Disclaimer: I do not own anything except Alex and Tristan and their relatives. Terabithia belongs to Katherine Patterson, of course.
It started with a bridge.
A beautiful, wooden, handmade bridge. Faded with age but still robust as the trees that surrounded it. It was the bridge that saved me and Tristan, for it lead to a sanctuary, a world untouched by anyone else.
Before all that, I suppose it began with me moving house.
This was not your ordinary move, either. This was life changing, end of the world type of move. And my mother thought everything would be OK with a wide smile and assurances of 'adventures' and 'new experiences'. Clearly, Mother thinks I was born yesterday, but what difference did it make? Within the month we were in America, my old life in England gone forever and me left with nothing but broken pieces to collect and attempt to re-build my sanity. Mother had not warned me we would be moving to a backward town in the middle of nowhere either. Lark Creek, I'd never even heard if it before it became my new permanent address. Washington wasn't far off and I could really see no reason why we hadn't at least moved there. The house we moved into was made entirely of timber and creaked with age, all three storeys of it. Most of the floor was white timber. The walls were fairly bare, except for the living room where the walls were painted pure gold. At first I thought whoever had once lived in this house had obviously had colour scheme problems. Little did I know I would one day sit in that room at sunset and learn the magic that a single coat of paint can create.
"Isn't this lovely," Mother had gushed.
"Yes, Mother," I sighed.
Mother frowned. I usually called her Mum or even Carly, her first name, but since she had broken the news to me about moving I had begun calling and thinking of her as 'Mother'. Even the smallest, most childish revenge was sweet.
"Be a good girl and go and bring this to the neighbours," she had said, holding out a picnic basket filled with banana muffins.
"What's this supposed to be? A peace offering so they won't steal our lawn space and dob us in to the police for noise pollution?"
"No, it's simply a token of kindness."
I snorted, but quickly darted out of the house, glad to have any reason to escape Mother's overly cheerful attitude.
It turned out we only had one neighbouring house. It resembled a run-down farm. A greenhouse still stood half-erected and there was a rusty tractor parked alongside the main house. The quickest way there was across an empty paddock that was predominately brown. It had probably once held a horse or a cow. Upon reaching the door I took a deep breath but made no attempt to smarten myself up. Judging by the state of the house these people weren't exactly fanatical about neatness. I knocked on the door and began to ponder what their financial situation must be, but before I even could the door swung open and in the doorway stood a scowling boy with long brown hair, green eyes and a smattering of freckles.
That was the first time I met Tristan DeLazio.
Hope the start wasn't too slow. Suggestions are always welcome, so please review.