A "JustGuess :)" StoryThe squeak of the rusty old swings made my headache. I almost wanted to go over and push my best friend, Marc, off of them.
I pushed a lock of my red hair behind my ear. “Marc! Do you mind? I’m trying to think!” I yelled at him raising my eyebrows for dramatic effect.
He shrugged. “Sorry,” he mumbled and got off the swings.
Marc and I came to the old playground a lot. Whenever we got the chance, really. We came here to waste time before 8th grade started. I loved it here. Even the smell of old tires and rubber woodchips made me feel happy. I think Marc just came to make me happy. He’d probably much rather go play video games or whatever 13 year old boys did in their spare time.
I glanced down at my Hello Kitty watch I got 3 years ago that was never replaced. “Uh oh. Marc, I gotta go,” I told him, turning around to grab my jacket and bag. He frowned.
“Katie, what’s with your crazy early curfew?” he asked, clearly upset.
“I have a crazy curfew because I have crazy… guardians,” I said. There was no other way to describe Mr. and Mrs. Marshall. They were my parent’s best friends. And took me in after... the car accident. I swallowed hard. I did that every time I thought about my parents.
Marc seemed to notice it. He walked over to me and grabbed my hand. His hand was rough with blisters. Gross.“I’m sorry, Katie. I know it’s hard. I wish I could help. In any way,” Marc said softly. I looked into his eyes, and I could tell he meant it. I pulled my hand away, afraid he would get all mushy on me.
“It’s okay. Really. It’s not your fault that-” I stopped short. I was going to say it’s not your fault my parents died. But I knew if I said that I would get all sad. And I hated feeling vulnerable.
“I know. But, still…,” Marc trailed off in thought. This would be a good time to make my escape before things got too sad and depressing.
“I really gotta go. Meet you here tomorrow?” I called over my shoulder as I walked off.
“Sure,” Marc called as I turned the corner. I walked a little faster, so I wouldn’t miss curfew.
I walked through the door to… the house I was currently living in. I didn’t want to call it my house. It was not my house.
Mrs. Marshall looked up from her book and at me and shook her head in frustration.
“You’re seven minutes late!” She yelled at me, “I already made dinner and now it’s cold! You know we eat dinner as a family and we eat at 6! Your father is going to be furious!”
I continued walking up the stairs. “We’re not a family, and he is not my father,” I muttered under my breath as I descended up the stairs and as far away from that woman as possible.
I walked down the hall and came to a doorway at the end and opened it. The room was tiny. No bigger than a medium sized bathroom. In it were one bed, one dresser, and one window. The bed was a twin size with one uncomfortable thin blanket and one hard, dusty pillow. The dresser was as big as a sink and about as wide. The window was facing the wrong direction and barely let sun in.
This was my room.
Mr. Marshall claimed that this was the only extra room they had and would make renovations to it as soon as possible. That never happened. And they did have an extra room. I just wasn’t supposed to know about it.
I dragged myself into my awful room and set my bag on my dresser. I went over to my bed and lay down. The bed seemed oddly cozy, or maybe I was just extremely tired.
As I settled in to my bed, I realized it was the second option. I slowly sank into a deep sleep and began to dream.
It was foggy out and I could barely see a thing. But my common sense told me to keep walking forward until I could see or there was a source of light.
A faint voice called out, “Katie! Katie turn around!” Before I made since of what I was doing, I turned slowly: a familiar pair of brown eyes meet my gaze.
“Marc!” I cried out in relief. He came and stood next to me and we started walking.
“Where are we?” he asked me, a sense of panic in his voice.
“I have no idea,” I replied, my voice matching his panicked one. We kept walking, probably because we were too terrified to turn back. Eventually the fog gave out, opening a bright light. My first thought was that Marc and I must have died on the old playground, and I stopped walking abruptly.
But then I realized that didn’t really make sense. Other than the monkey bars, nothing on that playground could have killed me. So I kept going, and Marc followed me loyally.
We stepped into the light and at first nothing made sense. All we saw were books. Big books. Almost as tall as the skyscrapers surfacing New York City. There were hundreds of them. With no dust jackets, either. They looked like really old books, before they started putting pictures on the cover.
I ran over to one. And touched the cover. It felt just like an old book should. Like leather. And dusty, too.
Marc’s amazed voice brought me out of my thoughts. “What is this place? Katie, where are we?” he asked me, as though I knew the answer.
“I-” I stopped. Because, coming out of the forest surrounding the book land, was a cat, a simple enough looking cat: orange, with faint stripes. It trotted right up in front of me and stood up on its hind legs.
“What are you doing here?” It demanded. I yelped, afraid. I mean can you blame me? This was the first talking cat I’ve ever meet.
Marc spoke up first. “W-Where is h-here?” he stuttered.
The cat chuckled. “You’re in Story Land. Duh. All the huge books!” He informed us. I smiled, despite my better judgment. The cat looked up into my eyes and stared at me deeply in thought.
“Follow me,” he ordered and started walking back the direction she came
“And who exactly is me?” Marc asked curiously.
“I’m Milo,” the cat replied. Such a weird and unusual name, it surprised me. “Well, are you coming?” Milo asked. He was already quite a distance ahead of us. I looked back at Marc, and he shrugged, so we continued after him.
The forest was dark. Really dark. I had to frequently call out Milo’s name and follow his voice. But, we finally made it out and came upon a stone.
A really huge stone. A bit taller than me. It had a carving on it: a girl. She was standing next to one of those skyscraper books with an almost proud look on her face. Like she’d accomplished something.
Oh yeah, and one more thing, the girl looked exactly like me.
I blinked, completely amazed. Milo looked back at me and nodded as if he’d known all along.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
Milo turned to face me head-on and looked directly into me eyes. “It means you are meant to save us. You must stay here forever and never return to your home. You must save our world.”
My jaw dropped.
And that’s when I opened my eyes.
I lay awake in my horrible bed staring at the wall in amazement. But, it felt so real! Could it of all really been a dream? As if to answer my question, an orange cat was sitting on my dresser, staring at me.
“Katie,” Milo said, “Are you ready to go?” I stood up and grabbed my jacket. Milo jumped off of my dresser and followed me on his hind legs.
“Of course I am,” I replied and walked out of the room.
I would definitely miss curfew.
