A.N.

And so, here is my first chapter... know that it is kind of boring at first, but it will pick up soon! Anyways, please review- I'm curious as to what you think of it. Constructive criticism would be nice- I'd like to know where I can improve- but no flames. Flames are 3bil.

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The room was stifled by an almost tropical heat. It's sole inhabitant, a girl sitting on one of it's several ornate beds peeling sweaty hair from the back of her neck and rubbing heavy- lidded, tired eyes, ignored the temperature as best she could.

She was engrossed in the task at hand: complaining to her diary.

6/20/04 (she wrote)

Today sucked. It sucked to the deepest depths of suckiness. So much did it suck that, were it compared to the suckiest moment of your sucky inanimate diary life, it would suck exactly 200 percent more.

IT SUCKED. SUCKED, SUCKED, SUCKED!!!!!!!!

(She frowned at the writing on the lined yellow page. She counted the number of times she had written the word suck. She counted eleven, laughed quietly, and began writing again.)

Well, no, it didn't. I'm being a drama queen here. Plus, the heat is screwing around with my brain (it’s in the nineties. Isn’t that like incredibly insane?). But I did have exams. Two hours of straight math, and history afterwards. My brain wanted to implode. And it didn't help that I was sitting right between Katie Matthews and Emily Rhodes the whole time, and had to listen to them chatter about how drunk they were at some party for about ten minutes before the test started. Agh.

And now my classmates are all outside hanging out, pretending to study, and looking cool. The girls are probably using this opportunity to show off their "summer"- read, slutty- clothes.

And I, fortunately, am inside, which means away from them. Inside, and very tired. I think I will take a nice, quiet nap.

Write later.

-Fiona

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She was a plain girl. She had a pale face which made the dark circles under her eyes and the acne on her forehead stand out a little too much, with a longish nose, mournful hazel eyes which seemed to always be accusing you of wounding her spirit deeply, and a rather wide mouth. Average height and average weight, she wore an outfit - jeans, white t- shirt, and plaid shirt unbuttoned over it- which didn't fit tightly or loosely enough to be especially interesting. The only pretty thing about her was her hair, and that was beautiful, also striking a sharp contrast to her plainness. Silky, rich reddish- blonde, hanging thickly past her shoulders, curling a little at the ends and catching the sunlight.

Fiona Gray gave a small, tired sigh, blowing a stray strand of hair off of her forehead. She was unnaturally tired, sitting there on the bed and leaning heavily against the hard wood of the headboard. She had been feeling under the weather for a few days- one of those empty, dull moods which you get a lot on gloomy, boring Sundays in November but rarely have on a pretty warm day in June had slipped like lukewarm water into her mind and wouldn't go away no matter what she did. She felt ridiculously lazy; vague, regretful thoughts that she should be making the most of this peaceful loneliness while she could were brushed aside quickly by the overpowering desire to sleep.

She wasn't quite sure how to describe what it was she was feeling, except to say that it was sort of a weakness, an increasingly overpowering weakness, and a totally powerless feeling, as though she were constantly walking through a dream.

She yawned and slid down onto her back, settling her head on her pillow. No sooner had she done this then she stopped short, giving a sharp, hissing gasp and putting her hands to her temples, shutting her eyes tightly.

Without warning, her ears had begun ringing fiercely, and her eyesight blurred to the point that it was as if her eyes weren't open at all- everything was hazy darkness. This had been happening every so often over the last week. She tried to tell herself that it was all the late- night studying taking it's toll, but there was something very weird about it that she couldn't quite place.

Breathing heavily, face squeezed up as if she were in pain, she opened her eyes slowly again. She could see well enough again, although her surroundings were still a little blurred, and the ringing in her ears was dying down slowly but steadily.

Her face relaxed, and slowly, so did the rest of her. Whatever it was, it was over. And she could sleep.

"Hate it when that happens," she murmured, closing her eyes and turning over onto her side.

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Fiona Gray had rarely felt so happy as she did now, over the whole year that she had been at the Mary S. Jacobson institute (a fancy New England boarding school). She wouldn't have attended the place at all, but her grandmother, who had looked after her, had died the year before. Her grandmother had homeschooled her, having been a teacher at some time herself. But she hadn't wound up living long enough to finish Fiona's education, and, not really having much choice, all the rest of Fiona's family being dead, in her last few weeks she'd decided to send Fiona here where, at least, she wouldn't live alone.

Fiona didn't like the idea from the start; she always seemed to be hearing bad things about boarding schools like this one, and a lot of sad stories seemed to take place there. These sad stories always involved ridiculously strict/ diabolically evil staff and more often than not, snobby and mean pupils, who of course all hated the one nice person who inhabited the place. Fiona had made the convinced decision that that nice person would be her. Needless to say, this didn’t make her any friends.

And now she was resting, half asleep, her mind subconsciously dwelling in memories. All of them were recent, and dwelling on them had an odd sort of painful appeal. Her grandmother's funeral, one of the single worst memories she could come up with...even the memory of that made her eyes smart. All the encounters she had had with them...those idiotic, shallow classmates of hers. The long nights she had spent, listening to them talk happily about their happy lives, their boyfriends, the stupid parties that they always seemed to be having, their rich parents and how much fun life was for them. And Fiona would curl up and try to sleep, willing them away, so she could feel less alone.

But she was safe now, and she could have all the peace she wanted. She stretched slowly, a small smile appearing on her face. She liked sleeping; it gave you a perfect opportunity to avoid everything that wasn't quite right in your life.

But the peace didn't last long. That moment, with a creaking noise which Fiona had learned to hate from the pit of her stomach, the door swung open and someone entered. Fiona's eyes flew open, and she was quickly wide awake. She looked up, and was surprised to see the person who had walked in.

Mariel C. Parker was the tenth and final inhabitant of the senior year girls' dormitory. She wasn't one of them, and in fact, she and Fiona had spoken several times and were on fairly good terms with each other. She acted like a rather less self- absorbed and much more genuinely intelligent version of them- rather ditzy and preppy acting, although never to the extent that it was obvious she was doing it for the attention.

She treated them with a kind of poisonous sweetness and always gave you the impression that she was seriously considering jumping at you and beating you severely (if you were basically anyone but many of the teachers, Fiona, or her mother, who had come to visit the school once), talking with obviously fake enthusiasm and sneering at you as soon as your back was turned.

Needless to say, she would do anything to avoid them. As it was she somehow managed to stay out of the dorm for very long periods of time...she must have stayed somewhere else in the huge, old school- since there were many old rooms in the place, but no one knew or cared where. She could be seen time to time, at night, walking the corridors in pajamas and a bathrobe and carrying a book with her, looking strange and ghostly, such a lonely figure as she was.

She had always been a figure shrouded in mystery and, to Fiona, intrigue. Fiona had rather wished she knew her better; she was a very nice person, or at least seemed to be one (by comparison). It seemed as though they could easily be friends; they were both basically alone in the huge place, and they both hated all the other students with a passion, which, Fiona reasoned, would be something for them to talk about, if they both shared a hate like that.

Mariel was now storming into the dormitory in a boiling rage, flinging the door open and her head dramatically up as she swung it shut behind her. Her deep red hair, which usually hung half- concealing her face, fell back and revealed it in its entirety- and it was seething with anger.

"OK!" she shouted, pointing at Fiona. "You. You can tell me where Ashley Roberts is skulking around, so I can kill her. NOW!"

Fiona shrunk back, her eyes wide. For crying out loud, she thought. What's she flipping out at me for?

"I dunno," she told her, a little hurt. "There's no one else in here, she's probably outside." She shrugged.

Mariel brought her head back level, frowning. The anger in her eyes ebbed away a little.

"I believe ya," she told her, nodding. "I forgot, you're not one of them, are you?" She smiled. "You're too sweet to hang out with them, right?"

Fiona made a face involuntarily. Being called "sweet" or anything of the like, for some reason, always struck a nerve with her.

"I'm not sweet," she muttered, half to herself.

Mariel laughed. She had a high- pitched, rather grating laugh, but it made Fiona smile, because she was happy for once, to hear a friendly laugh and not one full of snobby contempt.

Then Mariel suddenly stopped and peered very thoughtfully at her. "No," she said, sounding serious. "I guess you're not. Just like, I'm not really a prep, except everyone always thinks I am, which is, like, so frickin annoying. I want to smash people's heads open when they call me one." She laughed. Her anger gone completely, she sat down on the empty bed next to Fiona's, removing some magazines which cluttered it and flinging them uncaringly to the floor. She yawned and flopped down, lying on her back as if it were her own bed.

Fiona gave her an odd look, raising an eyebrow at her. "Uh, what..." she began.

"Oh!" Mariel exclaimed, interrupting her. "You can do that? Raise one eyebrow at a time, I can never do it!" She stopped. "Sorry, ignore me. What were you saying?"

Fiona had been about to ask her what she was doing lying on some random person's bed like that, but changed her mind.

"What did you come in here for? I mean, you never really come here and you sounded pretty mad at someone..."

"Yeah," Mariel replied, screwing up her face in disgust. "Ashley, my little friend. Well, Katie Matthews (asshole) came up to me a few minutes ago and told me that she was telling the whole school that I'm mentally unstable and I have to see a psychologist and they're thinking of shipping me off to a mental hospital, you know, all that shit. Not that I believed her, but a few other people told me the same thing. Yeah, then Matt came up to me and was pretending he wanted to ask me out, only he was just making fun of me, like the-" she made an evil face, baring her teeth and bringing her hands up to her face in the imitation of a rat "-inbred rat freak he is, but..." She shrugged, and gave Fiona a you- get- what- I- mean sort of face.

Fiona nodded seriously. Ashley was certainly the sort of person to come up with something like that; she loved gossip of that sort, and didn't really care who it affected (generally, her friends, which was something that Fiona had never understood). And there were multiple Matts in the senior year, but Fiona had the idea that Mariel was referring to Matt Bailings, who did in fact resemble a rat.

"Did you know," she spoke up, giggles punctuating her speech a little. "That Ashley actually used to be a boy name? Right up until the 1980s. Seriously, I read it somewhere. That would be funny if you told her that. Just randomly went up to her and told her that, to freak her out."

Mariel jumped up, and you could almost see a lightbulb appearing over her head. "That is such a good idea!" she exclaimed. "I should so do that!" She smiled and nodded at Fiona. "I should be like, really loudly, 'Ashley, are you actually a guy? I think you are!' right in front of her boyfriend and like, all her friends."

"Sure," agreed Fiona. "I'd like to see the look on her face." She wasn't usually much for that sort of thing, being cautious, but this just seemed so attractive.

"Well." Mariel slid off the bed and stood up. "Let's go! Seriously, we should go outside anyway. Its so nice out and you'll go all weird sitting up here all the time." She looked at her, frowning. "But not in that outfit. Seriously, don't you have anything cuter? I mean, OK, that's like, the worst possible-"

"Gotcha," Fiona told her, nodding, before she could go any further. The last thing she wanted today was an hour long lecture on fashion, which she knew that Mariel was entirely capable of giving. She knelt down by her bed and reached under it, pulling out the suitcase where she was keeping some of her clothes and opening it.

She smiled to herself, rubbing her eyes to clear them and yawning widely. Alright, she had made her decision- this was definitely a good day. And with the warm summer all around her, and with the sun and the almost- friend and the prospect of leaving the school for good and going back to the quiet comfort of Grandma's house in only a week or so, what more could she really expect from the day? At this place, it was about the best things were going to get from her, and to be honest it was really quite good.

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Alright, stop.

This is where we finish the description of Fiona's wonderful day and ruin the happy mood completely. That always seems to happen, doesn't it? The worst things happening just in time to spoil the best things. And, sadly for her, something which was, if not the "worst" not exactly nice and fun- filled, was about to happen. Very soon.

So, let's review the facts: Fiona Gray, eighteen, isn't feeling very well today. She hasn't been quite right throughout the last few days, but then again, nor has she been exactly ill. She isn't sure what's wrong, she isn't entirely sure it is anything to worry about, but she does know one thing; it's strange.

Smart girl, our Fiona.

Because it is strange- it's not just any illness that she has, and, really, it's not much of an illness at all. It's not trying to make her unwell, and it won't leave her health in a bad state.

But it is doing one thing. Every moment she feels this strange feeling, every second of the strange sort of sickness, she's being dragged away from her life on earth, closer and closer...to another world.