2Okay, here's chapter one. The beginning of the really weird, Tiara is scitzofrenic, part. Btw, if any of you have an idea for a better title or name for the land of Fiction (right now just known as Fiction-land) please let me know.
Okay, read on.
I woke up to a similar beeping, that of my digital alarm clock. I rolled over and slammed my hand down on the snooze button even though I knew I had an appointment to make across town that morning. A moment later, I forced myself out of bed, not perfectly put together already like the movie characters we all wished we were. My hair was a mess, and I still couldn't find the dress slacks I wanted to wear. Five minutes late, as always, I ran downstairs, grabbed a banana and a cup of coffee, kissed my dad, and hurried out the door.
My younger sister Dusty called after me, "Aren't you gonna take me to school?"
I stopped for a second. "Are you ready?"
"Almost."
"All right. Get in the car," I gave in, as always. A couple minutes later, she ran out the door barefoot and jumped into the seat next to me. As I backed out of the driveway, she was putting on her Airwalks and eyeliner at the same time. I knew Dad would think it was too dark, but I didn't mind. We pulled onto the main road in my little, blue, economy car, and neither of us thought one bit about the black pick-up that pulled out behind me. Dusty and I bickered a little about what music to listen to, or whether Mom like the shirt on the lady next to us—only normal things—as I sped up to make it past a yellow light. Neither of us noticed the two Mexicans in the black truck behind us who purposefully ran the red light to stay on our tail.
"Are you gonna pick me up after school?" Dusty wondered, as I turned off the main road. The Mexicans followed.
"No," I answered, adjusting my mirror so I could see them better. Their creepy faces made me think, "kidnappers, child molesters, bank robbers! but I quickly shook that off. Being a fiction writer, sometimes my wild imagination would take over. Figuring they just lived in the area, I finished, "I have to work."
She gave me her best pouty face, so I ordered, "No, don't give me those Puss eyes. I can't give in, and you know it. This money's for your graduation present."
"Yeah, so you make Mom and Dad buy you new clothes."
"Shut up," I laughed, pushing her a little. It made me the slightest bit too late to take my next turn, and Dusty mocked me by screaming as we took it sharply. We both should have laughed at that, but I didn't because I was watching the pick-up as it followed us, dangerously cutting in front of another car.
Dusty say me staring at them in my mirror, so she asked, "Do you think they're following us?"
"Let's see," I replied, making a quick u-turn and pulling back up to the intersection. They also made a u-turn. I turned right at the stop sign, and they once again came close to hitting someone to stay behind me.
"You're going away from the school," Dusty reminded.
"Did you want me to drop you off, so I could fend for myself against the Mexicans with my karate chop moves?" I questioned.
"No," she insisted.
"That's what I though…hold on!" I warned, making another quick right turn.
"Circle the block every three blocks, don't stop at any red lights, and never use turn signals," Dusty told me, quoting from the TV series Alias.
I laughed a little as I took her suggestion and circled the block instead of going straight. Still, the Mexicans followed. Sooner than I expected, I was lost from all the random turning I did, yet the truck was able to keep up. After not too long, we ended up in an abandoned subdivision that was under construction. Dusty continued to shout out to me random directions to turn, until there were big rocks on the road, and all I could do was choose the least damaging direction.
We were bouncing up and down uncontrollably, and I swerved around trying not to drive over any that could pop my tires. Suddenly, we heard a POP! My engine sputtered and died.
"What the muffin!" I shouted, banging my head repeatedly on the horn.
"Did you break it?" Dusty exclaimed.
"I dunno."
"Well, are you outta gas?"
"I don't know…Just lock the doors, and grab something sharp," I commanded, deciding we best prepare to be attacked by the Mexicans, but they just drove by, waving cheerfully. Both our jaws dropped in disbelief.
After a moment of shocked silence, I pulled out my cell phone, and Dusty asked, "Who'ya callin'?"
"Mom and Dad to see if they can come pick us up," I responded, but a second later I tossed it to the floor, stating, "I have no service."
Dusty, grumpily looking around for another solution, noticed something in the field out her window and asked, "Hey Tiara, is that a pay phone?"
"I doubt it. Do you want me to go check it out?"
"Yeah."
I opened my door and climbed out of my car with a handful of change, hoping that thing out there was a working pay phone. Cautiously, I worked my way through the field. My author instinct was kicking up again, causing me to psyche myself our about every possible option. When I finally reached it, however—after examining it top to bottom on all sides—I came to the conclusion that it was an average highway tollbooth. Only this tollbooth was smaller and purple.
Forcing myself to think no more than, That's a bit strange, I walked through it to get back to the car. When I made it through to the other side, though, I noticed there was no longer a field and my car but instead the room of a Renaissance castle with a telephone in the corner. Using the telephone was a blonde, British lady who I could have sworn I'd seen in a James Bond movie. The only problem with that was she was pregnant and had three children running around her feet.
I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't imagining this and then kindly asked, "How much longer do you think you'll be using that phone?"
"Do I look like I'm using that phone?" She demanded harshly.
"Yes," I replied unsurely.
"Well, I'm not."
"Could I use it then?"
"No."
"Why not?" I wondered.
"Because I'm using it." She really drew out the "Iiiiii'mm." A second later she continued, "Plus, the call I'm expecting is very important. I'm guarding the phone for someone top secret. If I let you use it, I may have to kill you. Out with you then."
I turned to leave, happy to go, but the tollbooth demanded I pay 50 cents before it would let me pass. Confused, I complied and then rushed back to the car, anxious to get away from the tollbooth.
When I sat back in the driver's seat, Dust said, "I suppose you didn't get a hold of Mom and Dad out there."
"Why do you say that?" I asked, wondering how she knew already.
"'Cuz they just called on your phone, which 'doesn't work,'" she answered sarcastically. "What took you so long just standing there anyways?"
"Do you remember that weird book we read a long time ago, The Phantom Tollbooth?"
"Yeah."
"I think that was the tollbooth."
"What do you mean? Like THE tollbooth, or just a tollbooth."
"The tollbooth," I answered.
"No way. You're crazy. I always knew you made things up."
"No, I'm serious! For a moment there, I wasn't in the field."
"Whatever. Just like the Mexicans were following us."
It was hours later. My car had been towed, Dusty was at school, and I was back home. I had already called to reschedule my appointment and tell my boss I couldn't come in. With all that extra time, I had nothing better to do than sit down and write some more in my most recent book I was writing. I wasn't sure what I would call it yet, but it was the third in a series about a Japanese boy in high school who was also a detective. His name was Takeshi, but that meant bamboo tree, so everyone knew him as Nori. He was always able to figure out the really hard cases, and still finish most of his homework, except for one. His best friend Chiyo had been kidnapped—though he thought she was dead—and he could never find the "scoundrels who did it."
He had come close before, but the problem was that I didn't know who had done it. Every time I tried to find Chiyo, I got writer's block. It was just so much easier to figure out the other cases. I was trying really hard to figure out what I was going to do about her when I heard the doorbell ring.
"I'll get it," I called through the house, thankful for a break. I also knew that wherever my parents were, I was closer to the door.
Without thinking twice I flung the door open. I watched as the black pick-up truck drove by, after which my eyes came to rest on the figure that stood in our doorway. He was like nothing I'd ever seen before. A long, dark, hooded cloak covered most of the tall, lengthy figure. Softly glowing blue eyes stood out the most in his face, followed by a long, curly, Confucius moustache. In his right hand, he held a came, but his left hand wasn't a hand at all. It was a lobster claw, bright blue at the wrist and gradually getting darker at the tips.
I stood there in complete shock. That was the third absolutely insane thing to happen to me that day. Was I becoming schizophrenic, or did these creatures really exist? I started to close the door, but he put his cane in the door to stop me.
Pushing the door open and entering the house, he demanded, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
I backed away from him nervously, without saying a word.
Mom came into the entryway, asking, 'Who is it Sweetie?"
The man threw back his hood, revealing his shoulder length, black hair, narrow face, and pointed chin. Mom gasped when she saw the claw and the dark blue color of his skin. I was actually relieved to hear her gasp because it meant I wasn't the only person seeing him. Ignoring out silent stares, the creature gestured to the couches in our living room using his claw hand.
As if he were the host, he questioned, "Shall we sit?"
Mom and I obeyed at once, sitting together on one couch and trying to consume enough space that he would have to sit on the other. He casually made his way to the second couch, carefully pulling his cloak to one side before gently sitting down.
After another awkward moment, he mentioned, "Will there be drinks?" It was at that moment I realized that his voice did seem raspy.
Mom was immediately to her feet again to get drinks. From the look on her face, I could tell she would also be getting Dad. I did not want to stay there by myself with him, but I didn't have much of a choice. I glanced nervously around the room, trying not to look directly at him. I was very scared that his might actually be real.
Randomly, he demanded, "What is your name?"
"Tiara," I responded insecurely. "What's yours?"
"Doesn't matter," he replied harshly.
"That's a sad name." I was testing my limits, to see what I could get away with.
He acted like he might rip my head off, but then he clamed himself and answered, "Lionel."
I tried not to let him see that I felt that name didn't really fit his character, and when I felt like the silence was creeping up again, I inquired, 'Where'd you get the claw?"
"Don't ask stupid questions like that!" He shouted. Then, a second later he asked, "You have a computer?"
"Yeah," I replied, thinking to myself, Don't ask stupid questions like that.
Before I could ask why he wanted to know, Mom came back with the drinks. She handed one to each of us and then sat back down on the couch. Only a second later, Dad came into the living room. He had his arms crossed and was trying to look tough for us. I could still tell he was scared, though.
After he tried to build the tension higher than it was, Dad asked in a voice lower than his really was, "What is it you want from us?"
The man finished drinking the water and crushed the glass in his claw. "I'm looking for a friend."
"What?" Was how all of us instantly replied.
Dad continued, "We know someone you know?"
Fidgeting with a knick-knack he found on our coffee table, the man explained, "I know someone I expect you can find. "Then he touched my cheek with his claw, "Darling."
I shivered, but managed to ask, "You want me to find someone for you?...Who?"
"I want you to find Tia Dalma…and your parents' lives depend upon it."
I looked him in the face for the first time because I was so shocked. "Tia Dalma, as in Pirates of the Caribbean Tia Dalma?"
"There is only one Tia Dalma," he answered, standing up and walking over to my dad. He was at least a foot taller than Dad, so he did well at intimidating us when he rested his claw on Dad's shoulder and asked, "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
I gulped, nodded, and ran out of the house as quickly as I could.