Chapter Seven

Old Friends, not from Facebook

Most people said Elizabeth was unduly cautious, but she knew that one slips up could mean disaster for herself or her young daughter. There was a time when the Roberts family could enjoy being a family, even go on a vacation every once in a while.

She remembered a wonderful family trip to Disneyland just last year. Sara had ridden on Space Mountain at least five times, and they had all enjoyed Splash Mountain immensely. Her husband, Jackson, had purchased the family picture. Even though this picture caught Elizabeth in the middle of a scream, her mouth wide open, and her eyes clamped shut. Sara, on the other hand, was smiling and had thrown her hands in the air. Sara had asked to go on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, and they could not explain to her, a toad spy might be hiding in the animatronics. They settled on Peter Pan instead. As they left the park, Sara was allowed to pick any t-shirt she wanted. Wouldn’t you know it; she chose a pink Minnie Mouse t-shirt. Imagine, her daughter walking around with a rodent on her shirt.

Since that trip, they constantly moved, always staying one step ahead of the toads. Fortunately, she was very sensitive to the magic of the toads. It gave her migraine headaches, and this had helped her stay on the run.

She could sense something was wrong. She didn’t have a headache, but something just wasn’t right.

She knew it was time to tell her daughter about everything.

She was finishing the last batch of avocado muffins. The porridge and scrambled cottage cheese sat on a plate atop the kitchen table. “Tonight,” she whispered, “Tonight I will tell her.” She glanced down the hall and saw Sara coming out of the master bedroom. “Ok. What’s up Sara? You know you are not allowed in my room without permission.”

“Nothing,” said Sara, “Really, nothing at all.” She sat at the table with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. Elizabeth put her hands on her hips as Sara shoveled the food into her mouth- not missing a crumb-, grabbed her backpack, and sprinted out the door for school.

“Sara,” her mother called, “we need to talk after school. It is urgent”.

After she cleaned off the table and washed the dishes, she picked up the trash to take it out to the trashcans in the alley. As she was walking to the garbage cans, she saw the tracks. Dozens of toad tracks and rat tracks pressed into the damp earth. Dropping the trash, she ran back into the house, closing and locking the back door as she did so. “I have to inform Thomas; we have been discovered. They’ve never been this close before.” She ran to her room to get her cell phone.

Midway down the hall, she froze. It was too late. She had heard the toad before she saw him. She turned to face him and noticed he was not the lone toad in the room. “Hello Liz, you have been avoiding us. Now, that isn’t very nice, is it? After all, Liz, we go back a long way, don’t we?” croaked the toad.

“Leave us alone, Appleton, we aren’t bothering anybody,” pleaded Liz.

“You know we can’t do that Liz. The fact that you are still breathing makes my employers nervous but, they want to solve that problem- personally. I regret I didn’t get here soon enough to get that brat kid of yours before she got on that yellow bus. We almost had her,” sneered Appleton. Elizabeth turned to run as the toads unfurled their tongues and shot them at her.

She felt several stings as the poisonous tongues lanced her neck. “I must say, Appleton, you do look better as a toad.” She laughed at Appleton as her world went dark and she crumpled to the floor.

Appleton handed a note to one of the other toads with instructions to place it on the bed. “Don’t disturb anything in the room, am I clear Walter?”

         

*

Tiffani and Sara walked arm in arm to the French doors leading to the garden. Once outside, Sara stopped.

“What’s wrong, Sara?”

“It’s those statues. They are creepy. How about we stay right here?” The statues were turned and staring straight at Sara.

“Oh, they aren’t creepy. They are part of the protection system for The Manor. Come on.”

They strolled through the garden, Sara keeping her eye on those statues. As they walked, the statues followed her. She shivered.

“So, Sara, has your mother told you anything?”

“We talk all the time.”

“I mean about Tenebrae.”

“No, not about that. I don’t understand what’s going on Tiffani. I’m confused.”

“You were taken from our world by your mother and father when you were a baby. At around the same time, the Queen allowed people to leave our world if they first had their magic signatures taken. Tenebrae looks for these signatures, and if we return, we will be killed or imprisoned. We can never go back. Even here many of us are hunted and are either killed or conveniently disappear. The word from back in Tenebrae is a lot of them ended up in Doldunt Prison.”

“Tiffani, that is terrible. Why doesn’t the United States Government do something about it?”

“Earth can never know about us; they wouldn’t understand. Some of us have volunteered as guardians. We protect the others. You were my most recent job.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Only about three years- since I was fifteen.”

Sara counted on her fingers, “That makes you eighteen years old.”

 “Yes, there are times we need to, umm…change our age slightly to protect our assignments.”

“Where is Tenebrae?”

“See the North Star?” Tiffani pointed to the North Star. “Count up seven stars and seven stars to the right.”

“Really? That’s Tenebrae?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Why are you protecting me?”

“I don’t know. Mr. Thompson hasn’t told me why you are so special but, no one has had three guardians at the same time before, so you must be pretty special. I have heard him mention your destiny.”

“My destiny?”

“Yes. Listen, Sara. I like you. I want you to be careful.”

Sara looked up. The statues had turned away and were looking towards the gate. Tiffani followed Sara’s eyes to the statues.

“That’s odd.”

“What is it, Tiffani?”

“I don’t know. It’s time for you to get back in the house now; Mr. Thompson does not like to be kept waiting, and you wouldn’t want to be around him if you make him to miss American’s Got Talent.” Tiffani smiled.

“Aren’t you going too?”

“No, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Sara watched as Tiffani walked towards the gate, her ponytail held in place by a blue ribbon. Sara turned around and went into the house.

Chapter Six

Guess Who’s Coming for Dinner

Bradford opened the door and led Sara into the hallway. “That is your room at the end of the hall.”

“Why do I have to change my shirt? This is my favorite shirt. My father bought it for me at Disneyland.”

“It would be too complicated to explain now. I can only say the other guests at The Manor are not fond of rodents or amphibians, famous or infamous. I’m sure Mr. Thompson will explain later.” He opened the door at the end of the hall. “Dinner is in twenty-three minutes. There are clean clothes in the closet.”

“Thanks.”

Bradford closed the door. Sara looked around. The centerpiece of the room was a large four poster bed with an ornate canopy from which hung beautiful bed curtains. On top of the bed was a beautiful handmade down quilted comforter with a tiny star-shaped design. Massive down pillows lay on top of the quilt. She made a swan dive into the bed.

“Ah, this is fantastic. This is the most comfortable bed in the world. It’s a princess bed.” She rolled around on the soft covers.

Reluctantly, she got up, went to the closet, and pulled out the first item she touched a green dress embossed with a white star on the collar. Looking through the closet, it was full of clothes, all her size, but none of them any more exciting than the dress she pulled out. [RO1] 

After changing, she lay down on the bed and waited for Bradford. The softness of the bed was lulling her to sleep when Bradford knocked at the door.

He led her to the door at the end of the hall.

“This is the door to the study, Bradford.”

“Perhaps, or maybe not,” he said as he opened the door and revealed a long dining room. The dining room table was intricately carved with stars, and the dishes were also predominantly designed with stars.

“This Mr. Thompson dude must like stars,” she thought.

Bradford pulled out a chair. “Have a seat, Miss Sara; the others will be entering shortly.”

Other members of the household began to come into the room and sit down. All of them were staring at Sara, and they all looked familiar to her. There were former teachers, neighbors, and babysitters, all sitting around the table staring at Sara. Five seats remained unfilled. Mr. Thompson and Bradford came in, taking two of the seats. Lastly, Mr. Dalton, Ms. Graham, and Tiffani walked in and sat at the table. Tiffani winked at her.

“Tiffani.”

“Surprise.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It will all be explained in time, Sara,” Mr. Thompson said. “It is time for our first course of dinner.” He jingled a small bell, and several servants came in carrying trays of food: peanut butter and pickle soup.

After finishing his soup, Mr. Dalton explained to Sara, “You see, Sara. We are all guardians; we have sworn to protect others. All of us have been assigned, at some point in your life, to keep you safe.”

“Protect me from what?”

Mr. Thompson jingled the bell, and the main course was delivered: roast beef marinated in vinegar and mayonnaise, peas and pears in tomato sauce, and mashed potatoes with plum and cornflakes gravy.

“We are all from another world, Sara.”

“You are aliens from outer space? Have I been abducted by aliens?”

“You have not been abducted; you are one of us.” Everyone at the table nodded.

“Get out of here.”

“Bradford is the only one here that is actually from Earth. We are from a place far away called Tenebrae. Two thousand years ago it was taken over by evil; causing a small portion of the country adhering to the old ways to split off and become Libero Salus,”

“You guys are crazy, right?” Sara sat up from the table.

“I wish we were, Sara. Sit down, please. I can prove what I say. Our world is a place of deep magic. Magical persons from Tenebrae have a symbol of their magic on the palm of their hand. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you Sara?”

Everyone at the table, except Bradford, raised their right palms to reveal tiny white stars. Sara raised her hand. In the center was a tiny black star. Everyone around the table gasped. Her ex-babysitter, an old woman of about 40, swooned. Bradford jumped up to help her.

“Please relax everyone. I suspected Sara’s star might be black. It probably changes from black to white and back again, does it not Sara?”

“Yes, it does.”

“That is what makes you unique among us, Sara.” He jingled the bell again, and dessert was served: asparagus and onion parfait. “After dessert, Tiffani, you and Sara may take a walk in the garden if you would like and have some time together. At precisely eight oh four, I need to talk to Sara for a while and then we don’t want to miss the audition rounds of Americas Got Talent tonight.” Mr. Thompson started eating his parfait.

          

Sub Commander Jackson Roberts sat at his desk in the dark, damp cave the Senate had chosen for the base of operations for the entire army of Libero Salus forces. His troops were under-armed, underpaid, under-trained, and under-budgeted.

The High Commander repeatedly explained to him, “Libero Salus has a long-standing treaty with Tenebrae, and any show of force would only convince Queen Hillary to break the treaty. Her large, well maintained, superbly trained offensive forces could then invade the last vestiges of Libero Salus.”

He had pleaded to the High Commander for more men, more money, and a chance to make his forces as good as or even better than the Queen’s but with no success. Jackson reviewed his options. The only possibility to fight Tenebrae was covert. He had once belonged to an organization that was doing just that- The Defenders of the White Star. Queen Hillary had caught the leaders and executed or imprisoned them. The organization disbanded. Afterward, the Queen declared a departure amnesty to Earth for all the remaining members and potential members. Only he and his inept army remained to fight.

Jackson, his wife, and newborn daughter had escaped at that time with the help of forged papers from the Guardians. The three of them had been running ever. Queen Hillary wanted Elizabeth back. After all, she was the heir to the Queendom.

Maggie and Janet, Elizabeth’s older sisters, wanted her dead, ensuring the throne for themselves. They had already mysteriously disposed of three older sisters before Elizabeth was even born. They were gradually poisoning their mother to death. Once she succumbed, only Elizabeth would stand in the way. The sisters hired toads and rats to hunt down the Jackson family. The family had been running ever since. Jackson’s only hope was that Thomas, the leader of the Guardians, would keep them safe while he was stuck here in this dead-end army.

If only he had cell phone reception or internet, he could check on them and make sure they were all okay. He had promised to email them daily. Looking down at the picture of the three of them at Splash Mountain, he smiled, remembering the look on his wife’s face when Sara picked out a Minnie Mouse t-shirt. “They need me at home. They need me to protect them from Queen Hillary and her daughters.” He closed his eyes and imagined his daughter screaming with delight as the roller coaster twisted and turned. Then the screams of joy turned into screams of terror as he imagined her captured by the toads.

---

 [RO1]

Chapter Five

Mind Your Manors

Sara removed her cell phone from her front pocket and called her mother.

When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are…. She heard her mother’s ringtone.

She followed the sound of the singing phone to her mother’s room. Lying on the dresser was her mother’s cell phone, purse with keys inside, and sunglasses.

“Maybe Mom would leave her phone behind, perhaps her sunglasses, but purse and keys?”

She looked around the room, her eyes settled on the note lying on her mother’s pillow.

Yesterday morning, while her mother was making a special breakfast, Sara had slipped into her mother’s bedroom and placed a note on her pillow, a little reminder to say she loved her. After that, she returned to the kitchen and enjoyed a delicious scrambled cottage cheese with peas, porridge, and an avocado muffin. Now, a day later, the note still lay on the pillow undisturbed.

Her mother had not been home at all yesterday.

Someone had been in her house today to leave the other note and open the bedroom door.

Knock Knock.

Sara jumped.

“Thomas T. Thompson. Is he the villain? Or is he the good guy?”

She looked at her mother’s cell phone. There were four missed calls. One was from her. The other three were from TTT.

Sara put her mother’s cell phone, sunglasses, purse, and the note from the pillow in her backpack. She turned from her mother’s room, trembling and wiping a tear from her eye, and went to the front door.

She remembered her mother’s concerns for safety. “Do you have some ID?”

The chauffeur showed her a blue card with a large white star on it, Thomas T. Thompson Enterprises.

 Shutting the door behind her, she followed the man in the white suit. She had never noticed the small toad tracks outside her mother’s room. She never saw the instant message on her computer- “WE HAVE YOUR MOTHER. YOU ARE NEXT. THERE IS NO PLACE YOU CAN HIDE.”

Arriving in the limo, she glanced back at her house before she tumbled inside the door.

She played with the gadgets in the limo, momentarily forgetting all her problems. She did not notice the car parked behind them- the car with the toad in an ugly green suit.

“Better hang on, Miss Roberts.”

She put on her seat belt and held on for dear life as the car careened out of the parking spot and turned right, left and right again, throughout the neighborhood. The limo pulled onto the freeway.

“Miss Roberts, we should have a smooth ride from here on. It will be lengthy, however. There are some refreshments in the refrigerator, sodas and some homemade liverwurst cookies; try one, they are delicious.”

Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a Mountain Dew and a cookie.

“MMM…This is great, even better than my mom’s.” She licked the crumbs from her finger.

“I am glad you like them.”

Her eyes began to get heavy. She was tired. It had been a long day. She was exhausted. She drank more Mountain Dew; it always kept her awake. It wasn’t keeping her awake today. It wasn’t wise to fall asleep in the limo with a stranger. She fought a valiant battle to remain awake.

She lost.

“I’m so sorry Miss Roberts. Precautions need to be taken. The location of The Manor must be kept secret.”

The limo drove several miles, took an exit off the freeway, turned down a quiet, deserted country road, and vanished.

Teleportation is still not an exact science. The landings can be unpredictable, especially if the calculations are not configured correctly. Landings are often bumpy. The science has improved over the years, however. In the first experiment, an unsuspecting volunteer in a light blue carriage was to be transported twenty miles. The rear of the carriage arrived unscathed, but the front of the carriage and the driver disappeared.

Fortunately for Sara, the transport to and from Earth and The Manor had been perfected and stored in the Limo’s computer. Bumpy landings, however, were still a problem.

Sara was suddenly awakened by a sharp jerk and a thud.

“Ah, Miss Roberts, you are awake. Did you enjoy your nap? We have arrived.”

She sat up, looking around her and rubbing her eyes. She was greeted by a security camera. On either side of the limo was a long white brick wall extending as far as she could see. In front of the limo was a very impressive wrought iron gate with an enormous white star in the center.

She looked at her palm; the star was white.

The chauffeur punched eight digits into the security system. The numbers were her birthday. The gate disappeared and reappeared once they passed.

The limo continued up a long, straight driveway towards a beautiful white mansion. Along one side of the driveway was a topiary garden of trees and bushes shaped to look like the strangest animals she had ever seen. One was a winged horse, and another looked like a lion’s body but with the head of an eagle. On the other side of the driveway were large statues of men and women. As the limo passed each statue, it turned and stared at the limo. They were frightening; she had scarystatueaphobia. She closed her eyes and did not open them again until the limo stopped in front of the mansion.

The chauffeur led her to the walkway. “They are expecting you, Miss Roberts.” He nodded towards the ornate, white front door carved with stars.

Hesitating, she wished for some courage building Doritos as she pushed the bell. The door opened.

A very tall man was analyzing her. “Mr. Thompson wishes to extend his deepest regrets for the clandestine manner in which this meeting has been arranged.” He spoke in an adamant British accent.

The tall man led her down a long hallway and, pushing open one door of a set of double doors. “This is the study, Miss Sara; the Master will join you shortly.”

She walked around the study. Books covered the walls. One set of books was out of alphabetical order. She wanted to correct them but restrained herself. In the center of the study sat a large desk. On it, she found a lamp, a large jar full of cell phone batteries, and a weird looking phone. No papers. No files. She found nothing telling her who Thomas T. Thompson was.

The door opened, and the oldest man Sara had ever seen in her life shuffled into the room. His wrinkles had wrinkles. He extended his bony, wrinkled, and brown spotted hand to Sara.

“Sara Roberts, it is indeed an honor to meet you. I have known your family for a long time,” the old man said. He kept his hand out. Despite a severe case of bonyhandaphobia, she reached out and touched his hand, afraid of breaking it, and shook it very lightly. Showing surprising strength, the old man grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously.

Mr. Thompson’s eyes settled on the backpack Sara had dropped in the middle of the floor, and his demeanor changed very quickly. “Pardon my impertinence, but it is imperative I see your backpack immediately.”

“Sure,” she said, placing the backpack on the desk and emptying the contents. The tall man walked in and stood by the desk.

“Scan the contents carefully, Bradford.” The old man as he handed the purse to the tall man.”

“That’s my mother’s purse, Mr. Thompson; she left it at home. Can you help me find my mother?”

“We’ll discuss that later, Sara,” Mr. Thompson as he rummaged through the remaining contents. His eyes landed on the cell phone, and the look on his face switched from mild curiosity to intense concern. He removed the battery from the cell phone and put it in the jar of cell phone batteries. “I’m sorry, Sara, but I forgot to tell you the rules concerning cell phones at The Manor. They are expressly forbidden.”

“My mother’s cell phone is in her purse.” Bradford pulled it out and took off the battery.

“I hope we were in time, Sir.”

“I’m sure we will be just fine, Bradford.” He turned to Sara, “You see, Sara, cell phones have GPS transmitters in them, and with the right equipment, you can be found just by honing in on that GPS in your cell phone. The GPS does not work when the batteries are taken off, therefore; we always remove the cell phone batteries before we come to The Manor. I’m sure there wasn’t enough time to trace you.”

She thought about the toad. Maybe he didn’t even need to see the name on the side of the bus.

Mr. Thompson picked up the hairbrush her father had given her. “Have you been instructed on how to use this?”

“Of course.” Sara grabbed the brush from Mr. Thompson and brushed her hair. Mr. Thompson’s eyes widened, a bead of sweat appearing on his brow, as he carefully removed it from her hands. Bradford took a step back.

“I will just hang onto this for the time being, just for your safety, mind you.”

Mr. Thompson picked up the copy of Huckleberry Finn, leafed through the pages, and began to mumble on about how he had known Mr. Twain personally and had spent time with him in San Francisco. The old man set the book down. Sara picked it up and looked at the inside page; Mark Twain had written the book in 1884.

“Bradford, please take Sara to her room to rest before dinner. I suggest a change in clothes would be appropriate; I don’t understand how your parents could allow you to have a shirt with a rodent on it.” He looked at her Minnie Mouse T-shirt. “Dinner is precisely at 6:46; arrive on time please.”

Chapter  Four

Toads on the road

“Bradford, I phoned Elizabeth twice yesterday and once today, and she has not answered.”

“I was leaving to drop off the invitation. Would you like me to have a look around?”

“Yes, please. If there are any signs of trouble, we must make sure Sara is picked up immediately. She must be protected at all costs.”

“I will take care of it, Sir.”

Sara was horrified. The other students had seen her enter the bus with Bride of Frankenstein's hair. Thankfully, no one noticed. Perhaps they were too busy watching the toad following the bus. Maybe they were too involved in their selves to see the newbie in the back of the bus brushing her hair and glaring out the back window.

Finally, at the fourth stop on the way to school, the toad passed up the bus, waved to her, and sped on its way, but only after reading the sign on the side of the bus- WASHINGTON IRVING MIDDLE SCHOOL.

The bus chugged into the school parking lot. She inspected the area for a toad in an ugly green suit. She knew he was here, but she couldn’t find him. Everyone had already left the bus, and the driver was closing the doors when he saw Sara.

“Hey kid, it’s time to leave. Pick up your stuff and get out. I’m on a schedule here.” He pointed to his watch. Sara trudged down the aisle of the bus, looking out of all the windows while the bus driver glared at her and tapped his feet on the floor. As she was scrambling down the steps, she saw Tiffani sitting on the bench. She ran over and sat with her.

The toad forgotten, she started to tell Tiffani about her adventures from the day before.

Tiffani believed her. “Sara, I think we need to talk. There is something you need to know.”

“Okay,” she said as the bell rang. “We’ll talk in English, okay? That’s the late bell. I’m late again. My mom will be so mad.” Sara ran off to class. Tiffani walked to the other side of the campus, glancing about for any wayward toads.

From the shadows, a pair of large toad eyes had seen all that had happened but was not close enough to hear what the girls were talking about. The toad was jotting down notes in a small green notebook which he slipped into his breast pocket. It was now time for him to make his move. He lurched forward out of the shadows to grab his prey as she passed. At that moment a large man in a suit walked up to the girl and escorted her to class. The toad had missed his chance to meet his objective, again.

As Mr. Dalton dropped Sara off at her first-period math class, “Sara, this is your third tardy. You need to work harder at getting into school on time. If you promise to do better, we won’t add this tardy on the books, okay?”

“Sure, I promise Mr. Dalton.” She decided he would never believe the story of the computer calamities or the toad. Mr. Trottier was talking about square roots, but Sara was having a difficult time concentrating today.

School has always been an effort for her because her family moved so often. She is always catching up. But today, the events of the last several hours and a miserable night’s sleep were making concentration on the subject impossible. Her mind was wandering from computer calamities to migraines to toads as she watched the minute hand on the clock move closer and closer to the end of class. Mr. Trottier walked up to her and stood over her. She felt his eyes on the back of her head.

“Well, Sara. I asked you a question. What is the square root of 81?”

Sara had no idea. She had no idea what a square root was, much less what the square root of 81 was. She glanced at the clock; the minute hand had reached the 12. She exclaimed, “It’s nine.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Trottier looked surprised. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.” The bell rang, and she sprinted to her next class, US History.

History class was a repeat of math class. Her thoughts centered on the events of the past few hours and none of her classes. The only thing she learned all day was that the British were coming to the party, the party she was supposed to learn about online last night. She thought, “Now, why would we care if the British came to the tea party?”

Sara was excited about English class; she would get a chance to talk to Tiffani. She raced to class.

“Well Sara, you must be anxious for a lesson in the history surrounding William Shakespeare’s play, Julius Caesar.”

“Uh, sure,” replied Sara, watching down the corridor for Tiffani. The bell rang, Tiffani never came, and she slumped down in her seat.

Now she had, even more, to worry about, toads, instant messages, calamities, migraines and missing BFF’s. She did hear some of the lessons, but none of it made sense. She heard Ms. Graham say “The Eyes of March.” She was also talking about Marc Antony. Sara read all of the tabloid front pages when she and her mom were shopping for groceries. Everyone knows Marc Antony was once married to Jennifer Lopez. This has nothing to do with the Julius Caesar.

“Sara Roberts,” Ms. Graham put her hand on Sara’s shoulder, “We haven’t heard from you all day. Can you tell me anything you have learned in class today?”

She thought for an instant. Could this be a trick question? Every eye in the class was looking at her. “Uh- yes- Ma’am. March has eyes.”

The entire class broke out in laughter. Sara was the high point of this boring class. She shrank down into her seat.

The bell rang. “Before you leave, class, you must study for the test on the play Julius Caesar for tomorrow. We are reading Huckleberry Finn next, and I want three chapters read by Monday. If you do not intend to read all weekend, I would suggest you get started on that. Sara, did you get a chance to start reading the book last night?”

“No, Ms. Graham.” Sara thought maybe she should explain to Ms. Graham all the events of the evening before but decided, unlike Tiffani, Ms. Graham would not believe her.

“Class Dismissed.”

PE Class was uneventful.

At lunch, Sara waited for her at Tiffani’s table. Tiffani never came. Sara ate her Oreo cookies alone, worrying about her BFF.

Finding a secluded part of the school next to the library, she opened her phone and called Tiffani. Again, there was no answer. The phone didn’t even ring.

Sara plodded through the rest of her day. She seriously considered leaving class early and walking home. She knew that would not only be breaking a strict home rule but, it would also be breaking a strict school rule. It would go on her permanent record. Not that she knew what a permanent record was, but it was probably the reason the commercials on TV talked about people with bad credit. All of them probably left school early, and it got on their permanent record.

The end of the day finally came, and she rode home on the bus, hoping she would find her mother in the kitchen making onion, bologna, and macadamia nut cookies. The bus pulled up to her house. She stepped off and marched up to the house, ready to force the calamities from her home. As she approached the front door, her pulse quickened, and her steps slowed. Looking down the street for any signs of toads and finding none, she marched up to the front door, slammed it open with a major attitude, and shouted, “I’m gonna kick some major monster booty- you just better get out of my way.”

There were no monster booty’s to kick. The house was in perfect condition and as she left it except one thing. Her mother’s door was standing open. She ran into the room, but it was empty. The bed was made. It was neat and tidy, and there was a note lying on her mother’s bed. “Sara, I half left to help your Ant Abigail. She had an acident and had nowere else to turn. Love, Mom.”

Oddly, the handwriting or the spelling on the note did not look like her mothers and Sara had never heard of an Aunt Abigail. As far as she knew, she didn’t have any aunts, uncles, or grandparents. She had just stepped back into the living room when she noticed the note under the door, written in very impressive calligraphy.

Miss Sara Roberts

The Distinguished Mr. Thomas T. Thompson requests the presence of your company today at precisely 4:43 PM. Be Prompt. I have taken the liberty of sending transportation. This is of utmost importance.

Sincerely,

Thomas T. Thompson, ESQ.

A white stretch limo pulled up in front of her house. She was relieved to see that the chauffeur was not a toad.

Chapter Three

Things that go Bump in the Day

BUZZ. BUZZ.

The alarm sounded at 6:00 AM. Sara reached over and after several attempts managed to press the snooze button. It had been a night of turmoil. She had tossed and turned all night long, and with every toss and every turn, a new nightmare would invade her dreams.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

When her alarm sounded the second time, she knew she could no longer avoid the inevitable. It was time to get up.

She couldn’t move. She tried turning over but couldn’t move. Was she paralyzed? Or was something holding her down? She tried raising her arms. Could the evil calamities have invaded the sanctity of her room overnight and attacked her? Glancing in her mirror, she saw apparitions hovering over her holding down her arms and legs. Her worst fears had come true. Shaking and sweating from fear, Sara looked over and saw the hairbrush lying on the bedside table. She tried to reach for it but could not move her arms. She had no weapon against these horrendous calamitous ghosts. It was hard to breathe. They were suffocating her. “I want my daddy.” The apparitions closed in on her.

BUZZ. BUZZ.

She opened her eyes; the alarm was ringing. Reaching over to turn it off, it occurred to her- she was moving. She looked into the mirror. There were no ghosts. It was only a nightmare.

She had a busy morning ahead of her. Not only would she have to get ready for school and make her breakfast, but she would have to wrestle computer calamities first. She had only 45 minutes to get to the school bus.

Opening her closet door, she saw all of her clothes in order as she had carefully arranged them, jeans on the left. T-shirts were on the right in the order she would wear them. First a red one, then a blue one, then green, pink, orange, purple, and yellow. Having worn green yesterday, she picked up the next shirt- her pink Minnie Mouse shirt, her favorite shirt. She could never have a bad day when she wore her favorite shirt.

Her hair was a mess. She needed to brush it. Her perfect ponytail now looked like she had used her hair to mop the kitchen floor. She glanced over to the bedside table, the place she had seen the hairbrush last. It was not there.

“Duh.” laughed Sara, “I saw it there in my dream.” So where was this hairbrush/weapon? She had sat it down next to the backpack when she rescued her cell phone and had not picked it up again.

She had developed a very strict routine every morning and hated varying from the routine even the slightest. She sat on the edge of her bed, wanting to brush her hair, open the door, smell her mother’s cooking, run down the hall, give her mom a hug, eat her breakfast, grab her backpack and lunch, and run to the bus stop. Today was not an ordinary day.

Wishing for her mother’s special spinach pancakes, she ate a few crumbled Doritos, some Oreo cookies, and the rest of the Mountain Dew. Next, she needed to retrieve her backpack and hairbrush.

She tip-toed to the door, opened it slightly and glanced at her mother’s door. It was still closed. There were no signs of monsters from the hallway to the kitchen entry. She closed the door again.

Grabbing the cell phone and IPOD she shoved them in her pockets and holding onto the Oreos for a nutritious lunch. She opened the door, scampered down the hall, darted into the kitchen, scooped up the hair brush, threw the backpack over her shoulder, scurried through the kitchen door, and ran for the bus, arriving just before the driver closed the doors. As she entered the bus doors, she glanced at a car parked in front of her house. A giant toad was sitting in the driver’s seat staring at her. She gulped.

The sight of a large toad in a hideous green suit sitting in a car in front of her house would appear odd to Sara but, after the events of the previous day, it was not so shocking.

She sat at the back of the bus and watched as the toad pulled away from the curb and followed the bus.

Unable to solve the toad problem, Sara started to solve the one problem she could solve. She brushed her hair and put it into the perfect ponytail.

Chapter Two

Cell Phones, Backpacks and Goblins

Trembling, with her back against the door, she scanned the room. Her eyes fell upon Teddy. She stared at him longingly, but grown-up thirteen-year-olds able to play T-rated games do not snuggle with teddy bears.

Moments later she was lying curled up on the bed holding Teddy. Comforted, she began to consider her situation; “Now that my mother has another migraine, I guess that means we’ll be moving again.”

Sara’s family moved often and lately, every couple of months and always after her mother had a migraine. They had been here since Christmas, merely six weeks ago.

“I will miss Tiffani; she has been the best friend I ever had. On my first day at my new school she walked up to me and said, Hi, my name is Tiffani. Welcome to Washington Irving Middle School. What are your classes? Maybe we have some classes together?’ A friend like that is a once in a lifetime find.”

“I need to explain to Tiffani why I am moving. I can’t leave without telling her,” she asked Teddy. “I need to call her now.” She sprang out of bed.

She searched the room looking for her cell phone. It was not on the table or the dresser, and it was not in her pocket or under the bed. Tearing the covers from the bed, all she found was dry; lint covered gummy bear hiding under the pillow. “EW.” She covered it back up with the pillow.

In her mind, she retraced her steps since coming home from school. “I always take the cell phone out of my backpack and put it in my pocket when my mom makes me pick up the backpack from the kitchen floor.” Sara slumped on the bed. “Mom never told me to pick up the backpack. It is still in the middle of the kitchen floor, and the cell phone is still in it- sitting in the midst of the pitch dark kitchen and surrounded by creepy computer calamities.” Sara had developed a severe case of calamitia-phobia.

She felt safe in her room. It was warm, it was light, and it was her space. Her mom was safe behind her closed door. No one was safe in the rest of the calamity infested house. She needed to figure out a way to get to the kitchen and retrieve her backpack without being attacked. She imagined the instant message escaping from her computer, morphing into a multitude of hairy monsters, and searching for her. It took little imagination to figure out what would happen if it found out she was there.

Thinking maybe a trip to the kitchen would not be a wise undertaking and convincing herself she did not need to call Tiffani right away anyway, she decided to start on her homework she had conveniently ignored. Her assignment was to look on the internet about some lame party in Boston. “Yes, a tea party. I hope my history book will have something in it because I’m not going near that computer, not ever again. Unfortunately, my history book is in my backpack. Who cares about some silly tea party in Boston? Pardon me, Sir, do you have any tea and crumpets?” she said in her most proper English accent, giggling.

“In my English class I need to start reading that Huckleberry something book, but it is also in my backpack. I can’t do that.”

“If I have to sit around, I could listen to music. Now, where is my iPod?” she asked herself as she glanced around the room, “Where else? In my backpack.”

She had no other choice. Rescuing her backpack was necessary. Inching herself cautiously towards the bedroom door, she listened- nothing but silence. Breathing deeply and opening the door warily, she peered down the hall. Nothing was visible except her mother’s closed-door illuminated by a fraction of light escaping her open door. She closed the door again and ran and jumped back on her bed, grabbing the teddy bear.

“I need courage. The calamities could be hiding anywhere.”

Rubbing her face with her hands, she paused and stared at the palm of her right hand.

It was back. In the center of her right palm appeared a tiny black star. She had first noticed one on her birthday. She had tried washing and scrubbing with every different type of soap she could find, but it wouldn’t go away. She had shown it to her mom.

Her mom had said, “You need to wash your hands for supper, Sara.”

She didn’t wash her hands. Instead, she found a magnifying glass and investigated the small dot in the middle of her hand. It wasn’t a dot at all. It was a small black star. The next day it was gone. Last week it had come back, and it had been white. Now the black star was back again. The star was not her current problem and staring at it would not give her any courage.

“Didn’t I hear somewhere about certain foods giving people super-human courage? I’m sure it was on the Food Network, the Discovery Channel or I made it up, but I’m sure it’s true.”

Searching the room she saw a can of warm Mountain Dew, a bag of crumpled Doritos laying on the floor and lifting her pillow once again, a disgusting gummy bear. “The Oreos, where are the Oreos? Oh yeah, I left them next to the computer.” She looked at the Doritos, then the gummy bear, and then back to the Doritos. “It will have to be Doritos because I am not touching that gummy bear.”

She guzzled the soda and ripped open the Doritos bag, spilling chips and crumbs all over her bed. “I have to clean that up before my mom sees it.” She stuffed her face with Doritos.

Satisfied, she crept towards the door, waiting for the super-human courage to explode inside her.

Whether it was the added caffeine, a full tummy, or only the resolution in her mind that she had to do this, Sara was more courageous.

Scanning the room for a weapon, she grabbed the first item she saw, the hairbrush her father had given her for her birthday. He said it was special. Pointing the hairbrush like a sword, she sneaked up to the door, ducked down low, opened the door, and entered the hallway, closing the door behind her. She crept along the floor in the dark, frightening hallway she hoped this would confuse the calamities into thinking that she was just the family pet. With her head down and her hairbrush at the ready, she crawled slowly towards the kitchen.

The calamities had not disturbed her; she knew they were out there, but they had not noticed her. They could be lying in wait, lulling her into feeling safe and then as she returned to her room they would attack. She peered into the darkness of the kitchen sure she saw the outline of something large in the corner. She rummaged through the backpack, grabbing the cell phone and the iPod and decided Huckleberry would have to fend for itself. There were not enough Doritos in the world to make her that brave. Remembering where she had laid the Oreos, she reached up and grabbed them as she crawled next to the computer. A faint glow flowed from the monitor. The light on the power cord was off. “Impossible,” she whispered, “everything is turned off.” As she briskly crawled down the hall, she could feel the breath of the calamities as they followed her.

Ping.

Sara jumped up and ran to her room slamming the door behind her and sinking to the floor. After calming herself, she shouted, “I did it. I rescued my cell phone and my iPod and my Oreos from the calamities.” Speaking as if she were an announcer, she said, “Introducing the latest Superhero Spy, Sara the valiant.” She bowed to the imaginary audience. As the imaginary applause died down, she called Tiffani on the cell phone. The call went straight to voicemail. It didn’t even ring.

She jumped into bed, listened to her iPod, and munched on a few Oreos. Eventually, she dropped the Oreos on the floor, turned over, grabbed Teddy, and fell asleep. Awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of crashing, she sat up in bed; but it was only a thunderstorm. She listened to the sound of the rain on the window and thought she heard the croaking of a frog or was it a toad? In a matter of seconds, she was fast asleep hoping the monsters did not function well in the morning.

A SOMEWHAT TRUE ADVENTURE OF

SARA ROBERTS

RAMON BALLARD

Chapter One

 

Instant Message from a Toad

Goose pimples danced on her skin, and she shivered while smelling damp earth and rotten eggs. If evil had a smell, this was it.

The ropes binding her hands and feet were digging into her skin, and she groaned when she tried to move. Tiny pricks and throbbing sensations radiated from the side of her neck as if something had stung her.

She was having another dream- a nightmare.

Opening her eyes, she adjusting them to the low light. Surrounded by a large, dingy tent, beams of light filtering through small holes in the fabric but no other light penetrated the thick walls of the tent.

 “Bring me the prisoner.” boomed a voice from outside the tent.

Sara listened as the sound of heavy footsteps approached the tent. She closed her eyes again and lay still, hoping the creature would not realize she was awake. This was no dream.

She heard the tent flap open, and the sound of footsteps grew louder until they stopped next to her. Warm, foul-smelling breath assaulted her nose. She trembled. A slimy hand tapped her on the shoulder. She forced herself to breathe evenly, not a squirm, not shake, and not scream. The footsteps retreated. She ventured to open her eyes a sliver, just in time to see a giant toad exiting the tent.

“She’s still unconscious, Sir.”

“I’ll be in my tent. Contact me the moment she awakes.” Sara could barely see the commanding toad as he croaked this order, but he was familiar. She had first met him several days earlier. Her stomach churned as she watched his eyes and his neck bulge and throb. She gagged when his tongue burst out of his mouth and snatched a defenseless dragonfly as it buzzed by him.

She wondered, “How did I get myself into this predicament?” Her memories flooded back as the poison wore off.

It was that instant message. It all started with a simple instant message only five days ago.

 Sara threw open the unlocked door. “Mom, I’m home, no homework, when’s dinner, gonna check my email,” she barked in rapid succession. With perfected precision, she dropped her backpack in the middle of the kitchen floor, scanned the area for snacks, plopped herself into the chair, and with one swift motion flipped on the computer and the internet.

Munching on a few Peanut M & M’s and guzzling a Mountain Dew which she had mysteriously seized on her way from the kitchen to the computer desk, she opened her email looking for a message from her father. He was away on business again, and he had promised this time to email every day, but she had received none. There were no emails and no friends online. Sara would have settled for some junk mail. However, it could never happen because her mother was the queen of home security. The door was seldom left unlocked. Computers and the internet were locked down so tight an ant couldn’t invade her mother’s protection.

She stared mindlessly at her monitor.

Ping. An instant message appeared.

She smiled. She opened the message.

Are you there, Sara?  

She frowned at the unrecognized screen name. The impossible had happened. Someone had broken through her mother’s impenetrable security and the intruder knew her name. She closed the message and reminded herself to let her mom know about this breach of security. Reviewing the list of boring E games her mother allowed her to have, she scowled, opening one. Her friends played T and M games, but not Sara. It had taken a multitude of well-placed tears to get any games at all. No amount of pleading could convince her mother to block access to the educational websites.

Ping.

She stopped her game, expecting a conversation with one of her online friends.

Are you there, Sara?

“Mom, come here. I got an instant message from a stranger. Did you change my security?” Her mom didn’t answer. Sara hadn’t heard from her mom all afternoon. She hadn’t yelled at her to pick up her backpack. She hadn’t asked for proof of no homework. No unusual smells were coming from the kitchen. Sara clicked “ignore” on the internet message, “Hey Dude. You try to come back after that. You are history.” She stood up and looked around the gloomy room.

“I’m thirteen years old now. I can handle this.” She was on the verge of panic. “Mom must be here somewhere. She would never, ever leave me alone.” Peeking in the kitchen to see if her mom was making one of her experimental surprise dinners, her stomach rumbled telling her some chicken gizzards a la mode would be perfect right now. Only her unattended backpack sat in the middle of the floor. She stepped down the hall and looked in all the rooms. Finally, she stood in front of her mother’s closed door.

Her mom often suffered from migraine headaches and would shut herself in her room for hours with the door closed. Sara could not disturb her mother when the door was closed.

“Mom must have fallen asleep from one of her migraines and cannot wake up to make dinner or hug me. I’m sure it would be okay to disturb her this one time. The rule doesn’t apply if you are starving. Then again, Mom still treats me like a baby. I need to show her I’m all grown up, grown-up enough for T rated games.” She walked away from the door, her stomach growling. “I must make dinner myself. It can’t be that hard.” She walked into the dark kitchen. She grabbed another can of Mountain Dew from the refrigerator, arranged by types of food, from shortest to tallest. From the pantry, she grabbed a bag of Doritos conveniently placed next to the donuts. Then she snatched the bag of Oreos located right next to the oregano in her mother’s alphabetically organized kitchen. As she assured herself of the nutritional merits of this three-course dinner, she noticed just how dark it was getting and sped out of the kitchen.

Ping. She stopped.

Sara stared at the computer screen. There was the instant message again.

Are you there Sara?

The message had come back even after she had clicked “ignore.” Sara flipped off the computer, the internet, and the monitor and ran into her room, slamming the door behind her and turning on her light. She leaned her back against the door, breathing heavily and crushing the bag of Doritos against her chest. “Mom’s gonna get me now, I’m in big trouble. I forgot to turn off the internet, and now all sorts of calamities will happen.”

Hadn’t her mother warned her repeatedly, “Leaving the internet running leaves us susceptible to many viruses and unknown calamities?” 

Far away in the White Star Manor, two family friends are discussing the latest phone call from Elizabeth, Sara’s mother.

“Bradford, Elizabeth has told me Sara does have a star on her hand. I believe it is time. Elizabeth has promised to tell her tonight. Then I can meet with the child.”

“Sir, she’s still so young, and if I might say so, a bit spoiled.”

“I know, but it is better done sooner than later. I believe Sara will need to grow up very quickly. If the sisters get Sara and her mother, then we have lost all hope, and they are getting closer every day.”

“Elizabeth has not had another migraine, has she?”

“No, she hasn’t, but I just have a gut feeling that they are close. Perhaps they have discovered a way to shield their magic, so she doesn’t feel their presence.”

“I’ll prepare some rooms for them both.”

“Excellent, and make an invitation for the child for tomorrow evening, something light, we wouldn’t want to frighten her.”

“Certainly, Sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, that will be it, thank you, Bradford. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You would get along as you did the one hundred fifty years before I joined the Defenders, Sir—just fine.”