Chapter One

1984

"Nobody steps on a church in my town!"

"One, two, three... Roast him!"

The five of us shot our proton guns at the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man who reared back a little and roared. New York was in shambles. Cars were overturned; the people were blocked from the area and were screaming. As of this moment, we also had two innocent people possessed by Zuul and Vince Clortho, and turned into these huge hellish hound dogs. Gozer had challenged us and now we had to fight this damn thing. With a loud roar, the overgrown marshmallow man slammed his body up against the building, fire and the smell of roasted marshmallows flew up at us. We scurried away and went to a little safe place.

But, the story doesn't start here. It starts four years before, in 1980. I had just started teaching at Columbia University.

1980

"Well... Miss...?"

"Mackenzie." I cleared my throat, brushing my auburn bangs out of my face. My deep blue eyes sparkled through my long, black eyelashes. The color popped out nicely because of my pale skin that never tanned—always burned. The only tannish color in my skin was my many, many freckles. They sat across my nose in a neat line that reached both of my cheeks, and dotted my arms and legs. I even had one on the top of my left ear, and a few on my chest. I stood at a whopping 4'9" (the shortest in my family). Black framed glasses sat gracefully on the bridge of my nose. My outfit consisted of a white button down shirt and a black pencil skirt, along with skin color hose and black two inch heels (I could never wear stilettoes). I heard my Scottish accent sort of echo off the walls, making me cringe just a bit. My parents and I moved to America when I was one, and ever since I've kept my accent. It's different and I'm proud of it.

"Mackenzie..." The Dean cleared his throat. "Although we are very interested in having an ancient history and language course here at Columbia, I'm not sure if you're the right person to be teaching this."

"Why? Because I'm so young?" I flashed my smile, showing off my perfect white teeth that were hidden beneath my red lipstick. "Dean Yager. I graduated from high school at the age of twelve. After that, I excelled at Harvard, earning all A's through all my years up until graduation. I kept going back until I received a professional's degree. I'm twenty five now. You can imagine how many courses I was able to whiz through in that amount of time." I saw the dean's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Now. What do you think about that?"

"Well... Although I'm very interested in hiring you, I just don't think that you're qualified."

"Picky, huh?" I raised my eyebrows. "I understand. But I do think that it would be better if the kids were taught by someone near their own age. But, you do what you want." I stood up and held my hand out. "Pleasure meeting you, Dean Yager. I hope you'll reconsider."

The dean stood and took my hand in his, shaking it. "Well, if I change my mind, I'll call you."

"Thank you. You have my number, yes?"

"Yes, you wrote it down on the paper."

"Just making sure." I smiled softly and walked out of the room.

"Whoa there! Watch out! Super-fast sponges coming through!" a man with brown hair yelled. The other man next to him, his hair just a lighter shade of brown, glared at him.

"Peter. This is a major scientific breakthrough. It's the biggest sponge migration in history."

The other man, Peter, looked at him with a bored look on his face.

"Ray. They're sponges."

Ray rolled his eyes and walked into Dean Yager's office. Peter shook his head and looked at me.

"He likes sponges. He thinks they move so fast."

"How fast did they move?" I raised an eyebrow.

"A foot and a half."

I nodded. "Hey, for sponges that's pretty good."

"Oh, jeez, another sponge lover." Peter dramatically fell into a chair. I shook my head and started to leave when I bumped into another man, much taller than myself.

"Oh shit..." I muttered and looked up.

"I'm sorry." The man apologized. His voice was deep, but not too deep. It seemed to fit his height. I looked up at him. Round glasses, with tall, fluffy dark hair, he wasn't anything to scoff at. His eyes were brown, the color of my brother's.

"You're fine." I stepped out of the way, readjusting my purse strap. "It was my fault; I wasn't watching where I was going." I smiled softly and hurried out, walking down the steps of Columbia before anyone could say anything.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

One week after I applied to work at Columbia, I sat in my apartment with my brother. My brother looked nothing like me, although he was related to me. His hair was pitch black and he had brown eyes. His skin was darker, and he looked more Italian than anything. His name was Mikey Mackenzie, and like me, he had a Scottish accent.

"I don't know, Zoe. I honestly think that the Dean on Columbia was putting you over. You're a child prodigy; that intimidates people."

"I've heard that before." I rolled my eyes. Mikey, unlike me, was in his fourth year of college at NYU, and almost always came over for me to help him with his algebra. Today, though, he came over for a friendly visit.

"Face it. You have great credentials but, you know, at the end of the day people are either intimated or not. I think Dean Yager might be just a bit intimidated."

"You're just jealous because you can't do algebra." I teased him. Mikey stuck his tongue out at me. "Anyway..." I sighed. "How's Dad?"

Mikey sighed quietly. "Not good. He's still on life support, but I'm not sure how long that'll last."

I thinned my lips and looked down. About a week ago, my father fell down some stairs and hit his head. He hasn't woken up yet. I've tried to push it out of my mind, but it kept coming back with a vengeance. But I haven't cried. Not yet. I refuse to cry until something actually happens.

The phone rang and I hopped up. But Mikey was the first at the phone.

"Zoe Mackenzie's residence, Mikey Mackenzie speaking." He smirked at me. "Ah, I see. Well, I'm sorry but she's—"

"You little shit!" I yanked the phone out of his hands, making him walk over to the couch and laugh his head off. "Hello, this is Zoe Mackenzie." I said into the phone.

"Zoe." I heard Dean Yager's voice over the phone. "Good news. I've decided to give you a job here after all."

"As?" I tried to hide my excitement.

"Well what do you think?" I heard a smile in his voice. "Professor of Ancient History and Languages of course."

I squealed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! You won't regret this, I promise!" I giggled.

"I hope not. Your first day starts Monday at 8:30. Don't be late."

"I won't be. Thank you!" I squealed again and hung up.

"Well? What's the news?" Mikey crossed his arms. I squealed again and hugged him tightly.