Chapter 1
Sara

i" To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing." /i

My name is Sara.

His name was William Shakespeare.

Of all the quotes I could have used to begin this journal, I
chose his. It's about today, tomorrow, and yesterday, and I'm
not totally sure what it means, but it sounds right. Anyway,
where was I? Oh, yeah.

My name is Sara.

Names have meanings. Mine means "princess", to my younger
sister's despair. iShe/i got named after a Rugrat.

I've never felt much like a princess, so I guess there
might not be anything to the whole name meaning-thing. After
all, it was Shakespeare (ironically enough) who said, "What's in
a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell
as sweet." But the Native Americans, and even back in Biblical
times, people were named according to their personality, or the
time they were born, or how.

I'm not going to tell you my last name. The others all do.
There's no secrecy for them. The whole world knows their names,
faces, and stories. But not me.

So, by now you're probably wondering what I'm talking about.
Why can't I tell you my last name? Who are the "others"?

The "others" are the Animorphs. That's what I am. An
Animorph. No, I'm not making this up. I guess there are a bunch
of psychos, or just dreamers, out there who wish they could turn
into animals. A lot of people who secretly pretend to be an
Animorph in the back of their minds. Well, I'm not one of them.
I'm the real thing, an amateur actor starring in her own sci-
fi/drama with very little chance of a happy ending.

I don't believe in fate. I believe everything happens for a
reason, even though very often I wonder just what that reason
is, and whether it's a good one and if everything's going to-if
everything's isupposed/i to work out ok.
I wonder if I'm supposed to live to see my twenty-first, or
even my eighteenth birthday. I wonder if maybe I'm doing
something wrong. Maybe I should just forget the Animorphs and
going back to being just plain old me.

But I can't. I'm already Sara-the-Animorph, like it or not.
I'm too much involved to just back out and try to forget this
ever happened. Too late to go back to being normal. Not that I
ever was exactly normal. But I'll tell about that later.

I spent most of today in the fiery pit of hell also known
as school. I never used to mind school much, but recently it
just seems like a big waste of time. Not to mention the fact
that everybody seems to be on my case lately, even my so-called
best friends, especially Rose. Sometimes I don't know if Rose is
really even my friend, or if she just hangs around with me to
boost her own popularity status. Get seen with Sara, instant
exposure.

When I got home, I went downstairs and began pounding away
on our set of drums. Angelica, my sister, was already down there
practicing on the clarinet.

My dad owns a music shop, so we have just about any
instrument you can think of crammed in our basement, except our
piano, which is upstairs. And my dad just doesn't sell
instruments; he plays almost all of them, too. My sister,
brother, and I have each had a few music lessons, but mostly our
dad taught us how to play.

"What's with you?" Angel asked me, taking her mouth away
from the clarinet. Playing the drums is something I usually only
do when I'm mad. I'm not very good at percussion. I pretended I
didn't hear her and kept playing.

Eventually even I got tired of the crash and bang sound, and
Angel was sending murderous looks my direction, so I quit
banging on the drums. I thought about moving on to the tuba,
just to be annoying, but decided not to. Instead, I grabbed the
flute. I've been trying for awhile to get the notes right so it
sounds like the flute in the Titanic song with Celine Dion, but
I don't have enough lung capacity or something, and I keep
breathing at the wrong times.

Angel was playing the violin now. At first I thought she was
only practicing, but then I realized she was playing along with
my flute.

Angel and I both play just about every instrument. I'm
better at string instruments, especially guitar, but she's
better at percussion. I'm better at woodwinds, but she's better
at brass winds, especially trumpet, so overall we're pretty
evenly matched when it comes to music.

You want to know the weird thing? Even with all the troubles
and excitement my life has been recently, I don't think there
was anything I'd rather be doing right then except playing music
with my sister.

Except that at that very moment, I saw a mouse scamper
across the floor. I might be able to handle snakes, lions, and
tigers, but mice? That's just asking too much. I jumped back and
dropped my flute. It fell and hit my toe.

"Yeee-OW!" I shrieked. Angel started cracking up, and for
a second I wondered exactly why I had wanted to spend time with
her.

Sometimes I wish I were an only child.