Welcome to Orba Nova

Okay, if you are reading this because you want some kind on cutie little story to read before bedtime time you have come to the wrong place. This is not some story where all I talk about is how friendship and love and all that crap that saves the day. Sorry but you’re just going to have to live with it because you need to read this. Events foretold in this book could very well happen to you someday. Or your children or your children’s children or their children. So suck it up and read it on. This is a story everyone should hear. Think of this as a “cautionary tale” on what to do and what not to do if you are thrown into another dimension and are a part of some kind of prophecy.

Don’t look at me like that. It could happen to you; it’s not like I sighed up for this. I didn’t get a brochure or a little pamphlet describing this job. I never submitted a resume or filled out an application. No one interviewed me or ask how I would feel with all of this. I just got thrown (well technically, fell) into it. I never went looking for this kind of trouble but hey, what are you going to do? So the moral of this story is to suck it up like me and like you; because, you are going to buy this book, go home, and start reading. Get it? Got it? Good.

On the bright side, things can only get better from here

The worst day of my life began with my mother’s normal amount of crap. “Alexandria, I will not say it again, you will watch your little brother.”

“Come on, Mom,” I begged, “tonight is the state skateboarding competition. You know I have been training for, like, two weeks.”

“You shouldn’t be going out to screw around in that trashy sport anyway. It leads to drugs and pregnancies.” My massively overweight stepfather said as he reached for another Bud-Light.

“Exactly,” my mother agreed, “you’ll thank us for this one day.”

“Fine!” I said in my most defiant tone. Something tells me that they didn’t catch it. First of all, you need to realize that this kind of BS happened all the time. (Of course considering how crappy my day was about to become, this actually was a highlight but still.) I know that my stepfather could have called the women across the street to babysit. The only reason I have to watch my half-brother is because he knew that I wanted to go out tonight. You need to realize that, according to my step-father, everything in his life is always more important than me (in fact, everything is more important than me if you ask him). Think it’s unfair; welcome to my world. Oh and, FYI, my stepfathers name is Bob, but I prefer to call him The Jerk. He married my mom two months after my Dad died and since then, my life has been hell.

To clarify, my Dad was shot in a mugging when I was six and then, within two months, my Mom remarried. The moment she said “I do,” she completely forgot about me, she changed her last name to Ugallowels and was proud to do it. She wanted me to take his name too, but I wouldn’t, I was determined to keep it the same as my Dads, Runner. Then, two years later, had a son named Bob Jr. Who in their right mind would name their son Bob Junior, I will never know. Before I forget, I prefer to call my half-brother JJ for Jerk Junior. He is now eight and yet another vain in my existence (oh and in case you can’t count, I’m 15 now. I am not here to judge whether or not you have the capacity to do math; it is none of my business.).

That little bastard gets all of my Moms attention and all of her time. I’m serious, I dyed my hair six different colors and cut it at 12 different lengths and she didn’t bat an eye, but when JJ came down with a different shirt on than my Mom laid out for him, she had a hissy fit.

It was all, “Sweetie, please that shirt doesn’t match,” and, “If you wear that, it might send out the wrong message about you.” WTH? I have tried everything to get her attention; I dyed my hair, started skateboarding (best decision of my life. The sport rocks!), I started wearing black and red, I even got three more piercings in my ear. I got nothing; no notice to it whatsoever. My buddies thought that I should get a tattoo but I couldn’t do it. My old man would roll over in his grave if I got a tramp-stamp. Besides, when you have them in a noticeable place, people sometimes look down on you. It would be just my luck to not get my dream job on account of a rebellion agents my (hopefully at the time) previous oppressors. Despite stereotypes about skater kids, I actually do get good grades. You would think that my Mom would be proud of that at least but no. That would be too nice. Every time I bring home a report card with all A’s and B’s I get accused of forging it. I get grounder for two weeks and if my Mom and the Jerk would go down to my school and confirm that my grades aren’t forged I might actually get to enjoy my life, God forbid. To think that people wonder why there are so many teen runaways. I would runaway but I promised my Dad before he died that I would hold down the fort for him. I won’t break a promise.

So, to summarize, I am now being forced to blow off a downright epic night to watch the demon that shares half of my DNA. Sucks right? I case you haven’t figured it out yet or you’re just stupid, my name is Alexandria Runner, but you can just stick to calling me Alex.

My Mom and the Jerk, despite the greatest amount of protest I can produce on such short notice, got their thing together and left on their little “date night” leaving me alone with JJ. I thought about locking him in the basement and going to the completion but, the last time I did that, I got my 3 meals a day privileges suspended for two months and I like lunch too much to do that again. I know what you’re going to say, that it was dangerous and mean but he deserved it, he toke my laptop and threw it out the window just because I wouldn’t let him watch “Chicago” (I thought it was inappropriate for his age. At the time, he was about six). So I locked him in the basement and sat up and watched “Mean Girls”. On the up side, after fasting for two months, if there were any thoughts on me being fat, they followed my laptop straight out the window.

JJ sat on the couch and stared at me. He just stared; not even blinking. He has my mom’s eyes, a dark, murky green. That is the best thing about me- I got my Dads eyes; bright blue that seemed to glow in the dark. I still can remember him looking at me with his big smile and dark hair. After he died, I was always so sad that I had to get my Mom’s stringy Cheetos colored hair. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t mimic his dark hair with the stuff out of the box. You need to realize that I miss my Dad so much that I…

Suddenly, JJ ruined my remission with his usual set of demands, “I want to watch T.V!”I want to hit you over the head with a shovel! The remote to the T.V was on the coffee table about one foot away from where he was sitting. I swear this kid thinks he is the greatest thing since an iPod. I sighed and handed the stupid thing to him. He should be entertained for a few minutes, so I decided to start making dinner. I threw a few burritos in the microwave and went up to my room. At least there I could pretend that I was a part of a different family. I once had the beast bedroom in the whole house; it was huge with tall window and a balcony that overlooked a small garden. JJ has that room now. The only reason he wanted it was because I had it and the only reason he got it was because I had it. We live in an old Victorian style house with eight bedrooms that he could have had but no he had to take mine. The best part of it all was that I was assigned a bedroom by my stepfather. It’s not even a room, it a freaking attic! In the attic there is no AC or heat. Let me reiterate, no heat! All I have is a small wood stove that is about 200 years old and I have to say thank God for it. I would freeze in the winter if it wasn’t there. It’s the summer now, thanks to the fact that heat rises, my room is my own personal oven.

I pulled the ladder down and climbed up slowly. I braced myself for the intense heat to hit me. As if on cue, I felt a wave of hot, dry air swirl around me. The attic always had a weird smell to it that always kind of freaked me out. I have to wonder if the Jerk is storing Asbestos or toxic waste up here or something. He could be trying to kill me. You may think I’m being paranoid but I’m not; you don’t know this guy. I swear the only reason I am still alive is because I qualify as a tax reduction. Don’t think I’m kidding; I once spent three days at my friend’s house without telling my mom or the Jerk. They didn’t even notice. I didn’t even get a call to my cell phone; when I came home, they barley looked up from the TV. I tell you, they wouldn’t notice if I dropped dead.

I walked into my bedroom/attic and ducked down so I wouldn’t hit the low ceiling. I moved slowly to the large window and opened the hatch. With a sigh of relief, I breathed in the warm fresh air. This rare peace is how they say, golden. I plopped down on my bed for just a few minutes of relaxation but suddenly the doorbell rang. I moaned and, reluctantly, got up. I jumped down the ladder and flew down the stairs quiet as a mouse. I am pretty sure I’m part ninja. I opened the front door and there strode Carl, our mailman and in his hand was a package.

MailCall

“Hey Carl,” I said nonchalantly, “what do you need?”

“Hi Alex, I have a devilry for you,” Carl handed me the package. It was about 13 inches long and five inches thick with my name and address on the postage stamp. There was no return address.

“Um… Thanks Carl,” I said as I signed the delivery slip. He handed me the package and I nearly fell over. This thing is freaking heavy! If I wasn’t so strong from skateboarding, I would have dropped it straight on my foot. “What the hell is in this thing?” I asked as I struggled to hold the accursed thing up.

“I have no idea.” Carl said with a smile. I think he was just happy to have the thing delivered and out of his hair. I closed the door with my foot and carried the package into the kitchen. By now, JJ had heard the commotion and had looked up from his TV show long enough to wonder what was going on.

“Alex, what’s that box? Is it for me?”

“No” I said, rather annoyed. Suddenly, the microwave beeped with its completion. “Come and get your food,” I commanded as I carefully placed the package on the table. I didn’t want to just throw it down; if I did, it would leave a dent in the wood. While I looked for scissors to open the box, JJ came into the kitchen and saw his dinner then, within a second, started having a temper tantrum.

“I don’t want this!” he screamed over and over. I hardly even notice; after so many years, I don’t hear his screaming any more.

“Shut up!” I yelled as he rolled around on the floor crying. He was starting to get on my nerves.

“You shut up, you bitch!” Okay, now I’m pissed.

“Get your ass out of my sight before I knock you into December” I screeched as loud as I could muster. You wouldn’t know this from my small stature but I have an incredibly loud voice. He panicked and ran back into the living room while covering his ears. I laughed to myself and turned my attention to the package. I removed the wrapping and opened the box. Inside was very confusing. There was a white digital wristwatch that looked to be turned off. The watch was sort of weird looking though because attached to it was a, I don’t know how to say this, second digital watch face (the face is where the numbers are). This second face was smaller and unlike the first one, it was more of a perfect circle (the first one was more of a square shape.) Next to the watch, was a square box; it was all white and on the top was a geometric diamond. I immediately figured out that the box was what was so heavy. I tried to pick it up but could barely hold it in my hands without a huge strain. I also found two letters. One was addressed to me, it read:

Dear Alexandria Runner,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the steer straight program. This is a great honor and an ideal opportunity to better you and become an upstanding citizen. You have been selected do to your great potential and how you do not seem to utilize all of the opportunities presented to you. You are now required to attend this two day conference so you may begin to give back to the community with all expenses paid. This is not optional. The train to the conference leaves on the 25^th of June (That’s today!). We understand the lateness of this notification but, due to a malfunction in our computer system, your notice was sent out late. We apologize for the inconvenience. With your attendance, you will receive a 5,000 dollar scholarship towards to collage of your choice. We have a number for you to call for your conformation. You will need a change of clothing and to bring the items found inside your package. We have also provided a letter to give to your parents to explain your absence and your train ticket. We apologize again for our error. Thank you and we will see you at the conference.

I read the letter over and over again. I couldn’t believe it, that these people thought I was some kind of troubled youth. I bet the Jerk signed me up for this just to piss me off. The letter was signed by some lady and there was a phone number. I called to confirm that I wasn’t getting pranked or I wasn’t going to be abducted or something. I dialed the number and some dude picked up. He confirmed the legitimacy of the conference and told me that if I didn’t attend, I could be penalized with a possible enrollment in juvenile hall. I was, needless to say, furious. I could ruin my life by not attending a stupid conference! On the other hand, I could use a five grand scholarship. I pulled out the ticket and saw that the train leaves at six o’clock. That is in 15 minutes! I panicked and stated to spaz out. I called out to JJ and he came over at a purposely slow speed.1

“What?” he asked with a rather rued attitude.

“Go over to Dan’s house for dinner and stay there until Mom and Bob get home.” Dan is the kid down the street and he is incredibly annoying but JJ seems to like him. Birds of the same feather stick together I guess.

“Mommy and Daddy said you have to watch me,” he said with a snicker.

“Well something has come up and I have to go like now!” I yelled as I looked for my backpack.

“Well I could call them and tell them what’s happening or I could keep quiet. That depends on what is in it for me.”

“Well then,” I began to explain, “you could go over to Dan’s for dinner and keep your mouth shut or I could tie you to a post with a loaf of bread. It’s your choice.” His face turned white and I figured out his decision without him having to say a word. He ran and found his shoes and was out the door in under a minute. I should have done that sooner. I finally found my backpack and started packing up my stuff. I threw in my cell phone, my iPod, first aid kit (a true skateboarded always has one on her), a small bag of toiletries, a clean red shirt, and a copy of my favorite book, The Thunder Stealer. I grabbed some cash and, lastly, put in the weird box into my pack. I slipped on the wristwatch and left the note they gave me on the table.

It looked pretty average; it was just the whole, “daughter gone” and, “she will be back tomorrow” stuff. It was getting late and the air was getting cool so I slung my leather jacket on and pulled the now thousand pound backpack over my shoulders. It hurt like hell but after a few seconds, I got used to it and, in fact, couldn’t even tell it was there. I then slipped a book of matches and my switchblade into my pocket. I know, I know, I shouldn’t be carrying a switchblade but you don’t know what it’s like for me. I am a 15 year old girl who is small and underweight for her age and I hang out with a crowd that could be interpreted by some as the “wrong” grope of kids. It’s tough down at the skate park; you don’t know whether the kid next to you is packing heat and so that switchblade gives my piece of mind. As for the matches, well, Dad always said to carry a book of matches where ever you go. Most importantly, I pulled out my skateboarded and helmet. I strapped my helmet on and laced up my favorite red-and-blue converse sneakers. I was all ready to go. I ran past the table on my way out and saw something weird. The letter looked, well, longer than it did a minute ago. Before I could read it, I saw the clock. I had 10 minutes to catch my train! I toke off out the door as fast as my feet could carry me. They say that hind sight is 20/20 and it’s true because, looking back, I wished I had reread that letter. See, I know now that it contained the excuse for my absence for the next two months.

Gotta get to that blasted train

I live in a New England town that consists of big Victorian homes, a bunch of shops, and a shitload of old buildings and libraries. We also have our own university; I bet your wondering where I live. Well too bad, because I don’t need someone reading this and then showing up to, like, stalk me or something. I have enough problems without some perverts knocking on my door.

I sped out of my front door and jumped onto my skateboard. I pushed myself forward and soon was riding out of my upscale neighborhood, AKA the most boring place in Northern America. I skated out onto Main Street and grabbed a hold of some guys’ car bumper. I think he saw me but didn’t care. He is like everyone else in this forsaken town; oblivious and stupid to the youngest generation. The rest of the kids in my neighborhood shoplift, commit vandalism, and form their own gangs just because they’re bored. At least I skateboard to keep myself out of trouble. (Don’t you love how I can say that like it’s the reason I skateboard?)

I road along until I got to the old construction site. This place hasn’t been worked on for years and everything is covered in mold and rust and so, it’s the perfect place for a short cut. I picked up some speed and boarded into the pipes that they were planning on using for the sewage in whatever they were building. The pipes were 50 feet long and a straight shot to the other side of the construction site that lead to the back of the towns’ public library. Then, just beyond that, was the coveted train station. I rode inside the low pipe that is covered in slime. It was gorse to say the least but it is the fastest way to the other side of the construction site. When I was about half way through, I felt movement beneath me. He ground began to shake and, and… rise. Within seconds I realized what was happening- they are working on the construction site! I can’t believe it; they haven’t touched this place since before I was born!

I did my best to pick up speed as I sped to the end of the tube. When I finally reached the end, I flew out of the pipe like a ball being shot from a canon. I realized too late that I was about ten feet off the ground. I rearranged my footing and braced for the impact of the ground. It hurt but I, needless to say, stuck the landing without a scratch. Damn I’m good. I scared the crap out if a few construction workers though. They just stared in shock like idiots- they didn’t even ask if I was okay. I tell you, I wonder if anyone in this genetic cesspool known as the American Suburbs contains a mind not dulled from mindless hours of media… I am going to take your silence as a no.

Unfortunately, after my fabulous performance is freaking out the community-college dropout construction workers, I didn’t have time to congratulate myself. I kicked myself forward on my bored and skated out of the building zone. I then checked my phone and saw that I had less than six minutes to catch my train! I bent down close to the board as low as I could go and picked up speed. I cut through behind the library and grinded down the stairs. I found myself on Third Street and, I could see the train station! I was determined to make that train and I only had about two minutes until it pulled out. I leaned forward and prepared myself as I propelled my body off a wheelchair ramp and down the road as fast as the wheels on my board could turn. I saw within seconds that I was going to make it the station but then I realized that I may not be able to stop at the station. I was going too fast and began to lose control of my board. When I arrived at the station, I did the only way I could think to stop an out of control skateboard; I plowed into a wall. It hurt but I’ve done worst. I checked the clock and saw that I had made it with 30 seconds to spare. You have got to admit it- I am good.

The train station in my town is small compared to others I’ve been in but still, it serves its purpose. There are about ten or so platforms and one main building. I had been here once before when The Jerk decided to send me to fat girl camp. He thought it was funny and didn’t consider that the fat kids might not like me due to my current state of being less than 100 pounds. All the girls got together and tried to chase me but I escaped by running up some stairs. No offence to any fat kids reading this. Wow, I hate the Jerk; I mean who dose that? But hey, don’t get me started on that story.

I pulled out my ticket and found my way to the platform (platform number 4-8) where the train was about to pull out. I climbed on and handed the conductor my ticket. I noticed that on the side of the train was another 3D geometric diamond just like the one on the box I got. I also say that there were three other trains that were all about to pull out with the same symbol. The kids that were all climbing on the other trains didn’t exactly look like the types that would be going to a correctional seminar. One grope of kids looked like the brainy type and were obviously really studious. Most of them were carrying their own personal dictionaries. I am not going to even comment on that. There was one guy that looked a little hot with sandy blond hair and a nice smile. Another grope looked like the stereo-type jocks. They all looked really peppy and hyped to be going to this thing and most looked really athletic and the guys especially all looked buff. All accept one who looked normal but still a kind of person who would want attention. The last grope looked like a band of sixties hippies. I mean I half expected one of them to pull out pot and start singing the Beatles. I know, I get stereotyped all of the time and I shouldn’t be doing it to others but hey, you need to see these hippies. They were all hugging each other and singing with their guitars. One girl particularly caught my eye as she glided along on her pink roller skates. I looked around at the rest of the kids on my train and I saw that they all look like my type of bunch. They all looked pretty tough and strong; I even recognized a few kids from the skate park but still, I saw none of my friends. I sat down in my seat and felt the train begin to move. Out the window, I saw the other three trains pull out and speed alone in the same direction as me.

“Hey Alex, is this seat taken?” A familiar voice asked.