The Scroll 19

In this section of "The Scroll," more confusing stuff is dug up by Angela Castillo. Enjoy!

* * *

Angela Castillo drove two towns over and went to the local library. She lied about her name and address, got a residential library card, and sat down at one of the library’s many computers. It was surprisingly easy. She wasn’t even asked for identification.

Angela figured she had two hours, maybe three at the most, before someone like Agent Blue and Agent Orange showed up. She brought up the internet and typed “Forgotten Wanderers ocean” into the search engine.

There were several random sites, but as she searched something caught her eye. An excerpt from one site read, “Why go with the Forgotten Wanderers? There are better was to remember our past…” Angela clicked on the link.

The site was called Ocean Sand Sky. Angela read the description on the homepage. “Welcome, wanderers in a strange world! You may be wondering why we’ve made this site. Well, we felt the Forgotten Wanderers held a monopoly of ideas. So we created this friendly forum to allow us Other Siders to talk freely. Why go with the Forgotten Wanderers? There are better ways to remember our past than tell sob stories about what happened to us. And there are better ways to plan our future than to sit watching the waves. Of course, if you are a Forgotten Wanderer, we won’t hate you. All ideas are welcome here.”

A link on the bottom of the page said, “Chat with us.” Angela clicked on it.

Angela was redirected to a live chat page. Lines of text scrolled up the page as people around the world communicated with each other. It had all the markings of a normal chat room—some chatters used strange fonts, some sprinkled their text with emoticons. Angela read:

8asnayke: I’m just saying we shouldn’t sit and do nothing! >:( This is our lives we’re talking about!

lostwandr91: But wat can we do? We r stuck here.

mysoulbutterfly: I heard the other side shapes the sand to make it more likely that you cross over. They make a pool or something. Twist the laws.

littlerabbit has logged on.

lostwandr91: Yes but that dsnt change the age limits. im 2 old.

8asnayke: And you write 2 young.

littlerabbit: hey guyz! :) Do you think it’s true? Do you think that boy has something that can take us back :S I hope so. I miss my mom & dad. :(

lostwandr91: If so, it’ll only cause more probs.

8asnayke: We should take it if he does.

mysoulbutterfly: My professor says he got a weird email. Do you think it was him?

Ember: There’s a guest online.

littlerabbit has logged off.

8asnayke has logged off.

lostwandr91 has logged off.

mysoulbutterfly has logged off.

Ember: Guest, you should forget what you’ve read here, if you know what’s good for you.

Ember has logged off.

“Hmm.” Angela didn’t know what to make of the conversation she’d read. Still, she wrote down the web address to Ocean Sand Sky. “It’s about time I logged off as well.” She turned off the computer and left the library.

The Scroll 18

In this section of "The Scroll," we find out why Leslie is so reluctant to let anyone know what's going on and why she didn't want Savannah to get involved.

* * *

The emails sent, Leslie and Gray had nothing to do but go through every-day life. They went to school the next day, and the way people stared at them made Leslie feel like she was walking on pins and needles. As they walked through the hallways, kids pointed and whispered to their friends. Leslie put her earbuds in her hears and turned on her iPod, covering the wires with her hair. The music washed over her, soothing her. Gray walked silently behind her.

No one mentioned what happened in front of Gray or Leslie until P.E. Leslie exited the girl’s locker room before Gray exited the boy’s locker room. A gaggle of girls stood huddled in the nearest corner of the gym talking in excited voices. Leslie wandered over. In the center of the group was Anne, snapping her bubble gum and enjoying her spotlight of attention.

“I don’t believe a word of Leslie’s story. I’ll bet she fought Gray, not some weird mountain lion,” said Anne, playing with her ponytail. “I mean, this is just like two years ago when their mother died. No one was there to see that either.”

Leslie felt like her entire body had turned to ice. She froze in place, not wanting to listen but unable to stop. Her heart shuddered in her chest.

“Leslie says her mom fell off that cliff by accident, but some people say her mom committed suicide right in front of her. I wouldn’t put it past her to push her mom off the edge. She’s just like the people you hear about on the news—quiet, a loner, couldn’t hurt anyone. Then suddenly, they snap.”

Leslie jerked out of her frozen state. She pushed through the girls until she stood in front of Anne. Anne just smiled and blew a big pink bubble. Leslie jabbed a finger into the bubble. Pink gum splattered all over Anne’s face.

Anne wailed. Before the sound completely left her mouth, Leslie balled her right hand into a fist and punched Anna in the face. It was a weak punch—in retrospect one of the weakest punches ever thrown at a high school—but Anne stumbled backwards and landed right on her rear. She gazed fearfully up at Leslie.

“I wasn’t the only one there,” growled Leslie. “Savannah was there too. And it was an accident.”

The gym coach and several boys pushed through the crowd. “What is going on here?” the coach demanded.

No one answered him. Leslie leaned over Anne and said in a low voice, “Don’t ever—ever—speak about my mom like that again.”

Leslie turned to go. The coach held out a hand, stopping her. “I’m going to have to call your dad.”

Leslie slouched over and put her hands in the pockets of her gym shorts. “I know. But let him know exactly what she said—that either my mom committed suicide or I killed her. Make sure he knows why I hit her.”

The gym coach let her go, and Leslie walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She wished she had her iPod. Gray sat next to her a minute later.

Class started, and the coach split the students up to play basketball. Gray didn’t move. Neither did Leslie. Leslie asked, “Aren’t you going to play?”

Gray shook his head. “Not with my side. Aren’t you?”

“No,” said Leslie, frowning. ‘I don’t think Coach will mind.”

“So you hit that girl?” asked Gray. Leslie didn’t respond. “It didn’t look like a very strong punch.”

“I’m not a very strong person.”

Gray smiled. “Maybe not strong enough to stand up for yourself, but strong enough to stand up for others.”

They sat in silence, watching the other students drill shooting hoops. Anne was gone for a long time. When she reappeared from the girl’s locker room, the skin of her face was bright red.

Finally, Leslie spoke up. “I never want Savannah to see something like that. She’s seen enough death. If—if this gets dangerous, will you help me make her stay home?”

“It won’t get dangerous. It shouldn’t, anyway,” said Gray.

Leslie gave a short laugh. She smiled sarcastically at Gray. “Cougar Girl jumped through a window and tried to kill us, remember?”

Gray pulled from his pocket the small stone panther from his necklace. “I remember,” he said. He turned to Leslie. “I promise we’ll keep Savannah safe.”

The Scroll 17

In this installment of "The Scroll," Savannah goes to her friends' Fantasy Club, where she comes this close to telling them about Gray.

* * *

Savannah pedaled with all the ferocity of an athlete in a triathlon. Her face still burned from her conversation with Leslie. Her big sister had a way of making Savannah feel—well, awkward—about what she did.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been assigned as an Elf princess—not a warrior Elf princess, not a headstrong Elf princess, just a weak damsel-in-distress Elf princess. Plus, I have to wear these Vulcan ears, which is just wrong. But I’ll show them.

Savannah pulled up to her friend Caleb’s house. Caleb, dressed up as a goblin, was waiting to let Savannah park her bike in the garage. “You’re late,” he said, brandishing a plastic mace at her.

“Sorry,” said Savannah. “I came as fast as I could.” She slipped past Caleb into the house and down to the basement. There, the rest of the gang had arrived. There was Matt, the gold-rimmed glasses-wearing wizard, Roy the red-haired thief, Jeffrey the scrawny ranger, and Torv the game master. Torv’s real name was Laurie, but nobody blamed him for going by Torv.

While it was true that the Fantasy Club dressed up once a month, there was one thing Savannah hadn’t told her family. The Fantasy Club dressed up to play Roll Playing Games. As the only girl in the group, these RPG’s often involved the others rescuing Savannah, but today things were going to change.

The game started with Savannah trapped in a tower, guarded by the evil goblin Caleb. The wizard, thief, and ranger were supposed to battle through to the tower while Savannah’s goal was to befriend the goblin and his minions. Savannah didn’t play nice though. She fashioned a key using bits of her fingernails and toenails, which were stronger than usual thanks to the fact that she was an Elf—albeit an Elf with misshapen ears.

“No, they’re not,” said Torv.

“My nails are stronger if I say they are,” said Savannah. “So I use the key to unlock the door—”

“—And hundreds of goblins are waiting outside your cell,” said Torv, “led by—”

“—Me,” finished Caleb. He snarled. “And where do you think you’re going, little missy?”

“How do you plan to beat him or befriend him?” asked Torv.

“I jump over the heads of the goblins and down the stairs, dodging any arrows or spears they fling my way,” said Savannah.

“Sorry,” said Torv, looking at some papers in front of him. “Your agility’s a 2 and your strength is a 1. You land smack dab in the middle of the group. But your intelligence is a 10. What will you do now?”

In the end, the wizard, thief, and ranger saved the Elf princess. The princess did her best at fighting through her foes but failed. She did manage to befriend the goblin by promising him a triple scoop fudge-and-caramel ice cream sundae from the Igloo House Ice Cream Shop down the street. Plus, she got to whack the thief up the side of his head when he tried to steal her gold amulet. Sometimes having an intelligence level of 10 had its perks.

The game completed, the Fantasy Club settled back to talk theories. The topic turned to Alternate Realities. “How are we to know there aren’t other worlds out there?” asked Roy. “What if there are hundreds of me’s out there, and I don’t even realize it?”

Jeffrey said, “Maybe we compliment our other us-es. Maybe the stronger we are here, the stronger we are in the other realities.”

“Then all the Jeffries must be skin and bones,” said Caleb. Jeffrey the Scrawny squirmed.

Savannah thought of Gray. He’d talked about another world, but it didn’t seem like an alternate world. It seemed like its own unique world. She spoke up, “What if there are other worlds, but they aren’t alternates? What if—what if there people turn into animals or—or fly—or teleport just by thinking?”

Matt pushed up his glasses. “That’s not possible, not with science as we know it. You’re talking magic—worlds you can reach through a wardrobe or chanting special phrases. And, unfortunately, there’s nothing that says with absolute certainty that magic exists. Alternate realities are more probable.”

Savannah glowered in frustration. “But what about all the legends about other worlds—kingdoms under the sea, faeries who steal humans away to a world where time moves differently, underworlds and heavens, things like that? There’s got to be some basis in reality—there are so many of those stories.”

Matt shrugged. “Those stories probably arose from an effort to look beyond ourselves, to see something that was greater than us. Nowadays people see flying saucers instead of faeries.”

Savannah slammed her fist into her hand. “But what if magic is real? What if there’s another world where the laws of nature don’t work the same, and where their history is completely different than ours because it’s not an alternate? And what if someone from over there came over here or one of us went over there? And—and what if one of them was sick? What would happen to the civilization he landed in? Or would that civilization be immune because the laws of nature are different? Would he start changing according to the laws of nature in our world? Or would he still live according to his world’s laws? And how different is his world?”

Torv folded his arms. “Interesting questions, even though it’s a moot point. Anybody have any theories?”

Savannah hunched over and crossed her arms. She muttered, “But it’s not a moot point.”

While the others talked, Savannah fumed. She didn’t hear a word the others said.

The Scroll 16

Here is the next installment of "The Scroll." Sorry it's taken so long.

Something I've noticed as I've been writing: in my rewrite, I'm going to have to figure out a way to shorten my exposition and my actionless rising action. After all, most of the settings in this story so far have been at Leslie's house, and according to my word document "The Scroll" is already 36 pages single-spaced. Who wants to read that many pages of talking?

Anyway, in this episode of "The Scroll," Leslie and Gray seek to contact Professor Brown, and Savannah dresses up as... well, that you'll have to read for yourself.

* * *

Leslie made the last note on the last Professor Brown in the Bay Area. Groaning, she put her pencil down and turned to Gray. “That’s it.”

Gray’s eyes flitted over the paper. “How many are there?”

“Twenty-five, including professors in small tech colleges.”

Gray leaned over, winced, and put his hand to his side. “What do we do now?”

“Call them, I guess.” Leslie rubbed at a crick in her neck. “But my brain’s too tired right now.”

“Let’s take a break from this,” said Gray, pulling the paper out of Leslie’ hand. “Didn’t your father say there was some homework to be done?”

Leslie moaned. Homework would not help her fried brain. Nonetheless, she followed Gray to the kitchen, where a hefty pile of papers and books were waiting for them.

Homework was just as tedious as searching for Professor Browns. It didn’t help that Leslie had to read and write for Gray, and she wasn’t the fastest reader in the first place.

Eventually, homework was out of the way. Gray and Leslie sat on the couch in the living room. They peered at the names of Browns. Leslie held a phone in one hand. She couldn’t bring herself to dial the first number. What was she supposed to say? “Hi, have you ever heard of a world where people turn into animals? Because I’ve got someone here from that world.” She couldn’t bear the thought of doing that twenty-five times.

The door opened, and Savannah entered. She took off her backpack and plopped it next to the door, where it would remain until the next day. Savannah hardly ever had homework.

“What’s that?” asked Savannah, walking over.

“A list of Professor Browns in the Bay Area,” said Leslie, showing the paper to Savannah. “I was just about to start calling them.”

“Don’t do that,” said Savannah. “Do a mass email. It’ll take less time, you can choose your words carefully, and if a professor thinks you’re crazy he won’t have to tell you to your face—er, ear.”

Leslie felt her face get warm. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She admitted, “That’s a good idea, Savannah.”

Savannah beamed. “I know.” She sauntered up the stairs. Pausing, she said, “Oh, I’m leaving soon. Fantasy Club is tonight.”

“Want me to drive you?” asked Leslie.

“Nah. I’ll ride my bike.” Savannah slipped up the stairs and was gone.

Leslie turned the paper over to the blank side and set it down. “We should plan what we’ll write in the email. It should probably say who you are and some generalizations about what you need, but not everything. We should also ask to meet Professor Brown in person. So, what do you want to say?”

Gray sat back and tapped the side of his head. “Greetings, Professor Brown. I, Gray Azure’s son, have traveled far and seek your help. My village has been struck with an illness, and my father said that if I could only find you then you could help my people.”

Leslie scribbled frantically on the paper as Gray continued.

“I understand that you may not be the Professor Brown I seek. In your reply, please complete the following saying: We are the lifeblood. We are the future, present, and past.”

“That’s all?”

Gray nodded. “If Professor Brown truly communicates with my father, or has communicated with him in the past, he would know this saying.”

At that moment, Savannah came clunking down the stairs. She wore a purple dress over blue jeans and sneakers. The dress looked like a Halloween costume that was desperately trying to belong to a medieval princess. Plastic ear tips covered Savannah’s ears.

“What the—what are you wearing?” sputtered Leslie.

Savannah’s face flushed. “It’s costume night at my Fantasy Club. And…” Her voice trailed off, and her blush deepened.

“Are those your Vulcan ears from last Halloween?” asked Leslie.

Savannah raised her chin. “I was assigned to be an Elven princess, but there weren’t any Elf ears in the store. I asked to go earless, but my friends at the club insisted that Vulcan ears are better than no ears. But they’re entirely different—Elf ears slope back into points, while Vulcan ears curve forward.”

“You’re riding your bike like that?”

“Why not?” asked Savannah sharply. She lifted the skirts of her dress and tied them into a knot at her hip. “I can ride perfectly well like this. Don’t you have an email to send?”

“That’s right.” Leslie turned towards the paper on the coffee table. While her back was turned, Savannah thundered downstairs and out the door, slamming the door shut behind her.

Gray was staring at the closed door. “Does your sister usually act like that?”

Leslie shrugged. “You’ve just seen Savannah’s version of normal.”