“What do you mean, no more cheese?” Colby shouted.

  “Colby, don’t you dare shout at your father!” his mother yelled.

  His father raised a hand at Pepper and shook his head.

  “I don’t care about that right now!” Colby yelled even louder. “What do you mean, no more cheese?”

  “I didn’t say no more cheese,” his father said. “I just said that we can’t afford for you to do any more cheese experiments.”

  “Same thing!”

  “You can still make fresh cheese for the customers.”

  “That’s not the same. Those are your recipes for your customers. What I need is to come up with my own recipes using what I’ve learnt.”

  “Being a great cheesemaker isn’t about how many different cheeses you know how to make. It’s about making the best cheese you can. Why don’t you take this opportunity to really master the fresh cheese we serve in the shop?”

  “No! It’s not the same. That cheese is for the customers. I need to make cheese for myself! Cheese is all that I’m good at. If you take the cheese away from me, then what am I?”

  “You’re Colby Tyro, my son. How about a hug, huh, sport?” his father said, stretching open his arms.

  Colby looked at his father. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Not now. Doing so would mean conceding. They’d have their way. They’d steal the cheese away from him.

  “Colby?” his father said, concern wavering through his voice. “Are you okay?"

  “No,” his voice quivered. Tears leaked out of his eyes, turning everything into a watery blur. “I’m not. Without cheese, I’m not even Colby.”

  “You’re tired, Colby. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you go to bed, and we’ll discuss this in the morning, okay?”

  Colby nodded.

  Yes, all he had to do was go to bed. This was just a nightmare. A horrible, soul-crushing nightmare. When he woke up, everything would be okay, and he could go back to making his own cheese—not his parents’ recipes for their customers.

  He turned around, ready to start climbing up the stairs back to his room, when he remembered Brie. She wanted milk.

  Dream Brie or not, he was going to get her that milk.

  “Mom. Dad,” his voice hitched.

  “What is it, son?” his father asked.

  “Brie wants some milk. Could you help?”

  “Sure thing.”

  His father held out his palm. Two bottles of Daisy Cow milk materialized on it.

  “I only need one,” Colby said.

  “One’s for you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Colby grabbed the warm bottles and headed upstairs. As he climbed, he chugged down his bottle of milk, finishing it before he even reached his bedroom. Before entering, he wiped away the lingering tears from his eyes. There was no way he was going to let Brie see him like this. Dream sister or not, he wouldn’t want to worry her.

  Inside, he found his little sister, Brie, hiding under the bed sheet. Lifting it up, he saw his sister’s trembling form. Terror was written all over her small face.

  “What’s wrong, Brie?” he asked, setting down the empty bottle of milk on his desk.

  “I heard shouting. Broby, I’m scared. I think monsters are attacking.”

  In the end, he still scared her. He really was a failure in every aspect, but cheese.

  “Sorry, Brie. That was me.”

  “Are you okay, Broby? Did the monsters eat you?”

  “No, Brie,” he said. “I was just… hurt.”

  “Don’t be hurt, Broby,” Brie said, finally coming out of the sheets. “Do you want me to kiss your boo-boo better?”

  He smiled. “Thanks, Brie, but it’s okay. What I want is for you to drink your milk and go to sleep. Then I’ll feel better, okay?”

  “Okay!”

  She grabbed the bottle from him. Holding it with both hands, she tilted it toward her mouth. Brie just kept drinking and drinking and drinking.

  “Brie, slow down. You’re going to choke.”

  As she continued to drink, she shook her head. The milk inside the bottle swished about, and a few droplets managed to leak out of the opening, dripping onto the bed.

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  Finally finished with the whole bottle, she took one big gulp of air.

  “Brie. What did you do that for? Are you okay?”

  “Because Broby won’t be hurt anymore when I finish the milk,” she said. “Is Broby feeling better?”

  He smiled softly at her, patting her head. “A little, Brie. Now I want you to sleep.”

  “Okay, Broby,” she said, placing the empty bottle on the shared nightstand between their beds.

  He got into bed, sleeping as close to the edge so that his sister would have plenty of space. After pulling up the sheets and making sure they didn’t cover her head, he wished his little sister good night.

  “Good night, Broby. I hope you hurt less in the morning.”

  Brie closed her eyes, and in mere seconds she was fast asleep. It was a different story for him. He lay there staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast by the moonlight spilling through the window.

  What if this really wasn’t a horrible nightmare? What if this were all real and cheese really was being ripped away from him?

  Tears began to well up in his eyes once more. It had to be a bad dream, it just had to. Without cheese, who was he? Cheese was all he was good at.

  Exhaustion, both physical and mental, had whipped him empty. No longer able to escape from slumber, it claimed him, whisking him away.

  When he woke up, he found Brie still sleeping on his bed. She had taken most of it, limbs splayed out in every direction, while he clung to the edge. He carefully got up, making sure not to disturb her slumber.

  Looking around, he spotted the bottles of milk on his desk and the shared nightstand. Maybe it wasn’t a nightmare. It was something far worse, reality.

  Was cheese really going to be taken away from him?

  Softly exiting his bedroom, he made his way downstairs and found his mother cooking breakfast. It smelled much more appetizing than the gruel Elaine had whipped up for him the previous day. Sniffing the air, he recognized hints of cheddar and a bunch of other non-cheese food.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said, entering the kitchen.

  His mother stood by the stove, with a white apron over her yellow shirt. With a spatula, she stirred cheddar and some other non-essential food in the frying pan.

  “Hi, sweetie. Did you sleep well? I’m making your favorite: scrambled cheese with egg.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” he said, sitting down at the dining table. It was a simple table. A wooden slab with four rectangular wooden legs stuck underneath it. Staring at the plate and cutlery by the side, he bit his lip, praying that last night really didn’t happen.

  “Mom…” his voice wavered.

  “Yes, Colby.”

  “Was last night… Was last night real?”

  She sighed, lowering the spatula.

  “I know it hurts, Colby. I love coming up with new recipes as much as you or your father.”

  “So, it really was real?”

  “Yes, Colby. We have to cut down on expenses, which means no more cheese experiments. We can only make what the customers order.” She lowered her spatula even more, whispering, “If they even come and order.”

  “But why?”

  She sighed again. “I’ve already told you why, Colby. Please don’t keep making me repeat myself.”

  He only asked on the off chance his mom had misspoke? What if she actually said that he could go on with his life, making as much cheese as possible, while still leaving enough ingredients for the customers?

  She could've been thinking about something else. Maybe a story her friend told her got mixed in while she was talking to him. That had to be it, right?

  “Delivery!” a voice came from the shop.

  “Colby, dear. Could you get that? And remember not to move it into your Core.”

  “Okay, mom,” he said, getting up from the table.

  This was the weekly delivery. It was the best way to tell if his mother had been telling the truth or hallucinating a story.

  Entering the shop, he saw a man dressed in all brown—even his cap was brown.

  “Hi, delivery for Tyro’s Cheeseshop.”

  “Yeah, that’s us.”

  He opened up his Inventory, retrieving a clipboard with a piece of paper attached to it and a pen. A small transparent crystal sat atop the pen, while the words on the paper shifted about until they finally came to a squiggly stop. On the sheet was the shop's name and the list of ingredients that his parents had ordered. “Could you sign here?”

  But something was off. The number of ingredients that were listed there was substantially lower than normal.

  “This can’t be right,” Colby said. “Shouldn’t there be more?”

  “Could I see that?” the Supply Runner asked, grabbing the clipboard from Colby’s hand. He looked closer, inspecting it for something that Colby couldn’t see.

  “Nope. It looks alright. Says here that there was a last-minute change in order volume. Pretty much everyone’s doing it right now. Can’t blame them.”

  It was true. Everything was true. Cheese really was being taken away from him.

  It was horrible.

  “Excuse me, could you sign?”

  “Huh, oh yeah.”

  The Supply Runner handed him back the clipboard and pen. Colby signed his name, and as he did, the small crystal at the top of the pen lit up with a soft light.

  “Great,” he said. “So do you want me to leave it here or in your Inventory?”

  “Inventory,” Colby said.

  As the Supply Runner loaded various bottles of milk and other ingredients into his Inventory, he just stared into space.

  “All done,” the Supply Runner said, in all too quick a time.

  Colby just nodded, closing his Inventory and headed back into the kitchen. The smell of scrambled cheddar with eggs invaded his nostrils, but they couldn’t pierce through the doom clouding his mind.

  “Was the delivery okay?” his mother asked, placing the scrambled cheddar with eggs on his plate. The food was… food.

  He didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head at his mom’s question. The delivery had gone smoothly. What wasn’t was the sheer lack of ingredients. So he just sat there, unmoving, staring into his food.

  His mother sighed and hugged him. Not even his mother’s embrace was enough to wake him from his trance. “I love you, Colby. It’ll just be a short while before things go back to normal, okay?”

  He didn’t respond, just a blank stare into his plate.

  Colby was devastated; he didn’t know what to do. If he couldn’t make his own cheese, then what could he do? How could he accomplish his dream of making the ultimate cheese? Without cheese, he was nothing.

  The world around him started to dim. What was the point of it all if he couldn’t make his own cheese? There wasn’t a point. Everything started to fade away into darkness.

  But within that abyssal void lay a stubborn dot of light.

  It continued to shine, mocking him. That light started to glow even brighter, consuming the void that had swallowed him whole.

  No. He wasn’t nothing. He was Colby Tyro. And when there’s a will, there’s a whey. There was something he could do that would help him on his journey to make the ultimate cheese. What if…

  He expanded his Core.