The cheery, repetitive video game music tinkles through the screen of your Nintendo Switch, calming you down. It had been a long day, and video games always calmed you down. Abruptly, however, the music cuts off, and a face pixelated into existence, filling most of your screen. You flinch backward and nearly drop the Switch. The girl staring up at you has pale skin freckled with tiny silver-purple stars. Her slightly messy wavy periwinkle hair, somewhere between pale blue and lavender, frames her face. At the very bottom of the screen, you can see that she’s wearing a dark purple shirt striped with shiny silver, and a delicate golden chain with a gold star hanging from it. “Uh, woah,” you mutter, tilting and examining the Switch carefully. The girl smiles up at you, her face turning with the screen. “Hey, I heard you needed some cheering up,” she says, her voice light and tinkly, somehow familiar. It sounds almost like the music of the game you were playing. Unable to speak, you simply nod, propping the Switch against a couch cushion. The girl smiles again, then asks you, “What’s your name? I’m Periwinkle.” You tell her, and she laughs, a delightful sound. “What do you like to do when you’re happy?” is her next question. You haltingly list off your favorite hobbies and activities. All the while Periwinkle nods along, obviously noting them in her head. When you’re finished, she looks off to the side, obviously doing something else, while she speaks. “I like writing, and playing games, and skateboarding, and helping people,” she says as if she’d memorized the list a long time ago. “I like going to museums and libraries, and I like being in the big city in the fall and winter.” She smiles and looks back directly at you. “All done! Have fun,” she says, as her face fades away into pixels, leaving only your Switch’s homescreen. A new game is downloading there, one you definitely don’t remember buying. Now, it’s your turn to smile softly, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ to Periwinkle, even if she can’t hear.

(I hope I got the she/they pronouns okay?)

The hallways of your school are filled to overflowing with students as you push through crowds to try get to your locker. When you get there, you frown in confusion and slight irritation. Someone is leaning against your locker, someone with dark brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and medium-toned freckled skin. Their eyes meet yours, one hazel and the other striking green. You come closer, and are about to ask her to leave when she speaks first. “Hey! You’re *insert name here*, right?” You nod slowly. “That’s me. Could you maybe move? I don’t want to be late to class.” They smile at you, something mysterious hidden in their expression. She pushes off the metal locker door and holds out her hand. Questioningly, you take it, and suddenly get the feeling of being on a very, very fast rollercoaster. When you feel okay enough to glance up, you see a forest with tall trees. Fog wreaths the trees’ upper branches and even lays on the ground like a thin, translucent blanket. Taking a closer look at the unfamiliar person, you see they’re wearing a bright purple shirt with a graphic of a cartoony pangolin on it. Underneath, it reads, ‘Pangolins: The Best Snuggle Buddies’. Her jeans have grass stains on the knees and ankle hems, and her shoes, which probably once were white or another pale color, are now permanently stained a dark, muddy brown. “Where are we? What are we doing?” you ask quickly. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know, exactly; talking, as of right now; and a conversation,” the teen replies, rattling off answers speedily. You take a second to match each response with a question in your mind, before saying in a loud, slightly demanding voice, “Bring me back to school, please. I sad I don’t want to be late for class.” “You wont,” the person smiles sweetly. “Time is halted here. I just thought you needed a moment. You were looking stressed out there.” tension floods off your shoulders at the admission. “Really? Thank you,” you say quietly. “Just doin’ what I love!” they grin widely. Turning to leave through the woods, they give you a few instructions. “If anyone else drops into here, explain it to them, alright? Don’t try to leave, you’ll leave when you’re ready and return in the exact same time as when you left. Also, this is a relaxing spot. Please do not be chaotic.” You nod, then sit down on the mossy ground, plopping your schoolthings beside you and closing your eyes. As much time as you need to relax and regain your bearings in the wildness that was school? Yes, please.