced the leaves in golden strands.
Soon, a faded wooden sign came into view:
[Welcome to Ernest Resort]
Well… what was left of it.
The resort sat nestled against the foot of a forested hill, surrounded by thick trees and a rusting iron fence.
The main building was large, with a beautiful but weather-worn structure reminiscent of European villas.
Ivy curled up its stone walls. The roof shingles were cracked. The windows — some clean, some fogged.
And the entrance sign?
It was hanging on by a single bolt, swaying in the wind like a dying whisper.
"Yup," Marty said, parking the car, "still standing."
"…Barely."
They both got out.
Arlo walked forward, staring at the building that had once felt like a castle in his childhood.
The memories here were thick.
His father teaching him to swim in the pool.
He blinked.
A new blue screen popped up.
Arlo tapped [Yes].
A new dashboard slid in like a real-time strategy game.
There were tabs labeled: Renovation, Staff Hiring, Guest Reviews (currently empty), and... "Charm Assets."
Of course.
"Looks like I've got my work cut out for me," he muttered.
Marty clapped him on the back. "Hey, if anyone can bring this place back to life, it's you."
"You really think so?"
Marty grinned. "Nope. But I'm rooting for you anyway."
Arlo laughed, shaking his head.
"For now since you're in Valemire, would you like to stay with your stepmother?"