Sister Marie-Rose's class. I was dozing. Who am I? I think my name starts with A—
"Angel Frost! Are you paying any attention at the conversation between the tragedy of Hector de Silva and Maria de Silva?" Sister Marie-Rose demanded. "Or have you been sleeping again?"
Do I always sleep often? I could only think of one word, "Jesse…" It sounds so familiar, when I hear the words "Hector de Silva".
Sister Marie-Rose just glared at me. "Brad Ackerman!" She snapped. "What kind of Spanish tenses did Hector de Silva use with Maria de Silva?"
"Nombre de dios, querida." Brad grinned. Sister Marie-Rose looked mad.
'That's it! Off you go to Father Donovan's office! You too, Frost!"
Hmm. Brad-Dopey? Father Donovan… Father Dom? And, I thought I knew someone named. S… Soot?
"Oh, Susannah, don't you cry for me…" Simon was singing.
That's it. Susannah. S…Su…Susie? Suze?
"Hey, Angel, will you go to the Prom with me?" Bra-Dopey asked me.
I just ignored that and asked, "Hey, did your dad remarry?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Did you have a stepsister called Susannah?"
"No! My stepmother's marriage with my dad is her first…"
"Was there ever a principal called Father Dom…uh, Dominic or something? How about a Senior guy called Paul…S…?"
"You got amnesia or something?"
Well, that was true.
"Ah, Ms. Frost, Mr. Ackerman, what's it now?"
Father Donovan was a portly, short man who always uses "Mr.'s" and "Ms.'s". He had thick blonde hair, and was a nervous, weedy-looking sort of fellow.
"We didn't pay attention." Dopey shrugged.
Why was I calling him Dopey?
"Well, detention after school, both of you."
And that was that. I tried talking to Dopey.
"Hey Do-Brad, did anyone ever called you Dopey?"
"Are you trying to be funny? People only call me Brad Pitt!"
Right. Like he's as good-looking.
I was wondering where I am living. But Dopey helped me sort that out.
"Hey, Spanish querida, let's go to your Carmel Lodging." He joked as we walked back "home" together.
I walked to a room I thought was mine. An attractive woman poked her head out next door.
"Hey, Angel. Or do you prefer Starissa?" She smiled.
Starissa? Weird but nice. Wait… I think that weird name is nice?
"How 'bout Star? I think I'll have a nap, if I may."
"Well, ok. But dinner's in an hour."
Then Mrs. Ackerman withdrew her head. I opened the knob. That's when I hear someone. Or something. A guy, glowing, looked up from a book he was reading at the window seat.
"Star!" He cried as he jumped up. I was not shocked. I recognized that voice anywhere. Hector de Silva's, or—
"J-Jesse?" I whispered.
"Star! We were so worried! Can you remember anything?" He peered at me, frowning. I shook my head.He sighed, and asked me to seat down beside him. "You're a Me-Gladiator. The tour guide/escort of ghosts to Underworld. Now, your enemy, Hypnos the Sleep God, made you have amnesia. He brought you to this parallel world, the tenth dimension. Leo, a Terminator, a.k.a. your bodyguard, ask me to help you regain your memory. I was a Mediator there, but this universe have no Mediators, so I'm still a ghost. Your dad, the Grim Reaper, is actually Helios, the Sun God. He sacrificed his life for your safety and for you to protect mankind. You are the Chosen One, Star, and it is prophesised that you will defeat the darkness. The Star Goddess of Victory, Dawn, Moon, and Crossways." Jesse held up the book he was reading. "Hyperspace: a scientific odyssey through parallel universes, time warps and the tenth dimension, by Michio Kaku"Ok. Too Harry Potter. Talk about prophesies and Chosen Ones. I just blinked."So we've got to create a Time Warp and travel back through the Twilight Zone, the Fourth dimension to our real time." He continued."How?" "Um, I don't know. Maybe you can wave your arms and summon your powers?""I don't even know I had any powers until now!" I exclaimed. "I know a way," came a macho, booming voice. I turned around. It was a totally cute guy. He looked as brawny as a lion. Le Leo, I thought."I'm Leo. Your Terminator. Your father sent me here. He just told me to imagine what life must be like without mediators or Terminators or Me-Gladiators. So I came here. And I told Jesse. So all you've got to do is imagine yourself as a Me-Gladiator. Come on, we'll try it."I thought it over. What does a tour guide/escort of the dead looked like? Some ox-headed, horse-faced weirdo, like the Chinese myths? Or some cool kick-butts like Melanie Beeby from Angels Unlimited? I just imagine as me, behaving what I'll do if I was asked to be a tour guide/escort. I'll be dressed in leather, like a Goth, and carries cool weapons, like ornate daggers. And Wham! I was in this totally strange world. Suddenly, I felt a searing pain in my forhead. Oh God, did I have some lightning-shaped scar now? Or star-shaped, or moon-shaped, cross-shaped, snow shaped, or even worse, angel-shaped? I'm really feeling like Harry Potter! I'll remember not to laugh when I watched his movies again.
