The Works of H.C.: 2010

Okay, yeah. This isn't actually part of Goddess over World. But i need to back it up, so i don't really care.

My name is Christina.
I don't know what moron decided to name me Christina, but the name Christina doesn't seem to resemble me at all. The name Christina sounds like ice to me- a person very strong and not very emotional, beautiful but not traditionally- pale with ice-blond hair and pale gray eyes. Someone who was very intelligent and strict about everything.
Most people seemed to realize this about the time I came into kindergarten and tried to give me nicknames. The first was Tina. Tina doesn't really seem much like me- she seems more like an athletic girl, bouncy and happy, always laughing at something or other. Maybe a bit sarcastic, but mostly more of an energetic girl. She sounds like she has medium blond hair and bright blue eyes and a perpetual tan.
The second one they tried was Chrissy. That doesn't sound much like me either. She sounds like a girl that's usually going to be frustrated about something or other, but one thing will bring her up- a surprise call from a friend or something like that. She also forms very loyal friendships, rather than for convenience or appearance. She's got rather medium looks- long brown hair and brown eyes- but they're better than other people, shiny brown hair and large brown eyes, clear skin.
I'm not any of those things. I'm just the lame version of a Christina, reliable and of medium beauty, with greenish bluish eyes and brownish reddish hair. I'm easily jealous or in awe. I'm pretty smart, but also really, really disorganized, which is why my test scores are higher than almost anyone else's but I still get B's in all my classes (except my TA period…but that's not really a class, anyway).
Actually, the only thing that's really special about me is my book. Every day, without fail, I work on this book of mine. It took all of last summer to write it, and now I'm editing. Most teenagers who claim to be writing a book- you would be surprised- have absolutely no idea how much editing it takes to write a book. They write fifteen pages, pat themselves on the back, and completely forget about it after that. Those that manage to actually finish a book rarely edit it.
I've been writing books since I was six, though those were usually only five or so pages. When I was in fifth grade I wrote a fifteen page book, skipping a lot of homework to do so. In sixth grade we had to write a picture book, and mine was the longest and most complete, thirty pages that took up pretty much my entire spring break. Now I finally have the attention span to write a real book, about two hundred pages more or less.
But why do I do it? I know I'll probably never publish it. You actually have to write a contract to publish a book, another thing that almost no one takes into account- countless teachers and parents have told me to publish it. But the real reason I write and edit and revise and re-write my book isn't because I want to publish it. It isn't because I love to write, really- I mean, I do love to write, but that isn't the core reason why I write.
I write because I love my story.
I've never really had close friends; whether that's my fault or the friends I choose doesn't really matter. But my book is like a friend to me, a deep, close friend. When I write about the characters, it's like I give to them, pieces of myself and my life become part of my story, my outlook on life the tone, my observations and dialogue and other randomness I find funny, interesting, or wise become part of my story. But it gives to me, too. When I write about Krystal, Lucy, and Amber, it's like I become them, too.
That's why I write.
But sometimes you can love a thing too much. Sometimes things that you never thought would turn against you do.
And sometimes you have to take off your sunglasses and see things how they truly are.
And sometimes you have to use powers you never thought you had, to fight adversaries you never knew.
Sometimes you have to discern between illusion and reality, and sometimes you have to trust illusions to keep reality stable.
That is this story.
It is my story, the story of a girl who loved a story too much.

Cut to January 4, 2010.
"Sup homegirls," I greeted distractedly at lunch that day. I called my friends 'homegirl' as a joke. I was more preoccupied with how I was going to switch around a few scenes to paint Amber as a stronger character than I had written now than my friends, and wasn't actually looking at them.
Otherwise I might have seen the glares a tad earlier.
"Backstabbing whore," Emma hissed as son as I sat down. That sure brought me to snap up my neck to look at them, confused.
"What?" I asked, completely befuddled.
"Don't act so innocent," Jessica added, glaring as well.
"We read your blog," Kim explained meanly, crossing her arms.
Samantha, the fourth, was silent, but she, too, glared.
Oh, shit, I thought to myself. I don't often swear out loud, but in my head words slip by. Well, that sure explains it.
See, for the past month I’d kept up a blog, and I'd kinda blogged a bit about some of the discrepancies between myself and my friends.
But in a really, really mean way.
"I-" I started, not entirely sure what I was planning to say, but it didn't really matter anyway because Kim cut me off.
"Well, dearest Christina, since you appear to hate me so much-"
"It's not like I hate you, Kim."
"Get out," Jessica hissed.
I didn't cry, or apologize, or even take a deep breath or anything. I pretended like I was Krystal.
Krystal wouldn't care what her friends thought I thought to myself, standing up and shouldering my bag. Krystal would stand up, her expression like she hated them more than anything, say bye coldly, and walk off.
My expression changed instantly as I thought this, from rather desperate and I-can't-believe-this-is-happening-to-me to cold and cruel, just as Krystal would do.
"Bye," I said coldly, stepped off the bench, and walked away.
"'It's not like I hate you, Kim'," I could hear Jessica mock. "Look at her. We've been friends with her for three years, and she doesn't even care."
"I bet she's been lying to us this whole time. I can't believe we ever liked her!"
"I can't believe I ever tried to be nice to her!"
"Why did I ever help her?"
I walked away, my head high. I'd done my hair this morning as Krystal did it, and that, too, made me feel better, like I wasn't Christina the Moron that had just lost her friends, but cool Krystal.
I sat down with a few girls I knew from one of my classes. I didn't know them too well, but they were really nice, and it was more of what Lucy would do anyway than me.

Those two weeks, I didn't do anything except school, homework, and my story.
I mean, I'd never been much of a social butterfly, but I wasn't this reclusive either. I talked to my friends. But that week I spent all my time either in my room working on homework, or in a nearby grassy field thing with my laptop, or occasionally my dog.
And at school it wasn't much better. On the outside, actually, I hadn't changed that much. I avoided Kim, Jessica, and Samantha, but I talked to other kids I knew and participated avidly in class.
But on the inside a huge change had been wrought. It was like the last hope I'd had of ever having really good friends had, however temporarily, completely vanished. I thought about my story constantly. I didn't even really read very much anymore. Every second I had free- in between classes, riding or being driven to school, afternoons, before I went to sleep- even in my dreams I thought about my story. I was in this large rut, near the end, and it seemed like every second I didn't have to be thinking about math and history and stuff, it was analyzing that scene and others.
Actually, the only time when I was home and wasn't editing, it was so I could go out and try and think better how to rework a scene.
In short, I got really, really obsessed.

January 18 passed much this way. But that night I had a dream that was considerably different than I ever thought.
It started simply enough. I walked into my school into my fifth period class. It was an average sized classroom, five or six rows of desks, the seat joined to the desk, which faced a large teacher's desk with a thin laptop computer. Krystal, Lucy, and Amber sat in the second row, watching me expectantly.
"Hello, Christina," Krystal greeted coolly as soon as I walked in. There was a desk turned around in front of her. "Please, do sit down," she added, gesturing toward the desk.
"Hey, Krystal." I expected the meeting to go as the last few had- I'd greet Krystal, and then watch as the three girls performed different scenes different ways.
"Do you ever wish we were real, Christina?" The question took me by surprise, not being what I expected.
"Yes," I admitted. "A lot."
"What would you be willing to give up to make it come true?"
"Pretty much everything. My story is my life."
"I see," Krystal expressed. The setting changed instantly from the classroom to an auditorium of sorts- a huge, huge room with a large stage in the front, wide shelves along the sides, and a dozen rows of chairs towards the front that covered barely a quarter of the place.
There was a strange-looking boy standing on top of the stage. He had oddly glowing, almost white hair. His eyes were weird in such a way that I couldn't figure out what was odd about them- they seemed metallic but maybe not, green but maybe not, glowing but maybe not, an ordinary brown but maybe not.
"Hello, Christina," he greeted, much the same way Krystal had earlier, coolly, without any emotion betrayed.
"Hello," I answered back uncertainly.
"You wish to make your story come true?" he inquired.
"Yeah, but…that's not exactly-"
"Dreams can be real," he interrupted casually, stepping off the rather high stage and walking towards me, past the rows of chairs. "Just matters how much you want them to be."
"What would I have to give up?"
"Nothing, really. It's all your decision."
"Well, I want my story to come true, but…"
"It's your decision in the conflict," he answered cryptically, now standing in front of me. "But you have a decision to make now. Will your world come to being?"
"How much will come true?"
"Just the characters. But characters create conflicts, you see, and conflicts spin complications. Huge complications are all well and good when they are simply a story, but in life many choose less over more."
"That doesn't make any sense. Will the conflict of the story come to the real world?"
"No. It is different. But still difficult. And it depends on whether you get the position as well. I am tired of it, but I am willing to wait…" he trailed off. I still had no idea what he was talking about.
"What…?"
"You'll see. Will the Collective Critique come into play in your world?"
There was no pause, no hesitation.
This was everything I wanted.
"Yes."

That was a strange dream, I thought to myself when I woke up that morning.
But I knew it wasn't too unusual. Lately I'd been wishing a lot more that the characters from my story would come into being. And I'd heard that dreams do that, you know, reflect your life.
Still, I thought to myself as I selected a black shirt and dark jeans as my extravagant couture for the day (yeah, the extravagance of a Target clearance sale). It's weird the talking was so clear. That almost never happens.
By the time I had arrived at school, however, it had been almost completely erased from my mind. I went over the possible homework twice in my mind. I walked over to my favorite table and pulled out a few pages of my story.
The story, you see, was simply this. Krystal, Lucy, and Amber can all hypnotize people. Lucy and Amber use it sparingly, but Krystal uses it all the time, mostly for revenge purposes, going from trivial, to humiliating, to life-threatening when she got a girl to ride a bike blindfolded. The scene I was working on was the confrontation of Lucy and Amber versus Krystal.

"Krystal…" Lucy started, before trailing off. Krystal raised an eyebrow opposite her, knowing she already had an advantage in this argument.
"Krystal, it's gone too far," Amber supplied assertively. "Look, at first it was fun, okay? And, yeah, even when it got worse, we weren't too against it. But this is different. You could have killed that girl. This needs to stop."
"Really now," Krystal replied, her face as cold and unemotional as ever. "You propose this how?"
"We all stop," Lucy answered. "Just for a week, you know. It won't be that bad. But-"
"Stop your sniveling, Lucille Spinelli. Who was it that acquired these powers? Was it you? Was it Amber? No. it was me. It was me that worked for all this. And it is me who decides whether I stop or not."
"Krystal, you can't honestly-"
"Maybe she didn't deserve quite the punishment," Krystal thought out loud, cutting Amber off. "I didn't think she'd run into that wall, that's for sure."
"Krystal, we've been your friends for a long time," Amber said quietly. "We've always supported you when people called you mean, cruel, cynical, whatever. But if you are really so cold-hearted as to shrug off a near-fatal accident you caused, then what's there to be protecting? Krystal, we've always believed that you weren't really as cold as you made everyone think- you certainly haven't been with us. But you can't just ignore what you did. I mean, yes, that girl did an awful thing. She certainly would have gotten you expelled if you didn't have the hypnosis powers. But that didn't mean you needed to kill her. Getting her in trouble…yeah, we probably would have gone along with that. But getting her to run into a wall with a bike? That's just wrong."
"She certainly won't be fabricating evidence and accusing a person of cheating in the future, that's for sure."
"Krystal!"
"Yes?"
"Amber, she's not going to come around," Lucy said softly. "They’ve been right all along. It was us that were wrong."
"What! They were not!" Krystal burst out uncharacteristically.
"YOU WANTED TO KILL HER!" Amber and Lucy screamed.
"I…I…" Krystal licked her lips nervously, trying to summon some kind of defense.
"It was wrong, Krystal," Lucy whispered. "You aren't getting that."
"It was…I just wanted to scare her…"
"Krystal, if you wanted to scare her, why couldn't you have accused her of cheating, rather than getting her to run into a wall?" Amber asked softly, slightly accusing but not as much as one would expect.
"Okay! Fine!" Krystal screamed.
"Just stop, okay? Just for week, okay? She didn't die, just broke her arm, Thank God, and I think if we stop then it will go away after while. Besides, she might try and incriminate you, and the less strange behavior floating around, the better."
Krystal looked like she was about to cry. But in seconds her expression changed to one of cold. She pointed for Amber and Lucy to leave, and they did.
Quietly.
Krystal put her head down in her hands, as the truth slid over her, a cold, icy feeling. She had almost killed someone, then denied it, claiming she deserved it. Deserved to smash into a wall on a bike!
And she had almost lost her friends, the only people she felt even half-way understood her.
Tears started to form, but abruptly she pulled her head up, took a deep breath, and re-assessed the situation. It wasn't a disaster yet, right? Amber was right about the girl, she wouldn't die, Krystal wouldn't be expelled, her friends would probably forgive her, especially if she stayed away from hypnosis almost completely in the future.
But…the power. Krystal did not want to give up the power of hypnosis. Even just hypnotizing without power was fun. She didn't want to give it up.
It was friends or hypnosis.
Krystal was undecided. So, so, so undecided.

I looked at it again, then changed the re-assessment to direct thinking. It was kind of awkward in third person. Added in some 'ands', changed around a few paragraphs. This was probably the second-most important scene, and I wanted it to be really, really good.
I was about to look over it a second time, when I voice startled me.
"Hello, Christina." The voice was as if someone had copied Krystal's voice from the night before and transplanted it right here. No one I knew had that distinctive voice, or the ability to say hello with absolutely no emotion like that.
"Hello," I said, uncertainly, turning around to see who was greeting me this morning.
The girl looked exactly like Krystal- pale blond hair, light gray eyes, pale skin. Her hair was done the same way, and her face was the same way as well. She even had the same bracelet.
The girl on her right looked exactly how I'd imagine Lucy to be, exactly how she looked in my dream. Long, styled blond hair falling into her eyes, merry blue eyes, perpetually tanned skin (this was January, after all), and the exact same face. The girl to her left had long brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, amazingly clear skin.
Hello, trippiness. Take a walk with me, wouldja? I got something you wouldn't believe.
"Bit surprised?" the girl who looked like Krystal asked me, this time with a trace of a laugh interwoven with her usual cold and emotionless speaking style. She and the other two girls sat down as well. "No one ever believes the sorcerer will actually make the characters real."
"How…how do you know about my dream?"
"We were there, silly. In the back. You just didn't see us. The sorcerer can be very confusing, can't he?" Lucy said this bouncily, with a large smile on her face.
"You mean…you guys are actually Krystal, Lucy, and Amber?'
"Duh," Lucy broke in, then laughed. "We are realer than a smashed volleyball with a hippopotamus on top!'
"What?" Amber screeched. "That doesn't even make sense! I have never seen a smashed volleyball with a hippopotamus on top!"
"That doesn't mean it isn't real!"
"Shut it, you two beanheads," Krystal intercepted. The scene was almost directly out of my book. This was absolutely incredible.
"I…that's not possible! People can't come out of books!"
"Keep your voice down," Krystal reprimanded. "People are looking at us weird."
"How is that-"
"There are a lot of things people don't know about. It's some kind of energy circuit. You got pretty close in your book, how you were talking about the energy of the brain and how you can change it, but it's a whole circuit, story to writer to sorcerer or sorceress."
"Hey, Christina? Do you know where room 219 is? Because this campus is more confusing than a blindfolded rooster at a dance competition."
"Um…yeah, I know where room 219 is. It's my first class."
"Awesome. What's the teacher like?"
"Kind of annoying, but okay."
"What's GG2?" Amber asked.
"That's the gym. It's over there," I answered, waving my arm towards the eastern side of the campus.
""Christina? Can I ask you a question?" Amber asked, exasperated.
"Yeah."
"Why, why, why did you have to have Lucy make up those strange analogies?"
I laughed. "I had a friend who used to do that. We'd be talking about, say, the homework on vernal pools from the night before, and she'd break in with some random analogy about giant speakers. It actually got her in huge trouble once."
"How so?"
"Well, because my teacher was not the most patient person on this planet. So, a lot of times she wouldn't be paying attention, and he would call on her for an answer. So once he asked her what the purpose of a conjunction was, and she was like, 'to link two sentences more securely than a smashed plate with crazy glue'. So, she did that a few times, and the teacher kind of lost his mind about the fourth time. It was kind of funny and kind of scary, and when I was thinking about characters, that came to my mind."
"Nice. So, sit here at lunch?" Amber suggested.
"Why not?" The bell rang and Amber headed toward the gym. Krystal's first class was right in front of us, which made it kind of obvious where it was.

We entered Room 219 of Math Fun (seriously. That was what it said outside of the door) talking about all the most random stuff. Lucy had this ability to bring a conversation from one topic to another, completely unrelated one, all the while making it hilarious and interesting.
"A blindfolded rooster at a dance competition? You have any personal experience with that?"
"Kind of. You should have seen my aunts wedding. We had a Macarena contest, and you can just imagine the contestants. One of them danced like a rooster, and we blindfolded him as a joke. He smashed into a tree."
"A tree?"
"Yep. It was an outside wedding, on his own property. It's like one of two trees there, and he couldn't remember where it was!"
"I remember one of my parents' friends' wedding. It was hilarious. One of the kids got bored, so he tried to set fire to the table, and one woman was all drunk and had her glasses off and saw him and was like 'Now, now, we don't throw used napkins on the table', because the napkins were orange, right? And then he just stuck his tongue out and she smacked him, and he dropped the lighter and almost lit her on fire!"
"Really? Did she actually burn?"
"No, she only got hit by a spark. But it was still pretty funny."
"Yeah. Hey, why does it say 'Math Fun' outside the door?"
"Because this math teacher is a retard. He thinks this class is the most interesting thing ever."
"Advanced Algebra? Interesting?"
"It's just algebra, again. For some strange and unbeknownst reason, we have to take it again."
"What does unbeknownst mean?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Probably just unknown."
"Sometimes words do that, you know? I remember once I was trying to read this one book, and all the quotations were like in a different language. They kept spelling things wrong, and had all these weird little apostrophe things. I got so frustrated I just started making jokes about it, like, you know, 'that would get you an automatic C in my English class and stuff like that."
"I know."
"Hey, is that Sam?'
"Yeah. Why?"
"Go ask her a random question."
"What? Why? She hates me!"
"Just see how mad she is."
I rolled my eyes, but walked over to Samantha and asked the first thing that cam into my head. The night before I'd been working on this one scene where Lucy mentioned a plie in her analogies, and I couldn't figure out how to spell it. Since Samantha does ballet, I figured she'd know how to spell it.
"Hey, Samantha, how do you spell plie?"
"Why?'
"Well, I could tell you, but it would involve a very long and probably boring monologue that would make absolutely no sense to you because it involves my story."
"Nah."
"Whatever." I walked back to my table. Lucy, luckily enough, was sitting by me.
"What'd you ask her?'
"Oh, my god. Last night I spent, like, thirty minutes trying to figure out how to spell plie, right? Well, it turns out that just about everyone has a different idea of how to spell that. It's ridiculous! Some people-"
"Just so you know, it's spelled exactly how it sounds! P-l-i-e!" Samantha practically screamed at me.
"I don't think I have ever heard someone refer to a word that is pronounced plee-ay and spelled p-l-i-e spelled just as it sounds. That is, sane people."
"Yeah, that's more backwards than I am." Lucy frowned.
"You aren't backwards," I assured her. "Just funny and kind of random."
"Amber might have a different opinion."
"Well, I'm the author, so I say that you're funny and kind of random. Amber is just Amber."
"Author of what?" the boy that sits next to me asked. "You wrote a book?"
"No, I rewrote the English Oxford dictionary for extra credit. It was an enriching experience."
He just kind of stared at me. I notice that I have that kind of effect on people.
"Did you actually write a book, though?"
"Um…" I answered explanatorily.
"Yeah," Lucy backed up. "And it's the best ever."
"You wrote a book? Why?" the other boy asked.
"Because…Because…um, I'm more special than an elephant that lays eggs and does the Macarena," I explained finally, not very well.
"The Macarena? I love the Macarena!"
"How can an elephant do the Macarena? And why are you speaking weird?"
I couldn't think of anything normal to say to that. "Well, why do you have red hair?"
He unconsciously touched his hair. "I don't have red hair," he said, looking at me like I was crazy.
"Exactly," I beamed at him.
Albert came over. "Hey, Lucy-licious." See, he was in my language arts class, where I scrawled a random poem about being Lucy-licious, and the teacher very nicely read it to the entire class.
I hate Mr. Baradat.
I put my face to my hands in frustration and groaned. "That was about my story, you moron. Not me."
"So, have you worked on the personal narrative at all?"
"Yes. I'm doing the time I fell out of a kayak."
"What kind of lesson does that teach?"
"The very important lesson that you must know how to do something in a sport before you does it. And not to trust Blaise's teaching skills."
"My speech is better than yours, though."
I groaned. "Why do you even come over here?"
"To torture you. I'm trying to make you go insane. I think it's working."
"Go away."
Luckily, before he could answer the teacher called the class to order and started blabbing on about systems of equations, as if this was new information. The class was not very receptive. The table of talkative girls near the back kept talking, and the table of talkative boys behind them kept yelling. On the other side of the room, kids were working on science and history homework. In front of us (we were in the center), I could see at least two people with books out, voraciously reading.
"Class! Who knows the answer to the brain drain?" the teacher asked, rather desperately if you ask me.
"Mine is empty!" some boy sitting at the talkative table mentioned before yelled out, before laughing with his friends.
"Wow, so creative. That must have taken some thought," I called back at him. Math was a good place to be sarcastic because I didn't have to worry about not understanding the material should I not pay attention.
"Shut up, dummy," he insulted me creatively. The boys laughed again.
"She's calling you a dummy, and you're just proving her point!" Lucy yelled at him.
"Why is everyone so hyper today?" he wondered allowed. Usually we're pretty placid, I must admit. "Sit down and listen to the lesson, please."
Math went on regularly after that; bone-chillingly easy and deadly boring, but no yelling or screaming.

"Hello, Christina," Krystal greeted me. It would have sounded exceedingly cold should it come from any other person, but Krystal was never one to show happiness, friendship, or joy. She actually smiled a bit.
I clutched my heart. "I don't know if I can handle this much emotion from you," I exaggerated, pretending to stagger around. Krystal laughed a bit, quietly, but she still laughed.
"So what's the PE program like?" Krystal's voice had resumed its usual calmness, no trace of amusement, just a touch of familiarity.
"Eh. Annoying. We have an obnoxious exercise routine, then we run around aimlessly, then we separate into little activity groups that have been forced upon us. Because you weren't here to pick you'll probably get 'Fun Fitness', like me, which somehow manages to be an oxymoron, a total waste of time, lethally boring, and exceedingly difficult, all at once!"
"At least we're in the same class."
"At least there is that." We walked into the locker room then. I pointed her towards the PE office, then dug out my mp3 player. I had a PE locker next to Jessica, one of the Collective Critique. Usually she grabbed her clothes and changed next to someone else's locker, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared.
"Found some new friends?" she asked me nastily as I sat down.
"A-yup," I answered her, not completely hearing, not really listening, not really caring while spinning the dial on my lock.
"Funny…they look a lot like the characters from that book of yours."
"You didn't read my book," I answered, not nastily or accusatorily, still not really listening or hearing. I started to change.
"I read half of it. And they seriously look exactly like you described them. Why?"
"I don't know, Jessica. Why don't you ask them?" That line, I admit, was spoken with some sarcasm.
Krystal walked up. "Hello, Jessica. I was under the impression that you and the remainder of the Collective Critique are avoiding my friend here."
"How long have you known Christina?"
"About a year."
"Funny," Jessica said again. "I certainly never heard about you."
"Maybe in different context."
"What's your name?"
"Krystal. And she's about to call roll call, so you might want to change."
That sent Jessica diving for her lock. I watched, amused: Jessica had problems with her lock when she wasn't in a hurry, let along times like now. It took her six tries to get it open, longer than it did for her to actually change.
Krystal and I walked out soon after, chatting a bit.
"Krystal, how exactly did you…come to life?"
"The sorcerer is looking for people for some reason. To find them, he looks for young kids writing real stories they care about, genuinely care about."
"What do you mean, genuinely?"
"Christina, which would devastate you more, if all your friends left you or if your story was gone?"
"My story, I guess. My friends would...never understand the loss of my story, but in some way my story absorbs the loss of my friends."
"Exactly. He looks for something like that. You've put energy in your story, right? Thought, time, and analyzing-ness, right? Well, that circuit hits the sorcerer and enters through him to the story. But if there's enough energy there, not from time but from emotion, then the excess energy turns itself into us. The characters."
"That's complicated."
"Yes, but aren't you glad for it?"
"Of course."
"Krystal, Krystal," the roll call teacher muttered, running her finger down the clipboard. You're going on number twenty seven."
"Cool. You're right next to me," I said. Krystal and I tried to walk forward. There was a large group of fellow eighth grade girls standing around talking about unknown things for unknown reasons, and the fact that they were standing right in our way made it slightly difficult to navigate.
"Care to move?" Krystal asked in her calm, cold, slightly irritated voice. The girls turned around to stare at her, determined she was a new student, and moved infinitesimally.
"C'mon, let's just go around," I muttered. Normally I would be all for a loud, sarcastic announcement. But we were nearing the end of the grading period, so I made my best efforts be less obnoxious.
"Did you get an activity yet?" I asked her once we had sat down.
"Fun Fitness, as you predicted."
The teacher then started blabbing on about randomness I didn't care about; something about an "exciting" dance two weeks from now, some kind of performance tomorrow, yahda yahda yahda.
"This is fascinating," I muttered to Krystal.
"I must say that this is a complete waste of time."
The rest of PE passed as it always did, moronic and humiliating "exercises", then some super-fun running, then brainless and pointless "activity" time.

I trekked up to third period next, my TA period. A TA is probably the lamest excuse for a class that has ever and will ever exist. I sit a classroom and grade stuff (1 is C. Two is A. Three is D) or check homework (Is there something on the page? Yes. Is it finished? Yes.) or other randomness. It's pretty boring.
"Christina?" the teacher asked me as soon as I walked into the room. She had curling gray hair and teacher's glasses.
"Yeah?"
"There was a new girl…she's going to be another TA. It won't interfere too much, you'll just split the work."
"Okay, sure." I walked over to the TA desk and, lo and behold, Amber was sitting at it.
"Hey, Christina," she greeted me, exactly as I had expected her to. Lucy and Krystal saw me as instantly part of the group, a friend. Amber formed more loyal friendships- Lucy was mostly a surface friend and Krystal didn't form deep friendships, period- and her reserved way of saying hello confirmed my literary analysis.
"Hey, Amber." I sat down at the desk. "Why is this your elective now?"
"Apparently Ms. Pearl has been whining about needing a second TA forever, so when we came in they immediately put us in."
There was a long, rather awkward pause, during which the bell rang. I groaned.
"There are days when I wish I would just black out during second and third periods," I muttered.
"Why?" Ms. Pearl came over and dumped a stack of tests to be graded, and we started working while blabbing.
"I hate PE, it's boring and pointless, and I hate being a TA, it's boring and pointless. Actually, I'd hate math too- it's boring and pointless, just last year all over again- but it has my friends in it. Samantha and now Lucy."
Amber just nodded.
"What about you? How's first and second period gone so far?"
"Okay. First period was pretty lame; I had no idea what to do. Second period was better, until the teacher asked me halfway through class why I was in there."
"What?"
"Yeah. Halfway through class he cranes his neck and goes, 'hey, girl! Yeah, you with the brown hair and the purple shirt? What are you doing here?' and I'm like, 'um, my schedule says to go to room three ten second period? I'm Amber Lopez? New student?' then looks down and goes 'oh, I thought you were late today,' then goes over and screws around with some zippity-"
"Zangal?"
"Yeah, that. Anyway, it pretty embarrassing."
"Yeah. What's next?"
"Language arts with Ms. Cooperman. You know who that is?"
"Not really. I hear she's nice and that she lets you eat and listen to iPods. That's what Kim said, anyway."
"Cool. Wait- Kim? She's one of your former friends? Is she that period?"
"Uh…yeah…I think so."
"Fun. She know who I am?"
"I don't think so. It shouldn't be a big deal. Kim won't get mad at you, anyway, it's me. She'll probably just pointedly ignore you."
"Whatever. That's what everyone else has done all morning. What do you have next?"
"Science with Ms. Tammi."
"Yeah, Lucy has that fourth period, too. We shared schedules in second period."
"Did the teacher acknowledge her?"
"She was so loud walking in that he noticed her immediately and asked who she was. Apparently didn't bring to his attention to ask for the other new girl."
"Nice. But that's okay. Tomorrow will be better." I squinted down at the paper. "You think that's a 'B'?" Amber looked over at it.
"It looks more like a 'D' to me," she diagnosed.
"I know, but I got a 'B' on a test because one or two of my 'B's looked like 'D's."
"Okay, then, mark it right. It does kind of look like a 'B' to me." She glanced down at the key again, then looked at the paper. "You do know that the answer is 'C', right?"
"So?"
She laughed a bit.
"Wow, this person studied really well," I muttered to myself. I had marked the first five wrong, and the marks just kept coming. The short answers were completely off and the essay was about two sentences.
"What'd they get?"
I finished grading the test at hyperspeed. "About twenty percent."
"Wouldn't want to be that person. This test is worth like one hundred fifty points."
We continued grading, chatting lightly. Then there was an uncharacteristic pause.
Amber bit her lip. "Christina, how is the story going to end?"
"Well, I did finish-"
"Don't pull that on me. You're going to write a sequel. I can tell by the ending."
The story ended with Krystal's sister, almost an exact copy of her but about three years older, getting mind control and threatening Lucy and Amber.
"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. I'm going to finish the first yet. This is only like the third time I'm going through it, you know."
Amber snorted. "Like you'll ever finish it. Come on. Krystal says that you think about the sequel all the time. How will it end?"
I thought about it. "With a twist, definitely. Like Krystal's sister will be stripped of power, but Krystal will go insane trying to protect her or something."
"So Krystal will side with her sister?" Amber blanched and looked down. I could tell she already felt betrayed even though the book hadn't even been written yet. Throughout the course of the novel, Amber always believed that Krystal really meant well. Always.
"Well, you do know that Krystal changed a lot over the course of the course of Hypnotized." Hypnotized is the book I'm working on now. "So she won't side with her completely. She'll probably try to change her, talk to her, etc. But I think she'll side with her in the end, yes. Her sister will offer her power or something."
"Krystal is after power, that's for sure," Amber muttered.
"Huh?" I asked, completely off guard. In the book, Amber was always muttering randomness that made no sense unless you knew fully what was going on- things like "Of course you didn't want to" to the girls hypnotized, or "less than confusing but more than strange" when kids talked about the girls that stood and did the Macarena on tables at lunch.
Amber just shook her head.
I pulled out my iPod and spent the next fifteen minutes or so mindlessly grading papers and listening to music, completely ignoring whatever Amber said.

Science was one floor up from my super fun, intellectually stimulating, and ultra challenging TA period. I met Lucy just outside it; she was collecting stuff from her locker.
"You’ve been here a day and you've already slathered your locker in stuff?" I eyed the metallic wrapping paper she'd covered the inside in, the rack that held binders full of binders and textbooks, random pictures, magazine articles, and notes that adorned the inside door.
Lucy nodded. "It came automatically. You know, in the switch. Or, at least, that's what Krystal says."
She seemed much more subdued since first period.
Personally, I was still amazed they were here at all. It was the dream I wanted more than anything, and here it was, standing right in front of me.
Lucy slammed her locker door shut and clicked the lock closed, swung her backpack onto her shoulder, and we walked into the classroom chatting.
"Hello. New student?" the teacher, Ms. Tammi, requested as soon as we walked in.
Lucy nodded. "Lucy Spinelli."
"Okay. I rearranged the seating chart to accommodate you…" she said, running her finger down the list, searching for Lucy's seat. "Good. There we go. Table six, seat three."
"Do you sit at table six?" she asked me.
I shook my head. "No. Table five." As it turned out, though, the seats were right next to each other anyway, so it didn't really matter.
"So, you met Amber yet?' Lucy asked as we sat down.
"Yeah. Amber and Krystal both. I think Amber likes being a TA more than I do, though."
"I have my TA period after lunch. What's it like?"
"If you're a teacher's TA, you mindlessly grade papers or do homework. If you're an office TA, it sounds like you don't do anything."
"It sounds like I will have more fun than a leopard doing the electric slide and singing Katy Perry," Lucy responded, smiling. The uncharacteristic calm and slight sadness I'd seen before had vanished completely.
" Can a leopard sing Katy Perry?" I raised an eyebrow mockingly.
"You have never seen a leopard sing Katy Perry." Her tone of voice was like I'd said that I've never seen a TV.
"What are you even talking about?" the guy that sat across from Lucy asked, then was instantly distracted when the friend sitting next to him started poking him in the arm with a binder and laughing.
"Does it matter if I answer him?" I asked her in jest. Lucy glanced over, clearly saw that the two boys were fully occupied and shook her head.
"I still can't believe you three are here," I said. "It's like waking up tomorrow and finding four year olds reading Shakespeare and singing Taylor Swift."
Lucy groaned. She listened mostly to electropop and Amber's countryesque music drove her insane. "If we lived in my ideal universe, Taylor Swift would have been drawn and quartered for ever releasing such awful music."
"And if we lived in Krystal's universe, then Lady GaGa and Katy Perry would no longer be able to sing." Krystal listened to mostly rock music and pop music of all typed drove her insane.
"But, thankfully, neither would Taylor Swift, so all would be right with the world."
"Oh, of course."
"What kind of music do you listen to again?"
I shrugged. "Just whatever is on the radio. I don't have a favorite genre, really."
She nodded, bouncing up and down slightly.
"I wonder what we're doing in science today." As if to answer my question, the bell rang and the teacher walked to the front of the room.
"Today we will be watching a video. No notes are required as long as it is quiet." She played the video and, as was to be expected, it was essentially a review of all the stuff about atoms we'd already reviewed seven thousand times.
Lucy passed me a note. Below, her notes are in bold and mine in italics.
This is boring
Of course it is. How could we have science without reviewing concepts seventeen thousand times?
Ha ha. You sound very bitter. So, you think it'll rain tommorrow?
You spelled tomorrow wrong. And I really hope it doesn't rain. I wanted to bike tomorrow.
You always want to bike, and yet I saw your mom driving you this morning surer than falling and scratching myself up when there's something on the stairs.
Okay, fine, I admit it, I am considerably less ambitious than I put on. Ouch about the stairs. Did you fall this morning?
I always fall, and it's really very annoying. Grr. And this school is very confusing. You didn't base my school on this one at all.
Sorry. But this school has such a boring format. But don't worry, you'll figure it out eventually.
I know that. What was wrong with that kid in math? The one calling you Lucylicious?
I don't know, but he's really annoying. He comes up to me every morning and calls me 'sarcasm' or 'Lucy-licious'.
What is Lucylicious, anyway?????????
There was this song I wrote on the back of my language arts homework that I was going to have you sing to annoy Amber, and when I turned in the homework the teacher read it aloud. Everyone forgot about it except him.
You think he likes you?
I don't know and, to tell you the truth, I don't really care, either.
Aw, the movie is almost over.
No! I thought you were united with me in the force against that movie!!!!!
Ha ha. I am a traitor. No, kidding, kidding. But it's hard to pass notes without the movie playing. Like when Amber and I got caught in the book.
Yes, I admit that that would not be very good. Except this teacher is nicer.

I passed her the note but, as was to be expected, the movie ended before she could pass it back.
The teacher tapped the board where a homework assignment was written, and Lucy and I got to work, still chatting.

We walked out of the classroom.
"So, if I could control my schedule times, then first period would be ten minutes long-"
"Five."
"Yes, five would be a good number too. And second period would be ten minutes long."
Lucy nodded. "Works for me. What do you have second period?"
"PE."
"I like PE."
"What activity do you have?"
"Nontraditional games."
"Well, then, no duh you like PE. I have fun fitness."
"I bet that's more fun than carrying seven books and throwing them at elderly people."
I made a face. 'That was kind of dark, Lucy."
"Sorry. Accidentally throwing books at elderly people."
"Now we're talking," I laughed.
We walked down the stairs as I habitually dug around in my backpack for my black iPod nano.
"What are you looking for?" Lucy asked curiously.
"My iPod," I muttered, not angrily, just distracted.
"What for?"
"Oh…I have to… walk by the Collective Critique," I explained weakly, dropping my backpack.
"What's the big deal? It's not like they're foaming at the mouth or anything."
"I guess it's just habit," I shrugged. We met Krystal and Amber at the bottom of the stairwell. See, our school has a front stairwell, which is outside (but it has a roof-like structure for when it rains) and the back stairwell is entirely inside. At the base are some lockers and two or three classrooms. Krystal and Amber both had lockers down here.
"Hello Christina, Lucy," Krystal greeted emotionlessly.
"Hey guys," Amber greeted much less coldly and formally. She reached over to hug me.
"Hello."
"Come on," Krystal muttered. We walked out the doors, past the Collective Critique, whom glared at me. Jessica was missing, for whatever reason.
"So, Christina," Krystal began as soon as we sat down a few tables away from the Collective Critique. "How weird do you find it that we're here?" Her voice was brokenly warm, like she was trying to act friendly and kind of sarcastic for some reason and doing really badly at it.
I shrugged. "Weird, of course, but at the same time completely natural. Like I've spent so much time thinking about you guys that I'm not completely amazed every second."
Krystal nodded.
"So, do you have your powers?" I asked. "You know hypnosis and stuff?"
Krystal did not answer. Amber looked at her, then answered. It was kind of strange for such a simple question "No, we, uh, do not. It's not possible. It could, uh, create huge consequences, so it's, uh, better for supernatural stuff to, uh, you know…stay in the book."
That's kind of weird, I thought to myself. In the book Amber never pauses and stutters like that. It's Lucy that talks before she thinks. Except that one scene when Lucy and Amber are passing notes, and she's explaining it to the teacher…
Krystal smiled briefly. I hadn't ever seen Krystal smile for real. There were small smiles, quiet laughs, but Krystal's true smile is quick, wide, and malicious.
I wondered what on earth had brought on the smile but was quickly distracted by Lucy.
"Ugh," she groaned dramatically.
"What?" I asked, peering into her bag.
"Oh, just my mp3 player. The screen does this every once in a while." Lucy held up a generic mp3 player, the screen cracked and filled with yellow.
'Whoa, that's weird." I picked it up and randomly flicked a few buttons. Within a few seconds, something really techno-y, strange, and surprisingly loud blasted out of it.
"Ack!" I exclaimed in surprise, dropping it. I get startled really easily. "How can it be playing music? There aren't any headphones!"
"Yeah, it has built-in speakers. But that's part of the reason why that screen thing is so annoying, because I can't find the controls to lock the button, which means that I kinda, you know, blast Ke$ha in the middle of, you know-"
"Class?" Amber answered, smiling.
"Well, it's not my like my language arts teacher really minds," Lucy laughed.
"Sure he doesn't." Me. "Didn't you say that you had Mr. Baradat? He's psycho about electronic stuff. This guy was texting and when he tried to deny it, Mr. Baradat took his phone and, like, threw it at him!"
"Really?"
"Well, that's what the person in first period said. She might have been exaggerating."
"People exaggerate all the time, dear," Krystal affirmed calmly. It wasn't inflectionless, really, or even totally emotionless, or completely energy less. It was a strange blend of all three, with energy, inflection, and emotion, but still calm and cold to the extreme.
I tried to laugh it off. I don't really know how successful I was. "I know."
"So, what do you have fifth and sixth period?" Amber asked me.
"Language arts with Mr. Baradat fifth period, then history with Ms. Jenson. You?"
"History with Ms. Jenson and science with Ms. Tammi."
"Ugh, science was so lame today," Lucy critiqued with a characteristic groan and dramatic hand-over-heart and tilting-of-the-head.
"Why?"
"We watched some ultra-dumb video and did review saturated homework."
"You really do have quite the vocab there, dontcha?" I remarked.
"'Course. And what's that?"
"What's what?"
"On your wrist." Lucy pointed meekly. Amber shrank away.
"On my- oh, yeah! My bracelet." The bracelet in question was a small circlet of yarn with a dead bug encased in glass in the center. "Yeah, my grandma got it for me. It was for some charity, and she thought it looked cool."
"Wow…nice…" Amber said uneasily. "Is it real?"
"I don't know. Probably not. They're mass produced, y'know."
"Of course," Krystal said in that calm way of hers. "Everything is nowadays."
"Not everything. But whatev." Lucy.
"Whatev," I repeated, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes. Whatev." Lucy tossed her head, causing Amber to laugh.
"I still can't believe that you guys don't have your powers," I muttered. "That sorcerer was blabbing about some kind of conflict or whatever, but it doesn't make that much sense if you don't have your powers."
Lucy shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh. Everything he says is cryptic. It makes no sense until you explicitly know what he's talking about, so just forget about it."
I nodded. That made sense.
"Hey, would you happen to have an mp3 player on you?" Lucy asked me out of the blue.
"Yeah…why?"
"Just…just because."
I passed my iPod over to her. She scrolled through the contents.
"Let's see…Ace of Base, never heard of them, Ali Project, whatever that's supposed to be-"
"Japanese pop music."
She raised an eyebrow at me. "You mean, it's in Japanese?" She said that like it was the strangest thing ever.
"Yeah. Samantha was obsessed with that stuff."
"Okay, you've got Audioslave, Avril Lavigne- she's okay, but not that great, Bananarama, that's a stupid name, the Bangles." She turned to look at me.
"Wasn't that some kind of eighties band?"
"My sister makes me cart around all her music, too. That's why I have Emma Roberts and Avril Lavigne and Ace of Base on there. If you're trying to find out what kind of music I like, go to Playlists and find "C. H. P. L."
"What does that stand for?" Amber asked curiously.
"Christina Hannah- that's my middle name- Play List."
"Isn't playlist one word?"
"Yes, but that's not as fun as two words."
There was a pause.
"That was a joke," Lucy informed Amber without looking up. "Let's see. Black Eyed Peas, they're okay, Lady GaGa, love her, Lady Antebellum-"
"Do you have to critique my music out loud?"
"Fine, fine." She continued, randomly humming songs on the playlist.
"How do you spell your last name?" Amber asked.
"Romney? R-O-M-N-E-Y."
"Funny." Krystal said. "That's my last name as well."
"Yeah…I gave you guys my names. Like Lucy's middle name is Hannah, too."
"It's not a bad name," Lucy critiqued, still not looking up from my iPod. "But it doesn’t go with Lucy."
I shrugged. 'Whatever. So, what is your final critique of my playlist?"
"It's okay. You have several good songs, a few very bad songs that I deleted faster than a cat can run away from hair bows-"
"What?" Amber and I both screeched at the same time, but hers was because of Lucy's inane analogy and mine because I thought she deleted my playlist.
"Kidding. Chrissy," Lucy laughed. "I didn't delete anything."
"Give me my iPod." She handed it over without complaint, turning to Krystal.
"Hey, Krystal, what activity did you get?"
"Fun Fitness."
"Is it fun?" Lucy asked, very hyper, her voice going inanely high on 'fun'.
Amber and I both made identical swishing motions with our hands, clearly signifying that it was about as fun as getting slowly and painfully crushed to death.
"It is certainly a misnomer," Krystal answered. "It is not fun at all."
"It's so boring!" I added on emotionally just as Amber went "It's so lame!"
Krystal rolled her eyes, probably thinking that the activity didn't deserve the amount of emotion we poured into it.
"And do you think I'll get it?" Lucy asked, her usual bouncy tone penetrated with a stab of worry and dread.
"Yeah. It's not that bad, Lucy, there's a nice big clock so you can see when you get to escape."
"Ah." Amber nodded sarcastically. "That is a very important part of the operation." We laughed.
"Wanna see my psychicness?" I asked.
"You have psychicness?" Lucy made it sound like I was queen of the world or something. Then she laughed at her elaborate sarcasm.
"Yes. I do have psychicness." I turned my iPod back on. "I predict that the bell will ring in…five minutes!"
"That certainly is some psychicness," Amber snorted, displaying rather obviously that she found my "psychicness" quite ridiculous.
And then the bell rang.
"That was a very fast five minutes," Amber observed.
"Good psychicness," Lucy laughed enthusiastically.
We separated then. Though we weren't technically supposed to use electronics in the building, I slid my headphones into my ears and walked up the steps as slowly as I could without inhumanely crushed to death by the stampede of restless middle schoolers. I have never understood what the rush is to get to class, but I suppose that is part of the reason why I am generally not labeled as "normal".
Mr. Baradat's room was right at the top of the third floor, and I did my usual ditch-backpack-and-walk-in-and-out-of-the-classsroom-seven-times, talking to people, visiting my locker, and getting drinks of water.
Class went as it usually did; we reviewed randomness about grammar and reading and writing. Today was just a review of everything. If we lived according to my universe I probably would be halfway through high school by now, since half the school year is review and I never need review. I just kind of stare at the wall.
My other teachers have figured out by now that I do not need review, so when they see me staring at the wall they usually ignore it, knowing that I will somehow pull the highest score on the test anyway. However, my language arts teacher somehow has a hard time intellectualizing this matter.
"Christina! No sleeping in my classroom!"
Right, Mr Baradat. Somehow, despite the fact that you are screaming randomness about clauses and playing loud rap music while bright fluorescent lights shine right into my eyes, I have managed to fall asleep.
"Okay," I respond.
"What's the answer?"
"That would depend on the question."
"Good," he answered, then turned to something else. I glanced down at my grammar book and realized that I had inadvertently given the correct answer to number five.
Cool.
I paid some attention to the rest of class, not enough to fully understand what is going on, but enough so that Mr. Baradat didn't yell at me again.

When it came time to trek down to Ms. Jenson's classroom, I, as was tradition, cursed the drone that gave me my schedule. I had to go down two flights of stairs and across the entire building to get the sixth period, all the while banging into random people.
Sometimes I think that if they are going to give me a period in which I don't do anything, they should give me a period learning how to navigate the freaking hallways without hospitalizing someone instead of a period to brainlessly grade papers.
I made it regardless of those complexities and enjoyed the mindlessness of the next period, which consisted entirely of taking pre-determined notes off the projecter. Normally I would label this as boring, pointless, time-consuming, unnecessary, and belittling (well, probably a few other thousand things that I have thought up during such times, but that would take a rather ridiculous amount of space), but today I kind of enjoyed it.

I mindlessly walked to the library while mindlessly listening to C.H.P.L. after school, when my mother picked me up, so we mindlessly drove home and I mindlessly finished my rather mindless math, grammar, and history homework.
My afternoons are usually mindless until I get to my story. Actually, my whole day is usually mindless until I get to my story, though, of course, today my story came to school with me.
My phone rang.
"Like, hi?" I answered.
"Hey, Christina. It's me, Amber."
"Hello, Amber."
"What's up?"
"Grammar homework."
There was a long pause, in which I could hear Amber breathing but she wasn't saying anything.
"Okay, so I forgot what I was going to ask you, so you're going to have to talk about randomness until I remember."
"Um, okay…how was your afternoon?"
"Oh, my god. My science teacher would not shut up about you."
"Me?" I was always under the impression that my science teacher disliked me a lot- tests counted for almost none of the grade, so I was always racing around the last two weeks of the quarter desperately trying to get my grade up to a B. Getting a 79% for most of the quarter in a teacher's class is really never a way to endear yourself to them.
"Yeah. Apparently you guys took some test and everyone failed miserably, except for you, and she was babbling about it all through class."
"Oh, yeah. We had to memorize half the periodic table, and apparently no one can remember half the periodic table except for me, like it's hard or something."
"She said you memorized the entire thing."
"Yeah, I did. It was actually kind of fun. I got like forty points of extra credit, so I might actually make an A in her class this quarter."
"Yeah, and- oh, yeah, I remember what I was going to ask you. You wanna come over to my house this weekend? Krystal and Lucy are."
"Can't. Lame family thing. I'll probably sit in the back and read the entire time, but it is not my conversation nor my personality they are looking for, simply the bare fact that I am there. But yeah, I'm there both days."
"Next weekend?"
"Sure. I'll tell my mom today so she doesn't schedule something.'
"Right. My phone's about to run out of money, so I have-"
I smiled as Amber's phone shut off. In the story, Amber's phone was always shutting off. It was a prepaid deal, where you throw twenty bucks at it and use them up for a while, but Amber always got random texts and calls that made it difficult to make twenty dollars last more than a week or two, so her parents didn't pay for it very often.
I sat back down. I had started the sequel to Hypnotized, and it was very short- only about five or ten pages or so. Writing stories is much harder than editing them.
The story didn't really get started until this point, though, when Krystal's sister showed up. The beginning was just them kind of dealing with Krystal and adjusting to the new school. There was a bit of hypnotism, but not much.
Amber sat in second period, absolutely bored out of her mind.
Was there really a purpose to Advanced Algebra? Hadn't they gone over parabolas already? Jesus Christ.
She started to hear music faintly and bent down, figuring it was her iPod. Unlike Lucy's, it had headphones in it, but it was still pretty volatile. She fumbled around, trying to yank out the headphones without the teacher thinking she was texting or something.
Amber yanked out the headphones and sat up, but the music didn't stop. It actually got louder, but she wasn't worried. With the added volume, she could tell it was some technopop song she would never in a million years have on her iPod, anyway, so it was probably someone's phone.
Then a girl walked in the door.
She looked so much like Krystal, Amber couldn't believe it. They had the same distinctive coloring, the same extreme tallness, the same conceited walk, the same way of pushing up their head.
It had to be her sister.
And yet, they were different. Krystal's sister was shorter and fatter. Her face was warped, not as symmetrical as Krystal's, her eyes were smaller and her nose slightly crooked. Her hair was darker and varied more in coloring, her eyes the color of slate as opposed to the frosty light gray of Krystal's.
Krystal had clearly gotten the looks of the family.
She'd only heard Krystal's sister's voice on the phone one day. It didn't sound much like Krystal- she had much more emotion, energy, and conceit than Krystal, so she just figured that they were way different.
They were not.
Krystal's sister- Amber didn't even know her name- walked in to the front of the class.
"Who are you and why are you interrupting my class?" It was typical for my math teacher, and he didn't mean it, but Krystal's sister didn't know that.
She turned to him, the expression on her face annoyed, and clapped her hands.
The teacher went slack and fell out of the chair, eyes wide open in shock.
Shit. Krystal's sister was way more powerful than she thought.
"Amber, de-ah?" Krystal's sister laughed. It was high and confident, grating and cruel.
"Why are you here? What's even your name?"
"My name is Miranda, de-ah." She laughed again. Amber didn't see what was so hilarious about the name Miranda, but that fabulous question did not stop Miranda.
"Why are you here?'
Krystal's sister went from happy and excited to an expression Amber knew very well.
It was the one Krystal had when the girl accused her of cheating.
"De-ah, I believe that question-"
"Why are you calling me de-ah?" She pulled the vowels out to make it sound really retarded. "I don't even know you."
"You will soon, de-ah. Your power is even more than Krystal's. Krystal's capacity is almost filled up. But you, de-ah-" She paused to laugh again. Apparently coming into the middle of math class and scaring Amber half-to-death was absolutely hilarious.
"You've barely tried. You can do so much more than Krystal or Lucy, if only you try."
"But, de-ah." Amber pulled the vowels out again. Krystal's sister was really starting to freak her out. "I don't want to try. I don't really want hypnosis."
"Too bad, de-ah." Miranda smirked.
And she lost consciousness.

That afternoon Krystal decided it was time to see her sister.
"Miranda?'
"Yes, Krystal?" Krystal was the only person Miranda never called de-ah (which is supposed to be dear), which was kind of ironic considering Krystal was dearer to her more than anyone else.
"What happened to Amber?'
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Don't play games with me, Miranda. What did you do to Amber?"
"Amber has power. She might even be able to surpass me."
"Miranda-"
"Krystal, what is it that you want? Do you want power or do you want friends? The power alienates you, you know that. You try to keep it balanced, but it can't work for long. Do you want to be with me, create an unbreakable force throughout the world? We would be invincible, you know that. Or do you want to go back to your boring little life, with your boring little friends and your boring little school in boring little suburbia and move on to a boring little high school and a boring little college, make your boring little progress through life that no one ever cares about?" Miranda's voice went high and loud as she advanced forward, yelling her points.
"Miranda, I can't just desert my friends. They're the only ones-"
"Krystal, what you can't do is this. You can't keep it together. Haven't you seen it? Haven't you seen it at all? They're drifting away from you as we speak. Every day Lucy spends more and more time with Katie and Lisa, every day Amber starts enjoying time with Paloma and Adriana more and more. One day they won't be there anymore, Krystal. You should know it already- lying about hypnosis, lying about me, lying, lying, lying. One day they're going to find out, Krystal, unless you give it up now. One day it will be Lucy, Lisa and Katie, one day it'll be Amber, Paloma, and Adriana, one day it'll be Krystal. Alone.
"So the question is, will it be Krystal, or Krystal and Miranda?"

I looked at it and frowned. Originally I planned for Krystal to agree with her sister, but that was happening too fast. Plus I liked Krystal, the real Krystal, a lot.

"It will be neither. You're making half this up, Miranda, and you know it. I haven't lied about anything, and Lucy hasn't spent time with Katie and Lisa since the bike accident. They may not be exuberantly interested in the power, but they aren't against it."
"What happened after the bike accident, dear?"
"What do you mean?"
"Krystal, you can't honestly think that something like that will never happen again-"
"Yes, I can. Now, where is Amber?"
"Answer my question. What do you think will happen if something like the bike accident happens again?"
"They'll probably ditch me again" Krystal replied matter of factly. "But it doesn't matter, because it won't happen again. Now where is Amber?"
"That is for me to know, and you to wonder."
"Isn't it 'Me to know and you to-"
"But dear, you won't be finding out."
Krystal glared at her sister and stalked out, irritated and frustrated.
Miranda smiled and walked back to her desk, sat down thoughtfully. Krystal's words were strong, but her demeanor could not match it. She claimed Miranda was lying, but she could see the truth in it regardless.
Deep down, she might know that Amber and Lucy were as loyal to her as ever. But deep down didn't matter. People claimed that it was what you thought down inside you that counted the most, but in reality it was surface thoughts that counted. Right now Krystal's surface thoughts were leaning towards Miranda.
And the really amazing thing was that she hadn't even needed to use hypnosis.
"Score one for Emma," she laughed to herself. Her first name was Emma, but she went by her middle name.
Ever since sixth grade, four years ago.

I typed the last word and glanced over it in satisfaction. I was about to start on the next scene when the phone rang again.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Lucy. So, I was wondering if you wanted to do this movie thing-"
"Movie thing?"
"Yeah. There's this song I like, and I wanted to shoot a sort of music video for it. Even Amber agreed even though she hates the song. So, will ya?"
"Um, okay. What's the song?"
"Purple Skies by RaRanda." RaRanda was an obscure band that I liked a lot.
"I'm guessing you got that off my playlist."
"Yeah, I listened to a couple of the songs. But where did you find it? I've never heard of them before!"
I shrugged. "I found them a couple years ago. I was putting together a playlist for a vacation by randomly selecting songs from the main computer's library, and 'Purple Skies' was the first one. I was listening to the playlist and liked it a lot."
"Yeah. So, you in?"
"I guess. What exactly does it entail?"
I assume she was about to tell me when my mother started yelling downstairs.
"Christina, what did you do to the bookcase?"
"Talk to you tomorrow, okay? My mom's yelling at me and she doesn't let me use the phone after dinner. Email me, I'm minus sign Chrissy, minus sign Tina at gmail dot com."
"Christina, if you don't come down here, I'm going to take away that computer-"
"Coming, coming," I yelled back, dropping the phone back where it belonged and tramped downstairs.
Dinner was quiet; my dad had to stay late at the office because the fire walk or whatever on the computers had crashed, so they had to fix it before the East Coast people came to smirk. It didn't make much sense to me, either, so don't worry. Anyway, my mother was irritated at me because the cat had knocked over a stack of her books in front of the bookcase and this was my fault somehow. I wanted to get back upstairs and wasn't talking to her much either- I was irritated by her irritation, of course.
I escaped back upstairs, but my inbox was empty. My new book wasn't very interesting- writing is usually pretty boring until page forty or fifty- so I just read. My cat is very special in that, rather than bring me random dead stuff (well…he does that too) he brings me books. I trained him to dump them in a little bin. He even steals books from the neighbors (I make him give them back, though- once I'm done reading them), so I didn't even need to go downstairs to read.

This night I didn't start in any classroom.
"Hello, Christina," said the sorcerer, stepping off the he stage and walking toward me.
I looked around, seeing if the Collective Critique was around.
"They aren't here, de-ah." He laughed at his nonjoke about Miranda's habit.
"I can see, you know," I informed him tersely, sitting down in one of the chairs. By now he was only a few feet away and sat down in the chair next to me.
"Is there a particular reason there's a stage here? I haven't seen it used."
He shrugged and suddenly the room went dark, a spotlight illuminating a circle on the curtains, the way you see it in plays and stuff. Two people stepped out of it. One had white-blonde hair and the other dark, but other than that they looked the same from a distance- almost the same facial structure, same height, same length of hair, same proportions.
It was pretty eerie, actually.
The one with the blonde hair messed with her microphone then started to sing.
"It's a wheel of fortune you see."
"A wheel of fortune," sang the dark-haired girl.
"A wheel of fortune of what's in your life."
"In your life."
"In your life. They say that you can control your life."
"Control your life."
"Control your life, but we all know that that's a lie."
"That's a lie."
"That's a lie. It's a wheel whether you got blue skies."
"Good day."
"Black skies."
"Bad day."
"Purple skies."
"Purple skies."
"Purple skies."
"That's special."
"Special."
By now you probably should have figured out they were singing "Purple Skies", so I'm not going to detail the rest of the song.
"What was that?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, really. The stage serves no purpose."
"You know, you could have just told me the stage serves no purpose rather than whatever that was."
"But that would not be as fun." He laughed. "Plus, you're really funny when you're confused."
"Well, that's always a legitimate reason," I told him sarcastically. Then I remembered a question I'd thought about earlier. "Hey, what's your actual name?"
"I don't have one."
"Really?"
"I used to. But that was long ago. I don't remember it anymore. I don't remember anything from before. Except my story."
"Before what?"
He snapped out of the slight trance the question had put him in. "I cannot tell you."
I rolled my eyes. That, I must say, is just about the lamest response. Ever. In any circumstance.
"So, what do you think of the Collective Critique?"
"Firstly, don't call them that. I call my old friends the Collective Critique more than the Changeable Triad-"
"Triad?"
"Yeah, there are three of them. Do you need me to teach you how to count?"
"Do you not consider yourself part of the group?"
"Not really."
"Why not?"
"What are you, a therapist or something?"
He smirked. "No, but Krystal can be very irritating when she wants something."
"Krystal? What? Why does she need to know?"
"I cannot tell you."
I swear to god, if I had a large and heavy object in my hands right about then I would have thrown it at his head as hard as humanly possibly.
"Why not? Why is there all this randomness you won't tell me?"
"Why is there all this randomness you need to know?"
If there was a large and heavy object in the room, I probably would have thrown it at his head about then.
"I'll answer your question if you'll answer mine."
"Okay. I cannot tell you the reason."
I started to grind my teeth together in frustration and he laughed at me.
"Really, though, onto the next question. Have you started a sequel?"
"I cannot tell you." I kept a p-p-p-poker face to make it believable, but he laughed anyway.
"Christina, I really cannot tell you the answer to the above questions, but you must tell me this answer. Have you started a sequel?"
"I cannot tell you."
I figured out then that he assumed that once it was clear that he really needed to know this, I would tell him.
That is why assumptions are very dangerous.
"Why not?" He sounded really irritated. Score.
"I cannot tell you the reason."
"Tell me." He stared at me as if that would make some kind of difference, and it finally broke the poker face. I laughed out loud.
"My, my, have the tables turned."
"You're not going to make it if you keep doing this."
"Make what?" The laughing disappeared from my face as I glared at him angrily. There was a long pause as he tried to think of something to say other than "I cannot tell you".
"I can help you find out when it is time, but now is not the time-"
"Yeah? And when is the time? Year three thousand?"
"No, you will be dead in year three thousand. It'll probably be in a few weeks. Are you going to answer my question or are we going to be here all night?"
"Yes, I have started a sequel, and no, I am not anywhere near finishing."
"Do not tell the Collective- I mean, the Changeable Triad about your sequel. If they ask-"
"They already did ask."
"What did you tell them?"
"Umm…" I tried to remember. "Not much. Just that Krystal would probably side with her sister."
The Sorcerer angrily and rather loudly muttered something that sounded like "Sin Car", like that a) made any sense or b) had anything to do with sequels.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Now, whatever you do, don't show them the sequel. Don't tell them how it's going on, don't tell them anything about it."
"Why?"
"Christina, is there really a need to ask that? Can't you just guess the answer?"
"I cannot tell you," I mocked, irritated. "Can you tell me about the conflict?"
He shrugged. "What do you think it's going to be?"
"I don't know. It doesn't even seem like there will be a conflict. They don't have hypnosis, and that's all that caused the conflicts in the past."
"What are conflicts created by?"
"Um, writers?"
"No, I mean, what makes a conflict occur?"
I stared at him, uncomprehending, then I realized what he was talking about. "Oh. Yeah. I'm a boron." After memorizing the periodic table I took to calling people borons instead of morons. "They're caused by people wanting something."
See, Mr. Baradat has done something for me this year.
"Exactly. What does Krystal want more than anything else?"
"Her friends."
"That she doesn't already have?"
"Oh. Hypnosis, I guess."
"Exactly. Might that cause a conflict?"
"No more than a conflict being created because someone wishes they could lift their arms and fly," I laughed. "The hypnosis is impossible, they said."
"I see. Well, I will keep in touch."
He vanished.
"Always something I look forward to," I said sarcastically to no one in particular.
"I heard that," a voice came from nowhere. I jumped back in surprise, tripped over a metal chair, and knocked it over, scratching up my leg.
"Frickin- chair- knocking- frickin-no-coordination-" I muttered angrily, trying to stand up unsuccessfully.
I could hear the sorcerer laughing while I stood up and sat. There were a few minutes of simply sitting and not really paying any attention to anything, then I woke up.

The next two weeks passed much like that. I enjoyed both the exciting mornings with my new friends and the mindless afternoons. I didn't work on my sequel very much, however- Lucy's movie idea took up most of my afternoon and homework most of the evening. Every once in a while I had ten minutes, but I mostly read regular books or "edited" Hypnotized. At this point editing was mostly reading.
The minimal sadness over the Collective Critique healed quickly and fully. At that point if they had decided to forgive me- as if- I probably would have ignored them. I had new, understanding, exciting, better friends.
Even Krystal warmed up to me enough so that she spoke almost normally. Every once in a while she would turn icy and cold- like crystal, pardon the pun- but those moments were few and far between. Amber seemed to have forgotten the sequel entirely and we all laughed over randomness.
I think the movie helped that. It was hard, but it was fun. We had a storyline about a girl writing an essay about the theme of a book and watching it show up in real life. We recruited extras and scouted for sets, laughing and joking the whole time. We shot and re-shot and re-shot scenes until I started to dream about the scenes before my visits with the sorcerer, which got shorter and shorter as time went, and much less cryptic. Even Krystal started to like "Purple Skies" and RaRanda in general.
The weekend in which I stayed with my family passed exactly as I expected it- I said hi, went to the back of the house, locked the door, and used their computer the whole day through, emailing the Changeable Triad.
I will start here with my entrance to Amber's house when I went over there the weekend after that.

"Hey guys," I announced as I walked through the door. Amber and Krystal were hunched over a small table in the middle of the room, playing a game of cards. "Whatcha guys playing?"
"Golf," Amber informed me.
"Isn't golf where you dress up in hideous outfits and whack tiny balls with dangerous sticks?"
"Golf is a card game." Krystal rolled her eyes. "You may have been able to see that."
I sat down at one of the chairs. "Who's winning?"
"Right now, I'm technically winning. But Amber always wins games, so she'll probably turn up a four here and-"
As she was saying this, she discarded a four. Amber took the four and shuffled around the six cards in front of her.
"Smart, Krystal," she laughed. "This is why you do not win card games. You have to think about what you're giving as well as what you're getting."
"Can I play?"
"Sure. I'm going to beat her now." She switched out one of her cards and Krystal took it. "One point, Krystal. Beat that!"
"Three points," she exhaled angrily.
"How do you play?"
"You get six cards like this." Amber gestured to the cards in front of her. "But they're turned over. The goal is to get as few points as possible. Queens and Jacks are worth zero, Ace is worth one, two is worth two, etcetera. You're supposed to play with Jokers being minus two, but we don't have Jokers, so the King and Queen of hearts are minus two instead. Anyway, if you have two cards the same value in the same column, they both equal zero. You play by picking up a card from the deck, stealing someone's discarded card, or turning over a card until you only have one card remaining, then you can skip action until someone turns over their last card- then that's your last turn."
I nodded. "Sounds easy."
Krystal snorted. "Against anyone else it's easy. Against Amber it's impossible. I've been trying to beat her for weeks and I haven't won once!"
"Oh, come on. She can't be that good."
"Amber could go to Vegas and win every time. Her luck is that good."
Amber rolled her eyes. "Those games are engineered against you, Krystal. This deck is not." Her voice sounded sad, somehow. "Anyway, closed or open?"
"Huh?"
"Closed means that you don't show your cards when they're turned over, open means you do." Amber shuffled the deck.
"Let's go with open, since we have a newcomer."
Krystal demanded absolute silence while she lost against Amber, and I was happy to oblige. But, seriously, she was right. Krystal got two points and me three, which in most games is enough to win, but Amber had zero, which is, like, impossible. Except when you're Amber, I guess.
We were about to play another game when Lucy came in. In the book Lucy is literally always late, so no one was frightfully worried about her earlier.
"Hey guys! What's up? Losing in golf?" She sat down flamboyantly and proceeded to watch the game.
"Like you're that good," Krystal snarled. "You consistently get fours and fives!"
"Calm down, Krystal. If you don't want me to point out your losing streak, don't whine about it all through third period. So, shall I play?"
"No, I'm tired of golf. We played four games before you guys even showed up. I need some headphones."
"Are you going to walk ten miles to Target?" I asked, looking around to see if there was a parent or sibling that was going to drive us.
"No, there's a shop down the way. They're pretty much Target."
"Ah."
"What do you need headphones for?" Lucy asked as she and I grabbed our coats- Amber had hers on, and Krystal apparently has a core temperature of eighty degrees or something, because she never needed one- and walked out the door. "You don't have an mp3 player."
Amber rolled her eyes and Krystal glared at her for reasons I did not fully understand.
"I need them for my computer, dimwit," Krystal informed Lucy, her voice as cold and sharp as ice.
"Oh. Right. Are your parents ever going to get you an mp3 player or what? You've been lugging around that that computer, which looks like it was invented before your parents were born, for, like, ever."
"Lucy, I hate to burst your bubble, but laptops weren't even invented until, like, 1995. Unless your parents are about my age-"
"Really? But weren't comps invented in, like, the 1940's?"
I snorted her blindingly misguided ignorance. "Yeah, the ENIAC, which was about the size of Amber's house."
"Oh. Yeah, so, do you think Alexis would be good for the part where the girl watches the kids fight for control, you know, and the one girl shows up and tries to pull it away, and is ignored?'
"Alexis is a good actress," Krystal thought out loud. "And I think it would definitely be good for her to be in the movie. But I think she would be better for the scene where everyone resents the girl that gets high scores even though she tries to help people, because Alexis is kind of nerdy looking so it would be totally stereotypical for her to try to break it up."
"I think it would be more stereotypical for some popular-looking girl to try to break it up," I interjected. "Plus less believable."
"I agree with Christina," Amber declared. "We want to stay away from stereotypes." Then her head went back to gazing up at the sky, kind of.
The conversation went on like so for the next two minutes, which I have chosen not to relate since it was a really long conversation and I can't remember most of it. But the point is that Krystal eventually restored herself to the front of the conversation as we strolled down to this mini-mart thing.
As soon as we entered Krystal tried to make some progress towards the back of the store, where headphones were kept, but was impeded by Lucy, who stopped to look at the line of hair dying materials.
"Cool," she criticized relentlessly.
"Hair dye?" Amber asked, one eyebrow raised.
"I've always wanted to dye my hair," I brought up.
"What color?"
"I don't know. Something other than stupid reddish brownish copperish whatever."
"Go with gold," Lucy suggested, holding up a box that matched her hair almost exactly.
"Nah, brown." Amber eyed a box that matched hers as well.
"Silver?" Krystal actually went as far as to hand me the box. We laughed.
"How about all three?"
"Tri colored hair? That sounds kind of strange." Amber looked at me, then up'n away (that's a song, too, I admit).
"Not really. You could pick these two, which aren't quite as dramatic as the gold and the silver, with random strands of brown, like highlights."
Amber and Lucy shrugged. "Yeah, I actually read a book about a girl with tri-colored hair. She believed it a charm against evil." Krystal.
"Really? What book?"
"I don't remember. But really now, can we please start moving along?"
"Killjoy."
"Thank you, it is my pride and joy."
We laughed, and some lady next to us rolled her eyes and muttered something about "those damn Sutter kids".
"Why thank you," Krystal said directly to her. "We deeply appreciate such unwarranted criticism." Her voice had turned cold and sharp again, and the woman looked both surprised and scared, which sounds bad and looks worse, trust me.
We started talking again, turning away from her and walking away conceitedly until Amber stopped us in front of a bracelet display.
"Whoa, look at that one." It was a delicate silver chain with a purple stone about the size of my thumb.
"I've got money," Lucy brought up. "Let's get 'em. There are three."
"Copacetic," Amber critiqued enthusiastically.
"Dictionary dot com," I coughed. Lucy laughed, and Krystal smiled a small smile of amusement.
"Busted," Lucy affirmed as she picked up the bracelets.
"Are we going to get moving, or are we going to sit here discussing whether or not Amber has a dictionary dot com vocab?"
"Discussing whether people have a dictionary dot com vocab is always very fun," I contradicted, nodding my head sarcastically while holding my chin mockingly thoughtfully.
Krystal looked like she wanted to throw something at my head, especially when Lucy jumped in to agree with me.
"Of cuh-orse. And Krystal knows that very well, does she not?"
Krystal rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips angrily in obvious agreement.
"Come on, you two." Amber yanked on Lucy's arm.
We journeyed continuously until Lucy stopped us again in front of a display of tank tops and looked at them thoughtfully. This, I sincerely believe, was done purely for Krystal's benefit, who looked really irritated.
"Lucy," Krystal said in a warning tone.
"What?"
"You're doing this purely to annoy me, aren’t you?"
"Me?" Lucy sounded amazed that Krystal would even think that. "I never do things like that." This probably could have been very funny but Lucy is pretty bad at keeping the
p-p-p-poker face and instead started laughing.
We kept walking soon after that, where Krystal selected a pair of plain black headphones, then we went back to the counter, still talking about the movie.
We had only just started walking when I saw the library.
"Hey, the library!" The library, I will tell you now, was my closest friend. Maybe even more than the Changeable Triad. "They're open today."
Krystal yanked on my arm "You shouldn't go there," she informed me.
"Why not?"
"Well, if you do, don't this one book."
"What book?" I was instantly curious.
But Krystal just shook her head. She was probably smart enough to know that I would immediately look up the book if she told me what it was called.

We went back and dyed my hair soon after that which, despite my expectations, was quite simple, and despite the Changeable Triad's expectations, looked pretty cool once we were done.
"What should we do now?" Lucy asked once we were sprawled across the floor of the main room once again.
"Let's play golf," Amber suggested.
"NO!" Krystal and Lucy yelled in absolute agreement. "I'm kind of sick of that game." Lucy.
"Hearts?"
"No."
"Poker?"
"No."
"Blackjack?" Her voice had gotten sad again, and she looked down at the couch.
"No-"
"Oh, come on Krystal," Lucy interrupted. "It's a quick game. Besides, if you want to beat Amber at a game, that's certainly your best bet. It's all luck, unlike golf or hearts."
"Isn't blackjack a casino game?" Me, of course, the one who hasn't played games since my uncle taught me poker when I was six, not to bet or anything really, just because I was bored.
"Yeah, but we don't bet or anything. It's mainly a way to get Krystal's heart rate up out of frustration before Amber really decimates her at something else."
"That's a lofty goal," I answered. "How do you play?"
"Simple. You get two cards. Twos equal two points, etcetera, Kings, Queens, and Jacks equal ten points, and Aces are worth one or eleven. You can choose to get an additional card after your original two cards, or else stay the same. The goal is to get as close to twenty one without going over. Once everyone has either gone over or is cool with their cards, you show them."
"Okay."
"Closed or open?"
"Open," Krystal decided.
"That means that you can get cards even if your card totals seventeen or over," Lucy explained.
Amber dealt the cards and we all glanced at them. Mine totaled fifteen, so I got another card, a three, so I now had eighteen. I decided that was probably enough to win.
Lucy got two additional cards and went over, so she proceeded to watch the game, which was pretty amusing. Krystal stared intently at Amber, trying to detect what her cards, but Amber has mastered the p-p-p-poker face so Krystal can't read her, can't read her poker face.
I really like that song ("Poker Face", Lady GaGa), as you should have figured out by now, so I will probably make references to it throughout the book. You have been warned.
It took Krystal a while to decide whether to get an additional card or not, but eventually she did, and smiled really, really wide.
Evidently Krystal does not have the poker face.
We showed our cards then. Krystal and Amber both had twenty one, so they played a quicker rematch, where Krystal got nineteen and Amber twenty.
Krystal groan/yelled loud enough for Canada to hear, then started muttering swear words rather loudly.
"Krystal, calm down," Lucy advised. "It's just a game, and a stupid one at that."
We played another few matches that all resulted in pretty much the same result- Krystal and Amber tied or else Krystal was one point below, I was usually two or three points behind them, and Lucy went over. I was about to declare that I was kind of tired of the game and we should play something else when the phone rang.
It was her mom, telling her to order pizza and check the mail, and that if there was a movie in it we were allowed and encouraged to watch it, despite the rating. Apparently it was always Amber's job to check the mail as soon as she got home, and she almost never did until her mom called at six thirty or seven.
Amber found the movie and it looked interesting, so we unanimously agreed to watch it. When the pizza came we annihilated it easily.
The movie was just finishing when Amber's mom came home.
"Hey girls. Why aren't you playing?"
"We're watching the movie," Amber explained for her.
"Oh, The Craft? I remember liking that movie when I was your age."
"It's awesome," Krystal declared, her eyes gleaming. "Nancy's cool."
"Yeah, but the first part is better than the second." My point was proven easily as the scene where Nancy, the evil character, is shown going insane. After that it went to credits, and the mom walked out into the other room.
"What do you think was the best part?" Lucy asked me.
"Mm, probably the part where the weird Indian lady talks to Sarah in the end. That or the part, you know, when they do the spell for the wishes. You?"
"I liked the glamour part." The glamour part, for those of you poor, unfortunate souls who have not watched The Craft was where they did spells to change their appearance. "Krystal?"
"I liked the end, pretty much the part where Sarah sees the glamour newscast until when she makes that tree break. Amber?"
"Eh, I didn't like it much. It seemed kind of cruel how the girls just turned on her, no loyalty at all. It was cruel and unnecessary, and I didn't like it."
"Yeah, but they'd known Nancy for years and Sarah for only weeks. I think they owed more loyalty to Nancy than Sarah," Krystal objected.
Yeah, okay, I'm going to have to explain the plot of the Craft now. Basically the new girl Sarah befriends Nancy, Rachelle, and Bonnie, outcasts. They are witches and do a few spells together that work. Nancy gets power hungry and does a spell to get all the power of what they worship, the name of which I cannot spell, and goes kind of crazy. Sarah did a spell on this guy Chris so he would like her, but Nancy kills him, so Sarah tries to tell them to stop, they ignore her, she does a binding spell. Nancy considers this treason and they come to her house to kill her, but Sarah calls on the same being they worship and throws Nancy into a mirror. Then she goes into a mental hospital.
"That doesn't mean they should just ditch her, though. Sarah had a point and they should have recognized that."
"Nancy was insane, you know. But I kind of agree with Krystal. Rachelle and Bonnie should have stayed with their real friend." Lucy.
"I think Rachelle and Bonnie should have figured out Nancy was insane and sided with Sarah, or tried to help Nancy regain her sanity." Me.
"I disagree, again. They didn't really know Sarah. Plus, I've seen this movie before and there's a deleted scene where Nancy points out that she was the only one that stuck up for Rachelle, the only black girl in a white neighborhood, and Bonnie, because she had the scars. Clearly, if Nancy was that devoted to them, they needed to stay with her."
"Loyalty is fine and all, but you guys are completely missing the ethical sides of things." I love discussions, and I had really liked the movie. "Nancy was insane, and she killed Chris-"
"The movie said Sarah killed Chris. Nancy didn't have enough power," Krystal interrupted.
"No, they made it pretty clear Nancy killed Chris. She only said that to torture Sarah. Anyway, Nancy was trying to kill someone. You simply do not side with people when they are trying to kill someone. That's wrong, and Rachelle and Bonnie should have thought that. Even if Nancy was their real friend, they shouldn't help her kill someone."
"Yeah, but Sarah did betray her coven. She'd sworn to stay with her friends and not use magic against them." Lucy pointed out. "She broke that rule."
"Yeah, but all she did against them was a binding spell. They still could have used magic."
"I think that Nancy's insanity was pretty much curable!" Amber yelled. "They had a lot of power. They might have been able to fix it and stay a coven."
"Clearly that wasn't happening." Krystal broke in. She was about to say more when Amber's mom came.
"Hey Amber. If you guys are tired of the card games, I found this in the back of the closet trying to find a movie. Your organizing skills leave plenty to be desired, sweetheart. I had about seven of those old board games falling on my head."
It was a hinged board that opened up to two rows of six wide holes and bigger holes on each side.
"Mancalala! Oh, I remember this game! It is so addicting!"
"How do you play?" Lucy asked. "I've certainly never played it.
"Yeah, I played it with these girls I knew in second grade, Lena, Claire, and Anna. It's really easy to play. Basically you start with the board set up like this." Amber paused to start dropping little stones into the smaller holes in the center of the board. "You can play Egyptian, which is where you take the little stones and drop then into the little bins until you run out of stones. If the last stone ends up in your kalaha thing, the big hole at the side, then you take another turn. If you end in an empty bin then you take that stone and the one across it. You can also play Niger way, which is where you drop the stones, but if it ends in a bin with stones in it, you pick those up and continue. The turn ends when you end in the kalaha, an empty bin, or you drop a stone into a bin with three into it on your side, at which point you transfer those to your kalaha. If you drop it into a bin on your opponents bin then they pick it up and put in their kalaha but you continue."
"Which ones are your bins?" Lucy peered at the board.
"The ones on the side closest to you. Hey, mom, is the other board still in the closet?"
"No, I believe it's in the game room. Why don't you play in there? That way I can keep this part of the house clean at least."
"Okay." She picked up the board carefully and we walked into the back room, where there were two little tables set up, a large closet to the side, which I inferred was the infamous Avalanche Closet, a TV and computer over to the side, and shelves covering every inch of one of the walls. The ceiling was painted blue, the floor had aqua green, and the walls were painted magenta with small, palm-size yellow stars, about two to every square foot. Like my tri-colored hair, it sounds stupid and overdone relating it now, but it looked cool in the room.
Amber located the other board without too many casualties and showed me how to distribute the tiles. I was about to start playing Lucy when Amber suggested that Krystal learn how to play before they started death matches, so Krystal and Lucy switched spots.
We started the game, playing the Egyptian way. Within four moves Krystal made a major capture, and within a few more she stole one of my strongholds with six or seven stones. But I countered back, taking an even bigger one, with nine stones, to the kalaha. I'd gone around the board and made small captures more so we now had about the same amount of stones.
Krystal analyzed it and played several turns at once, but only really got two or three stones. Then she set up a capture by emptying the hole across one of my two last holes with lots of stones. I immediately emptied it.
She was bluffing, of course, and I had set her up right for taking the other large stronghold. However, I'm pretty good with math and figured out a way to take one of her holes, which made me have only one less stone than her. She made a meaningless move and I dropped one or two stones into my kalaha. She made another meaningless move and so did I. I was just hoping that she would end up with no stones left on her side first, so I could keep my last stronghold.
Unfortunately, since we do not live in an ideal universe, I had to use it as my last move. However, five of the seven stones stayed on my side anyway, so I still won.
"You guys done yet?" Amber asked.
"Yeah. Twenty two to twenty six, my favor. You guys?"
"Ten to thirty eight, Amber's favor. She is so good!" Lucy exclaimed.
"I'll play you," Amber offered benevolently.
"Thirty eight to ten?" I said faintly. "I think I'll stick with Krystal."
"Ah, where's the challenge in Krystal?"
"Hey!"
"Okay, fine," I relented.
I soon discovered firsthand that playing mancala with Amber Lopez and trying to win is just about the stupidest thing one can try to do. She trounced me four times in a row with ridiculous numbers like thirty to eighteen, once thirty five to thirteen.
I seriously do not understand how this girl could be so good at the game.
"You leave too many holes, Christina," Amber tried to explain. "You don't really think about what I could do, only what you can do. So while you're making one or two stone captures, I'm setting up seven or eight stone captures. If you can't balance what I'm doing with what you're doing, don't set up the strongholds, because if you set them up I will probably get to them before you."
I nodded. We played again and tied.
"Whoa," exclaimed Lucy. "Krystal, check it out. Christina tied Amber at a strategy game!"
"Really?" She looked over and she looked like something absolutely amazing had occurred.
"How did you do that?"
"You can't build it up when you're opponent is better than you. When it's equal skill level, like me versus you, then you can build it up. But otherwise, don't concentrate power."
"Power?" The word was cold and smooth, just like all of Krystal's speech used to be two weeks ago. She cocked an eyebrow.
"Stones. Points. Whatever."
"Let's play," Amber suggested.
I didn't beat her, obviously, or even tie. Instead, she beat me by like twelve stones.
We continued playing until almost one, switching tables every once in a while. No one beat or tied with Amber the rest of the night.
At around one Krystal had the brilliant idea to watch The Craft again. Unfortunately, no one knew for sure how loud Amber's TV was when it's one o clock in the morning so it is absolutely silent and the TV is jacked most of the way up for some unknown reason.
The Craft also has a very loud beginning, so we basically woke up Amber's mom at one thirty at night, something that she was not as thrilled about as we expected her to be. She basically yelled at us for being up so late (she thought we went to bed two and a half hours ago, apparently) and then trying to play a movie on top of that.
As soon as she left they played poker, using a bunch of randomness from around Amber's room (it was harder for her mom to hear things than in the game room, you see). I fell asleep in the game room a while before they did.

That morning Amber's mother woke us up at six thirty making coffee. I, like the Changeable Triad, tried to go back to sleep, but once I was awake everything suddenly seemed really, really loud- footsteps, random creaks of the house, the humming of the computer, and a few infernal birds outside the window that seemed to have the personal motto "The louder and more incessantly you sing, the better!".
Krystal and I were in the game room and walked over to Amber's room to see how she and Lucy were faring. We knew they had woken up because we had heard Lucy groaning and Amber laughing when her mom first started up the coffee.
"Blast. Those. Stupid. Pointless. Idiotic. Beanheaded. Birds!" Lucy yelled as soon as we entered the room.
"Oh, but I like them," I mocked. Lucy was so tired she believed me for a few seconds.
"How can you- oh, you're kidding."
"I am exhausted!" Amber declared.
"I am going to kill your mother, Amber, for using that frickin coffee maker at six thirty in the morning," Krystal groaned.
"Oh, come now!" I jumped to my feet. "Let's do something exciting! We could go run! Play mancala! Make breakfast! Do-"
"Sto-o-o-op," Lucy whined, dropping down onto the mattress dramatically. "You're making my head hurt. It is unnatural for people to be so perky when they went to sleep at three thirty in the morning."
"I didn't," I bragged. "Did you guys really go to sleep at three thirty?"
"Mancala is unnaturally addicting," Krystal explained. "Lucy refused to let us stop."
"Yeah, whatever. Wanna play?"
"Yeah!" Lucy exclaimed, jumping two feet up into the air and running over to where the mancala boards had been thrown across the room, then hurriedly started setting it up.
"Whatever happened to being anti-perky?" Krystal asked.
"Sell-out," Amber muttered, rolling over.
I expected to absolutely trounce Lucy (considering my skill was enough to tie with Amber) but Lucy was pretty good, and I really had to try to analyze her moves. But it was pretty easy, anyway, and I beat her.
We played another few games before Amber and Krystal decided they were hungry enough to scavenge for breakfast. We went out into the kitchen, found a note from Amber's mother that advised we look in "the cabinet" for a box of donuts, which we found with no trouble.
"So, Christina, has the Sorcerer told you anything?"
"Not lately. I have only seen him for a few minutes lately."
"Really?" Krystal seemed very surprised by this. "He talks about you all the time."
"How would you know?" Lucy asked.
"There are ways, my dear. Anyway, has he told you anything at all?"
"No. He said something nonsensical about conflicts or whatever the first time, but the only other time I saw him I asked him a bunch of questions and he was like 'I cannot tell you' the whole time, which was exceedingly irritating and irrational."
Krystal smiled her true smile, just for a second. Amber and Lucy did not notice.
"Whatever. Will any of you play mancala with me?" Lucy asked.
"What is it with you and that game?" Krystal asked, her voice cool but with an undercurrent of leftover triumph, for whatever reason.
"It's so much fun!" Lucy exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. "Strategy, counting, setting up, analyzing…"
"But you always lose," Amber voiced.
"No. I can beat Krystal. Now, will you play me or not?"
"I will," Amber volunteered. "Where's the board?"
Lucy slid it onto the table, previous location unknown. Amber and Lucy started playing intently.
"So, you started a sequel yet?"
"Yeah. I'm on page, like, one."
"What's going to happen?"
Should I tell her or not? The Sorcerer said I shouldn't…but this was Krystal! My friend! The girl I'd wanted to be for years!
No. His advice made no sense, but I should probably follow it anyway.
I shrugged. "I never really know what happens when I start writing."
"When'll you probably finish?"
"Depends on when we finish the movie. I've got a lot of homework lately and the movie is not helping. But considering that it takes me two to three months to finish a book usually, then another month of revision to get it in good condition, probably not for a while."
"We should do a movie based on Hypnotized," Krystal suggested. "We got the perfect actors for the lead."
"Yeah! That would be awesome!" Lucy then turned back to the game, captured a bunch of Amber's stones and laughed.
"Tee hee, Amber! Take-a that one!"
"Sure," replied Amber, capturing even more stones from Lucy.
"I hate you, Amber," Lucy grumbled, not meaning it (obviously).
"Hey Lucy," I said suddenly. "How come you stopped using the analogies?"
"Oh, you know. I grew up."
"But- the story-"
"We are still a manifestation, Christina," Krystal informed me, her voice cool and smooth. "We can grow away from the story."
For some reason, I found that quite strange and even scary.

I went home about two hours after that. Lucy was fully entrenched in a mancala obsession, and refused to let us leave that morning. Krystal and I re-watched The Craft, and had a short, repetitive discussion, but mostly we just played mancala.
Maybe you have never played mancala, but let me tell you that if you have ever liked puzzles, you will be fully addicted. I don't really know why it is such an obsession-forming game, but it is, and even Krystal and I were caught up.
The only thing off about the weekend, it seemed, was that Amber had acted rather strangely- sometimes very happy (usually when we were playing games) or else kind of depressed, like something was weighting on her.
Usually Amber just got kind of frustrated or irritated, not depressed like that. I wondered what it was.
I even thought back to The Craft discussion we had. Amber and Lucy didn't participate in discussions like that, and yet they had both partaken- Lucy eagerly, Amber almost desperately. What the…?
Oh, it's probably not a big deal, I thought to myself. These are my friends we are talking about. I wrote them into existence.
I spent the next two hours working on homework and talking to the Changeable Triad, my parents calmly ignoring me and making the room next to mine nice for my sister Tanisha. Tanisha was in college but visited home most Sundays. My parents lived for those Sundays, always finding me inferior to Tanisha and making sure I knew it. They were really into sports and so was my sister. I was smarter than her, but she even got better grades than me and had more and better friends than me, so I was regarded as a failure.
I used to care a lot, but that was before sixth grade. Once I started writing, really writing, it consumed my existence. I often stopped caring about anything except it.

"Hello Christina. I have not seen you this past week."
"I really feel for you." I sat down. "People are usually quite excited when they have not seen me in a while. Even the Collective Critique."
"I doubt that."
"Well, I do not."
"Did you find anything strange about The Craft?" He sat down next to me.
"Not really." I stood back up. "Well, I guess the beginning is kind of similar. Entrenched threesome outcast accepts fourth outcast. Cold and cruel girl seems not so cold and cruel upon close examination. We've even got a kind outcast and a rather shallow outcast- Rachelle and Bonnie, or Amber and Lucy. But the ending won't happen. Krystal is not insane."
"Nancy wasn't either, when Sarah met her." He stood up.
"Yes…but…"
"Moving on-"
"No! You cannot put that in my head and then just change the subject!" I walked back up to the row behind me and sat down.
"Yes, but I cannot say anything more on the matter." He sat down next to me.
"Can the Changeable Triad get hypnotism?"
"It is not for me to say. Krystal chooses whether you know that information."
"Why? Why Krystal?" I stood up.
"Can we please stop playing musical chairs, Christina? Either sit down or stand up, for god's sake." I sat down, and he sat down next to me.
"The only thing I can say is to treat this like a mancala game, Christina. Who is your opponent? Will they access your strongholds or not? The only stronghold your opponent cannot access is your kalaha. You act as if your story is your kalaha, but it is not. People can take the bins, Christina, but they cannot take your kalaha."
"What the hell are you talking about? I don't have an opponent. The Collective Critique gave up. They don't care. My parents gave up. They don't care. My teachers gave up. They don't care. They are the only opponents I have ever had, but they do not care. I don't think they ever cared."
"So no one has ever cared? The bins have been empty?"
"One or two stones, maybe. But no strongholds. For a long time the stories I write have been my biggest stronghold. But I really think they are like a kalaha. I have them backed up in dozens of places. No one can take them from me."
"Christina, in a mancala game there is only one kalaha."
"Life is not a mancala game."
"But it will be. There is only one kalaha, Christina. Find it."
"Why? Like I said, I'm not fighting anyone." There was a pause, like he was trying to figure out how to say it without giving too much away.
Curse Krystal.
"You have power, Christina. People want it. Up until now, most of your power has been in bins- parents, teachers, the Collective Critique. Some of your opponents may not be able to get it, but some are good. You cannot build up a stronghold in a bin. You need to build it up in the kalaha."
"Maybe I don't have a kalaha."
"Everyone has a kalaha, Christina."

Monday Krystal was absent for an unknown reason.
"Why's Krystal absent?" I asked Amber in third period. I hadn't known until second.
"I'm not her keeper!" she snapped, surprisingly hostile for an unknown reason.
"What's wrong? I know something was up over the weekend. What is it?"
"Nothing you can know," she said sadly, dropping her head and slowly grading the paper in front of her.
Ugh! I really wanted to throw something about then. Why wasn't anyone telling me anything? What was so brutally important that no one was telling me?
I almost wished for the Collective Critique. At least they told me what the hell was going on.
"Why not? What is the big deal?"
"Krystal told me not to tell you."
Okay, Christina. Think. Think.
"Nancy wasn't either, when Sarah met her."
"It is not for me to say. Krystal chooses whether you know that information."
"Krystal told me not to tell you."
"Yeah, but they'd known Nancy for years and Sarah for only weeks. I think they owed more loyalty to Nancy than Sarah,"
Clearly Krystal is onto something, and Amber and Lucy are helping her. And the Sorcerer. And they aren't going to tell you.
Why?
WHY? WHY? WHY?????
"Why?"
Amber bit her lip and pondered this for a second. "Because sometimes things do not operate the way we expect them to."
"Thank for clearing that up for me," I told her sarcastically. "No questions in my mind, that's for sure."
She sighed and looked down, continuing to grade papers. I slid out my iPod and intentionally listened to as much synthesized pop as I could, just to annoy Amber.
"Christina?" The teacher asked from behind me. I didn't hear her.
"Christina! Christina! Christina! Help me wake up the TA," she implored the class.
"One…two…three…CHRISTINA!"
"Ack!" I jumped four feet out of the chair, not expecting to hear a whole crew of ungrateful seventh graders yelling at me. Then they, the inflictors of humiliation and pain, laughed heartlessly at me.
"Eek! What?" I spun around, facing the teacher.
"Have you finished those?"
"No, my friend here is comatose." I gestured towards Amber, who had finished about half of the front of a test in the past ten minutes.
She dropped a stack of papers on the desk, presumably to be graded.
"That was funny," Amber informed me as soon as the teacher had turned back to the class.
"For you," I replied. I put my iPod back in, but it was low enough to hear.

I walked with Lucy down to the end of the stairs, and to my endless surprise, Krystal was there.
"Krystal? Where were you earlier?"
Krystal shrugged. "I had things to do," she answered emotionlessly, her voice smooth but cold. I shrugged one shoulder, mystified, but we continued walking out the door to our table. We had just gotten situated when Lucy pulled out something.
"You brought the mancala board," I stated, amazed.
"So that's where that went. I wondered what happened to it." Amber's voice was amused but surprisingly listless.
"Play me?" Lucy asked excitedly.
"An obsession like that cannot be healthy," I observed, watching as she set up the game, ready to play Amber.
"Agreed." Krystal.
"Hey, Krystal, how do you know the Sorcerer?" I asked casually, starting to unwrap my sandwich.
"He lives where the stories do." I must have had an expression even more confused and amazed than I thought, because she tried to explain, her voice still cold for some reason.
"When characters have enough energy to think but not enough to fully exist, they go to this…place, a cold, desolate existence. Both the Sorcerer and I were destined there. He's from another story, with a girl similar to you as the writer. That story came true."
"Really? What story?"
"You would not know it. She died before she could publish it."
"Oh. But- wait- were Lucy and Amber there?"
"For a few days. Before the Collective Critique found your blog there was barely enough energy for me."
"How did you leave? Did he?"
"I thought we went over this already. He is the Sorcerer that controls the energy of stories. He picked your story to become real."
"How was in the realm, then? You're not making sense."
"It's an interlocking world, the world of stories, because oftentimes one person will be a character with different variations in different stories. There was a character in the Sorcerer's story, Sab, or something," She pronounced the name See-ahb, FYI, "that's been in several different stories- she was a witch in some old fable, plus there's some kind of Japanese manga thing that she's the villain of. So her character changes, and to different people she means different things. The Sorcerer was also in another story, plus this one, so it's difficult to say exactly what or who it is."
"Oh." It seemed as if no one was ever going to give me any answers.
Maybe tonight I'd go bean the brains out of "the Sorcerer" and see if he would tell me something.
"What was his name in the story?"
"I don't know. I read it- it was one of the most sarcastic things I have ever read in my life, but it was okay- but I couldn't figure out who he was, and he doesn't remember."
"Ha ha! Yes, Amber! Yes!" Lucy exclaimed, extremely excited for an unbeknownst reason.
"What happened?"
"I beat Amber! I beat Amber!" Lucy crowed.
"No, you didn't. You didn't count the stones I had left in my row. I still beat you." Amber sighed and tried to smile.
"No," Lucy whined, deflated. Then she brightened. This is Lucy, after all. "Play again?"
"Are you really this desperate to lose?" Amber asked, mystified. Lucy reset the mancala board.
"Yes," Lucy admitted.
"I can't believe we finished the movie," I sighed. "My Sunday evening was so empty."
"We should do a new one!" Lucy said. "Everyone liked the one we did last time; they would probably help with another."
"I wanted to do one based on Hypnotized," Krystal said.
"Maybe, but I don't think we would have enough actors." Me.
"The same people that helped with 'Purple Skies' would probably help with this one," Krystal argued. "It would certainly have a better soundtrack."
"I don't think we should do it. We would probably have to show them the book, and they would find it really strange that we were so similar to the characters in the book." Amber.
"I don't think we should either. It would be hard and I don't think we would be able to deliver."
"Okay, fine," Krystal relented.
The bell rang.

The afternoon was not as mindless as usual. Mr. Baradat ingeniously rearranged the seating so I was now situated right next to the window, a brilliant idea, of course, and I stared at it through most of fifth period. Got yelled about it, sure, but it was like I couldn't keep my eyes off it. It had started delicately raining halfway through lunch, a few drops here and there, though it had been pristine blue skies all morning. Now the storm was thrashing and violent.
I was transfixed.
"Christina! For the last time, I am over here!"
My neck snapped over. "Yes, Mr. Baradat?"
"It's your turn to read."
"Sure." I looked down. I had practically forgotten that I was even in class, watching the wind and rain whip through the trees. At first they resisted, trying to ignore the storm's will, but then they bent, leaves, twigs, and branches going every which way.
I looked down. The text was meaningless, a blur of black and white. I sighed softly, too softly for anyone to hear, blankly looking at the page.
"You don't know where we are, do you? Between you and Randy… Elaine, you go. Christina, stop staring out the window and try to stay with the class."
I sighed again, trying to pay attention to the words. Usually words created exciting stories, stories worthy of being analyzed and discussed. Stories with varied characters and interesting complications, complex symbols and numerous themes. Usually words were so many things, could be so many things.
Today words were just words.
I kept my gaze steadily on the text, but I was not absorbing anything. I was simply staring at a page, ignoring Elaine's voice behind me.
After a few minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. I looked up at the window.
The rain and wind were too much for the tree a little across the way. With a loud groan, a branch crashed and decimated someone's lawn. The wind triumphed over its victory, streaming through the trees with increased violence. The water poured down harder, flooding the street. Trees snapped dangerously left and right, dramatically, bending from the wind and rain. I was more than transfixed. I was amazed, awed.
But it didn't matter. I had to look down at the page, the meaningless, mindless black ink sprawled across the page. It was not a story.
It was ink.
The story, the dramatics, sliced through outside the window.

History was mindless, restless. I could not take the pointless, slow maneuvers. The teacher asked the same questions for the same stupid kids who couldn't care less about class. I raised my hand each time for a quarter of an hour and was continually ignored. Eventually, I stopped trying. She knew I knew what this was. She would not pick me.
I stared out the window, but it was no longer dramatic or exciting. The rain had slowed down a bit, sure, but mostly I was in a different frame of mind, no longer excitable and eager, but tired and bored.
I wanted to go home.
I wanted to work on my sequel.
I wanted to talk to the Changeable Triad.
I did not want to sit here in History class for the sole reason of the teacher ignoring me while morons who couldn't figure out who Thomas Jefferson was stared at her blankly and gave short answers, usually "I don't know".
Was there a point to this? Was there a point to my participation? I was not participating. I was staring apathetically at a small poster on the wall.
Finally, though, the bell rang, my savior. I gathered up my books, dropped them, tripped over them, and crashed into the desk on my right, sprawled over the adjoined chair in a rather uncomfortable and difficult to undo position.
"Brilliant, Christina! Brilliant!" I muttered, trying to regain my balance without permanently damaging my spinal cord.
"Do you need some help?" asked the boy who sits behind me, looking back from the front of the row. I didn't even know his name; just that he was one of the imbeciles Ms. Jenson kept calling on.
"No," I lied, tripping once again and landing gracefully (well, about as gracefully as a buffalo would be in my position) on my hands and knees.
"Frickin-chairs-impeding-" I muttered angrily, standing up, reaching over to grab my notebooks, and almost falling over again.
Today seemed to be simply a series of grace, poise, and brilliance.

I walked to the library in a sour mood, though I never went inside.
"Christina!" Lucy shrieked once we were in the lobby, bounding over. "C'mon!"
"Huh?" I asked her knowledgably and intelligently.
"We're going to walk through the Rose Garden." Krystal's voice was as cold as over. "We wish for you to come."
"It's pouring rain outside."
"Not anymore. It stopped." Amber sounded sad. "Rain has a cycle- off and on, off and on, but it will never end."
I frowned, unsure of what exactly that was supposed to mean, besides the indisputable fact that it was no longer raining (as I saw when I brilliantly and cleverly glanced out the window).
"Okay, sure, then. Just let me call my mom."
I called her. It was a short conversation; apparently Tanisha was on the other line. It was no trouble whatsoever to get her to agree to come an hour later than usual.
"Let's go," I said, dropping my backpack along with the Changeable Triad's.
It was only as soon as we started walking that I discovered we were to shoot our next music video in the Rose Garden.
"Oh, Christina, what did your parents think of your hair?" Amber.
"They don't care. Tanisha came over, and I'm always invisible when Tanisha's over."
"What do you think they'll say when they see it?"
"Christina, take out the garbage!"
They actually laughed at that, as intended.
"So, I was thinking we would do that awesome song that just came out as the song. It starts with like 'Roses have more sense than you, Violets them too, they can't think but, well, that's an accurate description'. You know that one?"
"Yes. It is the newest electronica-synthesize-dance-nightclub-fake-keyboard nonsense to hit the charts. The radios are in love with it." Krystal.
"Whatcha talkin'-" Me. I knew the song.
"No!" Amber and Krystal yelled. It was the first emotion I'd heard from Krystal all day.
"Can we do it anyway? Please?" Lucy begged.
"Sure, whatever. Who's the lead this time?"
"I vote for Christina, with the tri-colored hair."
It passed unanimously.
"What should the story be?"
"How about a teacher trying to teach with a bunch of imbeciles who don't know Thomas Jefferson is? Then we could have one of them just watch the window or something, walk out, etcetera. Something like that," I suggested.
"Do they really not know who Thomas Jefferson is?"
"Yes. She asked the one guy, Terence, 'Who made the Louisiana Purchase' and just stares at her and is like 'I don't know' and she just keeps telling him to guess. Meanwhile, I am sitting two seats away, desperately trying to catch her attention. Finally he's like 'Um, John Adams' and I swear the teacher wanted to hit him with the ruler or something. The chapter we are working on is called 'The Age of Jefferson'. What kind of moron is he?'
"A really stupid one." Lucy.
"I like that idea," Krystal agreed, having ignored my rant about the imbeciles who can't seem to know how to read yet. "It's a good twist. But how would we shoot it?"
"There's a school near here that's deserted in the afternoons," I volunteered. "The principal liked me. I bet I could wrangle a deal with him."
"Good idea. You think we could get a whole roomful of extras?"
"Probably," Lucy said. "The class I TA for is drama, and when I mentioned that I was shooting a real movie they all wanted to do it."
"Good. So what should we have besides the teacher calling on people that don't have the slightest idea what is going on?"
"A girl who knows everything. I vote Krystal," I said.
It passed.
"How about two girls passing notes? Amber and Lucy?" Krystal.
"Cool." Lucy.
"It needs a story, though." Me. "How about the teacher does the snowball thing…you know, where they all write down their thoughts, throw it at the room, and pick up a random one?"
"Like that." Lucy said. "And the imbeciles don't know what to write? But we'd need a language arts class."
"Okay."
"Where would we get a teacher?" Krystal asked.
"Um…I think I could get Tanisha to be the teacher. She's busy, but she likes drama and would probably do it."
The conversation went on likewise, Amber quietly looking at the ground, not saying anything.
Finally, though, we shot the basic scene. Most of the scenes required we re-shoot them at least a few times.
I went home that evening, did my homework, and went to bed. My earlier resolution to work on my sequel was forgotten.

"Christina?" the Sorcerer asked me when I fell asleep that night.
"Hello. Ready to confuse me and make no sense?" I asked him sarcastically, sitting down on a chair dramatically, falling over it, and sprawling elegantly over the next two in the row.
He helped pull me up.
"I cannot sit down today." My point was punctuated as I tripped over something else and landed on my knees.
"Someone is here," he said, as if that made any sense whatsoever.
"How can anyone-"
"Krystal," he said quietly. He walked up to the stage and muttered something to a mysterious someone that I assumed was Krystal behind the curtain.
I walked up as well, both really curious and really not curious at the same time. Curiosity won, as should have been obvious.
The stage was empty.
I walked up the steps and behind the curtain.
It was not what I had expected- a dark, dusty backstage with scattered, problem making props that I would inevitably trip over, fall on, or else completely destroy. Instead, it was bright.
Bright.
Not bright like stage lights, bright like I was outside on the sidewalk in the middle of July. July in California, let me tell you, is always hot, bright, and sunny, and I covered my eyes.
It was just a sidewalk and nothing else- to each side was simply dirt. On one side I could see faint mountains, on the other, a faint city.
I walked down the sidewalk, all the while wondering why I was here and where the heck Krystal and the Sorcerer were. I could hear faint traces of their voices- "Don't be jealous" "She is nothing" "Why is she here" and quite a few of the eternal "I cannot tell you", from both people. The voices were in the direction I was walking, but no matter how far I walked or ran the sidewalk.
The walk went on forever, and yet I did not get tired. I only got bored, forever walking but never actually getting anywhere. The dirt, the sky, and the faint outlines stayed boring and looked the same.
The voices were faint, but I was almost certain they were getting closer. I walked faster. The place was strange and starting to scare me, and even if the Sorcerer refused to tell me anything at least I knew who he was. I would know where the heck I was.
But then, suddenly, the voices got louder, angrier.
"You put her where?!"
"It's simply a test, de-ah. Nothing to worry about." The voice sounded smug and I got the vague sense it was lying.
"She cannot-"
"De-ah, do not worry." The Girl I Had Assumed Was Krystal laughed a high laugh, and then I knew it wasn't Krystal.
Krystal did not laugh like that.
Miranda laughed like that.
But Miranda didn't exist!
Except…except in the story world.
Was that where I was, the half-created story world where characters went when they were too much but not enough?
I started to run as fast as I could, but the city did not get nearer. The dirt did not change. The sky did not change. The sidewalk did not change.
I was trapped.
I sat down, realizing it was useless. Panic and fear clogged my mind, but in a few seconds, it seemed as if I was free almost, not in my mind or body but outside it.
The moment of clarity brought me back to reality. I remembered that I was dreaming.
That I could wake up.
I tried to wake up, opening and closing my eyes, wiggling my tongue, pinching, anything, but nothing worked.
I was truly, truly trapped. Stuck. Forever.
I closed my eyes to try to block out the horrid bright light. I took a deep breath and sang, trying to calm down.
"When the world is not old and the world is not new, when the world is not lie but the world is not true, when the world is not real but it is that, too." RaRonda's words were comforting, and my super-fast singing voice went calmer and slower, like the real song, as I started to calm down.
"The subjects come alive, alive. They'll be larger than life, than life. You must love them more than to death, because bring that too they will, they will. Bring that too, they will."
I took a deep breath, playing the electronica in my mind.
"They want out, they want out of the world. They want to be real, they want to be heard. And heard they will be, heed my warning. Heard they will be, heed my warning."
I closed my eyes, pressing them down as far as I could, then opened them, staring at my wall.
It was morning, but only about five or six (I usually get up around seven fifteen, so I had plenty of time).
I devoted it to my sequel.

Lucy and Krystal sat at lunch.
"Did you talk to your sister?" Lucy asked, her usual hyper tone diminished severely.
"Yes. She didn't budge." Krystal's voice was not as cold as it usually was, it was sad.
"Could anything we do get Amber back?"
"No. Miranda has got power in the extreme. If we just went after her she'd probably laugh in our faces."
"Maybe you could pretend to be on her side or something."
"No way. I suck at pretending and manipulation. That all went to my sister. Plus, she's got the hypnosis. She could zap me in two seconds and know I was lying."
"Then we need more hypnosis, clearly. Where could we get more hypnosis?"
"I don't know. I don't think we could."
"Then what are we going to do, Krystal? We can't just stand by and watch Amber be destroyed by Miranda!"
"We could…we could…" Krystal's voice had the unique ability to almost never sound flustered, scared, confused, or intimidated. It was cold and smooth, ice.
"My sister keeps a diary," Krystal said slowly. "She has one on her computer and one hard copy. It's not really a diary- more like a record book." Krystal's voice was agonizingly slow as she thought it out.
"And…?" Lucy prompted, waving her hands around slightly. She sounded almost excited or happy, not depressingly sad.
"I could take out her hard drive and install it on my computer…maybe. I might mess something up. But if we find it, then we know absolutely everything- where Amber is, how well she's guarded, perceived weak spots, everything."
"Really? Awesome!" Lucy's fingers drummed on the tabletop repeatedly in excitement. "When?"
"When what?"
"When can you get the hard drive?"
"Not for a while. I would need Miranda to be out of the house for a whole day, and I don't know when I could guarantee that."
"We-ell…what would get her out of the house?"
"No idea."
"You're her sister, you must know!"
"De-ah, you can't string those two sentences…" Krystal's voice faded out as she realized her mistake.
De-ah.
De-ah.
Miranda.
"Yes?" Lucy asked, dragging on the word. She did not know about Miranda's little phrases.
"De-ah. Miranda. That's what she says. Am I…Could I…"
And no, Krystal's voice did not sound confused, desperate, or scared.
"Krystal, Miranda must be eradicated. She must be stopped."
"Duh."
"How could we get Miranda out of the house for a day? How?"
Krystal took a deep breath.
"Miranda loves books. If there was some kind of book fair or library thing we could organize that would work."
"Would she stay all day, though?"
"If she had her own transportation and it was a good selection? Yeah. But even so, I would probably have to go with her."
"Manipulation…?" Lucy looked worried. Krystal had been right earlier. She was bad at pretending to like people.
"I wouldn't have to pretend to be on her side, I'd just have to go with her to the sale or whatnot. I'll teach you how to install hard drives."

I slid back from my seat, admiring the neat text. I love computers.
I got ready for school and biked, something I hadn't done in a while both because of the threat of rain and because I can't wake up early enough. But the weather report promised dry weather (and though the weather report seems to be correct less than I would be by spinning a dice and assuming it was going to rain based on that, I decided to bike anyway).
Krystal was absent again for an unknown reason. Lucy and Amber were quiet and somber, especially Amber. Lucy had brought the mancala board again and when no one offered to play her, not even Amber, she sighed morosely and played herself.
"Amber, what's wrong?" I asked softly. "You've been acting depressed lately. Why?"
"I…I…" she started to cry."I can't tell you. I cannot tell you. I cannot tell you. She won't," she took a staggered breath typical of criers; "let me tell you."
"Shut up, Amber,' Lucy snapped at her, surprisingly sharp. She turned to me. "Amber's been acting off lately. We don't have any idea what it is."
"Who won't let you tell me? Why me?"
But Amber was silent.

I walked halfway to the library that afternoon, because I'm a moron and completely forgot that I had biked. But I remembered and walked back to access it.
I almost got hit by a frickin driver going about eighty miles an hour going down a frickin residential road a few times trying to get over to the library, but I had to go anyway. There were a few books that I had held that were going to be shipped back soon because I hadn't been to the library in weeks.
Finally the torturous ride was over, and I locked up my bike half-heartedly. I walked in and immediately spotted the Collective Critique where I usually sat, huddled together whispering. There were stacks of manga or whatever around them, and Adriana had her homework out.
I might have been totally done with the Collective Critique, but I still didn't want to sit near them. There were only three other tables, one of which was situated right next to the Critique, the other two obviously occupied. I headed upstairs.
It was a small library, and the upstairs had only one small table in the center, with bookshelves around it. The movies, teen books, CDs adult fiction, magazines, and most of the nonfiction was downstairs so people almost never came up here.
The upstairs was deserted.
I dropped my bag at the table, grabbed my card, clattered downstairs and checked out a stack of books. I walked back up carefully (it was a big stack) but at the top of the stairs I managed to trip over something, fall to my knees, and scatter books absolutely everywhere.
I cursed the Gods of Coordination for ignoring my existence. I don't know what it was about this week, but I could not walk lately.
I gathered them up and threw them halfheartedly over the table when I discovered one was missing.
I crawled elegantly and dignifiedly around on the carpet, feeling quite grateful that no one was around. However, no matter how hard I looked, I could not find the stupid thing.
"Looking for this?" The voice came from behind me. I stood up and looked at her. Emma. She was holding the missing library book.
"Yeah. Give it back." I walked up to her and held my hand out.
"How's the story going?" she asked me sarcastically, thumbing through the book. It was by my favorite author, Caroline B Cooney, one of her earlier horror thriller fantasy mix mashes.
"Eh," I responded in detail, not knowing what exactly she was looking for. I wanted my book back much more than I wanted to be standing here exchanging pointless banter with an Individual Critique (Together= Collective Critique. One alone= Individual Critique).
"Give me my book," I said again. I had no idea why Emma was up here or why she wanted my book or why she wouldn't give it back, but I wanted her to shut up, go downstairs, and give back the book.
"I think I'll keep it." She turned to go downstairs, but I grabbed her hood, yanked on it, grabbed my book, and jumped back in one single motion.
"Ow," she moaned, rubbing her neck. "What was that for?"
Since apologizing, explanation, or eloquence in general has never been my strong points, I just rolled my eyes.
"If you want the stupid book, check it out. Don't take mine."
She glared at me, but suddenly, her expression changed. She shook her head and looked at me curiously.
"Christina?"
"Yes, de-ah?" Okay, I am now completely confused and freaked out, which is always a winning combination, you know.
She just shook her head again and walked downstairs.
Once I was alone again, I rolled my eyes and muttered something, then dropped the book on the table. It missed, of course, and fell to the floor.
I noticed another book on the floor, small, black, and leather, probably an autobiography that had fallen off the bottom shelf. It looked to be a diary of some sort. I picked up both, deposited the Cooney book safely on the table, and opened the diary.
The first entry was dated for a couple of years ago- 2003. I felt kind of guilty about it, but then I noticed a library label on it. Oh. Okay. It was a library book, not a diary.
But…it was handwritten- really handwritten, not that faker handwritten font or whatever. I took an eraser out of my backpack and lightly erased the date. It came off easily. It was pencil, not ink.
Weird.
I carefully wrote the date back in, then started to read.

Hello diary, journal, book, thing.
I might as well start out explaining why I am writing in a journal, diary thing in the first place.
For the longest time, I detested writing. Well, not really- I liked coming up with stories and such, but I hated the actual act of writing. Pencil to paper, sore wrists, endless scrawl of pencil.
But I can't take it anymore.
I have a story to tell, but diary, book, thing, if you are to understand my story you must understand me as well.
No one has ever cared about me. Not really. My parents split up when I was a kid. My dad moved to Canada, and my mother moved to Elsewhere Land. Not physically, of course, but I couldn't talk to her anymore. She didn't know me anymore. There were always a thousand other things she needed to do.
Once a few months ago I walked into the kitchen while my mother was on the telephone.
"Guess what, mom?' '
She looked up, surprisingly enough.
"I won second place at my speech and debate tournament!"
Her face was blank. "You're in speech and debate?" she asked me.
I wanted to tell her "Mom, I've been in Speech and Debate for the last year and a half! I've mentioned it countless amounts of times! How could you not remember?"
But she looked down again, back at the telephone.
"Yes, this is Carol. I'm sorry, I've got a kid here babbling about something."
I sighed softly and walked to my room
It's the same with my friends. They talk around me, no matter what the topic is. They let me sit there, they'll listen every once in a while, but for the most part I am like furniture.
Ignored.
The day after my movie was accepted into the State Fair and I tried to tell them, the conversation went choppily and badly.
"Guess what?" I was excited, a rare occurrence.
"What?" asked Anna.
"My-"
"OMG! Check that out!" Megan cut me off, laughing.
"What is it?" I asked, confused.
"I don't know," Megan giggled. The other girls giggled as well, and proceeded to talk around me.
My quota of talking was up. I tried to bring the conversation back to my point once, but I was ignored.
Completely, completely ignored.
At least two weeks later, Karen asked me what I had been about to say that day.
"My movie is going into the State Fair," I informed her.
"You made a movie?" she asked, surprised but also distracted.
"Yeah, I mentioned-"
"Terence!" Karen called, running across the hall. "You didn't text me!"
I doubt she ever really heard me at all.
For the longest time, no one has ever even known if I was missing. When I skipped out on lunch for two weeks with my friends, they didn't say anything when I came back. Karen talked a lot about Terence, but they never asked me where I'd been.
Why I'd gone.
Even my own mother didn't notice when I was gone. I once went off for three days straight at friends' houses without telling her. When I came back, she saw me in the room.
There was no "Oh, Kristin! There you are! I have been so worried! Why didn't you tell me where you went?"
There was no "Kristin, that was not good. You had me worried half to death. You're grounded for a month."
There wasn't even "Kristin, take out the trash."
She walked out of the room. I know she saw me, but she did not care.
She had never cared.
I want someone to care, and I want to care about someone. I want someone to know if I am missing in the morning, and I want to notice and care that someone is missing in the morning.
The way it is now, if I left to Canada, no one would notice for months. My teachers would mark me absent, day after day. My friends would talk to each other, day after day. My mother would talk to Cammie and Jennie and Betsy alone, day after day.
Day after day, my absence would not matter.
I have had a story buzzing around in my head for months. The story matters to me.
Maybe if I write it down, somehow, I will matter to the story.
Journal, book thing, you are my new friend.
You will care if I am gone.
You will care about me unconditionally.
Journal, book, diary, thing, I ask only this.
Do not leave me. Do not go to Elsewhere Land.

I shut the book.
It was my story- a stronger version, but the essential facts were there.
Her parents did not care about her. Her friends did not care about her. She wanted someone to care.
She had always disliked writing, but needed to write. And the journal would be her friend and her story at the same time.
Same with me.
I gripped the book- I needed to leave the library, like, now if I wanted to finish my homework before ten o clock.
I went downstairs and presented the book to the librarian along with my card.
"This book?" she asked me. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Why not? It is a library book, right?"
“There's something odd about this book- whenever someone tries to check it out something happens, like the computer crashes or-"
The receipt printed up easily and the computer was fine.
"You must be a lucky star," she said, handing me the book, my card, and the receipt. I thanked her and dumped it into my backpack.
No curses happened. I rode home just fine.
I finished my homework without paying much attention to any of it. The science TA just marked whatever I did correct anyway (she couldn’t read my writing but knew I was extremely smart), the language arts TA just checked that it was there, then passed it back, the math TA barely glanced at my homework every morning, and the history TA fell asleep anyway.
I love TAs.
I got to the book around seven thirty, the time I used to devote to my book. Now I devoted it to Kristin’s book. This next piece in bold was the introduction to Kristin’s story.

Collette drummed her fingers on her desk, rapidly at first- an exit to her nervous and irritated energy. But the drumming soon slowed and stopped altogether as she went from anxious and annoyed to despaired.
Collette belonged to a society of witches.
They weren’t like the witches you read about in books or watch in movies, either, and I can tell you that without even knowing what books or movies you have come across in your life. It was really more of a “perfect society” than about witchcraft, anyhow- they rarely did magic once they went past fourteen.
Once they "matured".
Making them do the "Ceremony of a really long name no one could remember or pronounce except the head of the Cenchen, which is pronounced ken-SHEN and was the name of the society" was their way of trying to weed out the people who screw up the society: Those that wouldn't work, those that wouldn't cooperate, those that would try to take over.
They said it was all based on "learned skills and choices" or whatever Enkoncé they tried to pass off, but a large part of it was strictly how smart you were. How good at magic you were. Strictly hereditary things like that.
Two hundred children entered the school at seven each year.
One hundred exited the school at fourteen each year.
Twenty joined the society each year.
They weren't strict numbers, of course. One year all but one of the children made it. One year only two or three entered. But it was competitive. Collette was worried.
She was lucky just to have made it through the school. She had made several friends upon entering. But each year, some were cut. Collette didn't know where they even were now.
She had no friends left.
It would reflect badly on her record, of course, that she could not find good friends. But that was just the way it was with Collette- she was good at magic and she was quite intelligent, but she didn't have much ability in making friends.
The Ceremony wasn't really a ceremony, it was a project. A project based on their weaknesses to see if they could overcome them. If they accomplished it, most likely they would be let in.
She didn't actually know what her project was- no one did, not until they came up and told you that you made it or not, at which time you could probably reflect and figure out what it was.
Collette stood up and walked to the door slowly. The project had been unnerving her lately, and she had barely been able to eat- and when she did eat she usually vomited from the worry, anyway.
She tried to breathe, but it wasn't working. She tried to walk, but it wasn't working. She tried to sing, she tried to make up jokes, she tried to laugh for no real reason, but it wasn't working.
Collette started to half-run to her room. At times like these, she knew what she needed to do. She pulled off the basic black dress and slid on jeans and a T-shirt, then hid it under the dress to sneak out of the building. No one stopped to talk to her- they had stopped doing that.
Collette figured why. The adults knew what the project was, and she was failing it. But even the adults had to keep on their toes- one misstep and it might be them leaving the society, and because of that they avoided associating with her.
She managed to get down to the lobby without anyone noticing. Now came for the tricky part.
She sat around in the chairs reading the random magazines. Most of them were horribly outdated.
Once she was certain the moderator had seen her, she walked off to the restroom. Good. He would not think much of the illusion taking her place in the chair.
Once in the restroom, she focused hard and managed to half-solidify the image in the mirror across from her. A small prick of blood, drop of saliva, and bit of sweat later and there were two Collettes in the bathroom.
She handed the fake Collette the black dress, and she was able and ready, having done this many times before. The illusion walked out the bathroom to sit around and read until the real Collette came back.
No one knew what the other people were. Most adult witches could summon them- no unmatured, though, the other children had always found it strange that Collette could do it so early. It was part of the reason they avoided her- Collette knew many of the spells that children were not supposed to know. She was supposed to avoid doing them at all cost until she matured, but Collette didn't care. They didn't know she could and the moderator sure never figured out.
Collette slipped out the window easily, and she was on the street.
The people were funny, always taking the long way around everything. Once she had watched this woman trying to open her car. Just for fun, Collette tried a simple spell on the keys so they would try to hit the ground in the most inconspicuous way.
The woman, rather than simply neutralize the spell and get on with her day, didn't do anything except drop her keys seven thousand times. And yell a lot. She didn't ask the other adults to stop putting spells on her (moving an object was another spell rarely mastered or used, and she would never think of Collette).
The first few times she had been mystified by things like that. But she'd figured it out by now, and was starting to blend in very well. Only one girl guessed what she was. Jennifer.
She had picked up a newspaper and sat down to read it. The wind was violent that day and the paper flew out of her hands- then flew right back into them.
She had not seen the girl standing and watching it.
"Who are you?" she asked, amazed.
"My name is Collette," she answered uncertainly.
"How can you do that? Can you teach me?"
"Um…I'll meet you here. Two days."
"Okay, Collette. I'm Jennifer."
To be perfectly honest, at the time Collette never expected to keep the appointment. The escapes helped relieve stress and such but spending too much time out of the community could be dangerous.
But when the adults started avoiding her, when people didn't look at her anymore, when her own mother stopped talking to her, Collette couldn't take it anymore.
She needed a friend.
"Hi Collette," the girl greeted as soon as she saw Collette. The girl had dark, shiny hair, clearer skin than normal, and oddly-shaped eyes, much thinner and slanted than Collette usually saw.
"Hi, Jennifer."
"Can anyone really do magic?" Jennifer asked excitedly.
Collette shrugged. "In the school, even the kids that leave early can do some simple magic, so I would say probably."
"Why do they leave?"
"They're kicked out. Because they don't have talent, you see."
"Where do they go?"
Collette shrugged. No one really knew where the children went, just that they were never seen in the society again.
"You don't know? At all?"
"They don't tell us," Collette explained. It was true, but it masked that no one ever asked. Not even Collette.
"That's sad." Jennifer sounded genuinely upset for people she had never and would never see, which Collette found very strange. What did she know? They were useless, said Hana, the head of the society. Pointless. Nothing could be made of them in the society.
"Yeah. So, I thought we'd start with something simple," Collette said, trying to move the subject quickly, still unnerved by Jennifer's empathy. She pulled a button out of her pocket- Collette collected many things while out of the community, and her jean pockets were full of things- and held it on her hand, which she kept flat. "Try to levitate it."
"How?" Jennifer sounded exasperated.
"Just focus on it."
"Yeah, but I've done that before, and it doesn't work."
"People who do control the magic can help people around them activate it. That's how we learn. For the first few days you won't be able to do anything unless I'm around, after that you can."
"Cool." Jennifer closed her eyes and Collette could tell she was focusing. Slowly, by bit, the button rose. It hovered at about a foot before both Collette and Jennifer fell onto the bench, suddenly exhausted.
"It's weird that…that was so…complicated," Collette spaced the words out unnaturally, more tired even than her first few lessons.
"Yeah." Jennifer seemed less tired than Collette for some reason. "But I want to try it again.
They tried the same exercise a few more times, until both girls had a hard time even sitting straight up.
"How does it work here?" Collette asked. She had always been enormously curious about the outside world. Most children were, but it was something they either grew out of naturally or had forced out of them, never to show to anyone, not even themselves.
They were to hate the outside and all it represented- its inequality, its hassles, its open-ness, its lack of community, everything.
But Collette did not. She never had.
It was that curiosity, mixed with deep fear and demanding anxiety- a combination enough to destroy a person if it came constantly- to find a way to leave. She still tried to find out how the society worked, but she was not learning much.
"What do you mean?"
"How do you get food and stuff?"
"We buy it at the store."
"Oh. Is it true that no one has magic?"
Jennifer nodded.
"Weird. Where does food come from, then?"
"We grow it."
Collette blinked a few times. "Who's the leader?"
"It's pretty complicated. There are a lot of different systems and subsystems."
"Do you have one leader?"
"Eh. They don't have much power. No one does. I'm guessing you guys do?"
"Yeah, Hana. She controls everything."
"Is she like a tyrant, then?"
"What's a tyrant?"
"Someone who abuses the amount of power they have."
"No, we have a system of getting rid of people like that."
"Oh. The ones that leave?"
"Yeah."
"But how can you know?"
"I don't know how the system works, but it works- we've never had a tyrant."
"I see." Jennifer still sounded sad.
"I have to go. They'll kill me if they find out I left." The two smiled and said bye hesitantly, then Collette practically bolted back to the society and through the window.
This part was the hardest. Alerting the illusion but not the moderator always took some maneuvering, and it wasn't even close to easy- she'd almost been caught several times.
She looked at the clock on the wall. Damn. They'd already gone to dinner. How was she supposed to switch spots with her illusion before anyone noticed?
The illusions weren't very smart, you see, and it was pretty easy to tell when one was an illusion because they had a hard time talking and evaluating. Hopefully it would sit by itself.
Collette found the trapdoor in the bathroom and slid through it, sliding through the tunnels in the ceiling. There were different colored trails through the whole thing, and the red one led to the cafeteria.
She found the cafeteria spot and used a simple spell to turn the ceiling into glass- though to anyone else, it would look like a ceiling. It was a difficult spell, especially without ingredients, but Collette managed it pretty easily.
She spotted her illusion sitting in a corner of the room, the table empty. Good.
Collette vanished the window and rested for a few minutes. All this spellwork was wearing her out. At this rate, she'd have nothing left for Evening Practice.
She decided to simply wait it out. She conjured a deck of cards and leaned against the wall. Collette had done this before and she was quite familiar with the routine.
After five games of Solitaire, her illusion self had left the cafeteria. She'd figured out by now that the illusion could actually remember things from when she had been conjured before, and the illusion had figured out the schedule by now.
She sneaked off to her room, practically destroyed the ceiling of her room falling out of the trapdoor, and faced the illusion.
"Hello, Collette," said the illusion, smiling wide.
"Hello…um…"
"Katherine."
"Illusions-"
"I'm not an illusion. I'm a 'specific conjurable being'." Seeing Collette's confused face, she laughed.
"You shouldn't be playing with such complex magic, anyway. If you mess up it could destroy the society."
"But I-"
Collette was about to tell about her little visits with Jennifer when she saw a gray hair appear over Katherine's ear.
Someone else had created this being.
They knew! They knew she was using illusions!
"But I want to know how to do it, at least. It helps, you know, calm me down." Collette sighed. "I guess I shouldn't play with it, though."
She snapped her fingers and Katherine disappeared.

The story was interspersed with normal diary entries, small indignations over friends, school, teachers, and so on. But I still noticed that they got calmer and calmer.
The story was helping her.
Unbelievable.
It went on for a while, the plot getting more and more interesting. Jennifer turned out to be gifted at magic, able to do it away from Collette after only another practice. She picked up things immediately.
Collette's illusion didn't get corrupted again, though they replaced the moderator with one less easy to fool. Collette had to create a few distractions to sneak out.
The illusion got stranger, though, talking to Collette and so on.
I read the book until about midnight, about a quarter of the way through.
This was the last entry I read.

They left me.
Karen and Anna and Megan- they left.
I can't believe it.

I photocopied some of my story, and accidentally left a page with rants about my friends in my locker. When Karen borrowed something from my locker, she found the page.
"Kristin!" she yelled when she saw me. She threw the page on the ground and stomped on it, Megan and Anna glaring from behind her.
"Why, Kristin? What have we ever done to you? You whiny, ungrateful, cynical fool!"
I shrugged, not letting it show.
Be Jennifer a thought sneaked through my head. Be Jennifer. She is powerful, she would not care. Collette is in your same boat, become her.
Become them…
"Might I have that page back?" I asked, my voice even. Inside, I wanted to scream and throw things, cry and beg.
But outside, I was stone.
"You want a record? A record of what you thought?" Megan's voice was icy. She yanked on Anna's arm, and the three walked away.
It's like everything is crumbling around me. Things were bad before, but now they're even worse. My teachers have started to mock me openly in the class, and my grades are starting to plunge. My mother is about to send me to Canada.
And now this. The last people that may have cared, not out of obligation, the last people that may have cared-
Gone.
Forever.
But I have my story, and I am glad. Collette and Jennifer- they are what I hold onto. While everyone else separates themselves from me, they care.
Actually, its kind of that way with them, you know? Collette's failing her test and people avoid her. People dislike Jennifer because she's smart and the magic thing doesn't help when it starts to occur in front of her classmates.
But they have each other.
And I have them. No matter, what I have them.
I have my book, my story, my diary, my journal.
My friends can leave me, my teachers can hate me, my mother can resent me.
But my book loves me.
When I first started writing, I never really thought that a simple book could take the place of so many people that have disliked and left me.
But it has.
In so many ways, it has, and I would not give it up for the world.
No one can ever take it from me. It is my stronghold.

I slammed the book closed at that.
I have my book…
My book loves me…
No one can take it from me…
I have them, my story, my book
Those were my exact thoughts a few months ago.
Exactly.
My friends and mother and teachers could distance themselves from me, but it didn't matter.
I had recentered my life.
That's what happened to her, I realized.
I didn't finish, but I would bet a lot of money that her story came to life.
Apparently Kristin went through a frenzy with her story, because as I continued reading it was all about Collette and Jennifer. The story was interesting, but eventually I had to go to sleep.

"Hello, Christina. Nice hair." I fell sharply into the dream, sitting in one of the chairs near the front of the rows.
"Huh?" I said. "Oh, right, my tri-colored hair. I've had that for a while now, you know."
"Yes, But I can only see it now, before you didn't truly acknowledge it. Now you're used to seeing it in the mirror, it's become part of you."
I nodded blankly. Sometimes the Sorcerer managed to take a simple question and make it into a lecture on dreamology, or whatever you would call that.
"Collette is interesting," I blurted.
I swear, the Sorcerer's eyebrows went so high on his face, I was worried for a second they would detach completely and just float away.
"C-C-Collette…" His eyes got really wide, as well. It was actually pretty amusing.
"Oh. I think we're talking about different Collettes." My face started to turn red, which it always does when I make a mistake. I'm not like Krystal, who never gets flustered at anything at all.
"Collette Jenkins? Jennifer Hanson?"
"Yeah…but how do you know them, they're from a recent diary I found at the library!"
"You'll see. Actually, you need to finish that book. Today. As soon as possible. Skip school if you have to."
"I can't skip-" I started to roll my eyes.
"Skip it." His eyes started to widen again and turn a deep red, and the grip he had on my hand started to get hot.
"Stop it." I jerked my hand away, and his eyes turned green again.
The red eyes were a strong sense of déjà vu. C'mon, Christina, who else gets red eyes? Think, think…
Right. Krystal. Hypnosis. I'd seen her do it once or twice when she was real, but I think it was just habit (the red-eye thing was actually a muscle in the eye, which you needed to start to do hypnosis).
"The book…how far are you?"
I shrugged. "Halfway through, I think. I just left off where Collette disguises herself and goes to Jennifer's school."
"Ah. And Kristin's life?"
"When her friends find the page and leave her."
"Ah. You heard of parallel episodes before?"
"Yeah. Collette and Jennifer will come to life, won't they?"
"I cannot tell you, but you will soon know."
I rolled my eyes. I was starting to get really sick of "I cannot tell you".
"And I've thought about the opponent thing," I said hesitantly. "It's Miranda, isn't it. I saw her a couple nights ago…and she tried to trap me. In the world. I almost was lost, I couldn't wake up, even though I tried…"
"Miranda, ah yes."
"It's her, right?"
"I- um..I…er…" he started to take slow, almost unnoticeable steps away from me.
"Let me take a guess here: You cannot tell me." My voice was mocking, of course. "When can you tell me?"
"Eh…" I think the Sorcerer had a competition with someone to see how many versions of "I cannot tell you" he could use, or something, because there was a new one each week.
"'Meh' is a good one too. You can also use an unintelligible mutter," I offered helpfully. He looked at me, confused.
"You know, instead of saying 'I cannot tell you'." He rolled his eyes as I laughed a bit. He snapped his fingers and the room went dark.
The stage lit up.
A girl stepped out. She had long, curly blonde hair, a cute pixie face and stature, and a long black dress. She walked to the center of the stage and sat down in a chair.
A second girl walked out from the opposite side of the stage. She was Asian, with long, straight black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a tall, thin physique. She was wearing a basic black skirt and black tank top.
A third girl walked out from the back of the stage. She looked vaguely Mexican, with black hair, dark eyes, and dark skin, but was really more of the mixed-up American thing, with too many nationalities contributing to know for sure. She looked like a regular teenager in jeans, three different shirts (something I have never understood), and a jacket.
She glanced at the other two girls and frowned. "Collette? Jennifer? Why are you here?"
The blonde stood up, smoothed her dress and walked over to the girl with three shirts. "Kristin? Why are you so surprised? Haven't you explained my society's magic countless times? You should know that the exponential energy you devoted to us would not go unrecognized." She smiled.
"We're here, Kristin." The Asian girl, who I took to be Jennifer, walked over as well. "Finally, eh?"
"You're not-"
She sounded almost frantic.
"What's wrong? Don't you like us?" Collette's pixie face started to turn sad.
"I-"
"We're real, Kristin."
Kristin's eyes turned wide and she put a hand over her mouth in surprise.
"But you can't-"
"Yes, we can." Jennifer sounded kind of frustrated by the conversation. "How can we prove it?"
"Magic." Kristin's eyes were hard, and she crossed her arms and stood back, almost in anger.
What was she so mad about? She worshipped these girls in the diary.
"We can't," Collette said quietly. "It would require the entirety."
"Huh?"
"There are illusions in place," Jennifer explained, "To try to hide what is real. Magic is real, in some forms at least, but most people can't process it. Every once in a while there is a civilization, society that can control it- like Collette's, a few tribes in history, but they are short-lived." Jennifer paused, looked at Kristin, and waited for Kristin to make some motion she wanted Jennifer to continue. Kristin made some kind of sarcastic gesture with her hand, and Jennifer continued.
"It is unpredictable, and tends to disintegrate societies when they get too powerful or large, and start to spread a finite amount of power over lots of people. There are different types of magic.
"The kind we practice is relatively small and takes little energy. Every once in a while the illusion slips for a person or two- you know, ESP. It's extremely rare; most of that stuff is a con. Anyway, there are others that take more energy- influencing your will on a person and making small illusions are the only other two that have little consequence. Creating a large illusion, like making a book come to life, or something like that, is finite. However, since you spent so much time with us, we are alive. The last kind of magic is altering one of the illusions that hold the world in place- disguising magic, scientific principles, history, time.
"To alter one of those would require energy that cannot be drummed up simply in us or you, it would probably involve death of quite a few people to achieve the magic."
"Just a question- would it open to everyone?" Kristin seemed quite interested in this, and her anger and desperation earlier was forgotten.
"It would be available to everyone, but few would use it. It would still require intense mental energy. It could be learned, maybe, but not stumbled upon my accident."
"How do you-" Kristin's momentary curiosity was extinguished, and she was frustrated and angry the two all over again.
"Kristin, we are real. Accept it."
Kristin's face had the barest smidge of belief on it for a few seconds, then she covered her face and ran off the stage.
Collette and Jennifer looked at each other.
"Do you think it was smart to tell her about the magic?" Collette worried, starting to bite her fingernails.
"Stop doing that, Collette. Grow away from the book habits. And yes, I think it was smart to tell her the truth. It's easier to remember. I don't want to get caught tripping over my own words."
"I suppose." Collette straightened up, but then collapsed into the chair. I could see her fingernails inching towards her mouth.
The stage started to darken as Collette sat in the chair and blankly watched the wall, totally absorbed in her thoughts. Jennifer paced the floor.
The lights turned on.
"Was that real?" I asked quietly. "Could Miranda get hypnosis that easily?"
"Christina," The Sorcerer sighed, exasperated. "You know the answer to that question."
"Oh! I see! Getting creative, are we?" I rolled my eyes.
"Christina, all I can tell you is to not put too much faith or trust in any one idea. Play mancala, Christina. If you pile all your stones in one bin, what happens?"
I put a hand to my face in frustration, really wishing I could whack him or something.
"Life is not mancala. Battle is not-"
"Battle takes strategy, does it not? Think about it. What is Miranda quite good at in your sequel?"
"Hypnosis?" I was confused. This conversation kept whipping around really fast, leaving me lost on the corners. And I wished the Sorcerer would stop asking me everything. I didn't know! No one was telling me anything.
"That she could drag into incarnation, Christina. She can't drag hypnosis into incarnation. Think characteristics."
"I don't know- she's good at manipulation?"
"Right-"
"For once," I muttered bitterly.
"She could trick you," the Sorcerer warned. "Be careful what you see. Be careful what you read. Be careful what you believe."
I ground my teeth together. "Could you say something that makes sense? Please? Just once?"
"Sure. If x over five equals five over x, than x equals five or negative five. Satisfied?"
I turned my head around to glare at him, irritated at his choice of what to tell me.
He found this quite amusing.
"That wasn't what I meant, you imbecile. Who is my enemy?"
He sighed. "Why are you so sure of my opinion?"

I woke up then, exhausted. I turned over and saw that it was four o clock. As soon as this information hit, I was not tired anymore.
Mystified by this development, I turned on my light, found my book.

"Collette, dear." The voice came from behind her, and she spun around.
"Mother?" Collette asked, confused. Her mother was quite high in society. She hadn't seen her in a few years.
"Come, sit down. Refreshments?"
"Um…sure." Collette sat down, facing her mother, and snapped her fingers. A small glass appeared.
"Magic?" The word was quiet.
"It's easier."
"I'm surprised you found your test so easily, Collette. They gave you a very difficult one."
"What test? I haven't been doing anything out of the ordinary lately."
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "They said you were passing the test."
"What test?"
"I do not know." Her mother stood up. "Whatever you are doing, keep doing it." She walked out of the room, her black heels oddly loud.
Collette shook her head and slipped out.

"Hey, Jenny," Collette greeted. "Let's see your school!"
Jennifer rolled her eyes at the nickname and sighed, but said nothing. "Let's see you go invisible." Collette snapped her fingers and there was no Collette, just a wavery outline. She flashed back into vision after a few seconds.
"Easy peasy."
"I can still see you." She sounded kind of annoyed.
"I'm bad at illusions. But unless anyone is specifically looking, they probably won't see anything."
Jennifer shut her eyes, concentrating. Collette could see her hands curling into fists and her nails dig into her palm, but then she couldn't. Jennifer went completely invisible.
"Whoa, cool," Collette complimented. Jennifer let go and went back to being visible.
"Let's go let's go, some day," Collette half-sang. Jennifer covered her ears.
"I am never letting you near one oh seven point nine," she shuddered.
"What's one oh seven point nine?"
"Radio station."
"What's-"
"Let's just go." They walked a few blocks, boarded the bus that stopped there, and stopped at Jennifer's enormous school.
"Wow," Collette admired. "This place is huge."
"Yeah, but once we get in the building you need to go invisible. The teachers will see you."
"I could hypnotize them," Collette suggested conversationally. They were now standing in front of the actual building.
"Hypnotize? Really? You didn't show me that!"
"We're really not supposed to. No one in the society does. But I know how, and it shouldn't be that big of a deal."
"Why aren't you supposed to? Free will?"
"Eh. Something about balance and illusions about magic or whatever. They don't really go into the ethics of things. It's the only one we're not really supposed to do."
"Oh. Well, will you?"
"Let me see if I can first." She looked around, spied someone random and focused.
His eyes went blank.
"Cool," Jennifer complimented.
"Let's see. Why don't you, um, jump up and down like a chicken and sing Avril Lavigne?"
"What did you-" Jennifer started.
The boy, they noticed, was quite good at jumping up and down but not so much at singing.
"Make him stop!" Jennifer whined, covering her ears and moaning.
"I rather like it," Collette said mockingly.
"Collette-"
"Fine." Collette snapped her fingers and the boy stopped jumping and singing. "You have to admit it, that was amusing."
"Never."
"Hi, Jenny. Is this your imaginary friend?" a simpering voice expressed behind them.
"Hi!" Collette exclaimed, suddenly extremely excited for some reason. "I'm Collette! Who are you?"
"I'm Alicia," she sneered.
Jennifer yanked on Collette's arm and they walked away.
"I hate her," Jennifer said, her voice burning with controlled rage. "I hate her!"
"Jen-"
"Ankonseh!" Jennifer hissed, facing Alicia.
Collette dropped to her knees, the power being drained from her because Jennifer couldn't control it.
"Jen," Collette hissed, still on her knees, fighting for breath. "Could we limit that when possible?"
"Sorry, Collie." Jennifer sounded genuinely chagrined.
"Eh. It's okay. I'm fine. But that was a lot-"

I stared quizzically at the page. Collette did not finish her sentence.
I flipped the pages, but the rest were blank. That was kind of odd- I could have sworn the whole diary was filled.
Um…maybe it's a dream! I thought. This I found quite comforting and I proceeded to fall asleep again.
When I woke up, this time for real, the book was still blank. I flipped past the pages in denial, but no amount of flipping changed reality.
How odd.
I dressed in my usual extravagance- blue tee shirt with silver lettering, dark jeans, and zip-up sweatshirt. I swear, if someone ever tried to identify me by my clothes they would probably end up incriminating half the teens in the US. I'd seen every one of my articles of clothing on some other girl at some point this year.
I was out on my bike again- whoo, a personal best! two days in a row!- and made it to school early. I continued flipping the pages of the diary in denial, like maybe if I got just the right combination words would appear.
It was like that with my first iPod shuffle, a used, cheapo thing, but I loved it to death. When my cat dragged it outside and left it there for a week (a quite rainy week, to top it off) it broke. But for days, heck weeks afterward, I would absently pick it up and try to switch it on, charge it for hours when no light would appear. To this day I still pick it up and try to switch it on, thinking that maybe it will work. But I'm in denial, really.
Remembering the story, I slammed the diary shut and chucked it in my bag, then stomped up the stairs. I hadn't brought a book and had nothing to occupy my mind.
The library was quiet. I browsed around aimlessly, half expecting to find another diary.
A flash of insight occurred to me. I found my bag and the diary, then looked for the library thingy (you know, those little cards with FIC COO or 982.54 or whatever, then sealed with tape?) on the book.
It was gone.
I looked at it and blinked. What? I knew there had been a library thingy on it. I had seen it. It was the reason I even read it- because it was a library book.
How the hell could that thing disappear?
Wait. This was ringing some bells.
"She could trick you," the Sorcerer had warned. "Be careful what you see. Be careful what you read. Be careful what you believe."
Dammit. Miranda had been casting illusions this whole time and I hadn't even noticed! Was I really that blind?
I took a deep breath. Why did the Sorcerer have to be so freaking right all the time?
"Play mancala," I muttered mockingly in a mimicking tone. "Find your kalaha. Don't pile up your bins. Blah blah blah. So what do I immediately do? Exactly the opposite."
I picked up the diary again, flipping through it. If the scene the Sorcerer had shown me the night before was real, than it was likely some of these spells were real, too. I looked for the one to cast illusions.
"Blah blah blah…skip skip skip…lame lame lame…there we go." I looked at the diary.
"Ayalu." Not quite right. "Ayolu. Ayolu. Ayolu."
The diary flickered.
I flipped the page of the diary. "Aksan. Eksan. Eksan."
' The library thingy came back. I was already exhausted.
"Ek-"
The bell rang, I chucked the diary angrily back in my bag, and headed off to math class.
I was standing a few feet from the door when I saw a flash of light blonde hair, too distinctive not to be Krystal's.
"Hey! Krystal!" I yelled out.
She turned around and started to walk toward me.
Her face was not like Krystal's- it was similar, but different too.
The girl laughed. It was not Krystal's laugh- it was high and condescending.
"De-ah, when are you going to learn that not everyone with blonde hair is Krystal?"
She laughed again and turned around
Miranda.
Miranda was here. Miranda was not trapped in the land of things that are too much but not enough.
Miranda was not trapped at all…

I got home that afternoon and went to turn on my comp, but it wouldn't turn on. It would power on, give me a little error message about a faulty hard drive, and then shut down. I tried to turn it on four times, then I whacked a few times (a surefire solution if there ever was one), then gave up. So sad.
I walked down the hallway to find my mom.
"Mom, there's something wrong with my computer."
"Call your father."
I called my dad six times in a row and he didn't pick up, making me feel irritated. I slammed the phone back on the cradle. "Mom, I need to use your-"
The phone rang, so I picked it up.
"Christina?"
"There's something wrong with my computer!"
"I'll look at it when I get home. Now I need to get to work." He closed the phone without saying bye.
I sighed and slammed the phone down. I requested to use my mom's computer, and she complied.

"What the heck did you do to this thing?" my dad asked, having already taken apart my computer. I stood off to the side, irritatedly tapping my foot.
"What do you mean, what did I do? All I did was come home, try to turn on my computer, and have it give me a stack of error messages!"
"I told you, stop trying to take apart your computer. Look at this! The hard drive has been completely skewered. You're not going to be able to use this at all."
"At all?" I could feel the color draining from my face, thinking of my story. I mean, obviously I'd backed it up, but not for a while, and my sequel was totally unprotected…
"I can try." He then proceeded to screw around with my computer for several minutes while I contemplated why the hell my hard drive had been pulled from my computer.
Miranda is good with computers. The thought popped up of its own accord. I tried to squash it, but it was like trying to move my bookcase without a team of able-bodied men.
In other words, it was not happening.
Miranda is here, and she's good with computers. And she would want your sequel...
Shut up, brain.
Don't delude yourself, Christina. Miranda has the power of your sequel. Watch out.
And what could she do with that? Copyright it? Oh man, I am so terrified. Cue the horror music, dear. I need to hide.
She could know herself beyond-
She already knows herself, moron. It would be someone else after your sequel.
Like who? The boogeyman? Gosh, we are really churning out some brilliance today, aren't we?
Focus. It was probably Miranda, you know, wanting to know the story. Plus, if she has the story she might be able to make herself…realer.
Okay, firstly, I'm pretty sure that is not a word. And secondly, Miranda seems real enough to me. If she's real enough to come tramping through my school, why would she not be real enough to do anything else?
Magic. She needs magic. For hypnosis, remember? The scene we saw?
How the hell is my sequel going to help her do that?
There was a pause in my head.
You've got a point there.
Secondly…can we really trust the Sorcerer?
YES! The response was automatic, instinctive.
Um…why?
There was another pause.
Because…because...why not? Why would he want to lead me astray?
You heard him talking to Miranda, moron.
Yeah…yelling at her about putting me in the world that is too much but not enough!
It could have been an illusion, you know.
Ugh! Everything could be a freaking illusion, it seems. Am I ever going to know what will actually happen? For freaking real?
I think he's working with Miranda. You shouldn't trust him.
Why would he start lecturing about not trusting anyone if he wasn't to be trusted? If he was looking out for Miranda, then wouldn't he want me to trust her?
Um…
Maybe I'm looking at this wrong. He said-
There we go again, believing with absolute certainty that the Sorcerer is always right! What if he's lying? What then?
Still, I shouldn't hold onto one idea-
You have to trust something eventually, Christina. You can't just float around, believing everyone is trying to do you wrong.
Except the Changeable Triad.
Why not them? It may be, you know. Didn't you hear Krystal chaw-
No! I am not ever ever ever ever ever going to think the word 'chaw'! This is not Idaho! This is not Tennesse! We do not say chaw in California!
Shut up. Focus. Krystal believes Nancy was right in The Craft-
Wow. The Craft. That's a very good reason not to trust the person that I have focused on more than anyone else for the past two months.
Nancy was evil. And Krystal-
Shut up about Krystal! It's not Krystal! Or Amber! Or Lucy! It can't be them. And if it was…
Oh no. No way.
They can't be wrong. They must be right.
Don't hold onto one idea to tightly, Christina. If they destroy an illusion-
So what, we're trusting the Sorcerer over the Changeable Triad? Amber says they can't get-
Yeah, and she acted like she was denying that she could breathe while saying it!
I think that-
And if Krystal is supporting evil-
IT'S A FREAKING MOVIE, FOR GODS SAKE!
Yeah, but it could still reflect their beliefs.
Miranda. Focus. It's probably Miranda, anyway.
Yes, I must say that.
Should we trust the Sorcerer?
I think he's working with Miranda. Maybe for a bit he argued with her, but for the most part I think they're a team
Okay, look. Think about this for a second. How exactly did Miranda get out of the world that is too much but not enough? If it took Krystal forever to do that, how could Miranda manage it? I've barely worked on my sequel at all!
The Sorcerer, duh. God, talk about brilliance.
And if he's not aligned with her? We shouldn't trust that he's lying any more that we should trust the idea he's not. How could she get out?
Um… Krystal, you know. Krystal could get her out.
Why? What would the advantage of her sister be, for real?
Miranda is stronger. Miranda would have a much easier time. But I doubt Krystal is involved- she barely made it out of the world that is too much but not enough, so she would have to devote every ounce of energy she had to get Miranda out. And I don't think she's doing that. So how did she get out?
Are you really going to test the fact that Miranda is here?
It could be an illusion.
Cast by who? Krystal? Krystal doesn't have any magic, moron. How the heck would she cast anything?
Er… the Sorcerer?
Now we're getting into the realm of a circular discussion. Couldn't the Sorcerer just get her out, then?
Isn't he trapped there? That's what Krystal said…
She basically said he was three different people. And she could be lying, you know.
Okay. So, basically the options are that a) Miranda is an illusion, cast by the Sorcerer, when he could just as easily pull her from the world, b) Krystal got Miranda out without any energy whatsoever, c) I got her out even though I have spent zero time with my book lately, or d) the Sorcerer got her out and is contradictorily telling me not to trust anyone, even though it would help Miranda's side enormously if I trusted her and the sorcerer. Those are our options for how Miranda got here.
You forgot that Krystal could have cast the illusion.
Which is not any more plausible than my other options…
What about Collette, Jennifer, and Kristin? The Sorcerer said they came to life. Maybe they're playing a part in this?
Ugh! Thinking this out is not helping me. I have no clues. Anything could be an illusion. Anyone could be lying through their teeth. I can't rely on anything.
Except Kristin.
Yeah, the person maybe. But her diary could be easily infiltrated by Miranda…
"Christina, I fixed your computer." I snapped awake from my daydreaming.
"Okay, thanks." I sat down on the computer, ready to work on my sequel.

Miranda paced slowly in front of Amber, her patience decreasing by the second.
"I am very tired of this," she said clearly, her anger and irritation so thick you could almost see it in the air around her.
"Then let me go, you-" Amber's yells were cut off by a blast of hypnosis.
"De-ah, when are you going to learn that asking me to do things is not working out in your favor?" Miranda snarled, her perfectly white teeth showing against her pale lips. "Stop dragging your feet! The harder you make it on me, the harder it will be for you!"
"Not necessarily," Amber answered back.
"Oh, you think your little friends will come to get you?" Miranda asked in a simpering tone. "Krystal and Lucy will come bursting in, and

I stared at the screen for a second. Something was wrong.
I tried to type the letter several times, but it was continually messed up- the stupid computer wouldn't let me type.
Curious, I switched over to another document. The keyboard worked fine.
How odd.
I switched back over to my sequel, wondering if the document was fixed now.
Words started to appear, but not the ones I'd typed.

"Krystal?"
"Miranda, I have come to help."
"Help? From you?" What are you against her?"
"She trusts me, Miranda, she would follow me."
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"Why would I lie to you? I want it as much as you do. I know that, and so should you."
"Ah, but she is your friend."
"Friendship is nothing compared to power. Friendship is nothing compared to hypnosis. Friendship is nothing compared to the illusions."
"Watch out with illusions. They can be tricky…and they can be ignored."
"But they will be believed. And they cannot be shielded."
"And she will question everything, true."
"Why have you not taken her?"
"Because I can't. She is protected- not by any outside force but by herself. I would need a thousand to infiltrate it-"
"But only one to get her out."
"Only one, yes. So you will help?"
"I am her friend. She will trust me. I can unleash her power."
"Then I will teach you the illusions."

I squinted at the text and reread it several times. I couldn't figure out whether it was talking about me or Amber. Probably Amber.
But-
No way. I am NOT playing that game.
I went downstairs for dinner then came back up to read.

Krystal and Lucy were absent.
"Christina?" Amber asked me hesitantly in third period.
"Yeah?"
"You have an opponent."
"Yeah. I…I figured that out."
"But…but they can cast illusions. And they can hide everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything except people. They cannot hypnotize."
"Who's 'they'?"
"She won't- don't trust her."
"Who? Who can't I trust?"
"Do not trust her," Amber mumbled again, turning towards her paper.
I was about to start re-categorizing my assumptions and inferences about what the hell was going on when I realized that she could be lying about how the people couldn't be illusioned.
I needed some evidence I could trust, and I needed it before I permanently lost my mind (which, judging by the present circumstances, would probably be within the next five minutes).

I'd biked that day, again, and as I was walking towards the bike racks I noticed my bike was no longer present.
"What the…" I muttered. I looked over the racks several times, staring at the spot where my bike was supposed to be.
It wasn't there.
"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered.
There wasn't much I could do. My mom was at work until four, and the library was closed today for staff training or whatever.
So I could steal someone's bike, wait outside the library for an hour and a half, or walk home. All lovely, fulfilling choices.
I walked home. And, of course, it was one of the most enjoyable forty five minutes I have spent all my life. There was extra joy added in the fact that I'd had to run a mile that morning (in nine and a half amazingly fun minutes). So I was already really sore.
I was about halfway home when I saw Krystal.
"Krystal? What are you doing here?"
"I…I'm trying to hide from her." The last word was whispered.
"Who?"
"Miranda. She's here. She's after me…and you."
"Really? So it is her?"
"Yes. It is. She told me."
"Do you know how she got here?"
"There's this girl Jennifer who-"
"I know who she is."
"Yes. She can travel between the world that is too much but not enough and reality, because she's so used to them both or something. But she can't stay very long in each world- if she stays too long in either one, energy is sucked from her. If too much is, she ceases to exist at all.
"She wants Miranda to open the gates permanently and merge the two worlds, though not completely, clearly. That way she can stay in either world for as long as she wants without fear. She's illusioned Miranda, though, so now Miranda thinks that it will free her, which it can't."
"Why not?"
"Jennifer doesn't have much energy to spare, and she won't spare any if she doesn't have to. If she stops sustaining Miranda- Miranda dies. So do all of the ones that are too much but not enough.
"It can't happen! It is an illusion that holds the two worlds apart-"
"What? You mean that, in actuality, there are little book creatures roaming around and we just can't see them?"
"There are little book creatures running around, you just don't know. You ever heard of, say, Bella Swan or whatever?"
"Twilight? Duh. Who hasn't?"
"She's real."
"She's- what? But she turns into a vampire!"
"None of them are actually vampires or werewolves. But they do exist. There are so many people pouring energy into them that they exist. I mean, there's a limit, obviously, or else every time a book was published the characters would start running around, but those four jetted pretty fast."
"Anyway, what does the illusion do, then?"
"The two worlds are linked, obviously. The illusion is like a gate, kind of. I don't know. It's hard to explain. The point is that if Jennifer and Miranda destroy it and the two worlds merge, everything is ripped apart."
"Then why is Jennifer trying to do it? That's so stupid!"
"It won't affect her. I mean, it won't actually rip anything to shreds…it's like the energy and powers of the characters will merge with the energy and powers of reality…you could end up with some very strange concoctions. The point is that it cannot be unraveled. The most important illusions are those that keep the worlds separate."
"Wow," I said to myself. "Miranda wants my power, right?"
"Your power is untold. You are key."
"Why?"
"The characters…when they become reality, there are illusions that must be broken. The illusions make themselves felt in different ways- something disastrous or miraculous- something as big as a tsunami killing thousands or as small as a paperclip falling to the floor. And sometimes they create people with varying amounts of power."
"Kristin," I whispered.
"Yes, Kristin. And the Sorcerer. And a few others. But you have the most power…and Jennifer will take you when she can."
"How…how…"
"It is a spell, a short verse."
"What short verse?'
"I don't know. But if you can control your power well enough, the power won't go to Miranda. It will stay with you."
"What power? I don't have any power. Collette has power. You had power. Apparently Miranda has power. But I don't have anything!"
Krystal simply sighed, glanced to the side, and continued walking down the street.

That night was rather odd.
"Hello, Christina."
"Hi-i-i-i-i" I greeted half-sarcastically, making the simple word sound like it had six syllables, like some kind of Valley girl.
"Have you found anything out?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"A bit, yeah." I copied his stance and expression mockingly.
"Like…?"
"Whatever happened to 'don't trust anyone'?" I asked, rolling my eyes and sitting down.
"You can trust me," he said immediately, randomly grabbing my hand.
I stood back up again.
'Well…" I said, unsure how wise it would be to explain my thinking on the origins of Miranda. The last thing I needed was more illusions, which would inevitably result from him knowing how I was thinking, should he be working with Miranda and Jennifer.
What if none of it has been an illusion? What if the book was only half full-
Shut it, brain.
"It's Jennifer."
I really had not meant to say the words, but I said them anyway. It was like if your teacher asked you the answer to a question and you blurt out something random and completely wrong. The Sorcerer frowned slightly.
"Jennifer is dead," he said, confused. "Why would you think that?"
"She is not! She hypnotized Miranda-"
"Who told you this?'
"Krystal."
"And why should you believe her? Are you sure you should put so much trust into one idea?"
"It's Krystal."
"And she can do no wrong? Why not? Anything could be an illusion, you should be well aware."
This conversation was starting to sound disturbingly similar to the one I'd had in my head yesterday, which was not something I was particularly anxious to repeat.
"I-"
"If you hold onto one thing, you are sure to go wrong," he added unnecessarily, like his point was not clear enough.
This really irritated me.
"Yeah, right!" I said, yanking my hand away from his and taking a step back. "Everyone except you, right? I am so sure. I heard you talking to Miranda some time ago! No wonder you want me to frickin trust you- you and Miranda are in cahoots!"
"That is not true."
"Sure it isn't. Why not? Because you say so? Compelling reason coming through!"
He narrowed his eyes noticeably.
I went on. "I mean, which is more likely? I went over this in my head, and I cannot think of a way for Miranda to be here-"
"Maybe she isn't."
"I saw her!"
"Whatever happened to 'anything could be an illusion'?"
"You can't illusion people."
"She can't hypnotize people. But she can make them appear where they are not."
I snorted. "So says you."
"So, you trust Krystal absolutely then? No thought to anything else?"
Unfortunately, he kind of had a point there.
I held a hand up to my face like one would should they need to protect their face from the sun.
This was so confusing. I couldn't trust anything! Once I had an idea, it could all by turned around by the possibility of them having lied or illusioned.
"I don't know," I moaned. "Nothing makes any sense."
"I will tell you one thing," he said slowly. "and you can know it is absolute truth."
"Yeah," I scoffed. "Except you'll be lying through your teeth!"
"The diary is right," he said softly.
A sudden, random wave of weakness hit me, and I sat down. He sat down next to me.
"The diary is half-empty. Someone illusioned it."
"Illusions can be broken," he said simply.

I sat up immediately (waking up at four in the morning is always fun, I remind you), the words echoing in my head.
Illusions could be broken? So I didn't need to think over the likelihood of the lies until my head exploded from confusion? I could break the illusion?
Yeah, okay, great my brain reminded me. And you have what practice in this?
I lay back down.
Dammit.
Okay…breaking an illusion, breaking an illusion…where the hell would I find information about breaking an illusion?
I realized I had two ways to do so. The first was to analyze the diary in the hopes of finding some kind of clue. The second was to look at it for two seconds then chuck it across the room in my anger that I couldn't find a solution probably would not.
Yeah. I chose option two.
It was Saturday, so rather than get up and go to school I went back to sleep for four hours.
When I finally wake up, I immediately went on my computer. My sequel was still screwed, and no matter how many documents I copied it onto and tried to access the stupid thing still didn't work.
Lucy and Amber went online at around noon.
Christina: Sup Lucy.
Lucy: Hiya, Christina.
Christina: Hang on a sec…

I opened up a chat room so all three of us could chat at once.

Amber: Cool, Chrissy. How did ya do that?
Christina: Look at options. And I prefer no nicknames.
Lucy: Yeah, like Krystal. Remember that one time…
Christina: What time?
Amber: Lucy called Krystal Sally or something stupid like that.
Lucy: I called her Kris, moron. She just got kind of mad.
Christina: Ha. I don't really mind. But it just seems like nicknames don't fit me.
Lucy: What do you mean?
Christina: I just associate names with personalities…it's nothing really…
Amber: What do you associate Amber with?
Lucy: What about Lucy?
Christina: Exactly what I meant you two to be. I picked out your names specifically; though I got really close to have a Chrissy and a Tina.
Amber: Oh. Yeah. You wanna work on the movie?
Lucy: Krystal's coming! Just got off the phone with her.
Christina: Tubular. * snort*
Amber: Great, where?
Christina: If we've got Krystal let’s do the school scenes. My sister's home. Teacher, remember?
Lucy: meet us @ my house first. I don't know where it is.
Christina: How about I send you two a mapquest link?
Amber: Works for me.
Lucy: Okay, great.

I spent at least a few hours working on the scenes with my friends and Tanisha, which I enjoyed greatly. Krystal seemed happy and warm, Amber seemed completely unbothered, and Lucy was her usual hyper, energetic self. My parents were a bit annoyed to give up Tanisha for a few hours, but even she had a good time. There was a weekend-club thing going on at the school, and the supervisor let them all extra in the movie.
Tanisha and I walked home after that; the park was barely half a mile from the house.
"That was fun," Tanisha commented, trying to make conversation.
I shrugged. I never knew what to say around Tanisha. She was so much older than I was I'd barely spent any time with her I could remember: she'd been off to college when I was, like, seven or eight, and when she was in high school she was always at the library, practice, or with friends, while I spent my time in my room writing.
"You're pretty good with the camera. I remember when I was in middle school I wanted a camcorder, but they were so expensive only a couple kids had them." She paused to laugh. "Now I have three!" Tanisha had a phone, an iPod, and a digital camera, all of which had the video-taking ability.
"Yeah. Funny." I then pulled out my iPod, which is an extremely effective tool when you don't want to talk to the person next to you. They're so integrated in society no one even thinks they're rude anymore. Tanisha just started texting on her phone.
I walked back into my room and looked around guiltily for the diary. Maybe if I re-read the beginning there would be some kind of clue about breaking illusions. The book had fallen into a puddle of water.
But it was not wet.
I picked it up curiously. Generally if you throw something into a puddle it gets wet in some form.
But the diary had not.
I thumbed through it, hoping that perhaps the water had brought back the words, but the diary had only the first page now.
Looks like Miranda got to it before I did, I thought glumly, setting it down.
Unless…unless it wasn't Miranda.
If the illusion strengthened? Because of what exactly?
The water! So how do you break or weaken an illusion?
Fire.
I ran to my desk and searched around it. It was piled two feet high with papers, of course, but I found the candle I was looking for pretty easily.
I walked into the kitchen, looking as calm as I could manage. I found the box of matches easily and nonchalantly, my mother sitting at the counter without noticing a thing.
It took me several tries (I simply cannot light matches), but I managed to light it and the candle with relative ease. I carefully held the diary over the candle, waiting anxiously. But when I pulled it off a few seconds later the diary was still half-empty.
I decided to try just one more thing before I declared the experiment a failure. I passed the diary briefly through the flame.
Five pages appeared.
Each time I passed the diary through the flames a few more pages appeared. The diary never caught fire.
Finally, I had a full diary.
I was about to read it when I heard the noise from my computer that signaled I had a message. I struggled over to it, not forgetting to slide on the pile of water on the floor and almost fall, and checked my messages.

Miranda: Chhhhhrrrissssssstinah

I frowned at the message, then typed back a reply.

Christina: Who are you?
Miranda: Can you ever be so sure?
Miranda is offline

I stared at it, mystified, then shrugged and returned to the diary.
The section I read next continued where it had left off before. The plot thickened as the people with high status in Collette's society started to take notice of her. I was halfway through a scene where the head of the Cenchen was talking to Collette about maybe succeeding her when it was abruptly cut off to a scene from Kristin's real life.

They came to life.

I gripped the book, nervous and scared for some reason. Surely it would turn out for the better, right?

Last night I had an odd dream- some teenage guy with glowing white hair and weird eyes said they would come with conflicts. I didn't understand half of what he was talking about, and I didn't believe him any more than that.
But when I came to school they were there! I was just sitting here, about to finish that scene- didn't even finish Collette's quote, I was so tired- when these two girls came up and sat down.
I've been barely talking to anyone the past three weeks, so I was really surprised they came up to talk to me.
They looked the same, too- blond little Collette, tall Asian Jennifer... I knew it was them…and they started talking about magic. At first I thought they were crazy…but it made sense too. And it was interesting, and it didn't seem fake…I got carried away.

The déjà vu was killing me.

I couldn't figure out whether they were real or not in my mind, but I'm certain now. They are real. Somehow they became real. Excess energy I guess…that's what they said...
I'm really liking the three dot thing today. But it seems like I can't say something for sure- They are real. They said magic was real. They looked like Collette and Jennifer. I can't say it, even in this book, that they are real. It trails off…I'm not sure…not assured…
They are Collette and Jennifer. They are real.
They have come from the book.

I read the next few pages. While up until about now, Kristin had written in her diary every day with the most trivial of details, now she wrote in it only every few days, and they were relatively short as well. She did not work on her book at all.
Talk about parallel episodes I thought to myself.
Anyone else probably would have simply dropped the diary- it was not very interesting, to be quite honest- but it so resembled my life I was fascinated. Even the chats I got from my computer didn't deter me; I just shut the distracting thing off.
Slowly, ever so slowly, things started to appear. Collette seemed oddly dreamy. Jennifer seemed less brisk, too warm, like she was trying to fake something. As it went on, Collette got more dreamy and detached, but Jennifer got crueler. Odd things started happening around her- a book seemed distorted, a button would change colors, the textbooks wording was slightly different. Small things, sure, but all duly noted.
The only thing that seemed really different was that she rarely saw the Sorcerer. While I enjoyed his charming and clear visits virtually every night, Kristin saw him only the night before Collette and Jennifer came to life and the one below.

The conversation with him sticks out quite clearly. He's so odd, not like the distractible boys at school that always trail Collette. Focused and brisk.
"Kristin?" he asked.
"Eh," I replied.
"What are the characters like?"
"Well…" I said, not entirely sure what he wanted. "At first they seemed normal, I guess…"
"And what about now?"
I shrugged, wondering why on earth he was interested in the two girls. It was weird looking at him. His eyes are so weird, but I can't even figure out why.
"Kristin…"
"I think Jennifer got her magic back," I said slowly. Things keep disappearing. But how…?"
"Any theories?"
"It…it can't have been Jennifer. Or Collette."
"Why not?"
"Because…because I know them! I know who they are! I created them!"

Now the déjà vu felt really strong.
They can't do wrong…
I know them…
It wasn't her…
It can't be them…
I shook my head violently, like that would magically make the thoughts disappear.

"And they can't deviate from this? They can't change?"
"I think it was Hana."
"Hana?" His eyes got really wide.
"Yeah, the head of the society…"
"Oh, right. Yeah, she was a character in my story, too…" he trailed off.
"What?"
"Characters often translate into several stories. There's a character the same as Hana- Hena, it was- in my story."
"Oh. Well, I think it's her." I started to feel more comfortable around the odd boy and sat in one of the chairs scattered around the area.
"Well…I really can't tell you."
"What can you tell me?"
"Nothing, really. I am not supposed to give hints."

I dropped the book, feeling waves of déjà vu wash over me.
Oh my god, Kristin's story was exactly the same as mine. The characters were acting oddly, the Sorcerer was asking questions, the predetermined villain in the story as the villain in real life.
It will end the same, I thought. How her story ends, mine will. The villain in her story will be the villain in mine.
I picked the book up again.

"But one simple question, first- do you think she would be able to use magic?"
"She is powerful…" I really had no idea. Hana had so much power; it was impossible to imagine a Hana without magic.
"And…"
"I think that's what she did. Jennifer said there's some kind of in-between world; I think she somehow escaped that and created the magic, to be real…I think Jennifer found that or it found her."
"Think about magnitude," he said quietly.
"Huh?"
"Just think about it."
Then he kind of faded away, kind of like a Cheshire cat, until only the odd eyes were left, then those, too, disappeared.
I still don't get what he means. Magnitude? Is Hana a volcano now?

I stared at her theory.
Oh. My. God. I could not believe this book. How on earth did this happen? I'm serious! How the hell could her life, her friends, her theories, her whole plot, basically, translate so easily and so obviously to mine? How was that possible? Seriously!
You need to finish that book. Today. As soon as possible.
So I sat there for another hour. The writing got increasingly frantic as Kristin tried to figure out what was going on. Collette had let it slip that Hana could create illusions, so she, like me, was rushing around trying to figure out what was wrong.
And I swear, the things she wrote in her diary sounded almost exactly the same as the conversations I had in my head. It was getting unreal.
My mother tried briefly to get me to come downstairs for dinner. She was not successful. I continued to read.

I could only see a flash, a shimmer. I looked around frantically, finally seeing Collette's wavery outline.
They had come to help me.
Hana was here. She was after me, and she would not stop.
They faded into sight.
"Hello Christina," said Jennifer, smiling. Her eyes glowed oddly.
"Jennifer?" I said, and swallowed. "She's here! I can't-"
"She? Your opponent?"
"Hana."
"No, dear. Hana was only an illusion."

I gripped the book.
Hana was an illusion.
So is Hana was an illusion…then Miranda must be an illusion.
And if Miranda is an illusion…

"She- what? So the Sorcerer was wrong? There is no opponent? No conflict?"
"Oh, no dear." Jennifer laughed and turned to Collette. "You think they're always so blind?"
Collette did not answer.
"It was so obvious that it was us! I mean, come on. Hana? Really? Hana wasn't even real! She was always an illusion! She's still stuck, and she can't come out! It is impossible to leave without energy."
I just stared at them, too shocked to really believe them.

It was us…
It was Krystal. It always was.
The thing about deductive reasoning is that it always comes around after you've realized what was real. Things fell into place as I realized what the truth was. It made sense now. Miranda never was. She was still stuck.
She was always an illusion…

"You failed, Kristin," Collette said sadly.
"Failed what?"
"It was a test," she sighed. "Like my project, it was a test you could not see. You had two paths to choose from- Hana or us? And you let your emotions, not your reason, pick it. You decided it couldn't be us, but you were wrong.
"Now your energy has been focused upon us, and you have lost all control over your energy. The Sorcerer takes it now."
"Test? What exactly are you talking about?"
"To become the next controller of the worlds," Jennifer said carelessly. "To take the Sorcerer's place. It was a deadly game you played, Kristin, letting us come to life. And you lost."
"You became dependent on us," Collette whispered.
"Just like Hannah and Lynn," Jennifer smiled.

This time I didn't just drop the book. I threw it violently at the wall. When it slid back I threw it again, and again, and again, and again, until the poor diary was in several pieces.
It was Krystal and Lucy and Amber. But they weren't even looking for themselves- it was the Sorcerer.
I swear to god I am going to kill that Sorcerer
I threw the book even harder at the wall, like that made some kind of difference in my predicament.
"Christina! What the hell are you doing? Do you realize I just repainted those walls?" My dad came screaming into my room. I dropped the book on the ground.
"Er…sorry?"
He just kind of shook his head and walked back out of my room.
I ran to my computer. It was ingrained inside my mind: When upset, go to the computer. Worried about homework? Finish it on the computer. Hating your art? Do something creative on the computer. Upset about your friends? Rant about them on the computer. Feel neglected? Make friends with the computer. Need books? Request them on the computer.
Have a homicidal person that you've worshipped for the past year and a half after you? Go on the computer.
I don't know how computer companies do it. How can they put absolutely everything you could ever need and want and make it the size of a book (that's how big my laptop is)?
I stared at my computer screen, but I didn't feel comforted. Who I really wanted was the Sorcerer, the one putting me through the predicament in the first place. My lappy just wasn't cutting it.
Krystal would be good, too. Or Lucy. Or Amber.
How could it be them? How could it? My mind couldn't figure it out. It would be like finding out your perfectly normal, loving parents were secretly planning to kill you. How could it? How could it be?
Maybe…maybe it was an illusion! I thought wildly. Maybe Miranda wants to distract you!
But I couldn't hide behind the illusion thing anymore. I'd worked through a lot of evidence the past ten or so minutes. Miranda didn't make sense.
It was the Changeable Triad.
You want to know what was going through my head when I came to that?
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I think you can imagine what continued on.

"Christina?"
"It's eight o clock," I stated like it made any difference. Yep, it was the familiar giant auditorium. But I could have sworn it was eight when I threw the book at my wall…
"Yeah. That is really not new information." The Sorcerer rolled his eyes.
"Who are Hannah and Lynn?" I asked, remembering a bit of the confusing text.
"You know I come from a story, right?"
"Yeah. That is really not new information," I mimicked.
"Lynn was a main character in it. Hannah was the writer."
"What was the book called?" I wanted to read it.
"I told you before, I don't remember!" he snapped.
"Eh. Whatever."
It was all the Sorcerer…
The words floated through my mind, and I narrowed my eyes.
"What?"
I held my head higher and my expression went cold. I didn't even realize I was mimicking Krystal.
"What exactly do you mean? The diary you told me to read? Any thoughts?"
"What are you-" Realization dawned. "Ah. That."
"Yeah. That." I could start to hear a faint humming sound. The Sorcerer looked around wildly.
"It can't be," he muttered.
"What can't be?"
"It sounds a lot like…" he shook his head and refocused on me. "Nothing."
These are the fascinating and explanatory things I have to deal with.
"Did you actually finish the diary?"
"No…"
"Why not?"
"Well…I sorta threw it at my wall…it would be kind of difficult to read now…"
"Brilliant, Christina." His tone was very sarcastic.
To effectively return the sarcasm, I made a sarcastic face.
"Finish the diary."
"Why? I know what happens." Rage and uncertainty screwed up my voice, making me sound like the whimper-y, crying-y girls on the television. "Krystal tries to kill me. I don't need to read the last page and a half to figure that out."
He was quiet for a moment, then looked directly into my eyes. His decided to pretend they were a lighthouse or a digital camera, and I was momentarily blinded.
"Argh!" I shielded my eyes, and he laughed. I don't know why my misfortune is always so incredibly hilarious, but apparently it is.
"I can tell you only two things, Christina. Finish the diary, and-"
"I know, I know. Play mancala. Yes, I have been listening. To a certain extent."
"What did Amber say?'
"About what?"
"About mancala."
"Don't create strongholds if your opponent is better than you. They can take them." See, I told you I can memorize stuff easily.
"Then how brilliant do you think it is to start creating strongholds? Krystal fought, and she fought hard. She did absolutely everything just to be real. She is lethal. She knows exactly what she is doing. You have more power than her, and that is an absolute fact. You could defeat her easily, if you knew what to do."
"Which is what exactly?"
"You're the brilliant one. Figure it out."
He faded from sight.
I did not vanish, though. I walked back up to the stage, still curious about what it held.
Once up on it, I reached out to pull back the curtains, but I could not touch them. I tried as hard as I could, but I couldn't come within an inch of the curtains.
"They will not open."
The voice came from behind me, and along with it the humming increased. I turned around.
It was Kristin. Her eyes were wide, almost unseeing.
"Kristin?" I walked away from the curtain.
"Christina?" She smiled faintly. "Our names are so similar."
"So are our stories." The faintest trace of a frown came to my face. "I know exactly what will happen by what happened to you."
Kristin shook her head. "No. Krystal is different."
"What do you mean?"
"She…she wants more. All the stories before- my story, sure- the characters just wanted to be permanently. That is all the people in the world that is too much but not enough want. Collette and Jennifer never truly left. Krystal left."
"So…what do you mean? Krystal won't attack me?"
"I can't know what she will do. But I do know that while the Krystal in your story may give up everything for her friends, the Krystal in real life is not so generous."
"But…"
I did not want to believe this. If Krystal was fighting me for a test I could understand. But that she was out purely for herself…
I put a hand to my forehead. "Why is it that everything has to be so damn confusing?" It seemed like every time I'd figured out what was going on, someone completely turned it around.
"It's an interlocking world," Kristin half-sang. "You know, the lead singer of RaRonda was my older sister. I gave her all my songs."
I think I almost choked on…whatever was in my mouth. Spit or something.
"What?"
"When I came to the in-between world…" her expression faded away, and slowly so did she."I cannot stay long…"
I was left on the stage. Once she was fully away I reached out to touch the curtains. They yielded.
It was mostly dark, with scattered props and a couple half-painted sets across the dusty hardwood floor. I frowned. Hadn't it been sunny last time?
I walked in, feeling along the walls. There was no button to go to the in-between world, no light to speak of.
So there must have been someone pulling me in last time. The Sorcerer must have needed to talk to someone. Someone in the in-between world.
Someone who is not Krystal.
I picked up a few of the props and examined them. There didn't seem to be any kind of pattern- there was a Wild West set, one that looked like the check-out desk in a library, and some kind of alien thing. The props didn't match them at all, though- I found box laptops and DVD sets, fake chandeliers, canes, glass tables, ornate chairs, broken furniture, and other random, small things difficult to identify in the dark.
I shook my head and walked back out.
Brilliant deductive reasoning, my brain shot at me.
Half the time I seriously cannot determine whether my brain is against me or for me.

I am to go to the in-between world, the boy with the odd eyes says. I cannot exist in this world anymore.
He says there will be more. More kids that write, more kids that obsess, more kids that are banished to the in-between world.
I want them to see this. He does not know about it. I will hide it in my favorite spot, but make sure only the one that needs it can find it. Someone who has a book alive.
Whoever you are, if you have a book alive, know that it is after you. It cannot stop. It will control you.
Look for a band with a lead singer as Ashley Morgan as the lead singer. That is my sister. She has my songs.
The songs have power. Not all of my energy went to the book.

I stared at the text. Sure enough, Ashley Morgan- otherwise known as More- was the lead singer of RaRonda.
Why had I not figured this out earlier? Hadn't it been "That World" that got be out of the world that is too much but not enough? Hadn't it been "Nailed" that I'd been half-listening to when I could faintly feel Krystal's power in the air?
God, I am blind.
If you can control your power, it will stay with you…
I didn't feel like I had any power. I felt more along the lines of "sour, sad, and stupid", the three winning "s".
I soon realized that Krystal had simply been lying, so I simply went back to sleep.

The next day passed in a quick blur. I was aware of the time passing and the events that occurred, but I didn't truly experience any of them. They simply flashed by, anonymous and pointless. I did remember, however, that the Changeable Triad was absent.
I remembered standing in the lobby of the library. My library has a few different rooms- to the left is the actual library, to the right is a large auditorium not unlike the one in which the Sorcerer comes and confuses me, and straight ahead is a staircase. Upstairs there are three different rooms- a community center-type thing, a classroom-like room for things like teaching English and crafts, and a carpeted room with no real purpose whatsoever- there are a two or three long tables to one side with some chairs and a window on either side of the room; the rest of the room is completely empty.
The library was closed; I assumed there was some kind of notice I had missed. There was a wedding going on instead of the free book thing I sometimes participate in when the library was closed, so I headed up the stairs. I had a half hour to kill before my mom came, so I went up to the empty room.
As soon as I went up I vividly remembered the time, about seven or eight months back, when Samantha had shown me the room. She'd just finished showing me how to draw reasonably and we both had some time before it was time to go home, so we went up to the room and jumped around. It seemed almost like she was there for a few seconds.
I saw a book on the windowsill on the empty side of the room. Since no one ever met up here, I figured it was something that belonged to Samantha or Emma, and I was mildly curious.
It was weird, but suddenly it got really dark where I was standing and the only light in the room was on the small window where the book lay. I kept walking but it didn't get closer. I kept walking, even started to run, but where I was standing only got darker and the window stayed out of reach.
I looked down to make sure my feet were actually moving and it seemed like I ran for miles, but when I looked up the windowsill was as far as ever. The room got completely dark then, and I could hear Miranda's distinctive laugh.
"So, Christina. Here we see you have wandered yet again into the place that is too much but not enough." Miranda laughed. "Whenever will you learn? That meddlesome Sorcerer was trying to protect you from the world, so what do you immediately do?" She laughed again. "Look behind the stage! His stupid charm still worked, naturally, but I can reach you now. Curiosity satisfied?"
The light came and I saw it was not Miranda.
It was Krystal.
I held my head higher. "Good evening, Krystal. I was not aware you knew about this room."
Krystal rolled her eyes. "I just intercepted your dream, master of brilliance. I didn't even know the library had stairs."
"Do you have eyes? They're right there!"
"And I've been in this library how many times?"
"What is the world that is too much but not enough?" I asked suddenly. "Last time it looked like the road from here to Jackson, bare and sunny. But now it's like the library, but darker. What is it?"
"No one knows." Krystal's face was impassive, cold. "The only creatures that have ever entered it cannot think."
"But you said that you talked to the Sorcerer while trapped in it."
"He and I were different."
"How? Why?"
"It is unknown, really. Most likely you and Hannah had uncommon power or an uncommon way of writing."
"Hannah is my middle name."
"Well, aren't you special." Krystal rolled her eyes and raised her arms. "The world wants you, Christina, but it is not alone. Everyone wants a piece of your power, Christina Hannah…It is foolish to limit your focus to one enemy at a time…"
And then I woke up.

It is foolish to limit your focus to one enemy at a time…
What the hell was that supposed to mean? How many people could possibly want a piece of my power? I wasn't that special.
It was three thirty in the morning, so let me assure you that I really tried to go to sleep. I lay in bed for a really long time with my eyes closed, but it didn't work. I was still awake.
So I went over to my computer and turned it on. Of course, my computer is absolutely brilliant and always knows exactly when I want it to be very quiet and not wake up my parents even if the speakers are on really loud.
In an alternate universe.
It scared the hell out of me, too- I must have jumped two feet in the air and almost fell out of my chair. But I managed to retain my last shred of coordination and survive the fall.
"I hate you, computer," I hissed and stood up. The computer apparently didn't like that, and before I knew it the screen turned blue (the monitor cord gets screwed up sometimes and turns my monitor blue), the mouse was disabled, and my keyboard fell off my desk.
"Great," I told no one in particular, really irritated now and really wanting to throw the thing at some kind of wall.
"Stupid-" I reached over to fix the monitor and plug in the mouse several times (it takes me, like, ten minutes usually). I was about to tug it when suddenly the laptop gave me a blue screen telling me I needed to shut it down. Apparently the computer didn't respond well to insults.
I stomped around a bit, absolutely hating the stupid laptop. I was about to reach for it and pull out the battery to make the blue screen go away when the lid snapped down and another speaker fell off the desk, hitting me in the eye.
"OWCH!" I yelled. (They are really heavy speakers). "Ugh! What is wrong with you today?" I kicked the desk, like that was going to help my predicament in any way, shape, or form, all the while holding my still-really-painful eye.
I grabbed the laptop and yanked out the keyboard, mouse, monitor, and charger. I took a deep breath and reached for the battery. Then, following my brilliant track record of flawless coordination, I dropped the laptop onto my bed.
I was about to pick it up when I thought of something. How exactly had the speakers hit me in the eye a few seconds ago? I was standing a foot above them!
And I didn't drop the laptop, I was sure. It was almost like it pulled on my hands…
I shook my head violently. That was insane. Suddenly angry at the laptop for everything, I kind of aimlessly threw my hands at it. You know, the jerky motion you make when you get really mad at something you really have no control over?
The laptop skidded across the floor.
Okay. That was probably not the laptop's fault…
I waved my hands around a bit, but the laptop didn't move an inch.
I sat down on the chair to think. Firstly, what was it about this time made the laptop move? Yeah, okay, I was mad, but I'd been angrier before and I hadn't had laptops skidding across the floor.
I stood up and focused on a random book on my floor (it was a pretty nice laptop, so I was going to make an honest effort not to completely destroy it). I thought about all the anger and irritation and it's-not-fair! like it was all the book's fault.
Then I angrily jerked my hands in an upward motion.
The book, rather than making the gentle floating motion I would have preferred, instead rushed up wildly and violently, banged into the ceiling, ricocheted onto my desk, and fell off that, too.
"Well," I said weakly, surveying the rather extensive damage. "It's a start."
Then my keyboard fell off my desk, too.
I started laughing, for whatever reason. I had a solution.
Kind of.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Rather than focus on anger, I simply focused on the story.
I wanted to see if I could pull something from it.
Not a character, obviously. The absolute last thing I needed right now was another character.
Just a song.
I could hear it faintly, just in the back of my mind. A ghost, a glimpse. But soon, oh-so-soon, I could hear it for real.
"I'm coming up! Uh huh! Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm gonna rock! Uh huh! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Stop acting cool, oh, just bet you might win, I'm not too cool, oh, no…" I started dancing around like an insane person, singing the song.
To this day, it absolutely flabbergasts me that my parents were able to sleep through that. It was really loud. It was also four in the morning.
I stood still again, remembering Lucy's favorite song, an electronic, let's break-the-floors-by-pounding-them-with-vibrations kind of song.
I pulled it out easily, not just hearing it but seeing it too- a faint, ghostly glimmer. I picked it up in my hands. (Yes. A song. You have absolutely not idea how weird that is.) It felt like wind, kind of, not fierce winds, not strong winds.
Lastly, I tried to pull out Lucy's iPod. I did, but it felt insubstantial. It turned on, but it was difficult, and there weren't any songs on it.
I sent it back on its way easily, no hassle.
I sat back down on my computer chair to think. I had power. I could actually do things to Krystal and Lucy and Amber.
I could send them back to the story.

The next morning dawned bright, sunny, and brilliant, a rare day in February. I, however, was not feeling in the least way bright, sunny, or brilliant. I felt cranky as hell, with a pounding headache to match.
"Good morning to you, good morning to you, yes I'm having a good morning, now please kill me with your shoe," I muttered under my breath as I stomped into the kitchen, swinging my backpack around on one shoulder and searching for some form of breakfast. I'd been making up stupid poem-couplet-sarcasm thingies ever since I woke up.
"You biking or riding?" my dad asked as he sifted through the huge mess on the table, looking for the sports section. He completely ignored my mom, who was on the exact opposite side of the table searching through the huge mess on the table looking for some kind of limecard, whatever that was supposed to be.
"Riding." That meant I was going in the car.
I decided to skip breakfast and instead chugged eight ounces of black coffee. Deeply unfortunately, it didn't make my headache go away nor did it actually wake me up.
I got to school early and immediately wished I had biked. Now I would have to go to the library.
Don't freak out, my brain tried to console me. You don't have to go upstairs
Shut up, I thought back at it, gratitude filling my voice with happiness and joy.
Again with the sarcasm. Sigh.

The Changeable Triad was absent that day, which I found mildly disturbing. What was also mildly disturbing was the way the events seemed to be duly noted in my mind but not really experienced. I was completely and utterly sidetracked. Déjà vu from the dream was so thick I felt the urge to bottle it up and store it in my backpack.
I walked down to the usual table, the Changeable Triad's absence obvious. Somehow I wished they were here- I wished I could hear Krystal's cold, slightly sarcastic tone, Lucy's extreme exuberance, Amber's carefree smiles or frustration.
But they aren't like that anymore. Amber is reserved and quiet, Krystal is haughty and icy, Lucy is smug and too quiet. They aren't the Changeable Triad anymore, Christina. They aren't your friends. They will kill you.
I closed the diary. I'd read it. The Changeable Triad was my enemy.
But what is Krystal after? My mind wondered, like there was actually a point to it. There are days when I wish my mind would just shut up once in a while.
Hypnosis.
It came out of no where, but it made a lot of sense.
"Conflicts are created when people want stuff."
"Exactly. What does Krystal want more than anything else?"
"Her friends."
"That she doesn't already have?"
"Oh. Hypnosis, I guess."
"Exactly. Might that cause a conflict?"
This whole ordeal seemed like a way to show me just how blind I am. The Sorcerer had gone through that conversation with me, what, a month and a half ago? How stupid am I?
"To alter one of those would require energy that cannot be drummed up simply in us or you, it would probably involve death of quite a few people to achieve the magic."
Why, why, why do I never listen to anyone?
"She…she wants more. All the stories before- my story, sure- the characters jut wanted to be permanently. That is all the people in the world that is too much but not enough want. Collette and Jennifer never truly left. Krystal and Amber and Lucy left."
"So…what do you mean? Krystal won't attack me?"
"I can't know what she will do. But I do know that while the Krystal in your story may give up everything for her friends, the Krystal in real life is not so generous."
I am not just dumb, I am really dumb.
The signs had been there all along, and there I went ignoring them. And the Sorcerer? Wow. "I am not supposed to give hints"? Give me a break. He'd been giving me hints all along. I was just an absolute moron and didn't listen or pay attention.
Find the kalaha. That was what I needed to do. Breaking ceilings with keyboards wasn't enough to control my power. So I knew how to throw stuff at Krystal's head. Big deal.
Krystal fought, and she fought hard. She did absolutely everything just to be real. She is lethal. She knows exactly what she is doing.
Great.
I looked down. So, as far as I could see, Krystal wanted hypnosis. She wanted my power- and probably a few other kids'- to bend the illusion and get hypnosis.
Of course, knowing my other brilliant theories, that idea was probably about as correct as the weather report.
No, that doesn't really make sense either. Krystal isn't stupid. She knows how important the illusion is! Without the illusion, everything crumbles! If she knows enough to crumble it, shouldn't she know why it's there, how much we need it?
People blur conclusions to fit a pre-determined paradigm.
It just kind of showed up in my mind, but it made perfect sense. Krystal wasn't looking at what might happen. She was only looking at what she wanted. Her paradigm was that breaking the illusion wouldn't do anything, so anything she learned about how disastrous that could be would blur to fit the paradigm.
In other words, persuasion sure as hell ain't gonna work.
The bell rang and I blankly trooped up to class. I enjoyed a blissful and joyful fifty minutes of Mr Baradat yelling at me almost nonstop.
The sarcasm, the sarcasm…
But seriously, he would not stop! It was like, okay, Mr. B. Yes, I am not paying attention in class today. Can I express the theme of Rip Van Winkle after my former best friend and idol has made an attempt to kill me and unravel the universe?
Not like I could say that, of course. He would think I was insane or something. I just continued to stare out the window, watching clouds gather and a few raindrops fall. As usual, the weather report had been completely wrong.
Three things you can't trust: Characters that come out of books, theories snarled around illusions, and weather reports.
I knew that if I went to the library, it would be closed. I knew the community center would be closed. And I knew that I would go up the stairs…
I did not know what awaited me there. The world that was too much but not enough?
Or the Changeable Triad?
Either way, I wanted to avoid the library.
How clever, I thought absently, watching the passionless drizzle. Usually rain was exciting, even if it was only a few brief drops. This was more than a few brief drops, but it seemed to lack the passion, excitement, severity of a true storm. If I had biked, I would still have to go to the library.
"Christina!"
"Yes, Mr. Baradat?"
"What is the subject to number four?"
I looked down, surprised. When had we started grammar? The entire class had their books and notes out, while I was still with Rip Van Winkle.
The day was passing quickly. Soon there would be no time left.
I impulsively glanced out the window. I could see the library.
I could see a spark of light.
"Christina, I'm sending you to Room 102. I can't take this anymore, this blatant refusal to pay any attention to my classroom…'
The endless and rather repetitive lecture went on as he wrote out the note.
I focused on the pen.
It flew out of his hand, heading straight for a girl's nose. She shrieked and it hit her, crashed into the ceiling, smacked into the side of another kid's head, and then flew neatly back next to Mr. Baradat's hand.
Wow. Clearly I was really going to be rocking the absolute extravaganza this afternoon. I just wanted to pen to fall onto the floor, not injure people.
Closing my eyes, I focused in on the power. It was difficult to start and leagues harder to control. But the grammar books rose, slowly, calmly, controlled.
I focused and they returned to the desk.
I then turned to one in particular. I pushed at it as hard as I could, trying to send it into the story world, my story. It would not go.
It belongs here, my mind realized.
Technically, so does the Changeable Triad. They have enough energy to exist. They are fully in this world.
I bit my lip to keep myself from saying a not-the-best-word-to-say-in-a-class-where-the-teacher-doesn't-exactly-love-me-to-begin-with, so of course a few grammar books took this as a cue to drop to the floor.
It felt almost like a key-in, like once I was keyed-in, created the power, objects would respond to me until I "keyed-out". I didn't need anger once I was really keyed-in, like now. I only had to direct them.
The books did exactly as I wanted, which was kill Mr. Baradat, my favorite teacher in the world.
Ha ha. I wish.

I stood up in front of the building with the library.
For years, this library had been my favorite place, even better than my computer. I had always looked forward to walking in, going upstairs, settling by myself in the quiet amongst thousands of books.
No longer.
I walked in. The lobby was dead silent- no kids getting it on in the corner, no homeless people sitting on the marble bench, no teens screwing around near the vending machine joking and laughing and eating sugar. The lobby was almost completely dark.
The library was closed.
The community center was closed.
The rain had kept everyone away.
I knew the door behind me was shut. It would stay shut. It would never open, no matter how hard I hit or kicked or yelled.
I knew the lobby would stay dark and dim no matter how many lights I turned on.
I knew it would stay silent and ominous, no matter whether I sang or prattled or screamed.
So I did none of those things. There was only one way out of the eeriness, one way to escape. The only way was to go upstairs and face whatever met me there.
Over, I thought to myself. No matter who wins tonight, it is absolutely over.
The stairs never seemed to end, but I attribute that to my anxiety rather than any kind of illusion. I took each step slowly, pausing after each movement.
At last, though, I reached the top. There was only one room.
The empty one.
I hadn't seen it in months. It used to be carefree, happy, funny even, remembering that silly minutes we'd passed by.
The Collective Critique. If I'd stayed with them, if I'd treated them like true friends, I wouldn't have been there. If I'd been honest, nice, caring, I wouldn't have been there. If I'd been what the world wanted me to be, I would be at home on the phone.
But I was not.
The room had no power now. No happy memories- they were too clogged and distorted by the dream.
It was different, though- the tables and chairs were moved out, sure, but it was more than that. The paint was grayer, dust and cobwebs were everywhere. You could almost smell the neglect.
Samantha said she and Emma and Liz came up here at least once or twice a week. No one had been in this room for months.
I spied a torn piece of paper and picked it up. The date was for January 3.
The last day of friendship with the Collective Critique.
"Well, well, well."
I spun around upon hearing Krystal's cold voice. She wore a long black dress, heavy black jewelry and makeup.
She looked like Nancy from The Craft.
Amber and Lucy both wore regular black skirts and every day tops.
"I told you she was stupid enough to follow the dream." Krystal smiled her true smile, but it did not disappear. It stayed, triumphant as ever.
"I am going to have to fight you eventually," I said evenly. "I might as well fight you here."
"I see."
I raised my arms and honed in to my power. However, Krystal only rose about a foot before I felt totally and completely drained.
I fell to my knees.
Krystal smiled again. "You are forgetting, my de-ah, that I can key in to your power." She laughed.
"Well, my de-ah." I stood up. "It's probably a good thing that I didn't give you the whole de-ah thing, because you suck."
"Doesn't matter now." She smiled again. "But we do not have to fight, de-ah. You are powerful, but your power diminishes if taken by force."
"Well, de-ah." I continued to mock the de-ah thing. "The sad fact is that I have problems trying to figure out what the hell people are talking about when they beat around the bush like that. So, sadly enough, you are just going to have to tell me what it is you actually want. Painful, I know, painful, but it must be done."
Krystal, for some strange and otherwordly reason, did not appreciate my sarcasm as much as I thought she might. She narrowed her eyes.
"Work with me."
Okay, look. I know this is going to sound stupid, but I still wanted Krystal to be good. I still wanted to be friends with the Changeable Triad. I didn't know what I was going to do as it was, where I would go, how I would act without friends or a story.
I wanted the Changeable Triad.
"Which encompasses what?" I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.
Krystal closed her eyes. "I want the hypnosis, Christina. I need it."
"You can't just break the illusions of the world! It will unravel everything!"
"The knowledge about the illusions is old and only half-known. Most people won't even be able to access it anyway, so it's not like it matters. But I need it!"
"Krystal-"
"You don't understand!" Krystal's eyes looked almost insane; Lucy and Amber looked slightly unnerved by this and started to back away, though only infinitesimally. "You just don't understand! It calls to me. It's driving me insane! I need it!"
"Krystal-"
"But it's not just me." Her voice went back to cold and cruel. "The world wants it as well."
"The world?"
"The world that is too much but not enough." Krystal smiled, but it was not her true smile. "That's how I got out, you know. I tried, oh, how I tried! At first I simply tried to get other people to read the book, but they just didn't care the way I needed to. I tried breaking you away from your friends, your parents- though they'd already-"
"You? It was you?"
"Haven't you been cursing that blog, that odd impulse to start ranting? Haven't you wondered at all how dear Sammy got that URL?"
"Why? Why would you-"
"I thought it was just to become real," Krystal answered, her eyes hard. "It is a cold and cruel world. Your world leaves you alone, but not Enkoncé."
"Enkoncé?'
"The world that is too much but not enough. It wants power, but they have no power. So it controls them."
"Who exactly is 'them'?"
"The other characters from the story, you vain, simpering, ignorant Enkonke!"
I took it that asking what an "Enkonke" was not going to be appreciated much.
"It tried to control me. But…I'm special. Well, technically it's you that's special. Anyway, I asked the Sorcerer to release me. He controls the gateway and tries to control Enkoncé.
"He would not release me. He said he loved me! But he refused to let me free.
"I could feel your power waning. I had to do something now if I ever wanted to leave, to be real and free. I saw you laughing with Jayne, I saw you talking to Shannon…
"So I made a deal with Enkoncé.
"Enkoncé released me. Normally Enkoncé refuses to release anyone- it wants power, and its characters are power. But it let me become real in exchange for you.
"It also let me control the characters."
I could hear their whispers, suddenly. They echoed Krystal's words, but in high, weak voices.
"So, Christina. Will you work with me?"
I laughed. "Yeah, right. Didn't you just say five seconds ago that you were going to turn me over to the world?"
"It doesn't know you. It just knows power. Turn over the Collective Critique, maybe a few other kids and you're free."
"I'm not turning over anyone!"
"It doesn't matter if you win, Christina," Lucy said, her voice strong.
But there was not a trace of the Lucy I thought I knew.
"The world will still track you down, using different people. You'll never be safe unless you work with us."
"Where does hypnosis come in?"
Krystal rolled her eyes. "Power isn't a one-time-use thing. If you drain it all from a person, it recharges. I break the illusion, turn over the power, and get everything I wanted."
"I'm not going to work with you, so forget it. But I can fight, you know."
Krystal laughed. "There's no fight, Christina. There's only take."
I felt a sudden jerk and fell to my knees.
Krystal smiled. "I told Enkoncé the necklaces would work. You never took yours off."
My hands flew to my throat. Sure enough, the silver necklace with the purple stone hung there.
I tried to yank it off, but it wasn't working. I could feel the purple stone getting heavier and heavier with power.
My power.
"Krystal, maybe-"
"Shut up, Amber." Her voice was cold.
I thought for a second about kalahas.
In mancala, your opponent could never take your kalaha. She could try and try and try, but the huge store was one she would never win.
And hadn't Amber told me just a few weeks ago that you couldn't treat a bin like a kalaha, couldn't pile up your stones in the hopes that you would finish the game with them?
There was only one kalaha.
It was not my story. I'd been filling up that bin for far too long, and I needed to let it go now.
I was my own kalaha.
Anything else could be taken away.
Any bin could be captured.
"I am my own kalaha."
I could feel the rapid drain of power slowing.
"I am my own kalaha."
I could hear the faint whispers begin to echo the words.
"I am my own kalaha."
I could almost smell Lucy's fear and indignation.
"I am my own kalaha."
I could see the stones begin to fade.
"I am my own kalaha, Krystal.
"I have tried to make you one, but you never were. There is only one kalaha.
"I am my own kalaha.
"All of you are simply offshoots. You have no power over me.
"I am my own kalaha.
"You needed my power, but it is not and never will be yours.
"I am my own kalaha.
"Enkoncé takes you now."
I raised my arms and I could feel the whispers getting more and more frantic. I could feel them start to gather to Krystal.
"Take her!"
I shoved all my power at Krystal and the whispers. My stone grew hotter and hotter, but it had no place to turn over the power.
"Krystal! Krystal! We missed you, Krystal. We want you back."
"No!" Krystal shrieked. Her pale face started to get pink and frantic and her voice started to change.
"Take Christina, Enkonke. She will make you real."
"Make us real?" the whispers asked, as hopeful as the voices get.
"If Enkoncé gets Christina, he will set you free, just like me. Take Christina! Take Christina!"
"No! I can't! He won't let you free!"
"They don't know that," Krystal said, laughing. "All they hear is my voice. They will never hear you."
I could feel the whispers start to drain my power again. They didn't need necklaces or words.
I could feel the power leaving. I had no energy to fight it.
"No," I whispered, but my voice was weak.

"Christina, Christina, Christina."
I looked up frantically. I was in Bodega Bay- the sky bight with yellow clouds on one side and the color of a dark bruise shading the other, the water ceaselessly pounding the shore, the coarse sand, the spiky plants, the tall grasses, the broken oysters, the piles of seaweed.
All so familiar.
But it was different, too- the beach was deserted, with not even a footprint to show anyone else ever touched the shores. There was no foghorn, or cold, or wind.
This was Enkoncé, the world that was too much but not enough.
I looked around for the person who had spoken my name, but no one was standing around.
"You always believed it was Krystal, didn't you? Deep down, you knew she was evil. She was evil deep down in her book, and she was even more in reality."
The voice came out of nowhere.
"Krystal is not evil in the story!" I defended hotly.
"Oh, but everyone has a dark side. Theirs intensified. You saw Amber, correct? The guilt was killing her. She alone saw you as a friend. But even the guilt could not overcome the overwhelming message I put in all three of them."
"Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"I am Enkoncé, the root of the trouble."
"Seems like Krystal was more of the root of the trouble."
"Silly girl. You really think Krystal would be stupid enough to break an illusion? I simply programmed her. She would never take you of her own free will. She forms very strong loyalty. It's underrated in your story, but the current is strong enough. If I ever wanted your power, I knew I would need her and the Triad. They are the only people you trusted.
"I never expected you to fall for the Sorcerer, though, or for him to fall so completely for you. It's rather amusing, actually, and I'm almost certain it will make itself useful."
"What are you-"
"What's even more amusing is the way you both deny it."
I closed my eyes in that irritated way of mine.
"What do you want?"
"I want your power, of course."
"Why? You're a world, for frickin sake. What the hell would you do with it, anyway?"
"You haven't noticed the illusions?"
"What illusions?'
"Are you not seeing Bodega Bay right now?"
"Yes, that is what I am seeing."
"Do you think you're really sitting in Bodega Bay?"
"If I was sitting in Bodega Bay, I would quickly regret it."
For those of you that have never tried to sit down on a wet beach, consider yourself exceptionally lucky.
However, Enkoncé did not notice my sarcasm.
"Do you think you're really sitting in Bodega Bay?"
"No, I'm in the world that is too much but not enough."
"It's an illusion. Most of the world, most of the Enkonke are illusion. No one knows what is real anymore."
"I'm real."
"How do you know?"
"Because…because I know!"
"How do you know that you are really hearing a voice right now? It could simply be an illusion."
"Sure. But I am not an illusion."
"How do you know?"
"Would you mind asking the question and then laying it aside? The Chinese definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, you know."
"Then why are you giving me the same line that you have used four times already?"
"Because different people give different results, moron."
"Different frames of mind give different results."
"What, so five seconds is going to give me a whole new frame of mind? What am I, a flipbook?" Flipbooks are those things that you flip so it looks like a moving picture.
"How do you know you are real? You have not given me a satisfactory answer, and I will continue to ask."
"What exactly do you mean? I exist in reality, do I not? I think, and remember, right? And while we're on this track, what the hell does this have to do with absolutely anything?"
The world did not answer.
"Nothing is real in Enkoncé."
It was the Sorcerer, standing behind me.
"Nothing is real in Enkoncé," he repeated, just in the off chance I hadn't heard before.
"What are you doing here?"
"I am here. I am not real, Christina."
"Am I?"
"Krystal took your place. You belong in Enkoncé now."
"And nothing is real in Enkoncé," I said quietly.
"No."
"How do I get out?"
"There is no-"
"Krystal got out. Bella got out. I want out."
"You can't leave without energy. Enkoncé took it all from you. You are nothing now- simply an illusion, a speck, a shell."
I hadn't felt it before, but suddenly it became all the more apparent. I was empty. I had no energy left.
The more I thought about it the more I could feel the emptiness. The sarcasm, the impertinence, the laughter, the wittiness, everything I'd been filled with a few minutes ago left me.
I was deserted, alone, empty.
"I am a shell," I whispered, feeling it the whole time.
"We all are."
"There is no way?"
"You would have to make a deal with Enkoncé. I don't think there is much he wants now. He wants illusions destroyed, and with your power he can."
"He doesn't have all of it," I said suddenly.
"Krystal was simply his puppet, remember-"
"Not Krystal! I'm not retarded; I know where all that went. The necklace."
My hand went to my throat. The necklace was gone.
"Enkoncé is not careless," he said sadly.
"Those necklaces were special. They could only be opened by the Triad."
"Why?"
"Because they were bins, of course."
"Could I open one?'
I turned to him.
"However long I may want to deny it, I'm beginning to think so."

The Sorcerer

"Well done, Krystal." My voice was sarcastic.
Krystal swiveled to the left and saw me standing in the corner of the library room.
"What do you want, Ladon?" she snarled. Lucy and Amber immediately appeared, flanking her.
"I am not Ladon, Krystal. I am the Sorcerer. Ladon is in the past."
"What do you want? I think you made it pretty damn clear what you thought of me.'
"That you were a heartless witch? Of course. Look what you did to Christina. And why? Enkoncé may have manipulated you, but you had plenty of power and could have fought off the manipulations. But you didn't care enough about Christina to do so."
"What is it with her? She's not even that pretty!"
"Beauty is an illusion, Krystal."
"What do you want?" she snapped.
"I want the necklace."
"What necklace?"
"The one you took from Christina."
"I didn't take a necklace, you moron!"
"The necklace held too much power to go to Enkoncé without some help. It had to stay in reality. And don't say you sent it into Enkoncé, because if you had Christina would have it right now. You must have taken it."
"I didn't take a necklace!'
"Stop lying, Krystal."
"I'm not lying!"
"Then where is the necklace?"
"Enkoncé is not careless. It took the stupid thing." Her voice was bitter.
"How? It would take quite the bit of power to get such a high-energy object through the illusion separating the worlds."
"Stop asking me! I don't know where it is!"
"I have it."
All eyes turned to Amber, who had remained quiet all afternoon and now stood in front of the window.
She threw it across the room.
"It is Christina's!" she announced.
But neither Krystal nor I ever held the necklace in their hands.

Christina

It's kind of odd to sit and just think about how you aren't real anymore. I feel the same. Even my absence of energy goes away if I don't think about it.
Over. No matter who wins tonight it is over. What a joke. Krystal had won already, clearly and neatly. But I was still here.
It was never over.
"The world will still track you down, using different people. You'll never be safe unless you work with us."
It didn't matter. I hadn't won. I'd thought that my power and my kalaha would be enough, but it hadn't been.
Over. I just want it to be over.
It is never over.
With that charming thought in mind, I heard Enkoncé again.
"I'm getting really sick of the Sorcerer trying to protect you."
I turned around but, lo and behold, no one was there. I hadn't really expected anyone to be.
"Well, I'm getting really sick of you, so at least it's a mutual detestment." I was still instinctively looking for the person I was talking to.
"Stop looking for enemies you can see. Everything is an illusion."
"Well, you just described my life the past week. No idea who the hell I'm actually fighting, everyone's got a different idea of what's going on, any piece of evidence could be an illusion."
"Do you really believe sarcasm is really going to help you in any way?"
"No, but it's a lot more amusing that sitting here talking to a beach for absolutely no reason whatsoever." I was getting irritated now, and it showed in my voice.
I liked the irritation more than the emptiness.
"You and Hannah…Carbon copies."
"The other writer, right?"
"Catching up fast, eh?" The voice was sarcastic. "I do have a point. Give me the necklace."
"I thought you had it."
"I had to keep it in reality to get the Sorcerer out of here. I told Krystal to grab it, but she was so upset over how I tricked her I believe she kept it. I don't know where it is now."
"Wow. That was a worldly mistake." You have to picture that steeped in so much sarcasm it was almost radioactive (worldly means sophisticated or smart).
"Ha ha ha. Very amusing." It was also a rather overt pun.
"I know. I really am."
"If you don't have the necklace…and the Triad doesn't have the necklace…and I don't have the necklace there is only one person left."
"Mr. Baradat?"
He gave me a look like I was insane.
"Well, he always seemed like an incarnate of the devil to me."
"No. The necklace is in reality."
"Hat off to you for your brilliant deductive skills." I rolled my eyes. "Where else would it be?"
"The Sorcerer got it." I could hear anger and irritation in the voice. "Which means there is only one way to get it back."
"Through me, right?
I may be extremely blind, but I'm not completely stupid.
"Yes."
"I won't do it.'
"Doesn't matter." I could hear the smile. "You belong to Enkoncé."
Great.
What I've always wanted to do with my life.

"Christina?" the Sorcerer hugged me.
"Where is the necklace?'
We were in the library, but it was not as dark as before. The rain had cleared up and the windows let in a lot of light.
"Enkoncé."
"Um…kind of…yeah."
"So is it um, kind of, or yeah?"
"Why are you so strange?" I smiled.
He rolled his eyes. "I was written into existence by a thirteen-year-old girl with a mild case of Aspbergers, why do you think?"
"There is that." My smile faded. "Where is the necklace?"
"I cannot tell you." He let go and took a step away.
"The eternal answer." I rolled my eyes. "Where is it?"
"You are Enkoncé. I cannot tell you. And I will not!"
"I'm comin' up," I whispered, feeling the story stir. "Uh-huh. Yeah, yeah, yeah."
"Savvy?" he said, looking around.
"Uncontrollable, you know that now, why don't you?" the song picked up, surged with my own power.
I watched the necklace appear from thin air, a foot or so in front of my face.
The necklace glowed, the purple brighter than ever.
I reached for it, but the stone burned my hand. I couldn't hold it. Couldn't grab it.
The Sorcerer tried, but it burned him as well.
"Only Christina's most important bin can open it," he said quietly. "When Krystal was that, it flowed into her, no problem. When you were your kalaha, only you could take the stone."
"I am my own kalaha! Why can't I touch it?"
He looked straight at me, and for the first time I could tell that his eyes were a metallic green.
"Enkoncé does not have a kalaha, Christina."

Krystal

He had tricked me.
I sat on the table in the classroom. The whole building was closed today.
Too bad Christina didn't see the sign.
Why did I do all that? Why did I do all that to her? She was the writer! I owe loyalty to her!
Enkoncé freed you. You're going to forget that?
Shut up, Enkoncé! I know you're here. I'm not an idiot.
What is it with human girls and denying that they are idiots constantly?
Shut up and go away!
"Why, Krystal?"
I looked up and saw the illusion, Enkoncé in the form of a regular teenage boy.
"Yeah right. 'Why'. Sorry I missed the baby shower. Didn't realize that your birth was yesterday."
"Clever."
We were playing the sarcasm game. I tried to step out of it.
"You tricked me."
"I can still mess with the illusion. Christina's power-"
"You made me! I wish I hadn't hurt Christina! But you made me!"
"Unfortunately for your conscience, Ladon-"
"Don't mention him," I snarled. What was wrong with him? I was not a heartless witch! And I hated Christina for what she did every time someone mentioned him, when it wasn't actually her fault.
"I can't take away your will unless you are of me. But you escaped into reality too fully. You had every choice."
"Every choice? Yeah right. You know perfectly well what you did to me!"
The boy sighed impatiently. "Fine then. Just give me the necklace."
I was getting extremely tired of the entire world thinking I had this stupid necklace.
"What makes you think I have it?"
"Because you were supposed to pick it up! I told you! But I suppose the Sorcerer broke the illusions when he came, so you kept it."
"I don't have a necklace."
"Who does, then?"
"Why do you think I know? Ask Christina! It would be attracted to her, anyway, not me."
"It would be attracted to Christina's kalaha, which is you."
"No. She changed it. She is her own kalaha."
"Not anymore."
"Why not?"
There was a pause, like he was about to give some amazing answer. I raised an eyebrow, doubting it was really anything new.
"She is an Enkonke."

Christina

I was back in Enkoncé, but not in a beach. Instead the place looked a lot like my room.
It first appeared in my bed, so I believed that I had gone home and that the whole ordeal was one long dream.
"Yes," I whispered. It was just a dream. Just a dream.
I got up and went to turn on my computer. But it wouldn't turn on.
Because I like to force electronics, I just kind pushed the button a thousand times, then started whacking it when it wouldn't comply to my wishes.
"Electronics don't work in Enkoncé."
I sat down, expecting to find my chair. I landed on my floor, of course, but didn't get up.
I was starting to get really sick of Enkoncé.
What is it, anyway? I thought to myself. Is it a person or a world?
I picked up a book and threw it at the wall.
It was pretty satisfying, actually.
I threw it at the wall again, getting more and more infuriated.
I tried to use my power, but I didn't have any.
Upon having this drummed further into my rather thick skull, I threw the laptop at the wall. It made a satisfying noise and fell to the floor in pieces.
I threw the pieces at the wall again and again, mad at the laptop for whatever reason. Wasn't my story on it, anyway?
"Breaking your laptop isn't going to solve anything." It was the Sorcerer.
I turned around and flung the piece at his head, remembering his stupid "I cannot tell you"s.
"Ah! Throwing things at me isn't solving anything either."
I thought seriously at throwing a few other pieces at his head until he got the rather obvious message and went back to reality, but instead dropped the laptop piece.
"What did you do to the poor, innocent laptop?" He examined the piece I'd thrown at him. It looked like it had once been part of the screen.
"And poor, innocent you?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yes." He seemed a bit miffed at my sarcasm. "Look, do you want to get out or what?"
"Is it really necessary to ask?" I dropped the piece of laptop I was holding- I think it was once the hard drive- and started walking toward him. I really, really, really wanted to leave Enkoncé now.
"We need Kristin."
"This whole world is illusions, Mr. Genius. How the hell do you plan on finding anyone?"
"I found you, didn't I? It's pretty easy to find writers if you know their stories. I've read Kristin's a thousand times. Come on."
He grabbed my hand, traced a pattern in the air, and jerked my arm.
"Like, ow, what the he-"
We had arrived in what looked a lot like a library.
"Christina?"
"Kristin?"
"Enkonke, correct?"
"None other."
"It's not so-"
"I want out."
Kristin looked from me to the Sorcerer.
"Well, I suppose it can't be that hard."

Krystal

"Earth-shattering," I said, in a totally sarcastic monotone.
I can't help it. Sarcasm is fun sometimes.
"You asked, dear, you can't act like you aren't surprised at all."
"Actually, I can. You don't control my actions anymore, Enkoncé."
"Stop pronouncing it wrong."
I rolled my eyes. "No one can pronounce it right, stupid, so stop pretending."
"You want to find Christina, correct?"
"Yes-"
Christina is in Enkoncé, I remembered. To find Christina you would have to go back.
"And Ladon?"
Sealing the deal. The absolute last thing I need to see is Christina and Ladon, together at last.
"No."
"You'll never help her otherwise."
"And maybe I don't need to." I turned around and started to walk out of the lobby. I could see it was still raining from the large windows inset in the door.
Damn it. I hate rain.
"You're very good at proving Ladon right," Enkoncé observed, before turning around and starting to walk upstairs.
I almost tripped- which I never do- trying to run back to him.
"Help me find Christina."
The boy smiled and dangled a purple necklace in front of my face, the one I'd used to suck Christina's power before. Like I really needed a souvenir.
"You'll need this."

Yeah right, Enkoncé, I thought, standing in the front of a big library that looked exactly the same as the one twenty feet to the right of me back in reality. Nice card trick.
It wasn't a card trick, I knew- like Enkoncé would seriously give up the chance to get the key to Christina back in his world- but it still irritated the hell out of me that I'd fallen for his little Ladon-line so easily. Damn him to hell.
He's already in it, I thought to myself humorlessly, walking through the quiet and empty library. No wait, he already is it…
Stupid as it may sound, I have trouble trying to figure what it is sometimes. I know it’s a world, but it doesn't act like a world, it thinks like a human, and the fact that he shows up in front of me looking like a really hot teenage boy doesn't help matters much.
And here we see….no Christina. How did I know that was going to happen? My "psychicness" is so acute, I could entertain people in circuses
"Don't be a moron." I could hear Christina's voice and the Sorcerer's laugh.
You know, uber-genius, she might not be very pleased to see you after the whole trying-to-kill her thing. Just a thought.
"Shit," I hissed.
Christina, Ladon, and Kristin all turned to see me half-standing, half-crouching behind a short bookcase. They were sitting at a circular table in front of the structure.
"Krystal?" Christina looked confused and mad.
"Krystal?" the Sorcerer also looked really steamed.
"Krystal?" Clearly the two had informed Kristin who I was and she looked pissed off in addition to the lovely twosome.
I stepped out from behind the bookcase with my head held high. I could be sarcastic to Enkoncé, fall to pieces in my head, and steam at Ladon, but there was no way I was losing my cool now.
"My necklace is not empty." I yanked on it, breaking the clasp. Typical in the way of illusions, it looked whole as I dropped it to the table.
The purple stone glittered.
"Where'd you get that?" Christina had already started to reach for it, but Ladon was a lot more suspicious.
"That's-"
I started to tell him to back off.
Christina snapped her fingers over the stone.
"Enkoncé. Enkoncé gave it to her." Christina narrowed her eyes at me and pulled her hand back slowly.
"It's the same necklace." I rolled my eyes, picked it back up, and let it slide through my fingers. "I can tell. It's keyed to me."
"Let me see," Christina asked. I dropped it in her hand.
She flipped it to the back (the back was flat, the front curved) and examined it.
"That wasn't there before." She showed me the back. A small signature was carved into it.
"It was, actually. Besides, genius," I stared angrily at the Sorcerer. "They're just storage of power. It's not like you can really screw with them."
"Actually-"
"Shut up, both of you." Christina examined the necklace. I wanted to hit her. "I think this might be what we need."
Kristin sat, watching us, but didn't say anything.
"To get two of us out of here?" My face stayed cold.
"We just need a kickstart." Christina slid the necklace around her fingers a bit. "Mind if I keep this?"
"Does it really matter at this point?"
"It's still yours. Unless secretly one of us is your kalaha, we can't unlock the power without you." The Sorcerer's eyes just about bored angry holes in my face.
"I'll make it easy for you. Give me the stupid stone." Christina shoved the stone across the table. I slid my finger across it, then slid it back. "Totally unlocked. And now that my little delivery is over, I think I will be jetting."
"I thought you wanted out."
I sighed. "I am a character. So, unlike you, I belong here."
I started to walk out of the library when the counter started to vibrate then distort. The glass case to my left started to distort and change shape as well. I looked around and, lo and behold, the Sorcerer was standing there.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Don't be like-"
"Thanks, but I'm plenty damn tired of taking orders from anyone, especially you!"
"We need your help. We want to take down Enkoncé-"
I focused, and the walls started to shimmer around me.
Illusions were so easy here. In Enkoncé, you barely had to think it before you were there. Back in reality, I gave myself headaches just trying to make a few pages disappear in a tiny little diary.
"Well, de-ah, you're forgetting that maybe I don't want to take down Enkoncé."
"Then why are you giving Christina the necklace?"
I calmed down the illusions a bit.
"Christina is not supposed to be here. But Enkoncé is. Just get her out of here, okay?"
"You worked so hard to get to reality- are you really going to give it up?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Someone is going to have to deal with Enkoncé."
"Krys-"
"By the way, you might want to remember that Christina is an Enkonke."
"Sin Car..."
Read the book. Still can't figure out what that is.
The room disintegrated and the Sorcerer was finally out of my face.
"Someone needs to teach that boy- oh, hello. Come to improve my afternoon?"
You should be able to tell by the sarcasm it was Enkoncé.
It didn't appear as a person…more like a presence. I knew it was paying attention.
"You gave her the necklace."
"What did you expect me to do with it, milk a cow? I've switched sides, Enkon-"
"Big mistake, dear. This is my world. No one has a will here."

Christina

"I don't think you should trust her," Kristin said as soon as the Sorcerer had left.
"Why?"
"You…don't know what it's like here. No one does anything without Enkoncé being able to control it. She wouldn't have given you the necklace unless Enkoncé wanted her to."
"Why would Enkoncé want me to have the necklace?'
"And there's still the question of where your necklace is."
"It's in reality. I can't even touch it."
"Why?"
"My kalaha has to open it. But I don't have one anymore."
"Of course…I never thought about that implication."
"We need this necklace. Badly."
The Sorcerer came back. "Give me the necklace, Christina."
I handed it over. "Why?"
"Er…"
"If you say 'I cannot tell you' I'm going to throw a book at your head," I informed him sweetly.
"You're still an Enkonke."
"You know, when people asked me what I wanted to do in my teenage years, I must say that I never wanted to become an illusion on some kind of half-fake world without a will of my own."
"Yeah. Me neither. But, you see, this is why you shouldn't write."
If it had been anyone but Kristin, I would have given them a response so sarcastic it would hurt their ears. But you don't do that to Kristin.
"I suppose so. Excuse me."
I closed my eyes and focused, and the room disintegrated. And there, lo and behold, was Enkoncé.
"Get me the necklace."
"How exactly do you plan on that?"
"You're smart. You figure it out."
I liked the vote of confidence, but I think I would have preferred a plan.
"Try Krystal. I'll send her in soon."
I flashed back to Kristin and the Sorcerer with a small corner of my eye bright red.

Krystal

"When did I get so dumb? When? When?"
I was in a small room, maybe eight feet by eight feet. I couldn't illusion out of it. I was totally and completely stuck.
"Why am I such an idiot?"
Firstly, I'd gone to Enkoncé in the first place. What kind of sane person would do that? It was a world, sure, but it was also a world bound and determined to take me and Christina down. Secondly, I'd allowed opened the necklace. If Christina gave it to Enkoncé, he would have one hell of a lot of power. And thirdly, I'd given the necklace to an Enkonke! It was two- hell, maybe even a few hundred, if Enkoncé really wanted the thing- against one. Those were not very good odds.
"When am I going to grow some brains? When?"
"Hopefully not during my lifetime."
Great. Enkoncé. Just what I needed to cheer me up.
"What do you want?"
"Go back to Christina and Ladon. The necklace cannot be in their hands."
"Then what brilliance was it that had me give it to them, huh?"
"I know how to play this game, Krystal. There are a lot of rules."
"You needed me to open it."
"Good to see you have an ounce of intelligence."
"I like to think I have more than an ounce, quite honestly."
"Well, as you should know, it's always what we want to see that we end up seeing. And as that benefits me quite nicely, I see no reason to have you deviate from it."
"Shut up, Enkoncé."
What was the point to this? We would never win against Enkoncé. It had been playing this game for a long time.
Enkoncé wanted Christina. Enkoncé had a lot of ways to make that happen.
And your brilliance isn't doing much for Christina, either.
Oh no, it's not enough that everyone thinks I'm an idiot. My own brain is against me.

Christina

I sat quietly as the Sorcerer and Kristin battled it out, fighting over what was smart, what was intelligent. I just needed the necklace.
How the hell was I going to engineer that one?
My power in no way equaled the Sorcerer's right now.
"Good afternoon."
We all turned around and watched as Krystal walked in, the single string of hair loose from her ponytail swinging in front of her face.
"What is currently occurring?"
"We need to do something without Enkoncé finding out."
"Yeah right. How exactly do you plan on engineering that one? This is Enkoncé. You'd have to leave the world-"
"There are other worlds." The Sorcerer
"Thank you for informing me. But leaving this world is the point in the first place."
"Which is exactly the trouble. Thoughts?"
"You could build a wall of illusions that would be difficult-though not impossible- to crack. I don't have the slightest clue how you would engineer it, though, so don't-"
"I know how to build a wall." I said suddenly. "Once you build the wall, it's easy to leave."
"How do you build it?"
"That World'."
"Of course!" Kristin hit the table. "Why didn't I think of that? Major bin, hello?"
"That's not going to be strong enough to build a wall," Krystal frowned. "Not while you're actually in Enkoncé."
"Hey Krystal."
She turned to look at me.
"Let's go outside for a sec, kay?"
She raised an eyebrow and brushed a strand of hair off her neck. I nodded. She gave a half-smile.
We separated from the Sorcerer and Kristin.
"Do you have a plan?" I asked Krystal.
"Are you kidding me? Like the Sorcerer would honestly give anything to me. You're our only hope."
"He knows I'm Enkonke, though. Does he know you are?"
"Probably not. But it won't help, trust me. He hates me."
"Um…any other plans?"
"I suppose we could just take it…"

Sorcerer

Three Enkonke.
I was working with not one, not two, but three girls that could any second turn against me.
Not great for building trust. Or accomplishing anything else, really.
I couldn't help but wonder if Krystal was really worth keeping around. It was her fault Christina was even here.
Just undo her a small voice in the back of my head tried.
Yeah right. Undoing the Enkonke won't be difficult at all. I may as well just try to get her out.
Well, you could-
I'm never going to be able to do that, so shut up.
I used to. I used to be able to do that, to control Enkoncé so completely I could limit his influence almost as much as I wanted.
But not anymore. My power was waning. It was only a matter of time.
Right. And that's the only reason we want Christina to survive this.
Shut up.
I saw Christina and Krystal walk back in. Great. Christina forgiving Krystal that easily was really not a good sign.
"Hi." Christina's eyes were flickering.
I squinted. What the…?
"Hi…"
"What?"
I could have sworn they flashed red. What, did Christina's story reach here? Was that possible?
Not. Good.
"There's something weird…" I was still confused.
When Krystal grabbed my arm and started towing me to the side, I was about to poke her or something but illusions crashed around me.

Christina

He watched us, wary. Great. Wary of both of us.
Brilliant plan, Krystal, I thought sourly.
"What the hell?" I said, starting to walk backwards away from her.
"Give me the necklace," Krystal hissed at him.
"No!"
"Give it!"
"No!"
"Shut up!" I screeched, outstretching my arms towards Krystal. Power blasted out of my hands, knocking her into the wall.
Krystal stood up and started walking back towards us. I took another step back.
She held up her hand. The necklace flew from his jacket pocket into her hand. I expected her to smile- her true smile- and pocket it, but something went wrong.
She screeched in pain and dropped the necklace. I watched it almost in slow motion, clanging to the floor.
It was oddly loud in such an empty space. The illusion around us contained nothing but white, plain walls and a white, plain floor and a white, plain ceiling.
"Silly girl." The Sorcerer had regained his calm just like Krystal had. I was the only one frightened and overwhelmed. He walked forward and picked up the necklace. "You really think I wouldn't tie it to me?"
"Of course you would," Krystal told him in a sugary-sweet voice. She held up her hand and the necklace flew back. But, just like before, she couldn't hold it.
"You don't have any power anymore, Krystal. The stone may be tied to you but it can't find you, because you are not here. You are not real.
"Neither are you." I broke into the conversation, my calm restored as well.
"I was once."
"So was I."
"But I can control Enkoncé. And you cannot."
"Then what is all this fighting for? If you can control Enkoncé, then why aren't you? What are you doing? Why are you wasting time?"
"I'm not an idiot, Christina!" he snapped at me. "I know what I can and cannot do."
"Krystal, give me the necklace." She threw it to me. It did not burn her, as she was not the recipient.
I was.
I caught it easily and slipped it on. There were no burdensome chains or clasps. It slipped easily around my neck, bound itself to my skin, content to stay there.
It belonged there.
"You need me to become the Sorceress, correct?" I smiled and raised an eyebrow. "You placed quite the bit of hope into that proposition, did you not?"
My only answer was a low, angry hiss.
"This wasn't the plan, Christina." Krystal sounded really annoyed.
"The outcome is the same. The necklace belongs to Enkoncé now."

Kristin

It's funny how even when people seek me out, look for me, desperately need and want my advice, they will still ignore me.
Christina and the Sorcerer were totally and completely absorbed in each other. Once I volunteered my part, they talked almost exclusively to each other.
When Krystal came in, attention refocused to her. No one even glanced at me.
Bill and Carol, Karen and Megan, Collette and Jennifer, and now Christina and the Sorcerer. They ignored me. Never cared.
The one thing- ever- the one thing I had ever trusted had ignored me. Never cared.
That's what you get for caring.
I raised my arms. The illusions parted easily and I found where Krystal, Christina, and the Sorcerer were standing.
Krystal was standing near one end of the square-shaped room, the Sorcerer near the other. Christina had her back to the right side wall.
"The necklace belongs to Enkoncé now."
The necklace. The one they needed. She needed.
I needed.
To Enkoncé?
"No!" I shrieked, pointing at her and letting loose years and years and years of anger. Every injustice- every snub- every diss- every time someone ignored me- every time I was passed by- from angry years in reality. Anger and regrets and stupidity and helplessness and isolation and rage and anger anger anger from years and years in Enkoncé came spewing violently out mixing with reality, distorting the illusion.
I wasn't powerful, but it was so much emotion and violence and rage that the necklace reacted.
It redirected its focus from the Sorcerer to me, slipping around my neck.

Christina

"No!" someone shrieked.
I whirled around. Kristin. Her dark eyes were angry and wild, her hand thrust forward like she was going to catch the stone.
Enkoncé's stone.
No! my mind shrieked with her. It is your stone, Christina! Yours! Not Enkoncé!
It didn't really matter what I thought, anyway. The stone unclasped from my neck and flew to Kristin. I could feel her power in the air- years and years of explosive emotions lit by her last shred of will and talent. The air was almost electrified.
"That was a bad idea, Kristin," Krystal intoned. Her eyes were almost glowing red and she turned to me. "Christina!"
No! my mind shrieked again, louder this time. No! No! Don't fight for Enkoncé! Don't work with Krystal! No! No!
"Krystal," I affirmed, ignoring the screaming voices.
"Christina…Krystal," Kristin pleaded. She raised her arms and I could tell she was working like sixty to get the illusion to shift.
But Enkoncé would never let her escape.
Everything was an illusion.
"It's all an illusion, Kristin," I intoned, my voice just as creepy and almost dead as Krystal's. "Illusions are easy to manipulate…by everyone."
"Dears," Kristin said, starting to smile. "You're sort of forgetting what I have."
"It's not really a question of them forgetting," the Sorcerer began, entering the conversation suddenly and randomly. "More like they would prefer to- Ahee!"
Krystal sent the Sorcerer flying.
"Krystal," I scolded. "There's no reason to do things like that. To the point, we need-"
My words were cut off by a disturbance from Kristin's new, fashionable, and stylish necklace.

The Sorcerer

It's weird to be in reality after so long in a world full of illusion.
It's weird to stumble on the stairs and not be able to immediately recover.
It's weird to throw something at a wall and not have it disappear.
It's weird to
It's weird to be without Christina.
The secret to Christina's necklace was not in Enkoncé, I knew. If it was, we were wasting our time. Enkoncé controlled what you saw, what you did, what you knew.
Who won the fights.
Why am I in reality? I thought to myself. What the hell am I going to find here?
"Me."
The voice came from behind me.
I turned to look.
Amber.
"Come on."
She was across the lobby from me, closer to the doors. She motioned with her hands, then ducked out of the building.
I followed her.
When we were past the building, past the park and the pond, past the gardens and monuments, in the middle of a large, grassy baseball field, only then did Amber talk.
"He's keeping the portal open, y'know. You have to get a bit of away from the portal."
"What do you want?"
"You don't know how the necklaces are controlled, do you?"
"The kalaha of whoever they are bonded to controls them, which you should know, kron-"
"Don't be such a wooden spoon. That's not how they're controlled. They bond to people, but they bond to whoever the controller tells them to."
"Enkoncé. Great. That makes-"
"Enkoncé controls only two of them, and it only knows he controls one. Christina controls the other one, and she doesn't know that, and Krystal controls the last one."
"Which ones? I know where the four are, but who controls them? Who were they originally bonded to?"
"I don't know, but I think the one bonded to Christina was controlled by Krystal. I think Krystal wore the one that Enkoncé knows it controlled, I wore the one Christina controlled, and Lucy the last one. He gave Krystal my necklace my old necklace, thinking mistaking it for her old one."
"How can you tell?"
"Because I was bonded to it for so long I can tell when it switches and who to. It's bouncing around a lot right now, right?"
"Four people in four minutes."
"Exactly. But Lucy-"
"How do you know this?"
"I am Enkonke," I hissed. "Krystal was the only one truly freed."
"But-"
"We were accidents, afterthoughts. I know what Enkoncé knows."
"That's a lie."
"It is not!"
"How do you know about the necklace Enkoncé doesn't, then?"
I could practically see the swear words sliding across her face about then.
"Because-"
"Stop lying, Amber. Enkoncé told you to feed me a bunch of lies, didn't he?"
"That's a stupid theory, Ladon, and you know perfectly well why."
Enkonke can't be ordered around when a portal is open.
"Tell me the truth, Amber."
"Fine, if you'll tell me what Enkoncé truly is."
"You first.'
"Third-graders, are we?" Amber quipped sarcastically. "Fine. I know because Krystal told me. In between telling me just about everything there is to know about Enkon-"
Oh, yes, I already knew plenty about that. I slammed my fist into a small tree on my left and it split
I'd been in Enkoncé for so long I expected it to go back to normal, like all the illusions did. You couldn't make a mark on the illusions in Enkoncé.
But this was reality.
"How does Krystal know?"
"Because she's the one that made them, braniac."
"Right. Er-"
"Tell me. What is Enkoncé?"
"Enkoncé is a soul trapped within a land."
"How does that happen?"
"There was once a writer who was extremely powerful, even more so than Christina. We don't know his name. He became a Sorcerer, of course, and lasted for a very long time. But he did not want his power to wane, and he definitely didn't want to give his power to another. He wanted immortality.
"So he went after the land that is too much but not enough. Back then the Sorcerer or Sorceress could fully control the land, so he went after the characters and waged war.
"It was quick, and he lost completely. But he still had power and the land could not completely dispose of him, so instead it imprisoned him. They hoped that, with time, he would forget his attempts and understand how his desire could not be quantified, and as time went on that seemed to happen. They gave him incrementally more freedom until he knew the land.
"But he could not forget.
"He knew its secrets, and its weakness.
"Illusions."
I'd told this story, rehearsed it in my mind, listened to it; so many times that it was like AutoPlay. I slipped into that mode easily and completely.
"So the Sorcerer slowly started spinning illusions into the land until it didn't know what was real at all. This time the Sorcerer won. The land couldn't fight. Only the Sorcerer knew what was going on, what was real and what was fake.
"Worlds have a soul, of course, and that land's was particularly strong. It took effort to eject it. But the Sorcerer killed the land's soul and soon, he became the world that is too much but not enough.
"But lands have a different kind of mind, and the Sorcerer's became confused and muddled. He'd hidden the illusions well and could no longer undo them.
"The illusions have grown since then, until even Enkoncé in all his power could not undo them. They are powerful, more powerful than anything else we have ever known.
"But illusions are frustrating and torturous, so the Sorcerer made an effort to undo them. It was impossible.
"That is what he wants with Christina's power. To undo the illusions. With her power he finally can."
"What's so bad about that?" Amber asked. "Don't we want Enkoncé to be un-illusioned or whatever?"
"The illusions are the only things making it impossible for Enkoncé to blend reality and Enkoncé."
"Why would he…it…want to do that?"
"Power."
Power is a cold and cruel word. To some people it has a casual and flippant meaning. But in this world it is hated and desired; something necessary and repulsive; something fought and fought over.
Power.
Enkoncé wanted power.
It had plenty already. Krystal, Lucy, Amber, Kristin, Christina…
And the girls from my story: Lynn, Sabrina, Sav…
Sav…
And Hannah, the writer. It had Hannah.
Hannah and Christina, and unstoppable team.
That was how he would invade reality, with the two most powerful writers.
After Enkoncé himself.

Krystal

You wanna know one thing I really, really, really hate right now? My life.
"What’s the deal with that thing?" Christina hissed. It was pulsing randomly, sending flashes of color over the room. "What is it doing?"
"Trying to become a sentient life form," I answered her sarcastically. She looked surprised; I don't think I'd ever really shown her my sarcastic side. I keep stuff like that in my head and at Enkoncé, where it belongs. "I don't know. I think it's because it bonded to so many people…"
Liar liar, pants on fire, put you in sarcastic irons, Carmen will come and eat your dryer…
Shut up, brain.
"You do know, Krystal." I could feel Christina's power bouncing through the room, sliding like snakes around me, gathering power and proximity. "Tell me!"
"I appreciate the votes of confidence and whatever, but I don't know everything about these things, okay? I mean, god! First Enkoncé and Ladon keep yelling at me about wherever the hell the stupid things are, now you want me to know every intimate detail of they're existence- I don't know everything, so just SHUT UP!"
My anger changed to power, incredible power, and started bouncing around with Kristin's and Christina's.
Power, power, everywhere…the necklace would fill up soon…
I could see the stone lift itself off Kristin's neck, flashing harder. Kristin tried to grab it, helplessly, desperately, but some things can not be taken hold off. It began to drift towards Christina.
Power is an illusion here, I thought to myself, contemplative. It floats around, no one can grab hold of it.
When it was a few inches in front of Christina's face, the necklace seemed to explode. Christina's expression went from shocked, a bit irritated, and a lot more than a bit confused to totally and completely blank.
She vanished with the necklace.
There was the predictable pause.
I really hope I wasn't supposed to see that one coming…
"Was that supposed to happen?" Kristin's voice was kind of odd and high, probably from fear, and I valiantly fought the altogether strong urge to snort at that, something I wasn't entirely successful at. Kristin's eyes narrowed in irritation.
Irritation and confusion seemed popular options today. Would you like heart-stopping fear with that?

Christina

For the first time in Enkonce, my surroundings were utterly unfamiliar.
It was a room. Let's start with that. It was large, about halfway in size from the enormous auditorium from my old dreams and my bedroom, with high ceilings. It was gray, and stony, and bare. The only thing in it was a large chair, which looked like it had been carved from one piece of stone or something.
Defying clear laws of physics, it swiveled around and the man sitting in it turned to face me.
"Good morning," I tried, unclear what exactly was demanded of my presence here.
"Hello, Christina. It is never morning here." He had an odd way of talking, like the words just slid out of his mouth. "It is never anything here."
"Didn't you learn the first rule of conversation?" I blurted. "Never start with depressing topics! A bad guest!"
I really don't know what is wrong with me sometimes.
"My name is Enkoncé, Christina, and I am exempt from all rules."
"Enkoncé is a land, master of brilliance."
"Enkoncé is a soul within a land. I am the soul, the writer, Enkoncé. The land was always here with no name."
"Why am I here?"
"You are no longer controlled by me, therefore you can see past most of the illusions." Enkoncé took a step closer, studying the necklace that still hung around my neck. "And, funnily enough, you managed to do it without that Sorcerer."
"I feel so incredibly proud," I told him sarcastically. The sarcasm was getting so bad that I might want to stay in Enkoncé, land, whatever forever. Mr. Baradat would never stop kicking me out of class otherwise.
"Sarcasm will not help you, Christina."
"That may be true, but, judging by the statistics I've heard lately, nothing really will."
"I see."
"You mean, you hear. I haven't shown you-"
"Be quiet."
"What do you want me to say, Hail Enkoncé?"
There are times when I feel like I am drowning within a pit of sarcasm. Now was one of those times.
"I would like you to say whether any action I get out of you is voluntary or forced."
"Define action."
"To get rid of the illusions."
"What illusions?"
"The illusions everywhere here."
"Why do you need to get rid of them?"
Yes, Enkoncé. Give me every tiny detail of your plans. That is what I expect.
Back in Yeahrightville.
"Because…because…because I hate them! Because-"
"Because you want reality."
The answer came from nowhere, but I knew it was true. Enkoncé's face went shocked.
"Because this land is low on power. You will die soon without something that is real. No! You can't have reality! You can't take everything! You can't, can't, can't!"
"I can, Christina. I can do pretty much anything I want at this point. Even if your power possibly equaled mine it could never equal mine and Hannah's. Get over it."
The other writer, Hannah. Apparently I had to fear her, too.
Clearly this was the high point of my life. It would never get any better than this.
This is going to need to stop, Christina, you can't be this sarcastic or-
It doesn't matter at this point.
I was never going back to reality.
I was never going to talk to Jayne or Shannon or Albert.
My sarcasm would never matter anymore. There would be no teacher to kick me out of class for it.
Depression went over me, worse even than when I thought really about the Collective Critique or my parents or teachers. I'd always imagined that, at some point in this ordeal, everything would be over and I would go home. I might not really like the people there but I would rather be in reality, eccentric, sarcastic, and separate than here forever.
Forever is a long word.
Do not play with the word forever.

Hannah was not pretty.
Her hair was reddish-blonde, cut straight across the bottom and half-brushed.She was fair but freckled, with strong features too old for her face.
She was only a year older than me.
"So you are here at last, dear Christina. Quite sad. I was so hoping he would fail."
Maybe sarcasm is just in the air here.
"Hello."
"What was your story about?"
"Hypnosis."
"Ah, yes. I had hypnosis in my third. Turned her into a sweet little anime fanatic into cruel and calculating. Rather funny how it can do that, yes?"
The words weren't sarcastic, but her tone was, sarcastic and bouncy. It was actually kind of irritating.
"Um, sure. Wait- third? How many did you write?"
"Four. I was just a tad more obsessed than you, dear."
"Hard to see how that's possible," I muttered. "And stop calling me dear," I said louder.
"My most sincere apologies."
"Right. Okay."
"How did the characters get you here?"
"Enkonke. You?"
"We went to the beach, Lynn, Sav, Car- she hated to be called Car, you know- and I. It was a celebration, y'know- a publisher said there was a distinct possibility she would publish my first. They were in a series." She got a faraway look in her eyes, a not-entirely-genuine smile. I got the feeling that Hannah never did anything completely genuine; it always had a hint of sarcasm to it. "We were messing around on the beach, throwing sand at each other and such. Lynn said she was tired of being sandy, so she and I went into the water."
There was a pause characteristic of good storytellers.
"Lynn came back."
"I think I heard about that on the news, actually. Didn't some book get a message from you or something?"
"Ah yes, the funniest part of the story." She smiled a bit. "Lynn was in language arts when her teacher noticed an odd message in the textbook on the projector, from the girl that had gone missing weeks before." She sighed. "It was a month for her, and barely an hour for me."
"What-what do you mean?"'
"Time runs differently here. When did you get here?"
"About…about an hour and a half ago."
"Yeah. You've been missing for a while then."
I wondered what they thought.
Did anyone notice me? Did the Collective Critique snicker over their success, thinking they'd driven me out of the school district? Was Mr. Baradat glad I wasn't sleeping in his classroom anymore?
Did my parents even see my empty room?
"Okay. We need to lock out this room."
"What?"
Hannah gave me a scathing look. I was pretty sure she thought I was not as smart as her at that point.
She closed her eyes and opened them again quickly. "Not perfect, but good enough. I've learned a lot."
"Please tell me what you're talking about."
"I'm not technically here anymore. I'm real."
I took a step back. Great. Enkoncé had supporters that weren't brain-dead, that volunteered. Could that be any more helpful or what?
"Then why are you still here?" I could feel power in the room.
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Newbie," she muttered, then focused again. "I was waiting for you, kronskah. To help you get out, y'know. I mean, I've had a few months here. You've had an hour and a half. I know how to totally unlock from here."
"What's the plan, then, master of brilliance?"

Krystal

"I don't frickin know where she is, Ladon!"
"You saw her disappear, did you not? Or did your eyes conveniently pick this time to fail?"
I crossed my arms. I was beginning to think that the Sorcerer was on this personal mission to see how much he could possibly get me to hate him.
He was doing very well at it.
"Yes, I saw her disappear. No, that does not entitle me to know every damn illusion in this place! Enkoncé pulled her someplace, okay, so just get over it!"
"How much power was bouncing around?"
Amber.
The weak one, the defective chain. What did she know?
"Quite a bit."
Kristin. What was this, a party for people to weak to pretend like they are strong and powerful?
"You know what that means, then, Krystal, do you not?"
I could see the three of them turn to face me, murder in their eyes.
How do I keep getting in these situations?
"What is this, fifth grade? I know the necklace would fill up, sure. That doesn't entitle me to every detail of where she is, like, hello!"
Oh, god. An extraneous "like".
Good bye, mental sanity. It was nice knowing you.
"You really are quite an idiot," Amber insulted contemplatively.
I was getting really tired of this day.
"With enough power to fill the necklace, she could break through most of these illusions."
With a loud clunk, I slid to the floor.
"She what?" I hissed. I sounded like a crazy person.
I tried to slip back into the cold and emotionless state I'd kept up for weeks and weeks, but it didn't work quite as I planned. I was too stressed, too irritated, too shocked.
Well, at least in this state you might have a chance at Enkoncé! my mind reminded me sarcastically.
I really hate my mind.
"How on earth are we supposed to help her there?" Kristin asked
"We don't," I answered. "The illusions will keep you out."
"Not necessarily."

Christina

"Do you have a lot of experience with intelligent plans?" I hissed at Hannah. "Because this is really not sounding like one to me."
"Oh, I write them into a storyline all the time. It'll totally work."
"Yeah…but in a story you can make it work if it doesn't really! This is reality! You can't-"
"This is not reality, Christina."
"That doesn't change anything. If anything, it means Enkoncé can simply-"
"Enkoncé isn't in charge, kronskah."
"Stop calling me…whatever that's supposed to be."
"Kronskah? Sure, sorry. Anyway, it's really the illusions that are in charge-"
"What?"
Could someone please just make a consecutive opinion about this? A means B, B leads to C, C means we should do D, and E will try to stop us? Instead we have A means C, and C means B, and B means A and C, and A means D, and C means D, and B will stop us, and E will help A, and on and on, contradictory, confusing, and circular every five seconds. It made me want to throw something.
"Do you know the story of Enkoncé?"
"Um…no?"
"Basically Enkoncé was a writer who became a Sorcerer. Then he tried to take over the land, failed, learned its weaknesses, cast a zillion illusions, and took it over. Enkoncé's lived so long it doesn't know which way's up anymore. Messes with the brain, y'know."
"What…what do the illusions have to do with anything?"
"You know how there are illusions in reality, right?"
"Yes…"
"That's kind of what the illusions here are like. They don't have minds, but they can control and be controlled. But because this place isn't real, illusions are stronger."
"I thought the whole world was illusion."
"It's difficult to explain. Illusions confuse you about everything, including their identity. It's better if you just don't think about them."
"Who the hell are we fighting then, hello? Hello? Hello? Why am I the only one confused here?"
Hannah sighed and shook her head. It seemed about half sarcastic and half genuine.
I was beginning to get really sick of Hannah and her half-sarcasm. Commit to it already.
"Stop looking for straight lines and consecutive meaning here. It's like Alice in Wonderland. We're all half mad and no one knows what's going on."
"Yeah, except I'm not waking up any time soon."
"What a tragedy," she told me sarcastically.
I swear to god, if Hannah didn't quit it with the sarcasm I was going to whack her one.
"This is about to become a tragedy when one of our characters dies. And it's always oh so much more tragic when their name begins with 'H', 'y'know'." Yes, I was mocking her overly done "y'know" thing. That is the purpose of the quotes.
Hannah raised an eyebrow at me in an amused way.
"Uh-huh. Right. So, 'master of brilliance', what is your brilliant plan, eh?"
I took a few seconds to enjoy the gentle hum of crickets. Then another few seconds, and another few seconds. Tragically, Hannah had to interrupt this Zen-like reflection with some of her deluxely irritating sarcasm.
"Yep. That's what I thought."
"Why can't we-"
"If you mention the illusions I am going to seriously question where you ever got the intelligence necessary to write a good book."
"What the hell are they?"
"None of our concern."
"I-"
"We're running out of time." Hannah brushed off her jeans and T-shirt, a simple nervous tic. "We've got about five seconds for you to think of something ingenious."

Lucy

"Not necessarily," I announced. They all turned to look at me.
"What?"
"Oh, illusions are pretty easy to break. You just, like, have to know how. Or else it won't work."
Krystal frowned a bit. Well, that was more wonderful than a bear attack on oreo cookies.
Yeah, sarcasm, analogies, exhaustion, and mind control do not compliment each other well.
"How, then?"
I unconsciously gripped the purple necklace around my neck.
"It's pretty easy," I repeated. "It doesn't take as much power as you think. You only need to confuse the gates."
"Confuse…what? How the hell do you plan on doing something as stupid and naïve as that? The gates are all illusions. You can't confuse an illusion, master of idiocy." Krystal, obviously.
Krystal was going to be a lot harder to confuse than I thought. Kristin, Amber, and even the Sorcerer looked very sure.
Why was Krystal not going along with this? Was Enkoncé not giving her orders anymore?
"Yes, you can," the Sorcerer countered. I got the feeling he was mostly doing it to irritate Krystal, as she looked even more steamed than she had before. "I used to have to do it a lot."
"Well, then, Mister Genius. Let's all hear your absolutely fascinating life story of your grapplings with the illusions, shall we? It should help us greatly."
I don't think I'd ever heard Krystal so obviously angry. And where was all this sarcasm coming from? The Krystal I knew was cold and unemotional, saying little, always smug and sure and never flustered or irritated.
"Be quiet, Krystal. The illusions just have to think that you belong in reality, and with all you've grown away from the book that shouldn’t be too difficult."
"We need to get to Christina, not reality. Any advice on that, genius?"
"The gates separating Christina and us are very similar to the ones separating reality and us. Illusions can be manipulated."
"Enkoncé controls everything here, you moron."
"Enkoncé-"
"Shut up, both of you." The whole group turned to look at Kristin.
What the heck was with all these people?
"Expecting circular and pointless discussions to further our cause is like expecting a freaking typhoon to come save us, okay. We need solutions, not discussion."
"We can't just play with the illusions," Amber brought up in a careful tone. "It'll bring us to Enkoncé's attention and therefore we might all get to being hard-core Enkonke." Amber's eyes turned to me. "Just like our dear friend Lucy here."
My reply was instinctive. "I am not!"
The Sorcerer's eyes lit up a bit as he probably remembered something frickin Amber or Krystal had told him before. God. Why did they know everything?
"You're right. Enkoncé's direct necklace." He stared at my necklace.
As that irritating tiger on TV would say: Grr-reat! (as my bedroom exploding)
"You ever think about why Enkoncé isn't dealing with us right now?" the Sorcerer said suddenly. "Because he's got Christina and is dealing with the illusions as we speak."
And there we all (including me) simultaneously uttered a word I probably shouldn't detail here.

Christina

I was about to enjoy the sound of crickets again when I remembered something.
Power.
Closing my eyes I focused on my own surroundings. The illusions coated everything like nanoglue. I couldn't have pulled at them if my life, or reality as we knew it, depended on it.
But I dug deeper. The illusions housed power. It was a cycle. The illusions pulled power from Enkoncé, who pulled it from the characters, who pulled it from reality, and reality pulled it from their illusions and ours.
Tweak the cycle and everything collapses.
Enkonce couldn't die.
If he died, the illusions would have nothing. They couldn't control everything and thus couldn't pull it from the characters. But the characters were inescapably linked to reality, and reality was inescapably linked to this land's illusions.
Enkoncé couldn't die.
But Enkoncé would die, and soon, unless he went directly to reality. But he couldn't go directly to reality- it would destroy the cycle.
Human souls are not meant to be linked to illusions and lands. Enkoncé cannot take this place.
I was simply standing there when suddenly I felt a yank, not unlike the deliriously fun ones Krystal had subjected me to earlier that day.
I fell to my knees. Desperately I tried to check out, free myself from the illusions and Enkoncé and the land. But it was like unsnarling Christmas lights- it ain't happenin'.
I pulled out the scissors and promptly almost left my body. The moment of clarity allowed me to be freed from the illusions.
"Christina! Christina! Are you okay? Are you okay?"
I was still breathing hard, my mind still fearful and stressed from the few seconds of being linked to the…place. Land. Enkoncé. Whatever the hell you wanted to call it.
"Fine, fine. Look, we can't leave."
"Why not?"
"Enkoncé can't die!" I screeched.
Hannah gave me a long, slightly sarcastic look. "Christina, are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"Look, this whole place is connected. If Enkoncé the soul dies, these illusions die, too. Reality's illusions die, reality becomes unraveled, and we are met with rampant chaos and power shortages that even a stimulus package couldn't solve."
Hannah snorted at my really stupid joke, but then her face smoothed out into total focus and seriousness. It was the first time she looked completely non-sarcastic.
"What are we going to do? Enkoncé can't invade reality. He just can't."
"I don't know! The land's soul would have lasted forever. The illusions could have smoothed out and strengthened and eventually it would cease to be linked to reality, it would completely exist the way reality does, link to other worlds and create other worlds the way reality does. But Enkoncé screwed with that. This land will never be free, but reality can't be freed from it, either. It must exist."
"This is too complicated for us." Hannah sat down, looking extremely frustrated. "I'm, like, eighteen now! You're fourteen! Why do we have to deal with this stupid problem? Why, why, why, why?
"I don't know what to do anymore. If we can't let Enkoncé die, then I really don't know what to do anymore. I can't let him take you. I can't let him die. I can't let him invade reality. This is a Catch 22! What are we supposed to do?"
And then our afternoons got so much better, we could barely contain the exuberant joy.
"Oh, so sad, dears, ain't it?"

Krystal

The ceiling, like, caved in on us, all but Kristin.
Stop using-
Does it even frickin matter anymore? Does it really?
The illusions dissolved and reformed, spinning endlessly. I could see endless settings and an innumerable amount of power.
Beaches, snow, bedrooms, ballrooms, rainy days, sunny days, stages, movie theaters, meadows, computers, offices, cities.
And the power, oh, the power!
We're fighting this? And expecting to win? How dumb are we, again? Do I even want to think about how much we are deluding ourselves here?
It was like sinking into the floor, except there wasn't a floor. It was like walking through walls, except there weren't any walls. It was like racing through a rainstorm, except nothing was falling on our-
Okay, you get the point. It was totally and completely indescribable.
The only thing I could even begin to describe was the incredible sense of power. And even that I can't portray, really. Maybe it was just my writing skills. Maybe Christina or Hannah could do better.
Then the illusions cleared.
"Amazing, isn't it?"
Enkoncé.
"It is so amazing, it is unbelievable," my mouth shot out. It was a line from one of those stupid books Hannah had written.
I really hate it when my mouth talks before my brain tells it to shut up.
Ladon rolled his eyes at me. He knew the line.
He knew the line really, really well.
"Well, then. That must be quite amazing." His voice was sarcastic.
Have I told you how much Enkoncé irritates me?
"Oh, it really is. You know what else would be amazing? If you would-"
"Tell you what the hell is going on?" Again, the light sarcasm.
I made a sweeping gesture with my hands. "Wow. You are so incredibly psychic, even I can feel the psychicness."
God. What was it with the sarcasm lately? I used to make everyone think I hadn't a drop of humor or feeling in me. I liked that impression. Now I was sarcastic and obviously irritated. If I ever went back to reality this non-scarily-unemotional thing desperately needed to stop.
Amber could tell this conversation of pure sarcasm would never end as long as I conducted it, so she attempted to intervene.
"Why are we here?"
Enkoncé rolled his eyes and languidly slid from where he was leaning against the wall until he was closer to us. I could tell the energy it took to actually do something as exertion-filled as actually standing up straight (we all know how incredibly difficult that can be). "Don't be asking me."
Was it just me or did he sound like a sulky four-year old to everyone else as well?

Hannah

It was simply an illusion.
Illusions are so strange here, but at the same time I'd lived with them for so long I didn't even notice anymore.
I'd been here for four years.
Four years ago I was sarcastic and funny, a total outcast. I knew it and I couldn't care less. All I cared about was a 4.0 and my books. I laughed with my friends, but they were completely dispensable. I went through four groups of friends my eighth grade year alone.
I couldn't care less.
When things started to fall apart, I'd already been gripping Lynn, Sav, and Carmen for so long it didn't take much for them to exist.
When they did even my grades started to matter less. All I cared about was, well, the characters.
When I came into Enkoncé, it was a shock.
Four years ago I was carefree and sarcastic on the outside and inside. I was a bit cynical most of the time, but most of the time it was just for a laugh.
I was still sarcastic and bouncy, but it wasn't a total in-depth thing like it used to be. Inside I was contemplative, almost depressed sometimes.
I had all this energy just dying to get out.
The voice faded away.
Christina looked a bit shocked. She'd only been here for a couple hours.
A small piece of paper floated into view.
"Enkoncé is not indispensable."
Christina bent over the piece of paper, then jumped back a bit. Her utter frustration with cryptic messages was so obvious on her face a two year old could read it.
"Can't soemthing be simple? Once? Please? God!"
"Oh, but Christina! If something was simple and obvious the earth may turn on its axis from the shock."
Christina eyed me angrily. "Well, it's pretty simple and obvious I'm going to kill your right now, so what does that say about the earth's axis?"

So, originally this book was supposed to end way back at the fight with Krystal, but I decided that was too obvious and standard. So instead I'm going to make Christina an Enkonke, and i'm still debating whether or not the book will end with her as an Enkonke or the Sorceress. i may make Krystal the Sorceress.

STAR testing, so very little homework. I may actually finish this week.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

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