Chapter 1:
The Secret Door
I hated moving. Period. Sometimes I never fit in, well, almost all the time. And moving to America would be hard, since I was from England.
"Mum, do we have to come here? I won't know a soul!" I complained, wishing I was back in Durham.
"Yes, sweetheart, we do. America is a better place to start our lives over," she said, keeping her eyes on the road.
"But—"
"I don't want to hear it, Amber,"
I sighed and folded my arms across my chest and looked out the window at the pouring rain.
I fixed my faded denim jeans that had holes in the knees and embroidered back pockets.
I hated my looks.
I hated my style.
I hated myself, for the most part.
People always say they wish they were skinny like me, telling my I need to eat more because I was so skinny, and even worse by talking about my height. I was 5'4'' and people told me to stop growing.
I knew it was a joke, but I still didn't like it, not one bit.
After a long period of silence, mother finally spoke.
"Here we are," she said joyfully as we pulled into the driveway towards a crummy old Victorian house with peeling paint, open windows, chipped frames, and a nasty odor.
I walked to the back of the van to grab my bags.
Out went the blue-and-black polka-dot suitcase, my silver-and-black striped purse, and my tennis bag. I had to heave them all across the front yard, up the steps, and in the front door.
Climbing up the long, twisted stairway to the right of the front door against the wall, I found a hallway about halfway up, and decided to pick my bedroom.
Lugging my bags with me, I found a room at the end of the hall that was fairly large, had a bed with white canopies and sheets to my left, white dressers and cabinets to my right, a mirror beside the bed, a large window across from the door, and a large-looking closet.
Turns out it's a walk-in closet with many old-fashioned clothes.
I set my suitcase beside the bed by the short dresser, my purse on the bed as well as my tennis bag, and walked around the room, exploring.
I opened the closet door to see bundles of old-fashioned clothes and shoes. I went all the way to the back, looking at all the dresses. Red dresses, blue velvet dresses, white silk dresses, and best of all—black dresses.
Not looking where I was going, I smacked into the wall, causing me to fall on my butt.
"Ow," I muttered.
But that's when I noticed it.
A doorknob in the wall.
A doorknob to a secret door.