Chapter One: The Book Jumper comes upon a strange revelation

I yanked my fingers through my hair, grimacing at the oily, stringy texture. However, I hadn't had a shower in two days- since the electricity had gone out at camp. As I stared out the back of the platform tent, Veronica crawled into her sleeping bag.

"Tori, there is nothing we can do about it."

I shivered in spite of myself. Lice in my hair, a chill unfit for summer, and an hour away from home- and the fact that, dismally, Veronica was right. We were stuck in one of those pathetic nightmares you forget as soon as you wake up, except, I thought wryly, I don't dream.

"Yeah." I agree, emptily.

"Now, just get in your sleeping bag and go to sleep."

I was shocked. Veronica had not once gotten cross in the four days I knew her, and the girl was rather shy besides, so I had not thought she could ever get mad. I mean, she was shorter (even though stockier) than me, with curly black hair and dimples, for Pete's sakes! She looked like a frickin cherubim, and I was the one that got mad, I was the ugly, too-smart one...

But I was also the one that had the superpower.

Not that they were much help anyways. Most of the time it was just really dangerous, not to mention pointless. Book jumper, I thought nastily. Some power.

I could feel a mood coming on, so I tried to take a deep breath.

"Yeah." I repeated, just as emptily as before.

I walked over to my pile of packed possessions, and took out my book: a ratty copy of The Princess Bride. Next to the Twilight Saga, it was my favorite book. I suppose I was just a sucker for love stories.

Not that I lived one. Maybe it was a hidden craving to be loved that constantly dug my head into these sorts of books- or any sort of book for that matter. Something to fill the gap of the craving that constantly tore at my soul.

It wasn't that I didn't have a family. It wasn't that I didn't have friends. I wasn't suicidal, or depressed.

Just lonely.

Secrets set me apart from anyone else. I was a drifter of worlds, a companion- less soul that truly had no way to know if any one else was like me. Who would admit to such a thing, and even then, would I admit it myself?

I opened the book and read a chapter (Chapter One: The Bride), then flung the book angrily back in the bag. Suddenly, I despised Buttercup. She had everything handed right to her on a silver platter- beauty, love, adventure... she was like me though. Set apart by boundaries she was born with, beauty for her, an amazing secret for me. Adventure was too given to me because of my boundaries, and I have lived many lives. She was farm girl, princess of Hammersmith, queen to be of Florin, damsel in distress, lover, and, in Buttercup's baby, mother. I was Victoria, Anita, Helen, Marie Anne, Jessica, Zoe. A thousand names I had been, and I knew whatever my next adventure to be was, I would be something I fully made up.

I would be Iviallee (Ivy- al- lee. Say it slowly. Ivy, as in the plant, uh, as in the word for confusion, lee, as in the name). Ivy for short, though.

Veronica was snoring, and twilight was approaching. Even though it was against camp rules, I yanked my sneakers back on and walked out of the tent by myself. Glancing back, I saw that nobody saw me. We weren't allowed to be out of our tents right now, and without a buddy, I would be in trouble for sure.

With another swift peek, I saw nobody was looking at me, or out of their tents for that matter. With a quick stride, I went to the woods- off of the trail, just like I like it.

I watched the sky darken beneath the canopy of trees. I quietly sang Twilight by Vanessa Carlton to myself as I disappeared farther and farther in the darkening gloom. As soon as I was sure nobody would find me, I said a quick prayer to God and then closed my eyes.

I couldn't see the light, but I could feel it. Sort of radiated- not at me, but from inside of me.

My hands stretched towards the source, and hit something like woven water. I opened my eyes, and saw a sort of mirror like thing. My fingers gently brushed the surface, as it was like I was being burned but did not feel it yet. The icy hotness was comforting, soothing my human anxiety, making me feel more relaxed. I did not know where my true home lay, but this was the closest I could get.

I put the slightest pressure on the mirror that did not reflect, watched it give way, and watched it succumb my hand in the icy fire. A not so unpleasant tingle accompanied this feeling, and I pulled my hand out quickly for my own amusement. The tingle vanished, as well as the all of the feeling. Done with foolish games, the song I sang to myself ended.

I quickly stepped into it.

And then opened my eyes to the green of Forks, Washington, as it was in Twilight.

"Ivy, what on Earth are you doing?" Jacob looks over my shoulder, reading what I had written. He slowly smiles.

"It's wicked, isn't it?"

"Very." He agrees. Then his warm brown eyes get very sad as they look into my amethyst ones. "But how far are you going to go?"

I sigh. "All the way, probably. Besides, it's really not a big deal. Nobody is going to recognize it as the truth, anyway." I reach up and our lips meet. I lose myself for a minute, and then slowly pull apart. "I love you."

"I love you more."

I smirk because I knew it wasn't true. I turn to my story again; pause as I contemplate the past.

Then I add what just happened.

"Is there any chance I'll be able to do this?"

"Maybe. I'll probably need you to anyways. The story isn't clear enough only from my perspective."

He thought about this. "You're probably right."

"I'm always right, no matter what reality I'm in."

Our laugh fills the house as it mingles in chorus.