Chapter 1 – The Door
What would you do if everything you knew was true suddenly came crashing down on your head? What if every fairy tale that you dismissed came to life in front of your eyes? What would you do if…
“Hello? Earth to Tanya! Anyone there?”
I blinked. “What?”
Alye laughed. “Off in lala land again?”
Rolling my eyes, I gave a quick laugh. “Nah, just escaping the tedium that comes with Biology.”
Perhaps I’d better back up.
You’ve probably not heard much about First Colonial. Well, it’s my high school. An older-than-dirt high school, but with a decent law academy and some brainy kids. I go there as a ninth grader.
I’m only 14, but sometimes, I feel like I’m seven. Or twenty. Depends on the situation. I have short black hair that only recently started getting wavy. I’m about 5’6” and used to wear glasses, until I got my eyes fixed. More on that part later. My friends call me socially dysfunctional…and that’s when they’re being polite about it. It’s perfectly true, though.
Which brings me to my school friends. Alye, the one who spoke to me, is a short (nicely put), very fast brunette with funky green and hazel eyes. She has a witch of a mom and a dad she sees for maybe five hours a week. Oh, and she’s obsessed with horses.
Then there’s Philipia. Another horse fanatic, she’s an inch taller than me, with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a passion for fantasy novels. She also used to be visually impaired. In addition, she’s usually the voice of reason when Alye and I are off planning mad escapades.
Back to the story.
The three of us were among the social outcasts of the school. As such, we often spent our class times fending off the preps and trying to do our homework. A tough battle, needless to say.
“What jolly fun,” I whispered as we received yet another giant stack of homework. Well, not exactly giant, but enough to further drain away our social lives. Bells rang, we grabbed our stuff, and Alye, Philipia, and I parted ways. Onward to real life.
Home. Finally, after a long, tiring day in a series of long, tiring days. Flinging my bags down and waving a quick hello to my mom, I sat down in front of my trusty computer. E-mail check first.
“You’ve got mail!” I chimed as I looked at my inbox. Philipia had e-mailed me.
Hey, Tanya, was wonderin if you can come by the Princess Anne library at 4.
tlk2ul8tr,
Philipia
Internet acronyms drive me nuts.
“Mom!” I called upstairs. “I need to go by the library at 4:00! Can you take me?”
A reply to the affirmative wafted down the steps on the tail of Cassie, my calico cat. I grinned and typed up a quick answer.
“Ah, the sweet smell of musty books,” I breathed as I stepped through the large wooden doors. Philipia was waiting for me, and along with her…Alye? “How did you get here?” I asked.
They exchanged grins. “Mom thinks I’m here with a tutor…who’s very susceptible to bribery,” Alye smirked. I felt my own face light up and we trotted for the holy stacks.
“Remind me again why our History teacher made us write a paper on Chinese philosophy?” Philipia groaned. Alye and I agreed. But at last, after extensive book searching, we found five nice, heavy volumes full of relevant info. Grabbing the nearest table, we whipped out our notebooks and started taking notes.
Minutes turned to half-hours. My brain was about to explode from all the factoids I was taking in. I proposed a break; my companions were equally thrilled. We stood for a moment to stretch, working the writer’s cramps from our fingers and arms. Alye was staring off into space, but then her gaze fixed on something.
“Look at that door,” she whispered as we stood. Philipia and I turned.
It was a strange-looking door, I’ll admit. In contrast to the dull brown of the walls, this door was a rich hazel color, with small painted red lines on the frames. A small, old-fashioned latch was apparently the only way to lock or unlock the door.
We all felt ourselves drawn to the thing, leaving our books behind on the table. Slowly, looking over our shoulders, we advanced toward the door. Thankfully, the library was almost empty. Finally, we stood directly in front of the weird door. Philipia twitched.
“Can you hear that?” she murmured. I shook my head but then, in the silence that followed, I noticed it.
A humming. Vaguely musical. And a smell, like grass or forest. Weird. Alye, unable to resist, reached for the latch…
“What are you doing?” a voice barked from behind. We jumped and whipped around. A guy, middle-aged, with graying hair and stern blue eyes glared at us. His clothes spoke of long days amidst the dusty racks of books. He was not a happy camper.
“What are you doing?” he repeated, looking even more ticked off. Philipia gave a nervous smile.
“Uh…we thought that there might be…um…some more books behind the door. We’re doing a project on Chinese philosophy.”
The dusty man arched an eyebrow. “The philosophy books are over there,” he pointed to the other end of the library, “and that is a restricted employee room.” He straightened his back to make us feel shorter, “NO PATRONS ALLOWED.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I stammered, grabbing the other two and pulling them away. I felt his eyes boring into my back as we gathered up our stuff.
Outside in the parking lot, I dashed off to make a quick phone call to my mom, telling her I was ready to be picked up. We stood in the chill without speaking, our ears ringing in the cold.
Back at school the next day, we avoided talking about the library. Instead, we compared notes on research and started outlining our speeches. Typical school stuff.
But as the final bell rang and we trotted out to the buses, an unspoken signal lit up.
“We have GOT to find out what’s behind that door,” Alye announced.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it’s a mystery, that’s why!”
Philipia rolled her eyes. “Just because some snobby guy wants a couple of kids away from a door doesn’t mean there’s anything sinister behind it.”
“No,” I interrupted, “I agree. Something’s up. He could be a terrorist or something.”
“Yeah,” Alye snorted, “a terrorist who plays classical music and has a freaking garden in a library room.”
“Whatever,” I shot back, “But we should find some way to get back there. Ideas, anyone?”
And so the conspiracy formed.
Each Friday, the three of us found some excuse for going to the library. Each time, we carefully watched the library man’s movements, waiting for a chance to slip by his careful watch.
Finally, that chance came.
Four weeks after our first encounter, we sat at our table, (apparently) working busily on a letter to a congressman. In reality, we were covertly keeping one eye on him while writing down piffle that looked technical enough to throw off anyone that might happen to pass by.
At that moment, a mother with about five kids, all in elementary school, bustled into the library, disturbing the (relative) peace. All five were crying about their project that was due tomorrow and therefore more important than the others. The library man had his hands full, looking up books in a database and trotting all over the place while searching for said volumes. For a moment, his back was completely turned to us. We exchanged glances and ran for the door, making practically no noise. I could still hear the kids arguing.
Alye flipped the latch up and we soundlessly opened the door. A rush of wind and smell of grass hit our faces, but swallowing the apprehension that now jumped into our throats, we stepped inside.
Every shade of color human eyes have ever seen swirled around us, blending with a mix of curious smells. A sound of vague singing, the same we’d heard before, filled our ears, overwhelming our senses.
“Hold hands!” Philipia shouted, trying to pierce the noise. We scrabbled for familiar fingers and latched onto each other, not daring to let go. The colors deepened, then brightened, but the sound only got louder.
In a matter of seconds, the light was too bright to see through. Someone screamed. I hope it wasn't me.
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