So, you know how after school, you get to kick your feet up, grab a drink, and relax? That's not our house.

It's Wednesday. Which means I have the church program. Then Dad picks me up, and I have to sit at his rehearsal for his musical, while Mom's off doing something or other. And we sit there. For, like, hour 'n a half to two hours. Then Mom picks us up.

Yeah, it's fun.

Thankfully, we're allowed to bring stuff. But that's also kind of a pain. I'm currently carrying my iPad, with headphones, my sketchbook, the bag of CaliArt markers, and some drawings that I can show people, 'cause that's always fun.

Good thing experience has taught me how to hold all this stuff. Practice really does make perfect.

So, here I am, standing at the door. Well, more pacing through the kitchen and dog room, but who cares about specifics. My brother, Moss is being annoying and taking forever, as usual.

"Moss, we need you over here!" I shout.

"I'M COMING! YOU DON'T NEED TO SHOUT AT ME!" He screeches, running out of the bathroom, grabbing his iPad and headphones along the way. Oh, well nothing out of the ordinary.

We get in the car, Moss grumbling. I set my stuff down in the middle of the two backseats, and stare out the window, letting my imagination run wild. Figuratively and literally.

I pick up an oldish drawing of Billy the Parakoopa. Oh, those were the days back when I was into Mario. I vaguely remember what stories Moss and I had made up. We had even had our own characters, but I can't remember what they look like now.

The sun seems a little brighter, doesn't it? Must be a trick of the eyes. I poke Moss to get his attention, and show him the picture for probably the billionth time.

"Who's that?" He asks.

"Billy the Parakoopa. Remember?"

"Oh! Billy!" He exclaims. He grabs the picture, but as soon as he touches it, the sun turns blindingly bright. And then pitch black.

I frantically reach out, to see if Moss is still there. Feeling his headphones on his head, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Then he's not there. Instead, I feel a sort of mushroom-type thing in the place of him. But I don't let go.

I don't feel the same either. There's a giant thing on my back, I have my hair in a ponytail, and I overall don't feel like I'm the same person.

And then suddenly, I'm blinded by more light. I blink a few times, my eyes adjusting. We're by a tree. There's a mushroom thing with feet and eyes, wearing headphones next to me. In front of us, there's a turtle with wings, standing on two legs, eating a ham and cheese sandwich. He looks suspiciously like Billy.

"Olive, why don't I have hands?" The mushroom thing asks. Oh god, it can speak. I look down at my hands, which I thankfully have. The sad thing is that they are yellow and covered in scales.

Yellow scales. I reach around to my back, to feel a hard shell there. A turtle shell. And I noticed I have a tail.

This is not right.

"What in the absolute heck happened," I frantically say. I get up, pacing, trying to comprehend that I am no longer human.

"You look like a Koopa," the mushroom says.

"I don't even know you," I answer.

"I'm your brother, Moss."

"Oh."

Well, time to go on with our day. Let's skedaddle down to the freaky looking castle on that hill over there, and be on our way, not minding that we're fantasy characters.

I don't even know where I am.

Frick, brain, why do you have to bring up such weird dreams.

"If you were dreaming, you wouldn't be feeling anything. By the way, I must ask you, what are you doing here. You should be training." I didn't realize I said that out loud.

"What training?" Moss asks, confused. The turtle looks at us like we're stupid idiots.

"NRS training," he answers.

I look at him, still confused. "And what does that mean?"

"Newly Recruited Species. How old are you?"

Moss decides to answer for both of us, saying, "She's fourteen and I'm twelve." The turtle seems surprised.

"And where are you from?"

I answer this time. "We're from Russellville, Arkansas."

"What kingdom's that in?"

"Kingdom?" I ask.

"Y'know, with a king and queen?"

"The United States doesn't have that. We have a president that we elect every four years," I say. Now it's the turtle's turn to be confused.

I sigh, and say, "I'll explain later."

"So, wait. Do you guys know what species you are?" We both shake our heads. I can't even see myself. Maybe if you passed a mirror.

He points to Moss, and then me, saying what we are. Apparently, Moss is a Goomba, and I'm a Koopa. Well, that's all fine and dandy.

I'm totally not freaking out.

"I'll give you a tour of the castle," the turtle says, adding, "By the way, my name's Billy. Billy the Parakoopa." Oh, like my character! I don't like the sound of this.