Disclaimer: I own The Chronicles of Narnia! ((Sees angry Disney representatives and publisher.)) …in a full anthology in C.S. Lewis's preferred order! Obviously, no matter how I wish differently, I do not own Narnia or any of the characters besides the ones you don't recognize. This story is written strictly for entertainment value and I am in no way receiving monetary compensation for writing it.
Author's Note: Here's to all my fellow fans that read the books and therefore hate Suspian pairings. Or those who don't mind Suspian and just enjoy the occasional Caspian/OC. I'll drink to that. Let's see if I can do this without adding another icky Mary Sue to our lovely FanFiction dot net.
This chapter's mostly to get to know the main character. The next one will be a lot more interesting, promise. Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! But be aware that if you flame you won't get a response. . Anyways, enjoy.
Chapter One: The Move, the House, and the Wardrobe
To be completely honest, I didn't really mind moving an entire ocean away from everything and everyone I knew. It was actually kind of a relief. I mean, besides never seeing my best friends, there was no down side. When you grow up in a state like New Jersey and in a town like mine, it all gets very old very fast. Everything was just so…similar. Don't get me wrong, now. It's not like I'm one of those kids with holes all over my face and chains hanging from one ear to the other- not that there's anything wrong with that, if you're into that kind of thing; a few of my friends spend more time in piercing parlors than they did in school- but the way things were taught in my town and, in particular, my high school, just left little room to move around.
Despite not having the stereotypical outward appearance of an outcast, I really was one. I got along fine with pretty much everyone, and teachers adored me most of the time. My grades were always in the upper B range and I was everyone's favorite confidante. The problem was that even though I seemed to be so involved in high school life, I favored the world inside my head to the world around my desk. Personally, if I weren't myself, I would probably think that I was extremely strange. Simply put, I'm a total space case. I can go through an entire period without hearing a word the teacher says, because I'll be too busy imagining a world where I'm married to Ryan Reynolds or something. I mean, come on, what girl wouldn't rather be honeymooning with Ryan than learning calculus? Anyway, the tendency I have to mentally "go on vacation," as my Italian teacher would say, gives me a sense of being not all there, if you know what I mean. Not that I could help it. Formal education has always been second to the thoughts in my mind; even the paltry ones like how hot Milo Ventimiglia looks on Heroes. But I digress.
The point was, I was thankful for a new start. Hopefully, I would be able to finally break down the glass bubble that separated me from the rest of the world. Maybe I would find the kindred spirit I'd been looking for. You know, the Ron Weasley to my Harry Potter or the Merry to my Pippin. As you can probably tell, I spend way too much time with my nose in books or my eyes glued to the TV screen. It's all part of my preference for the unattainable and fantastic. In other words, I'd much rather watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (you know, the 2005 version with Johnny Depp?) fourteen times than consider my own not-so-fairytale life. I'm getting off topic again.
Anyways, even after the tearful goodbyes shared with my two closest friends (Dana and Jo are their names) and a long and restless airplane trip during which I got a bad headache and snapped at my parents even when they were just trying to help, I was happy to arrive at the huge old house that was to be my new home.
After all, I'd always dreamed of living in England.
"It's…big." My mom wasn't a fan of big things. They made her very uncomfortable, and so I guess standing in front of the mansion-sized house we were going to live in was making her down right nervous.
"I love it!" I piped up for my dad's benefit. I mean I did like it, but not as much as I was pretending to. The house was, as Mom had pointed out, huge, and it was also really old. I imagined it had lived through a world war or two. But it was still a sort of family property. Dad had inherited it from some great uncle years ago, and so he had some pride in it. It also made it much easier for us to move when he was transferred, because we already had a place to live. My dad was in the army, which meant we moved a lot. The longest we'd ever stayed anywhere was the four years in New Jersey- just long enough for me to get close to Jo and Dana. And then, of course, we had to move again.
My dad grinned. "I knew you'd like it, Puppy." I flinched at the nickname. Not that I minded it all that much; as long as he didn't say it in public it was okay. Unfortunately, letting him use it in private put him in enough practice to accidentally slip once in a while. I forced a smile and shifted the strap of my messenger bag further up on my shoulder. Dad put an arm around Mom, who was still gaping at the monstrous building. "Don't worry, honey. You'll get used to it." Leading my speechless mother up the steps, he pulled a shiny new key from his pocket (he'd had the locks redone before we even started packing to leave) and opened the door.
I grabbed my two suitcases and followed them inside, dropping the two bags as soon as I was over the threshold. It was unbelievable. A grand staircase was in the middle of the room, red carpeted, and lead up to a landing that branched into two hallways, one to the left and one to the right. All of the intricate wooden carvings and beautiful mahogany floors were polished to a shine. I knew my father had hired a cleaning crew to precede the moving men, but I had no idea he'd paid them that much. I walked further into the room and looked to my right, where a door-less archway led into a living room (I knew it was a living room because our couches and entertainment system were already set up. Exactly how much had Dad spent on the moving crew?). On the left was a set of beautiful double doors.
"Through there is the dining room," my dad explained, pointing to the doors. "Up and to the right is the master bedroom, and your room is down the left hallway, Pup."
"What about the rest of the floors?" I asked. I knew that the house was way too big to only consist of the two stories.
"I only have the first two wired for electricity." He looked up at the ceiling contemplatively. "Didn't think we'd really need the other three floors, or the attic. There might be some interesting stuff up there, but you'd better be careful if you go exploring, Isabella." The use of my full name got my attention. "The house is stable enough, but we can't forget that it is almost a hundred years old. Probably more."
"You got it, Dad. I'll be careful of the ghosts and skeletons." I started up the stairs, letting my left hand rest on the smooth banister as I ascended.
"Very funny, Iz," he replied. I didn't answer, but instead focused my thoughts on my current mission: locate and inspect my bedroom. After I reached the landing, I started down the left hallway as directed. The first door was on my left. I tried the knob, which turned easily enough, but the door itself was stuck, probably from years of disuse and swelling from moisture. A few feet down the hall was another door on the right that lead into a room full of old dusty furniture covered in sheets like you always see in old houses in movies. I closed that door and kept going. The next door on the left lead into a bathroom that I assumed wasn't going to be used since it hadn't been cleaned. Across the hall a door opened with a little difficulty into a tiny room that was empty and had no windows. I raised my eyebrow at nothing as I backed out. I proceeded to the fifth door, which was also on the right, and this time found what I was looking for. The heavy wooden door opened into a decently sized room in which the wall to my right was mostly taken up but a huge four-poster bed with a freshly washed white canopy. There was another door at the foot of the bed. The far wall had a big bay window complete with a window seat in between two smaller, regular windows. The wall to the right accommodated my computer desk and bookshelves.
I walked further into the room and threw my messenger bag onto the bare mattress on my bed. The floor was littered with cardboard boxes I would need to unpack sooner or later. When I turned around I saw that my dresser was against the wall to the right of the door into the hall. To the left of the door stood a huge antique wardrobe that looked like it had seen better days. I walked over to it and tried one of the doors experimentally, only to have it snap off its hinges and fall with a crash to the floor. I screamed and jumped back in alarm and a few moths fluttered out from the mass of fur coats still inhabiting the wardrobe.
"Are you all right?" My father's worried voice came from the doorway. I looked over at him. He'd brought up the two suitcases I'd left downstairs and had arrived in time to witness one of my less suave moments.
"I'm fine," I assured him when I'd regained my breath. "Just surprised me, that's all." I looked back at the towering piece of furniture. It gave me a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, like it really didn't want to be used. I dismissed it as my runaway imagination. The feeling was probably just an aftershock of almost getting crushed by the heavy door.
Dad put my suitcases down by the bed and came over to inspect the damage. He tried the other door with the same result, although the years of army training had provided him with slightly better reflexes and more well developed muscles, so he merely caught it and leaned it against the wall. He picked up the one on the ground and did the same, then pushed the old coats to the side so he could reach into the back and tap the wood. There was a loud crack. "Well, I had hoped it might be of some kind of use, but it obviously isn't," he concluded as he straightened up.
"Why is it even here?" I asked, taking down a coat that was much too large and trying it on experimentally.
"The guys who moved our stuff in said it was in the room when they got here," Dad explained. "The fellow I spoke to said that no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't get it out of here. They had to settle with pushing it up against the wall. I wonder why it didn't break when they were handling it…" He took down the rest of the coats while I twirled around in the one I was wearing and then held it closed and put my nose in the air.
"Well, Father," I said with a nasal British accent, "it's a positively beastly old thing and I must insist that it be removed at once." I laughed lightly and shrugged out of the coat, handing it to Dad.
"It's too bad," he said, arranging the pile in his arms. "You have too much clothing to fit in your dresser and this room doesn't have a closet."
I gave him a confused look and pointed to the door at the end of my bed. "Then what's that?"
"That," he smiled, "is your bathroom."
My eyes widened and a huge grin spread across my face. "I have my own bathroom!?" I squealed.
"Yep."
"Oh my God! Thank you Daddy!" I jumped at him with a hug and he stumbled backwards, awkwardly returning it around the huge coats. He laughed.
"I knew you'd like that, too. I only had two of the bathrooms up here cleaned and set up for plumbing- yours and the one off of our room. They're both full bath so I figured we wouldn't need more than that." I stepped back, still grinning. "Of course, there's also two set up downstairs so we don't have to run up here while watching TV." He shifted the coats in his arms and started towards the door. "I'm going to see what I can do about that wardrobe. The wood's still decent even if it's not holding together on it's own. There's a small room next door so I might be able to build you a closet."
"Can the whole room be my closet!?" I rocked back and forth on my heels in excitement.
My dad shrugged. "I don't see why not. It would save me the trouble of building walls."
"Hardcore! I can't wait."
Dad just laughed. "I'll just leave you to start settling in. Stay away from that wardrobe for now. I don't need it falling over on top of you or something."
I put my feet together and raised my hand to my forehead in a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"
"At ease, soldier!" he finished our little joke, then left the room, probably to show the coats to Mom to see if she wanted to keep any of them before he put them into storage or whatever. Closing the door, I turned around to survey the many boxes o' junk that were piled around my room, trying to decide where to start. With a mournful sigh, I walked over to my suitcases, plopped them down on my bed next to my messenger bag, and started to unload my clothes into the drawers in my dresser. I figured I'd unpack what I could until my dad had rigged me up a closet, because he was ultimately right- I had way too many articles of clothing. Not like I'm some kind of crazy shopping fiend or anything, it's just that after living seventeen years, some of which you've remained relatively the same shirt and pant size, you accumulate a lot of clothes. I was kind of short myself, so my pants never got too short after I hit about fourteen, and having a family history of chubbiness, my weight fluctuated in such a way that my shirts and dresses only ever got a little too baggy- never too small.
And of course, I'm a teenage girl, so I do like to shop once in a while.
After I stuffed what I could of my clothes into my five drawers, I slid the two empty suitcases, a half full cardboard box, and two more full boxes under my bed and got started on my books. I had two large bookshelves on either side of my desk. Only one and a half of them was actually for holding books, the last half would hold all the DVDs and VHS tapes I'd collected throughout my life since childhood (So I still like to watch Cinderella every once and a while. Sue me!).
By the time I'd finished with that it was starting to feel pretty stuffy in my room. I walked over to open one of the smaller windows, and breathed in the crisp country air. I've gotta say, there really is something wonderful about living a couple of miles from the nearest city. The air just feels less dense and tastes glorious. Not to mention, the view from my room was a lovely one of the overgrown garden behind the house. There was something about the way the flowers and vines grew wild that I found incredibly attractive. I was sure I'd be fighting my mom later to let it stay the way it was. She liked orderly things, which was why she didn't come into my room very often. Even my bookshelves bothered her (I don't keep mine in alphabetical order, like she prefers, but in order of what I like most to what I like least. It drives her nuts.).
Anyway, the view was pretty much gorgeous. I opened the other window so the air had somewhere to flow, and soon the musty smell was replaced with a mixture of rain and roses (it had drizzled a little while I was unpacking my clothes). The next thing I did was set up my iHome on my bedside table, kicking myself for not doing it sooner. Work is always easier to do when there are some good tunes to sing along to. I plugged in my iPod and put it on shuffle, then continued to unload more electronic devices to the bittersweet tune of Vanessa Carlton. I sang along in a loud voice as I set up Ol' Faithful (my extremely old IBM ThinkPad that I'd had for four years and was a hand-me-down from my cousin who was 28 and got it while he was in college). I patted the many Hello Kitty and Disney princess stickers that adorned her fondly before getting down on my hands and knees to plug her in to the Internet jack and electrical outlet. When I had done that I fired 'er up and then made my bed while I waited. You have to be patient when your computer is old enough to be considered a veteran. As I was laying my white down goose feather comforter across my Sailor Moon sheets, I heard the little musical interlude that meant my computer had finished loading, under Train's melodic beat.
I crossed the room to my computer and sat down in the squat little puff of a chair that the movers had obviously snatched from one of the spare rooms. "Here goes nothing," I muttered, and clicked on the little yellow man icon that would open up my instant messenger. To my surprised and delight, the Internet was fully functional. Score one for team Izzy! Before my buddy list had even finished loading, I was bombarded with six messages from Dana.
Dana Calamity: iz!?
Dana Calamity: are you there!?
Dana Calamity: how is it!?
Dana Calamity: what's the house like?!
Dana Calamity: how about your room??
Dana Calamity: is it totally sunless over there!?
I laughed to myself. She was always very excitable. That, and she loved England almost as much as I do and was pretty jealous that I got to live there.
I Am What I Iz: whoa. chillax, dana! gimme a chance to talk!
Dana Calamity: okay, okay, sorry. i'm just so happy you're online. isn't it like 3am there or something?
I Am What I Iz: there's only a five hour difference. and you're behind me.
Dana Calamity: oh.
I Am What I Iz: yeah but anyways, yes i'm here, it's okay, the house is huge and old but the cleaners did a good job, my room is big and has a great view, and yeah pretty much. it was raining a little before.
Dana Calamity: omgzzz. you're so lucky. you have to go see john lennon's grave for me.
I Am What I Iz: dana, i'm like…30284032984832 miles away from any kind of civilization. i doubt i'm anywhere near john lennon's grave.
Dana Calamity: well, if you get the chance…
I Am What I Iz: i'll be sure to kiss the headstone for you.
Dana Calamity: and i will be forever in your debt.
I Am What I Iz: it's okay.
I Am What I Iz: you'll just owe me your firstborn.
Dana Calamity: you got it.
Dana Calamity: so what did you break so far?
I Am What I Iz: how did you know!?
Dana Calamity: psychic. and you're a walking disaster.
I Am What I Iz: hey!
Dana Calamity: like a bull in a china shop.
I Am What I Iz: you're the worst.
Dana Calamity: you can have my second-born too. so what was it? a statue? a chandelier? the whole house?
My fingers hesitated over the keys and I watched the cursor blink in the text box. For some strange reason, I didn't want to tell Dana about the wardrobe, which was nuts because I told her absolutely everything. Still, I felt weirdly possessive of the massive deathtrap. It was like a secret that was all mine, even though my dad clearly knew all about it and my mom probably did by now as well. Shaking the unreasonable apprehension out of my mind, I answered her question.
I Am What I Iz: this weird old wardrobe in my room.
I Am What I Iz: i opened the door and it almost took me out.
Dana Calamity: the door?
I Am What I Iz: yeah. it fell right off the hinges.
Dana Calamity: LOL
I Am What I Iz: shut up! it was a very frightening near death experience.
Dana Calamity: i'm sure. that wardrobe hunted izzy down! that wardrobe MURDERED izzy!
I Am What I Iz: all right dane cook, i need to go hunt down some food now.
Dana Calamity: awwww okay.
Dana Calamity: bye lovie!! i miss and love you more than anything!!
I Am What I Iz: love and miss you too. ttyl. 3
I Am What I Iz is Away at 2:36 PM
Dana Calamity: 3!
Auto Response from I Am What I Iz: searching for food and waiting for the jet lag to catch up with me. l8r sk8r!
I would have to remember to change the time setting, since I was in a different time zone and all. I stood up and stretched my arms towards the ceiling, then walked out into the hallway, my stomach begging for sustenance. I yawned as I descended the stairs. The dining room doors were open now, and inside I could see that our dining set was already set up, the table at its full length, and a dark maroon tablecloth adorned it. The china cabinet was against the wall to the left, and there was a big bay window similar to mine on the far wall, only this one didn't have a window seat. I crossed to the wall on the right and walked through a swinging door that, as I had guessed, lead into the kitchen, which was huge, just like everything else that had to do with this house; it had obviously been used by a whole staff of cooks and servants at some point.
Mom stood at the counter making sandwiches. She looked up when I walked in and smiled at me. "We only had roast beef, so I made you some PB&J."
"Beast. Thanks Mom." I shuffled over to accept my sandwich. I took a big bite and leaned against the island. "What do you think of the house so far?"
"It's big."
"Thanks Obvious-Taichou. I mean other than that." I swallowed and took another bite.
"Izzy, you know I don't understand any of your Chinese mumbo-jumbo. And take smaller bites! You're going to choke yourself."
I finished chewing and swallowing before I answered. "It's Japanese, Mom. And it means Captain Obvious." I took an exaggeratedly big bite and batted my eyelashes.
Mom just rolled her eyes. "I suppose it's all right. The woodwork is beautiful and the bedroom is nice."
"Tha' beh-ah," I commended through my mouthful of peanut butter and jelly.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," she scolded in a flat voice. She berated me for the little things so often that she obviously didn't really care anymore.
"Yes'm." My mouth was still full.
I finished eating in silence while Mom kept making sandwiches. She was making a couple for tomorrow, I guessed, because she was putting them up in Saran wrap. I fought to keep my eyelids open as I watched the methodic movement of her hands spreading mayo on bread. I yawned, and decided to admit defeat. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Mom." I walked over to kiss her on the cheek. "Love you."
"Night baby. Love you too." She didn't look up from her work, but she did smile.
I left the kitchen and walked back through the dining room, almost colliding with my dad as I walked through the double doors.
"Woops, sorry Pup," he said, grabbing my shoulders to keep me from losing my balance. I actually did that quite a lot.
"You better get in the kitchen quick," I said. "Mom's making enough sandwiches to feed the Navy."
"Is she?" Dad laughed. "Well you know your mother. When she's stressed, she cooks, and all we have is bread and cold cuts right now."
"Yeah, I know, but if you don't do something I'm afraid she'll never stop." I put my arms around his middle and gave him a hug that he returned. "Night Dad."
"Night, sweetheart."
I walked past him and took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get in bed. Once in my room, I changed quickly into a huge tee shirt that reached my knees and slid between the sheets, reaching up to turn off the light on my bedside table as I laid back. Even in a strange bed in a strange house in a strange place, I fell asleep before I could finish the cute little nighttime prayer I'd been saying since I was little. "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I…if I…" Then there was nothing but peaceful sleep. I only had one dream that night, about a wardrobe with no back, through which I crawled and crawled but could never find an end.
There you are! Chapter one! I hope you liked it, even though it's pretty much just an intro to Izzy's character. I'll have chapter two out soon, and things will start taking off, I promise! Please review. I love feedback!