Sarah sat back and looked at the finished equations with satisfaction.
Done. I can't believe I hated Math so much... That was easy.
A blonde girl named Lisa leaned over from her seat beside our overcompensating
heroine and whispered, "Sarah, what's going on?"
Sarah looked up at the front of the room where her teacher, Mr. Morgan, was
absorbed in a book with "101 uses for Duct Tape" displayed prominently
on its cover. She shifted to face her friend. "What do you mean?"
Sarah whispered, "Nothing's going on!"
"What are you wearing?" Lisa asked. "And did you just
finish all the problems?" Lisa's own elegant silk blouse looked at Sarah's
shirt with disdain. It made it perfectly clear in the subtle language of textiles
that it would have nothing to do with such a brazen flouting of the Haberdashery
Code.
"It's a perfectly nice shirt." Sarah bristled. "And yes, I did.
They're easy." The flannel projected an air of hurt innocence. None of
this was its fault. It had been quite happy in the closet, thank you.
There was a pair of forgotten neon leggings back there that it had been getting
very friendly with.
Lisa shook her head. "I repeat: What's going on?" Hah, the silk blouse
retorted. Everyone knew that discards always envy the clothing that gets worn,
so it's no use acting like you're a victim of circumstances.
Coming to the end of Chapter Three: 'Duct Tape and the Rodent Kingdom', Mr.
Morgan glanced up and caught sight of the low voiced interrogation going on
in the back row, completely missing the far more heated silent argument going
on about eight inches lower.
"Sarah!" He called sternly, "Lisa! Back to your work."
Lisa looked hurriedly down at her paper.
Sarah knew the respite wouldn't last long. She wouldn't be surprised if Lisa
managed to somehow smuggle a bare light bulb and a length of rubber hose into
the next class. I'd better come up with a good story before then.
Much to the disappointment of her shirt, which had just managed to score a telling
point by maliciously pointing out the amount of synthetic fibres used in the
making of the blouse, Sarah got up and approached the teacher's desk.
"Excuse me, Mr. Morgan? I'm done the work, may I go to the library for
the rest of the period?"
The teacher waved her out without looking up from the particularly intriguing
diagram he was studying.
The corridor seemed much larger when it was empty. Sarah's steps echoed on the
stone floor. In the silence and the emptiness the corridor seemed crowded with
shadows. .
No! Don't think like that. Shadows don't matter. Not anymore.
Sarah reached her locker in record time. She started to grab for her latest
fantasy book automatically, but drew back her hand before she touched it as
if it would burn her. Instead, she took out her hardcover copy of Lord of the
Flies and almost ran to the library. Once there, she settled down in a quiet
corner and tried to focus on the book.
As everybody knows who has read the Lord of the Flies, this is not an easy thing
to do. Classic of Literature it may be, but very few people can immerse themselves
in the story without feeling the need to stop every few pages and read a comic
book.
Sarah was no exception. It was only a matter of minutes before she was staring
out of the library window.
It must be admitted that the world wasn't looking at its best that day. The
storm winds had torn branches off the trees and strewn them around the landscape
like a giant's tinker toys. The sky cast a thin grey light over the unimpressive
scene. It presented the general impression that not only was this somewhere
you wouldn't want to live, but visiting wasn't looking that appealing either.
A vision of the Labyrinth floated up behind Sarah's eyes; she fought against
the urge to make comparisons. It was beautiful... but dangerous. A little
voice inside her mind said, "You didn't get hurt." But it wasn't because
she couldn't get hurt. She'd been lucky. "You could have had your dreams..."
Yes, and let Toby be a goblin? Not going to happen. Her interior voice had a
distinctly lilt to its tone when it spoke again. "Toby? Was that all that
held you back?"
Humans have a tendency to assume that all voices inside their head are their
own. This affords other species a lot of harmless amusement. In the case of
the telepathic gophers of the Northwest, people tend to find themselves digging
deep holes for no apparent reason.
This is mainly because revealing that you hear voices can lead to the rest of
your life being spent doing craft projects and dressing entirely in pastels.
And with the notable exception of Martha Stewart, most people don't see that
as a Good Thing.
Even so, Sarah was getting suspicious.
She was surprised to realize that her eyes had drifted closed during her interior
monologue. She hurriedly opened them, squinting in the sudden brightness. The
darkness was bad for her. It led to thinking about things that she shouldn't
be thinking about. She should stay out in the light even if it did hurt her
eyes...
Come to think of it, it hadn't been hurting her eyes a few minutes ago. There
was definitely more light coming from behind her than there had been.
Sarah paused
She wondered how painful it would be if she jumped out the window. It was only
three stories up; maybe she'd only break a few unimportant bones. It would be
worth it if she didn't have to turn around and see where the light was coming
from. Of course, with her luck she'd probably break an ankle. She needed both
of those ankles. Can't very well run away without ankles.
Sarah turned away from the window and looked at the table behind her.
Light shone from each of the uncountable facets of the crystal rose and scattered
rainbows like rose petals across the surface of the table. Every part of it
glowed, as if a star had been somehow carved into the semblance of a bloom.
The places where its light didn't touch seemed somehow darker and uglier than
they had been. Sarah took a breath.
She stretched out a trembling hand and stroked a shining petal. The crystal
was as soft as skin under her fingers but cold, terribly cold.
It was impossible to miss the contrast between the brilliant perfection of the
rose and the dark, scarred wood of the table it lay on. A warning. A choice.
Very subtle.
Sarah stared at the rose for a long moment. She blinked several times. It failed
to disappear. Very deliberately she picked up her book and stood up, looking
down at the shining thing on the table. There was a look that might have been
surrender in her eyes. She brought the book down on the table with all her strength.
Again. And again. And again. Shards of crystal flew everywhere as she smashed
the fragile token into powder.
Then again, it might not have been surrender. It might have been anger.
It's a judgement call, really.
------------
Hope you guys are still enjoying this I know I am. Ah, an answer to some
questions:
Yes, this is a Jareth and Sarah story. Kind of. In the same way that the movie
was, with some changes up ahead.
Is this an Evil Jareth story? Kind of. In the same way that the movie was. With
some changes up ahead.
Have I mentioned that this gets really odd?