Kanna-sama: Spring break rules! ...Well, except for the fact that I get too much inspiration. Please read below and enjoy!

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Title: Enchantments of Another World

Rating: T

Genre: Fantasy/Romance

Summary: Magic doesn’t exist, right? Ellen Rile believes that, but her friend, Dottie Sanderson, thinks otherwise. When Dottie goes missing, Ellen follows the hints someone’s leaving and ends up in a fantasy world.

Notes/Warnings: Fantasy; short-chaptered fic

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Enchantments of Another World

Prologue

Okay, don’t get me wrong. I’ve got a lot of problems in my life. A family that’s out of wack, a neighbor who think she’s the reincarnation of Elizabeth the First, a cat that has the mood swings of my mom when she’s in menopause, and, of course, the thing that got me into this whole mess, a friend that believes in magic. So, yeah, my life isn’t perfect. It definitely took a turn when my friend, Dottie was kidnapped and I went after her in another world. Just another day in my life, right?

Yeah. Right.

I’m not the smartest person in the world. That was pointed out to me when I started my junior year in high school. I might love my Western Civilization class, hate Geometry, love Chemistry, and despise English, but that didn’t mean one thing. I liked two classes that were total opposites. Great.

My friend, Dottie, was the smart one. I always thought that up until she started those stories about magic existing. (I went to the fair once and watched a magician and I could see through every act of his. I think he knew, too, and that was why he was always glaring at me.) Dottie was part Vietnamese, so her warm, brown eyes were slanted and her skin was a natural tan (it wasn’t that tan compared to some girls in our school.) And, you know, I’m not racist, but there’s just something about Asians that makes them smart. Dottie had straight A’s, had been in Honors classes and was currently in AP classes. I envied that about her. She was too nice, though. She had that wide grin that was welcoming and also seemed to shout out, “I’m weak and vulnerable to evil people, come and feast on my good soul!” Which was ridiculous, of course, but true.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t that nice of a gal. Sure, I handed out smiles, but sparingly. I was the same height as my plump best friend, but I was slender and had smaller proportions (which I cursed every day of my life.) I was almost like Dottie’s bodyguard. Being in basketball and having an A in PE for my entire school life helped chase off the perverts and jerks that came flocking to my best friend. But that was just that.

Today, Dottie and I were hanging out after school. I was shooting hoops. My dark hair was tied up in a ponytail and I was in basketball shorts (that were my younger brother’s) and a white T-shirt. Dottie didn’t see what was so great about basketball – or any sport, for that matter. But then again, she had suffered through Gym class ever since she started taking up nibbling on sweets.

“Hey, Ellen,” she called to me as I trailed over to her to drink from my Gatorade. I glanced at her while I unscrewed the bottle to show I was paying attention. “What do you think about getting fake IDs?” I paused, turning my head to stare at her with wide eyes. My innocent, straight-A best friend was asking if I wanted to get a fake ID? This was a sign from heaven! (I’d always wanted one.)

“Why do you want one?” I asked before guzzling down my favorite flavor of Gatorade: Glacier Freeze. Yummm. “I mean, you don’t have any reason for one, Dottie,” I pointed out to her, screwing the cap back on my Gatorade. “The only reason we’d need one of those is to get into clubs or bars or something.” She idly twisted a lock of her shoulder-length ebony hair. My eyebrows snapped down in suspicion. So, here’s the possibility of reasons for this fake ID idea:

She finally saw reason and wanted to get drunk for her first time (and mine for that matter.)

She wanted to get laid (which I seriously can’t see her doing.)

She had an older boyfriend and promised to meet him somewhere dark and mysterious.

She just wanted to see what it was like.

Okay, out of all of those, I sadly have to say that choice numero quatre (‘number four’ in French) is the most likely of them. Dottie hasn’t yet been corrupted by the assholes in our school, nor by me. And besides, she’s the most rational girl I know. She wouldn’t want to get drunk or laid just because.

“Well, you’ve always wanted to get a fake ID, haven’t you, Ellen?” She asked in a slightly accusing tone. I blinked and raised my eyebrows slightly at her in a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about-I’m-innocent kind of gesture. One that she just rolled her eyes at. As always. Either I really didn’t know how to look innocent or Dottie could see through it. I could always get through my parents by giving an innocent look (though it was always a lot more convincing than that one.)

“Well, yeah,” I mumbled, dribbling the basketball idly, doing a few tricks to stall. “But I don’t see why you’d want one.” She shrugged and lifted her AP English Comprehension book to her face, staring at it fixedly. I frowned, noticing her slightly puckered brow. I suspected that someone had bad talked her and she had been pressured into wanting to get a fake ID. And that just wasn’t going to go by me. Seriously. “Hey, are you alright, Dottie?”

“I’m fine,” was her short response. I heaved a sigh and returned to shooting hoops to think over her behavior. We could get a fake ID, no problem. Bozo Redman (his name was actually Adam) could make fake IDs in a snap. I could ask him, I suppose, but Bozo was just one of those guys that you accidentally kiss and then accidentally get attached to you. Yeah. That kind of guy. They were always hard to shake off, but I knew he’d do us a favor. I wasn’t going to kiss him, though, no matter how many times he’d been asking. I wonder if I should punch him to get it through his head?

“Heeey ladies!” Speak of the devil.

“Hi, Adam,” Dottie answered, lifting her head from her book and smiling slightly. Bozo bounded towards us with an eager look that I saw on my brother’s dog, Ralph, way too often. Bozo actually did look like a dog, too. He had bleached blonde hair that was gelled into tiny spikes, wide blue eyes that were friendly, and a smile that was difficult to get wiped off his fair-skinned face. He was actually kind of pale, but I wasn’t exactly one to talk. I had the beginning of tan skin, but it definitely wasn’t tan.

“Hey there, Dottie,” he chirped and then came straight for me. “Hi sweetheart!” I threw the basketball in his stomach to try, once again, to get my point across. “Oof!” He flinched and then dribbled the basketball for a second before tossing it to me. “Tough as ever, I see.” He smiled at me. It was a nice smile, which was the exact reason why I had kissed him last summer. I was regretting it more than ever.

“Don’t start anything in front of me,” Dottie teased and I rolled my eyes. She knew very well that the chance of anything “starting” between us was as likely as the same thing happening between her and him.

“By the way, Bozo,” I said as I tossed the basketball and it went through the hoop, “how are you doing in your ID business?”

“Good as always,” he replied with his bright smile. I tossed the basketball to him and he dribbled it for a second before shooting it from the half-court line and making it through. Another reason I kissed him: he was an awesome basketball player. It was always one of the reasons I couldn’t find myself shouting at him to get out of my life. That, and he was such a sweetheart. If I actually liked him like that, I could fall in love with the guy.

“We actually need to buy some,” Dottie spoke up, shutting her book. “Could you make us two?” His face lit up and a mischievous smirk curled his lips.

“Ah, I love aiding people in avoiding the law.” He winked at us and continued, “Of course I can make both you gals one. I won’t even charge you.” He turned his bright eyes to me, adding, “If I can get a kiss from Ellen.”

“We’ll pay,” I told him shortly, dribbling the basketball. Bozo heaved a huge, dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes to the heavens with a pout starting on his face. He must have perfected that look because he did it way too well. Dottie was hiding a smile as she collected her things. I tossed the basketball in the hoop one more time before catching my basketball and grabbing my bag, following her and Bozo off the school grounds.

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“Here you go, college students,” Bozo told us cheerfully about a half hour after we arrived at his house. I bet his parents were bemused at how many people arrived here. Our IDs were easier to make since we had driver’s licenses and all he had to do was make a copy and just change some of the data. For me, that would have taken hours. For him, it barely took him thirty minutes. All I have to say is that when we took the laminated fake IDs, I was impressed.

“Whoa, they look real,” I said, turning mine round and round in my fingers.

“Duh, they do.” He rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. “Don’t forget – I’m an expert. It would have taken a lot longer if you two didn’t have licenses. But because you did, it took a snap. When your license expires, that thing expires too, so you’ll have to come back.” He batted his eyelashes, something I hadn’t seen anyone but Bozo do. “I’ll enjoy working with you gals.” He was staring straight at me. I almost sighed. The man was relentless.

“Thanks, Bozo,” I told him with a quick smile. I didn’t want to encourage him. He nodded to me, smiling, and led us out of his house (which looked more like a museum with all the sculptures and paintings that were hanging around.)

“Thank you!” Dottie called to him, waving, as we moved down his sidewalk. He waved back and then shut the door behind us. “Wow. I can’t believe we just did that!” I shrugged, stuffing mine in my wallet with my actual license and dribbled my basketball all the way to my house. “We’ll go do something on Friday,” she said, grinning.

“Sure thing,” I agreed. I worked on the weekends at the small café down the road from our school. I could work on only four hours of sleep, so I didn’t mind staying up late on a work or school night. “See ya tomorrow.” She nodded and headed down the street to her house a block away from mine.

I dropped my backpack and went to the hoop attached on our garage and shot a couple hoops. I probably would have been out longer, but my neighbor, Ms. Doberman came out. As kids, my brother and I would snicker about her having the last name as a type of dog. Now, we just avoided her. She was some kind of crazy. Ms. Doberman somehow came up with the insane idea that she was the reincarnation of Elizabeth I of England, Henry VIII’s daughter. So, whenever she saw us, she shouted at us for not bowing to her and addressing her as “Your Majesty.” My dad fled like the Devil was after him when she came around. My mom was more polite. She made excuses and humored Ms. Doberman by saying “My Queen.” My fourteen-year-old brother and I would exchange looks when she would do that. In fact, my brother Jacob was the less tactful of us. When she had been yelling at him for something at one time, he screamed at her that she was – and I quote – “a crazy-ass old lady who needed to be in an asylum.” Ms. Doberman didn’t say anything to my parents, because she seemed to think that a Queen shouldn’t be snitching on people. I really had no words for my brother, but I did give him a high-five when he came in the house.

So, when I saw Ms. Doberman start out her house, I grabbed my basketball and bag and hurried inside. Jacob looked up from the TV and raised a hand in greeting. I smacked it as I came in. The reason we got along so well was because I wasn’t one of those girly kind of sisters. I was a lover of sports, lover of basketball shorts and sneakers, and the kind of sister that didn’t giggle and tease him when he had a crush on a girl. My parents preferred us liking each other, though we still did wrestle over the remote and ruin the living room in the process.

“Baby, you home?” My mom called as she came downstairs. I flinched at the nickname.

“Yeah,” I answered as I slumped on the couch next to my brother and threw the basketball up and down idly. “Why?”

“You took a longer time to get home,” she cautiously answered. I sighed to myself and waited for the lecture. Jacob also sighed. We both heard this enough time in a week and we always heard each other’s lecture before or after we had already gotten our own. I suspected Jacob had gotten his already.

“I stopped at Bo – Adam’s house.” My mom hated me calling him his nickname that I had given him. “And you know how I shoot some hoops after school.”

“I know...” was her reply. “You know that I don’t like you staying out ’till dark, though, baby, and...” I stared at her mutely as the lecture continued on and on, focusing, as always, around how I could get raped or taken advantage of by a boy. Then, she started in about how Bozo’s parents weren’t around after school and that he could have raped or taken advantage of me. I knew Bozo, though, and he wouldn’t force his attentions on me. He’s always teasingly tried to kiss me, but he knew I’d beat him to a bloody pulp before that happened. The one difference between my brother’s and my lectures: I get violated, he doesn’t. “...so just be careful and try to be home earlier, okay?”

“Okay, mom,” I answered. She smiled at me and went in the kitchen to start dinner. I glanced at my brother, who rolled his eyes to the ceiling. I chuckled and got up, throwing the basketball at him. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Whatever,” was his answer. I climbed the stairs, stretching. Sure, I had gotten lectured, I had a guy that I liked as friend or brother coming after me from one measly kiss, I wasn’t popular in school, and I didn’t have a boyfriend, but my life was going great. Well, it was. Things started to get crazy the next day. Seriously.

End Chapter One