Sage+&+the+Magneticums


 * Please read the notice before reading.**

====Notice: Read at your own risk. There may or may not be scenes that are highly cliché, but not judging is allowed as I wrote this all purely for NaNoWriMo and in November. Also, Head Member was supposed to be a guy... and someone it turned into May, a girl. I'm sorry if it causes any confusion... Oh yeah! And the spelling errors. Initiation is my least favorite word in the whole English language but somehow it's one of the most used in Sage & the Magneticums. Iniciation is my lazy way of spelling it when I was typing too fast to think about it. Yeah, yeah, I'll fix it.====

It's just over 28,000 words and I'm not nearly done. I'll update it every so often with some more. As for now, Sage and the Magneticums:

Chapter 1

**Sage** “Geez, Della, keep to your Station! Your Dirt is rubbing off into mine!” I wipe my hands on my brown apron and reminisce on the times when it once was white. Looking down, I also see that my white sheets on my bed have turned a slight ivory. “Della! It’s on my sheets, too! There’s a slight shade change! You owe me three Bells for this!”

Della, Della, Della. My neighboring citizen, Della. She is a bit ditzy, I suppose. She forgets to clean up and the Dirt flies from her window to mine. I’ve written 5 letters now to complain to the Continuo, but they refuse to listen. Our Stations are connected by a single window and wall, and Della feels the need to open the window everyday and get “fresh air”. Alas, I told her, it’s the same air in my Station as it is yours, but will she listen to me? No. Never. Nada.

“Gosh, Sage, you’re so funny!” Della giggles into her palm and skips off to her Station. No matter how many times I explain to her, we are to stay in our own Stations, and not ram through the window and invade others. It’s a hard life in the Building.

But the Building is beautiful. It really is the ideal place to live.

At least, that’s what the Continuo says.

The Building is our life, basically. Everyone who lives on Second World is in the Building. When the other Buildings (who weren’t nearly as powerful or large as we are, the Continuo says) decided to head on to Third World in 3000, we stayed. Our Building is the ideal world, as I said before. Why would we ever want to leave? About 3,000 people occupy our Building. Divided into Stations, each family is assigned to one. Houses is the word. Houses. We learned that in an Old English lesson yesterday. Houses. Funny word.

Della lives in the Station (house) next to mine. We aren’t supposed to enter other’s Stations, but everyone does. I look forward to a future on the Continuo board, so I don’t particularly try to break the rules.

Government is the word, I believe. For Continuo.

Besides the Stations, we have a Great Hall where we gather for concerts and other events. The School is a slightly smaller hall and that’s where I attend secondary school. That’s pretty much all there is to a Building.

Oh, and one other hall. It’s for Continuo. I’ve never seen anyone enter or exit that building.

A far more interesting subject though is the Secondary School I attend. Being 16, I only have six more years until freedom. I’ll be able to apply for a position on the Continuo board and get my own Station!

A tone rings through my whole Station and I rise to get the door. Pushed through the large slot are three trays. One for my father, one for my mother, and one for me. I place the gray trays on our white table and my parents sit down.

People say I get my looks from my mother, but I don’t see it. She has gorgeous brunette locks, while mine are chopped at the chin. Her almond eyes are loving and practically emit kindness, but mine are an electric green. The list can go on and on.

My father, with his stern face and strong hands, is not as he seems. He is a sucker for a good joke. We’ve made some killer aircraft models together. He’s open and talkative with strangers, but I seem to make everything awkward by being so hostile.

He glances down at his plate and asks me, “What was that word you learned in Old English the other day? About food?”

“Market, Dad. It’s the place where First World citizens would buy food.” Judging by the confused look on his face, his Secondary School didn’t learn nearly as much as we are now.

“But why would you buy your own food... if Continuo brings it for you...” Poking his fork into his programmed meal, his expression turns from dumbfounded to coy.

“Continuo! Continuo! Let us serve you!” I belt out the lyrics to one of the anthems of our Building. My dad and I will ask posed questions so we can recite any one of our numerous anthems as answers as much as we can. We both chuckle and resume eating our meals.

“Continuo plugs in your medical information to provide you a personalized array of foods for every meal that is ideal for your needs,” our Leader spoke at our Rally last year. One of many perks of living in the Building, He said. White and new furniture in all of the Stations, expanded Secondary School curriculum, and longer sleep hours were all part of His new plan to better the Building. How He continues to improve every year, I have no clue. As he says, it’s already ideal.

Ideal.

Everything is ideal in the Building.

But sometimes, I’m not so sure.

Chapter 2 **Della**

Really, Sage, get a grip, I think to myself as I skip off to my “Station”. I will refuse from hereon out to continue to call them Stations. It makes me feel as if I’m some menial worker for Continuo. I heard in Secondary School the other day that Continuo was a word in a different language. I’m not sure what they were talking about, though, since the only two that exist are ours and Old English, but we don’t even know that much about Old English anyway.

Speaking of that place (Secondary School), I grab my satchel and spill its contents onto my bed. Whatever. Let there be Dirt. I really don't see what's so bad about it, anyway. So what. There's some grime on a bed. Big whooper.

All of my schoolbooks astray, I randomly pick up one of them and start to work on homework. 6 more years, I think to myself. That’s all that keeps me going nowadays. I used to resort to books until Continuo took them away a couple of years ago. It’s alright though, since they weren’t very good to begin with.

Secondary School is practically the most boring thing in this whole Building. The instructors are all mental cases–they’re either depressed, crazed with anger, or indifferent. That’s probably why I hate it so much. Teaching is an art, not a chore. Too bad the instructors don’t see it how I do.

Homework done, I get to bed. Nothing left to do, anyway. Might as well sleep.

I wake up the next morning and realize, just like all other mornings, that I have to go to Secondary School.

No, no no no no. Please, please let me be twenty two, only for the reason being that I will never have to attend Secondary School ever again.

Groggily reaching for my pencil, I jot down a report of my dreams–nothing. Again.

Might as well get this done in one foul swoop. I scoop up my satchel, grab a bagel, and yell a quick goodbye as I run out of the door of my Station. I spot Sage. Stupid time.

“Hiiiii Sage!” I wave quickly and run over to meet her. God, I hate this acting. But then again, I hate almost everything in this Building. Except for one.

She sighs and replies, “Hello, Della. Any dreams last night?”

“No,” we both say at the same time. She sounds wistful, while I’m dumb and ditzy. As it should be. I skip ahead of her and run to Secondary School, breaking another rule. “Don’t stress yourself/ Don’t run and inconvenience oneself” is another motto that was just established. Me, I prefer running. Much faster way to get around. Plus, it makes me look that much stupider to Sage. Always a plus.

I hear Sage purse her lips behind me. I’ve become so accustomed to the sound that I can hear it from the other side of the Building, practically.

Entering the threshold of Hades that was renamed “Secondary School,” I breathe in the scent of sweat and stress. With the white walls and white desks and white chairs, the classroom is as the same as everything else in the Building: white. It takes all of my strength not to stake the zombie teacher at her desk. As everyone is seated, she stands.

“Good morning, class,” she drones.

“Good morning, Mrs. Barry,” we answer in monotone.

Turning to the whiteboard, she begins to write Old English. It reads “I bike to the market.” Yawn. Because of the numbskulls in my class, we must review this sentence every other week.

I feel the absent touch that indicates a stare. I see three blinks. It’s the signal.

I nonchalantly reach into my notebook to get a sheet of paper to take notes. I jot down a couple of new Old English words and start doodling.

A boy clears his throat. I feel three blinks, and I remember what I took out the piece of paper for. I sigh in response. The stare returns to the board.

I struggle to remember the code. Was it two dots, then star? Or perhaps two stars, then a dot?

I feel the stare again. He’s getting impatient.

No, it was two triangles and one dot.

He clears his throat again. I only have thirty seconds. I need this job.

Two squares, it was! Yes! I draw two quick triangles and a single dot and drop the paper. A quick phase of misgiving leaves me paralyzed for a minute. No, I had the code correct.

I was notorious for being the know it all of the group. Somehow that also means I pull pranks. Being a prankster doesn’t mean I tell lies all the time... but then, it doesn’t mean I tell the truth, either.

The boy taps his foot twice. He received the message, and the code was correct; I was in the clear. I leaned back in my chair, a triumphant grin on my face. The boy chuckles as the teacher pops the one intelligent phrase she’ll say all day, but I know the laugh is directed at my relief.

Glancing down at my handiwork, I read it a last time:

//She hasn’t a clue.//

Chapter 3 **Head Member**

I’ll give this to Della–she’s right. Sage hasn’t a clue. Her acting, although hated, is perfect. Now, if she could just learn the codes... she may be Head Member soon. And let me tell you, being Head Member, especially with people like Della, is hard. Harder than it should be.

Della can tend to occupy your thoughts a lot... just like she’s doing right now to me, I realize as I walk back to my house. Practically the only thing Della and I agree on is the name “Station”- we hate it. And she’s doing it again! I need a new hobby.

I walk down a white hallway in my white house to a white room. White, white, white. Boring, boring, boring.

Checking my phone, I see no new messages. That’s a good sign. I flip it into my pocket and head out the door. I need to find the Portal for today.

It’s so tedious that they are constantly on the move, I think to myself. Although, it would be suspicious if it stayed in the same place the whole time, I add.

I trail along the perimeter of the Building, feeling my way. I try to avoid the noisy neighbors from around the Building, but it’s impossible. Everybody knows everything. Or at least they think.

I linger around for about twenty minutes and don’t feel a thing. Aimlessly wandering, I see I have one new text. Scanning it and immediately deleting it, I hear from my second in command that the Portal moved to the South side of the Building. Looking up to the Great Hall, I find out where the South Side is. Great. The exact opposite of where I’m standing.

“Hello, May!” I hear Mrs. Barry call. Why she talks to me outside of Secondary School, I don’t know. The faint “meow” of her twenty million cats (or perhaps a little less) sound from the inside of her Station. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason she took up the instructing position, considering she’s a terrible instructor. Instructors are allowed to keep up to two pets, but how she gets away with the 30 or so she has I have no clue. It’s probably because all of the members of Continuo looooove her. Stupid Barry.

“Hello, Mrs. Barry!” I reply cheerily. “May I help you plant those roses?” The gardens outside of our houses are the only thresholds neighbors are allowed to cross. Of course, I do not want to lay a finger near that cat-urine infested house.

“Oh, you’re such a doll, thank you, but not today,” Mrs. Barry says. She looks so happy, I actually consider the possibility of her head exploding off of her neck. I decide it would be a delightful sight. She’s probably so elated since she doesn’t have anyone to talk to but her cats. I hope she dies in a hole.

Walking over to the Great Hall, I peer in and see nothing. Typical. The stark white walls and tile floor are neatly polished and waxed.

Sometimes, I want to be on Continuo just so I can mess things up. I want to see dirt on the floor. I want to see colors on walls and parties in houses. I want creativity. I want to live my own life.

Such feelings as these are constant, but everyone feels them in the Building. They all get over them, since things are the way they are. They can’t be changed, naturally.

Finally reaching the South Side, I notice that all of the neighbors have gone inside to do classwork or take a nap. Perfect. At once, I can feel the connection and I let my body take over. My legs work their way to a corner of the Building. I stop myself for a moment and reminisce.

Racing my fingertips along the white (shocker!) walls, I remember my first day in the group. Iniciation. My Finder was strong and kind with high expectations of me. I can only hope that I become half as great as he was. I can only dream I’ll ever see him again.

I wonder how Continuo is feeling about the shrinking population. Have they even noticed? They’re probably so wrapped up in Dirt Control that they haven’t seen the difference. Or perhaps they don’t care. I’m guessing the latter.

“This is insane,” I whisper. It’s mind blowing, really. Every time I’ve seen the Portal–felt it, really– I’m constantly amazed. I’m elated, ectastic, excited, euphoric, and all of the synonyms for excited starting with e that you can possibly think of.

I text Della two triangles and hopes she has the will to remember the code. For Pete’s sake, the easiest code in the book, and the most important one, too.

//I’m going in.//

Positioning myself parallel to the wall, the force is so strong, I’ll be pulled in in twenty seconds anyway.

I still don’t understand why this is such a big deal for me, but it is. I remind myself of this once more and hold my breath.

I fall backwards.

Chapter 4
 * Sage **

I’m running my fingers through my hair as I stare at the empty page in front of me. Ms. Barry’s essay is due tomorrow on the meaning of Old English words, and I haven’t gotten a thing.

I dare to open the window a crack and whisper, “Della.”

Peering inside, I see she’s napping. And at 5 o clock, too! A perfect time to be doing homework! “Della!” I hiss, my voice a whole pitch higher.

Her blue eyes flutter open and a look of annoyance crosses it. A flash of recognition soon follows, then a happy grin. I groan.

“Yes, Sage? Should I come over and spread my Dirt?” she says deridingly.

“Heh, heh, very funny. Okay, back to business. I’m assuming you finished your Barry essay, yes?” At this rate, I’m glancing and my clock and wondering if this is even a good idea.

“I did, indeed.”

“Della, jokes over. C’mere,” I beckon her with my hand for her to come close. “I need to see it.” I’m practically whispering by this point.

“Whyyy? For what?”

I can feel my figurative palm hitting my also figurative forehead. I glance behind me to make sure my parents aren’t in my room. It’s empty, as always.

“Look, Della, are you home alone?”

“Yes,” she says, perfectly happy.

“Good,” I say, and I look her straight in the eye. “Can I borrow your essay?” Expecting an avalanche of disapproving words and an earthquake of shame, I cross my fingers.

“Sure thing, Sage!” Della dutifully hands over a perfect first draft of her essay, the paper still slightly warm from coming out of the printer. While she fiddles with a piece of paper, I glance over her shoulder at her room, although I’m not sure why, considering every Station has the same layout. Across from me is her desk complete with swivel chair, a full size bed frame and mattress pushed against the corner, and shag carpet in the middle on the otherwise hardwood floor. Somehow, it’s more exciting when you know someone else lives in that room, even if it’s exactly like your own.

“Thanks, Della,” I say, my voice wavering. Oh my gosh. I’m really doing this. I’m reading someone else’s essay... I’m copying!

“You’re proofreading your essay with mine, right? To compare answers?”

“Yeah,” I reply uncertainly, “I am.” But to me, it sounds more like a question than a statement. Della’s eyes twinkle and asks if I need anything else. I reply no, thank you, Della, although the whole time I’m just hearing myself talk. The dizzying fact that someone else’s essay is on my desk next to my blank page is sickening enough to bring me to the ground. I need to end this conversation, and fast.

“What do you think, Sage?” I look up and Della’s eyes are alive with curiosity. I realize she’s been talking to me this whole time and I wasn’t even paying attention.

“Yeah, um, totally,” I reply, and awkwardly shut the window and lock it. Della looks confused for a moment, but then shrugs. I am offended for a little bit, seeing how cavialierly she takes my hosility. Oh, I feel terrible.

What am I supposed to do, seriously? Mrs. Barry? To take five Old English words and analyze them and say how they apply to our life today? Our ideal life here in the Building is nothing we can even begin to compare to Old English and Olden Times, can’t you see? Our Building provides all of us proper nutrition; the previous world had homeless people begging for money and many who starved themselves or where forced to since they didn’t have homes or money. We are educated and profeccient at it too; their idea of “education for everyone” was short lived, as many loopholes were made. They were allowed to drop out of school at the age of 16! That’s six years premature! How can they expect to have a fairly adequate government with idiots that they allow to happen? So see, Mrs. Barry, I cannot write this essay. I can’t copy someone else’s, as I don’t even believe in this.

Taking a step back, I realize that I had been writing this all down. My blank piece of paper was now a fully written essay... only it was totally faked. And now, I see, it’s 8 o clock at night. Surely three hours hadn’t gone by... and what about dinner? I never heard Continuo come and bring our trays? Maybe they had forgotten, or prehaps it’s leftovers day. They always spring those on us.

Walking to the kitchen, I notice a post-it note on the counter. Picking it up, I read:

//Your tray is on the counter. They didn’t ring the bell this time. We’re out at a Continuo meeting. Make sure to go to bed on time.// //Mom//

Sighing with relief, I down my tray of peas and mashed potatoes-infused protein, I walk on off to bed.

Glancing at my essay once more, I pick up Della’s essay and put it by the windowsill. With a lazy eye, I skim over it and notice a message at the bottom:

//Nice try. You can think of something on your own; you’re more magnetic and drawn to good ideas than you think. -Della//

Chapter 5
 * Della **

Might as well shoot me now, Head Member. I officially have no chance to become any sort of leader in our group. I was doing perfectly fine the other day in Secondary School when I remembered the code (at the last minute, nonetheless) and relayed a perfect message. She hasn’t a clue. As it should be.

I glance at my watch and see that it’s one o clock. Head Member is home, no doubt. I forget the rules and start running. Fast. I’m receiving more than my fair share of suspicious looks but I don’t care. Skidding to a stop, I knock on her door and sit on her garden. Practically the only rule I won’t break in this whole Building is respecting each other’s stations.

Oh, wait. There’s a special knock for this occasion, too. Hmm... I don't remember. Whatever. I knock until my hand is about to fall off and figure that she’ll figure it out. Sitting on the grass, I glance over at the pink tulips surrounding the porch. It occurs to me that I never see the flowers wilt, nor anyone ever watering them.

A couple of streets away, I watch as Mrs. Barry emerges from her Station with one of her many cats on a leash. She really needs a hobby. Asides from teaching and tending to her thousands of cats, I never really see Mrs. Barry do anything else.

I brush myself off and decide to experiment. I knock on Head Master’s door one more time. No answer. I turn the doorknob, but the door remains put. It’s locked.

A flash of light catches my eye, and I see it’s from my cell phone. Pulling it out, I see more specifically that it’s a text message...and from Head Member, too. Oh gosh, it’s a code. Can’t she just send it in plain old New English?

Two triangles. Two geometrical shapes consisting of three sides and three angles.

I rack my brain, thinking of what it could be. I remember that it’s one of the most important of the codes...

I can’t look for anyone for advice. I don’t know who the other members are, and even if I could find Head Member, it would be useless since it ruins the whole point.

If she’s gone, and it’s a critical code, it probably has to do with one of our core missions...

She went in.

SHE WENT IN.

She didn’t have the decency to let me know in advance that she had “gone in”!

What happens when she leaves, again?

That means I’m in charge.

I’m in charge.

Holy cow.

Racing back to the text message, I can see the other numbers she sent the message to. She probably did this on purpose just for me. I copy and paste the digits into a new message.

Meet me at Head Member’s garden, I tap into my phone. Wait... there’s a code for this. Three triangles. I erase the New English and type in the shapes instead. Clicking send, I expect the world to explode. All that follows is silence. Mrs. Barry carries on with walking her cat. Sage is working quietly at her desk, I suppose.

I resort to sitting cross-legged on the garden and wait. So this is what it’s like to call the shots, I wonder. I can get used to this.

T he glory bath doesn’t last for long. I remember the note I wrote at the bottom of the essay I gave Sage and panic. My note foreshadowed too much. It showed too much of my personal identity, not the fake one I put on. This is going to be so embarrassing to tell Head Member. Heck, she probably already knows. I have no clue.

“Hey,” a blond boy says as he comes to sit next to me. “Three triangles?”

“Three triangles,” I reply and give him a once-over. Cute guys in the group. Me gusta. “You’re the first one to arrive,” I say bluntly.

“I’ve noticed.” Not until now do I realize how stupid my previous statement was. As my chances of becoming Head Member fly out the window, so does the chance of becoming cute-guy’s girlfriend.

“Della,” I say, glancing at the grass under me.

“Nye,” he replies, introducing himself. Della and Nye. Has a nice ring to it.

No one else has come, I realize. “Is it just us, I wonder? Have they all really gone over?”

“Indeed.”

“I suppose this means that you’re my Finder,” I say with awe in my voice.

He nods and looks away. I take this fine opportunity to note his defined jaw and high but subtle cheekbones. The light glitters in his blue eyes and his hands rest in his jeans pockets. He’s sitting casually beside me, as if he’s been through this a thousand times before. And met a thousand other cute girls, I think grimly.

“And today,” he says with a slight grin forming on his face, “is Iniciation.”

Chapter 6
 * Head Member **

For a few minutes, all I see is white. No, I’m blind. Although, it’s hard to describe. Unlike what most people think, when you’re blind, you aren’t in darkness or seeing black. Probably the best analogy I can give is this–your arm is blind and doesn’t see anything. That’s what it’s like. Your arm. Heh.

The first thing I hear is birds chirping. That’s how it is every time I pass through the Portal. Somehow, the contrast between classical music and the birds–real, live birds–is different enough to make your brain blow.

Or maybe it’s because the noises actually change. In the Building, it’s either silence, chatter, or the classical music. Or the anthems, I suppose.

It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust but I’m in no hurry. Oh, how I’ve missed fresh air. Sometimes, these littles things specific to nature are just the best ones. The air-conditioning of the Building can go die, for all I care. This stuff is just amazing.

Before me is a brilliant red house surrounded by a thriving garden. The ones in the Building cannot even compare to ones outside of it. The sun shines brilliantly above me and the overwhelming heat makes me giddy. I know it’s childish, but I can’t help but skip to the house.

I turn the knob on the black door without knocking. I don’t have to.

“Welcome, May.” A girl sitting in the far corner nods to me. Being Head Member is pretty sweet sometimes. I don’t need to bother with names. I murmur an acknowledgment her way and she beams. “You’re the last one to arrive,” she quickly adds.

“I thought so,” I reply. I sit down on the carpet floor; who needs chairs, anyways? I like to take advantage of every minute outside of that Building.

A few boys emerge from the shadows of the house. I am not surprised, since they were there all along.

“Nice try, boys,” I say, “but I could hear you breathing.” The boys sigh in disappointment but come to sit beside me. “Alright,” I clap my hands, “let’s get down to business.”

The girl in the chair obediantly starts pulling out papers and I take a minute to survey the room. A dormant fireplace is in the middle of the wall, to the right of the girl’s

armchair. The armchair itself looks as if it’s going to eat her alive and is made of brown leather. A warm brown hue is painted on the walls and gives off an earthy vibe.

Oh, how I love the Headquarters.

“Currently only Della and Nye remain,” she states, “With Nye being the Finder, obviously. Today is Initiation for Della, as you all know. We must prepare for Della’s arrival,” she says, looking around the room and stopping at me. I nod.

“I think the first question we should address here is whether Della is ready or not, not us. We’ll be ready for her whenever she is for us. But with her current attitude, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let her pass over,” the boy next to me pipes up.

“That is a good point,” armchair girl says. “Let’s ask Head Member.”

Maybe five pairs of eyes are on me now. I smile. “Della has not provided me with any reason why not to,” I counter, “other than the whole code issue. But that’s fixable.”

The boy and armchair girl share an awe-filled glance. “You haven’t heard?” the girl demands.

I’m looking from her face to the boy’s to the others in the shadows. They heard something before me?

“Della enclosed a little note to Sage,” the girl explains, “at the bottom of an essay. Yesterday night, Sage still hadn’t finished her Barry essay, so she asked Della for hers so she could copy. Della played along and gave it to her. Feeling immensely guilty, Sage didn’t look at Della’s essay until she had finished with hers. When Sage was about to give the essay back to Della, she noticed a handwritten note at the bottom.” The girl gives a copy of the essay to a boy who passes it to me. Nice try...magnetic...drawn... Oh God. Della was totally hinting it. I look up and search each person’s face. I now see that the girl in the armchair is brunette, the boy blond, and another boy and girl who must be twins. Dumbfounded looks are returned to me. I hesitate. It’s them that are waiting for me to say something. I’m in charge.

Clearing my throat and closing my eyes, I turn to face everyone. “Although shocking, we cannot put off Iniciation,” I say without wavering. “But not Della’s. It’s Sage’s time to know.”

Chapter 7
 * Sage **

I stare at the essay in front of me for so long, I realize I’m dreaming.

Della stands in front of me with her long blonde hair and blue eyes and is guiding me behind our Stations. A kind smile is on her face and there is no sound. I feel as if I’m submerged in 30 foot waters. We move slowly towards the wall and I don’t understand why. Della gestures to the wall and nudges me forward. I feel the wall swallow me whole and the energy is sucked completely out of me, followed by immense pain, there’s blinding light, and so many thoughts rushing through my head and there’s shaking and jolting and I’m falling, falling, falling– out of my bed.

I hit the ground and I see a lovely view of my white carpet. I pull myself up to sitting position and sneeze. All this Dirt from Della is really bugging me.

Della. I never really considered it before, but she is really pretty. Her eyes shine a lot. Lately, they haven’t.

While I’m still on the ground, I look under my bed to see if I dropped anything. A few black hair ties and dust bunnies reside under my white bed frame. I really need to vacuum that up.

Pushing myself up, I’m startled by a tone emitting from my phone. A new text. I groggily push myself up to at least sitting position and check the time. 7:45... 15 minutes until school. I scramble up to my feet and throw on a T shirt and jeans. While gathering everything that looks school-related from my room, I wonder if I finished my homework. Probably. Hopefully. Uh oh.

//Did I do Barry’s homework//? I think. The essay. A sudden image of Della’s essay flashes in my head. Besides the strange note at the bottom, there was something strange about her essay. Half was in symbols, the other in New English. Obviously, the New English was just her regular old essay about Old English.

I found that the more I stared at her essay, the more the symbols and shapes moved to form letters that I could understand. It was a code of some sort, and I could recognize it. I had seen it somewhere else before.

“Sage, if you’re sleeping, I swear–” My mother is talking as loud as we’re allowed to in our Stations.

“Coming, Mother!” Quickly grabbing my satchel, I head out of my room into the hallway. The oak floors are sleek and shiny today, as always. Abstract art covers the wall in shades of black and grey and look quite nice with the white-as-snow paint. Turning the corner, I enter the living room, an expansive room of black and white. Of course, the dominating color is “cow’s milk” they call it; but really, it’s just white. White as in the only color not used in the crayon box, the color of ghosts, etc etc. My mother and her waving brunette locks occupy the white love seat in the corner as she flips aimlessly through a posh magazine. Licking one of her slender fingers, she pauses and looks up.

“Ready to go?” She asks patiently. I nod and we head out the door without a sound.

I try to read her face as we exit the Station, but she stares straight ahead. Expecting a volcano of anger, she remains silent. It’s all I can do but run along to keep with her.

“Oh, Sage!” Mrs. Barry comes shuffle-running towards my mom and me. “I really need help in my garden, it would be great if–”

“Sage will not be helping you anytime soon,” my mother says coldly. I look back and forth between the two like a tennis match is happening. Great; it looks like I’ll be seeing a week of being grounded for waking up so late and making everyone behind. Although, it does beat helping Barry with her garden.

Barry rolls her eyes and laughs daintely. “Come over anytime, dear,” she says with a friendly smile on her face. At least, she thinks it looks friendly. Everything resembling a slight grimace or smile just looks plain creepy on her face. I mean, with the whole square jaw and ugly haircut, it’s hard not to be unattractive. All of us blessed with looks better than Barry's should thank his or her lucky stars, which is pretty much everybody.

As soon as Barry is out of earshot, I hiss to my mother, “What was that?”

“You hate her,” she says boldly, “so why can’t I?” Shrugging, I assume it’s good enough reason.

“Thanks for walking me to Secondary School,” I say quickly, “but my classroom is right here.”

“See you later, honey,” my mom smiles. We quickly hug and I run up to my classroom.

About to cross the threshold, I realize that my teacher was walking in the opposite direction of school when we talked to her. Her garden, her weak smile, and empty eyes flash in my head. I can only wonder where she is.