• The summers’ breeze felt like a heat wave against my face. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had felt real wind on my face outside of my fathers’ presence. I looked around the grassy hill that I had appeared at, and saw no one around. Its better off that no one is here. I thought sadly. A girl appearing out of thin air would raise some massive questions. I walked around for a minute and then sat down on the cool grass, realizing that my jeans were completely impractical. I looked into the town that I haven’t seen in a decade, and saw a handful of Andalites wandering around the Cinnabon shop, morphing into human form to devour the sticky, cinnamon goodness they had purchased. One struck me in particular, a male who wore glasses with no lenses. I jumped up and raced down the hill towards him, my heart pounding in my chest. When I was close to him I recognized his short blonde hair, grey eyes, and pale complexion, and yelled, “Kir’il! Kir’il!”

    The man looked at me startled, his eyes wide. The new cinnamon bun was already half gone and as he swallowed the huge portion in his mouth he asked, “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

    I laughed and he looked at me oddly. “Of course you don’t. Father erased your mind. Here, let me restore it for you.” I said and focused on his brain waves, watching his eyes as it all came back to him.

    The cinnamon bun, which Andalites hold in sacred regard, fell from his hand and onto the sidewalk. His eyes focused on my face and his mouth fell open. “Joanna? Is it really you?” He asked in a horse voice.

    “Yep. I’m back and I’m here for a visit. How the hell are you?” I replied.

    He opened his mouth as if to respond but then quickly glanced around in fear. “Don’t worry, he’s not here. I am now a free girl. And let me tell you, I missed you so much.” I told him.

    He enclosed me in a hug and said, “I am sorry to have forgotten you. You were the best pupil in my class.”

    “No problem, it’s not your fault. Father erased your mind, how could you prevent it? But I have some questions for you, teacher. Do you know anything about the Animorphs?” I probed.

    “Well, I am a teacher. I know everything. Where do you want to begin?” He asked.

    “At the beginning, of course.” I said.

    So he started to tell me their story. He told me of five ordinary high school kids who just happened to take a different way home one night. In a construction site, an Andalite ship crashed right in front of them and changed their lives forever. He told me of Elfangor, the Andalite that gave them the power to morph and died in front of them. He told me how they saved the world time and time again in secret. How they remained hidden until Visser Three figured out that they were humans and not Andalites. How Rachel sacrificed herself to kill Visser Three. And how all but Cassie went to fight Ax in the final battle, leaving her to grow old and die alone. When he finished his lesson, I was bawling my eyes out. It was incredibly touching how these mere children laid their lives on the line and died for what they believed in. I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked at Kir’il. “I want to help them. I want to save the Animorphs.” I informed him.

    I think that when his jaw dropped, the wheels in his head broke too. “That’s, that’s impossible. It’s been thirty years since they died. You can’t help them, it’s physically impossible.” He said slowly.

    I unleashed an evil grin. “Did you forget that I am an Ellimist? I can go back in time in my sleep! Well, not really, and it makes me really sick to boot. But, I am an Ellimist!” I told him.

    He shot me a smile and encased me in another hug. “You should see your mother before you leave. Good-bye and good luck, I fear that you won’t be returning. You were always a wonderful student.” He responded sadly.

    I wondered what he was talking about, me not returning. I released the embrace and waved at him before getting up and turning my back on him. I walked down the road to my old house, looking for things that I remembered. I saw a woman in her late forties, sitting by the front door, looking out at nothing in particular. Her dark hair was streaked with sliver and her dark eyes filled with sadness. I walked over to her and asked quietly, “Mom?”

    She looked at me in confusion, as if not quite sure what I said. Then her eyes focused fully on my face, and she whispered, “Joanna? Am I dead?”

    “No Mom, you’re not dead. Not by a long shot. I missed you.” I replied.