<Iiiiiiii just want to flllyyyyyyyyy…> I sang.
<Put your arms around me, baby. Put your arms around me, baby,> Sandra joined in.
<Can you PLEASE stop?> Marco asked, irritated.
<Fly with the wings of a raptor,> I sang.
<Glide along with wind,> Sandra sang.
<No matter how highhhhhh,> we sang in unison.
<I'll be thinking o' you the whole time.>
<Give me a break,> Marco grumbled.
<Wonderful! Wonderful to flying like this!> Jeka marveled.
We were over the forest, enjoying the thermals. It was a gorgeous, warm day, with bright white cumulous clouds dotting the sky. Perfect for flying. And perfect for Sandy and my first flight. I looked up, and there she was, a beautiful, large Swainson's hawk. She seemed to be getting the hang of it faster than I was. Not that I was jealous. When you're a bird, flying a thousand miles off the ground (actually it was probably more than that; I'm a horrible estimator), soaring with no sound but the wind brushing against you wings, "competition" isn't even in your vocabulary. I was a merlin, and I was flying. I was in bliss. Which was nice, since I'd been majorly stressed. To many dreams.
Hi. I'm Rebekah, also known as Rebbie. Actually, I prefer my nickname. I'm kind of new in the Animorph business. I just recently got my morphing powers. So in case you don't know me, here is my little bio: I am 11 years old. My middle name is Rose. (I'd tell you my last name, but Sandra has the same last name, and she has to worry more about the secrecy thing.) I'm in, or at least WAS, sixth grade. My best friend was Millu Chen. I'm very tall for my age and I have long brown hair and brown eyes. I have an older sister named Miriam and a lil brother, Aaron. And I used to live in Boston, Massachusetts. Here's the most important thing about me: I'm not from the Animorph dimension. I come from a reality in which "Animorphs" means everything BUT actual people. Book series, web sites, you name it. Sounds strange, I know. I loved it. But then the Yeerks started to enslave my dimension, and when Millu and I tried to stop them, I went through the portal they were using. The Animorphs were able to destroy the portal on their side making the one I had used worthless. Which was good, because then the Yeerks couldn't enslave my universe. But it also meant I could never go back. So I'm able to tell you a bit more about myself than the other Animorphs, since you won't find me in any record, in any form. I'm incognito. I don't have an identity. Although I look a lot like somebody who does. See, Sandra, also a new Animorph, is my inter-dimensional counterpart. We're almost identical. So I could never go to their school as Jake's cousin or something, because it would be somewhat hard to explain Sandra and my similarities. I live in Sandra's closet. Both her parents work, so nobody's around during the day to find me out. And sometimes Sandra will dress me up a bit, so I can go to the mall or whatever and people won't know me. I'm not exactly thrilled about my new life, but I get along.
Sandra, by the way, is Marco's cousin. She's super smart. She skipped about 4 grades when she moved here. (One benefit of living here-I'm the only one who knows the Animorphs' true location. But don't think I'm going to tell you.) Sandra is practically everything I'm not. I was a boring Sci-fi obsessed sixth-grader. Not really special in any way. Sandra is the exact opposite. Sandra is an actress. Sandra is a green belt in karate. (In her school, that's like the third-last belt you can get- inferior only to brown and black.) Sandra draws. Sandra shops. Sandra's sly. And everything she does or is, she's good at. And if there's something she can't do, she'll keep trying until she does. Sandra is so cool. The last new Animorph isn't really an Animorph.
She's an Andalite, and her full name is Jeka-Linquan-Vahac. How she got to Earth is kind of a long story, but basically she was in this feminist organization to allow females into the military, and when her crew was on their test-flight, a space-rift sucked in their fighter. As far as we know, she was the only survivor. Skipping past the big battle thing, Jeka is now one of us. According to the original Animorphs, Jeka is a lot like Ax was when they first met him, with little differences. Jeka's intelligence is subtler, for instance, and she's a little less arrogant than Ax is now. I guess that as an Andalite female, she has had to deal with more scrutiny than him, so she knows what it's like, in a way.
I looked behind and below me, where a kestrel was also enjoying the thermals. She couldn't get as high as us because her smaller wings weren't as adept for catching thermals, but it was still just as fun beyond imagine for her. The others were all spread out, so avoiding being too conspicuous to any birdwatcher.
<Hey,> Sandra whispered, in private thought-speak.
<What is it?> I asked her.
<What do you think they'd do if we just suddenly dived? You know, without a warning?>
<I believe that the others would freak.>
<Cool. Let's do it. I really want to dive.>
<Are you sure?>
<The bird knows how, right?>
<I guess.> I still didn't feel right about this.
<Okay,> Sandra said.
<One, two, three!>
At that exact moment, we stooped! "Wwwwwhhiiiish!" went the air as my wings collided with it.
<Whoa!> Marco yelled.
<Yaaahhhhhhh!> Sandra yelled. I could hear the mix of fear and excitement in her voice.
<Yaaahhhhhhh!> I echoed.
<Stop!> Tobias yelled a warning.
Just then…
Treetops! Big, green, and more dangerous than they have ever been to me. I flared, and wind caught me a second before I would have collided.
<Yeeeeehhhhaaahhhhhh!> Sandra yelled, experiencing the exact thing at the exact time. Her cry of delight was so loud that I almost lost balance, which would have been beyond dangerous.
Already Marco had figured out what we had planned. <I can't believe you two did that! You could have at least warned us.>
<Scared ya, didn't we?> Sandra asked.
<Calm down you guys,> Jake said.
But he didn't sound angry. His tone of voice sort of reminded me of my mom's when Miriam and I were fighting over something funny, and she sounded tired and was
trying to sound irritated, too, but you knew that she was actually stifling laughter. You know, since parents aren't supposed to laugh when their kids are fighting… My mom. I inwardly sighed at the thought. Funny, how I saw someone who looked almost exactly like my mom every day. But that was Sandy's mother, not mine.
<You know,> Rachel mock-whispered at Sandra and me. I knew she was using opened thought-speech. <I knew you were planning to do that when you stopped singing. I knew Sandra was figuring a way to get on Marco's nerves even more.>
I was sort of uncomfortable, her just assuming that Sandra had come out with the idea.
<How much morphing time, Ax?>
<I believe we have used 90% of our morphing time, Prince Jake.>
<Don't call me Prince.>
<Yes, Prince->
<Jake, we know. 'Yes, Prince Jake.' Don't you people ever get tired over the same comments over and over?> Sandra asked.
<Nope,> Cassie said with a laugh.
<Um, I think it may be a good time to head back,> Jeka observed.
<Oh, right,> Jake said sheepishly. <Come on everybody.>
I opened the futon Sandra had set up for me in her walk-in closet. I looked at her alarm clock on her table. (Nothing was mine anymore, was it?) 11:52 was shone in conveniently bright, blinking red numbers. Sandra had been asleep for almost 2 hours. I had not been able to sleep.
When we came back from flying, we had to go two different ways into the house. Sandra had come in through the front door and had greeted her dad, who was in kitchen. I had come in through the back door, and had said hi to SandGirl's mom, who was in the living room. We both had gone up to her room, where Sandra played on her computer and read, and where I had taken a nap, since I knew I probably wouldn't be able to get to sleep that night, like all the other nights.
At 10:00 Sandra had gone to bed, not that there was a lot to do the next day, since it was Sunday. I tried, too, but those stupid dreams kept gnawing at my brain. So I had gone out and did some nighttime flying. Which, as I had suspected, got me tired enough to go to sleep again. Now I quietly turned off the light in the closet and pulled a blanket over myself and closed my eyes.
"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…"
…I'm in a huge room of blue light. I can't tell where the light is coming from. It's just there. I'm not floating, and I'm not standing. Something in-between. I'm looking at something. Something huge. A loom, I think. But it's not an ordinary loom. The very wood gives off energy. And part of the loom was missing. The giant loom is missing the stick, which threads in the yarn. But somehow the giant looming is weaving, anyway. Weaving in its yarn of every description, every color, ever shape. But it all fits. It fits, and the cloth it makes is beautiful. But also indescribably complicated. Suddenly, a string breaks! And the whole process begins to unravel. Suddenly, there are two looms. Then three. Then four. Each a slightly different size, each missing the weaving sticks, each with slightly different yarn. But in each one there is the same problem: they're each falling apart.
Suddenly that guy who plays Q on Star Trek: The Next Generation taps on my right shoulder. I turn around.
"How do I repair the looms?" I ask him.
"There is a string on each loom," he says. His voice sounds distorted. I look at the four looms. Each has one string that's glowing amid the chaos. "There will be a battle. A string on each loom will try to save a glowing string. And others will help it. But you, Rebekah Rose, you will have to intertwine these events just so, so that the looms don't completely fall apart. Your string is the most important string."
"And if the looms fall apart, our kind will die. Then all will die, except for those evil." His voice had changed completely.
I looked around. Q wasn't there anymore. In his place was a small girl. I couldn't see her face, except for eyes. Her eyes were bright blue. No irises, no pupils. Just blue. Suddenly… I was falling! Falling down, down into blackness. And as I fell, I heard a laugh. An evil laugh. More evil than Visser Three. More evil than any three-dimensional being. And I kept falling….
"Aaaahhhhhhhh!" I yelled.
I was bolt-upright. Sandra was a sound sleeper, and didn't wake up. I collapsed back on the futon, and screamed into my pillow. I had had it with these stupid dreams!
Hello. My name is Calianne. Has a ring to it, doesn't it? It's actually a combination of three names. See, my dad wanted to name me Anne, after my great-grandmother. But my mom wanted to either name me Cathy, her best friend in high school, or Kali, after her best friend in college. So they came up with a "compromise". I, however, don't think it's one. I like Calianne much better than Anne or Cathy or Kali. It's one of the few original things about me.
I'm not that creative. My best talents are organizing and memorizing. When I grow up I'll probably have some office job. Not that I want one, it's just playing secretary is one of the few things I'm good at. That and giving orders.
I'm exact average size for my age (13) and I have purple eyes. I'm sort of scrawny, and I have pale blond hair with streaks of red and orange. My brother, JD (short for Jeremiah Dennis- also a "compromised name") says that if my head was on fire he wouldn't notice.
Then again, that's JD for you. He's always like that- you know, a bit sarcastic and a tad cynical. He always has an opinion about something, always has a mark to put on society. He's also the musical one. He plays so many instruments that I've lost count- recorder and drums and electric piano and flute and sax and- and you're getting the idea. I have no doubt that when he grows up he'll be in an orchestra, or instruct an orchestra or join a heavily successful band or something. He has about 100 CDs and records and cassettes, and I am NOT kidding. Everything from Semisonic to the Boston Pops to Frank Sinatra to stuff that's popular around the world.
As far as physical appearance goes, he's short for his age (9- if you can believe that) and he has lime green eyes and dark curly mounds of hair that is the exact color of chocolate fudge. Which is fitting, considering that's his favorite food. But he actually got the color from our mom. Her hair looked exactly like his. He doesn't remember, though. She died when he was 2. Plane crash.
His best friend is Donovan. The only reason they're really best friends is that we move a lot and since Don lives with us, he's the only boy JD is able to keep ties with. Don is as far from JD as you can possibly get. Donovan the Daredevil, we all him. Always taking chances. Whether the odds are in favor of him or not. Which I sort of admire. Some of the things he does I wouldn't have the guts to do in a million years.
He's our cousin, and he's been living with us the past year or so, as his parents' messy divorce gets settled, which could take quite a while. Sometimes I feel kind of sorry for Donovan.
He's a dreamer, always wishing on a star. He isn't the kind of kid who fits in well. But he's by far the coolest guy I have ever known. Sometimes I hate the fact that we're cousins, because he wouldn't make a bad boyfriend. He's very trustworthy.
He has navy blue eyes and long hair just under his ears, the color and texture of a cocker spaniel's fur, wavy and thick and golden brown. He's kind of tall for his age, and since he's 11, we're the exact same height.
The last of the clan is Tess. Tess is my best friend. Everybody likes her. It's impossible not to. She's intelligent and bright, calm and polite, and quiet and optimistic. She's incredibly sensible, more adult than kid, it's like. She listens to your problems and understands your problems, but only gives advise if you ask for it, which is great. JD often gives his advise without waiting for permission, and it drives me absolutely bonkers. She never loses her temper or gets over-stimulated or over-energized. She's slightly short for her age (she's going to become 13 in a few days) and has chin-length black hair, and huge brown eyes. She has golden brown skin, and is Polynesian.
She's adopted. No one knows what happened to her parents. She was left on the doorstop of a scientist couple, and they fell in love with the tiny newborn. I wonder if she wonders about her parents often. She never talks about them, but I know the question must be seriously nagging sometimes. I know the feeling. They never found out why my mom's plane went down.
So what do we all have in common, besides being from "broken homes", that makes us stick together?
We're stuck on Velimintro.
Sorry, let me back up for a sec.
Our dad's a government scientist. A well-known and highly prominent botanist, to be exact. We go all over the place with a bunch of other scientists (including Tess's parents) and they test the soil or take air samples or stare at computers all day (actually, they always do that) or whatever they need to do there. And I have to admit that my lifestyle has pluses. Home tutoring, for one thing. Gotta love it. Then there's the SITES. We go everywhere. I've met kids that would kill to be me.
I've been to Paris, Buenos Aires, Johannesburg, Kyoto, and Canberra. I've seen Mount Kilamonjaro through my window, and have skied in the Alps. Not a bad life, I have to admit. But, along with all the cool landmarks I visit, I also go to a lot of nowhere-places. Places where I'm not allowed to go anywhere, or else there's nothing to do. Like that one time I went to Antarctica. I had to stay inside practically the entire time.
Velimintro is also a nowhere-place. See, it's this itty bitty dot of an island, a thousand miles off the coast of Chili. It's so remote that no people have settled here, and practically the entire 5 miles of island is covered in forest, except for a tiny strip of beach on the west side, and Mount Hitaro, smack dab in the middle of the island. It hasn't really been explored, so that's why us scientists were here. It probably would have been fun, except that Dad wouldn't let us go anywhere.
"We don't know what's here," he had said. "I doubt there are many, if any, predators that would be harmful to humans, but we still have to be careful."
So JD, Donovan, Tess, and I were stuck in the compound. The compound we lived in was on the beach. It had all the necessities: 8 bedrooms (that meant that JD and Don shared a room) a small kitchen, and a bathroom. (I know what you're thinking. One bathroom for 12 people?! Well, fortunately, the adults were gone most of the day in the woods, so it wasn't that bad.) So now you know who we are and where we were.
I was bored. A week ago Dad said we could chill on the beach.
I had done that 5 times in a row.
Did I mention I was bored?
Because I was.
Very.
Bored.
And angry.
Also sad.
And guilty for not being more so.
I paced back from my room to the kitchen to Donny/JD's room.
"What's your problem?" my brother asked. He had his Walkman on and was reading a book.
"What do you think?" I snapped. "We're stuck on this tiny island. That's my problem."
"Chill," Donovan said. He was playing solitaire on his laptop. "Want to play cards?"
"I'm sick and tired of being stuck inside this tiny prison!" I continued.
"You can go on the beach," JD said, not even looking up. Why was I the only one with cabin fever?
"Ughh! You people are impossible!" I slammed their door and tiptoed past Tess's room.
See, Tess was sick. No one knew what she had, which I found extremely alarming, seeing that these people were scientists. (I mean, come on!) Tess was probably sleeping. The only thing the adults knew about what she had was her symptoms: weakness, nausea, dizziness, the whole bit. I felt very sad for Tess. But what could I do for her? I wasn't supposed to go in there. And I had no idea how long it was going to last. She had been this way for two months. In the end I gave up.
I got "Johnny Tremain" off my bed. The unabridged version. My dad wanted me to read it and write a book report on it in two weeks. I got my suntan lotion and my beach blanket out of the cabinet and went outside. It was a gorgeous day. The gentle surf, the baby-pink sand. The looming Hitaro behind a forest of trees halfway tropical and halfway ordinary in the distance, in the opposite direction. I took a deep breath. The salt air. Not so different from Hawaii, except there were no people or seagulls. Or boom boxes. Or huge hotels. Or any signs of life besides the compound. I sighed and too my usual position on the sand.
I had gotten to page four when it washed up on the beach. I heard a slight twinkling sound, like a jingle bell if you put your hand over it. I look up from Johnny and saw it. It was a very small ball, the size of a grape. It was white, but I knew it wasn't a pearl because you could see slight shadows inside, meaning that parts of it were hollow. I got up and wearily picked it up. It glowed in my hand. I blinked, then smiled. Cool.
I put in my pocket. I wondered what it was, and where it had come from. But it wasn't that big a deal. After all, I had traveled all over the world. Like a tiny glowing ball could be that special. After all, truly special things didn't happen to people who did special things all the time, right?
I woke up. A few rays of sunlight seeped through my violet curtain and white blinds, illuminating a few flecks of dust in an otherwise spotless room. I jumped out of bed with the energy of a field mouse amid a herd of elephants, and threw back the curtains and yanked down the rope that controlled the blinds. It was a gorgeous day outside. Blue sky so bright it seemed to glow. Light, wispy clouds dotted it, with the simple elegance only cirrus clouds are capable of. The sun shined with all its magnificence and glory, a great big ball of gold and red.
So what if it was Monday? The world was alive!
I leaped down the stairs to the breakfast table, not even bothering to wake Rebbie up. I knew from experience that she was not a morning person. I cheerfully greeted my bleary-eyed parental units and went to the cabinet. I was delighted to see an untouched box of Oreo O's, my absolute favorite cereal. I gobbled them down happily and slurped every ounce of my orange juice. I put away my dishes and went back upstairs, and was ecstatic to see that not ONLY was my favorite tank-top (sky blue, a pattern of purple, navy, and pink hearts in horizontal lines in a brick-laying formation covering it) clean, but also was my favorite skirt, knee-long, navy-colored cotton. I found my white sneakers with the slight platforms, put those on with my knee-high purple socks, and continue to comb and accessorize my hair.
Then I brushed my teeth and put together my book bag. Looking at my digital clock I was gleeful to realize I had a full 10 minutes to walk to my bus stop- a mere 5 blocks away! I strolled along, humming the latest commercial jingle that had woven its way into my memory.
I leaned against the Gibbersons' fence, and pulled out a book I had to write a report on in 3 weeks. Ha ha! Life was sweet. The bus stopped, as usual, to pick me and another up, and it waited an extra second or two, and, sure enough, Marco came running onto the bus, gasping for breath like he always does. I relaxed in my seat, the last available window seat, I might add, and settled in a deep, comfortable ride, the pages of Jane Austen drowning out the noises of the usual troublemakers. And I knew-I don't know how I knew, but I did- that today was going to be the best day of my life.
I finished lunch early that day, and decided to get some reading in before 5th period. I said bye to the girls at my table, girls who I was sort of friends with. You know, girls who respected my universal coolness and intelligence, and whom I kindly acknowledged and sometimes even hung out with. I quickly evacuated the cafeteria and made my way to the small cluster of oaks behind the school.
There was one that was my favorite, one that always let the exact right amount of light seep through its branches, always let you find a comfortable nook in the wood to sit against. And it never dumped acorns on you like the others. I settled down in a most comfortable little nook and pulled out my book. I had been reading there for a few minutes, when I heard a cough on the other side of the tree.
Curious, I got up and circled the big oak. And sitting there, was a boy. Not just any boy, but the absolute CUTEST boy in the entire galaxy. He looked like a watercolor painting done by a genius. He had wavy brown hair just above his ears, which had some subtle red and black streaks. His eyes were emerald green, with tiny flecks of blue and brown in them. He seemed intelligent and inquisitive, with just a dash of innocence. His clothes were very plain, blue sweatshirt and blue jeans, but the ordinary apparel just brought out his features. He was sitting there, writing in a large leather notebook.
At that moment, he looked up, seeing me, clueless and gaping. Ugh. Hardly a good first impression.
"Um, hello," I squeaked. All the while my brain was screaming, "What is wrong with you, Sandra? You don't SQUEAK in front of a boy. You never squeak. What is wrong with you?"
"Yes?" he asked, looking up.
Let me say something in my defense at this time. I have never acted this way before in front of a boy. And I hope that I never do again. When other girls when I was in New York have gotten all giggly and nervous whether or not some boy was going to ask them out for some dance, I have cleared my throat, walked calmly up to that boy and asked them out. Later these girls would scream in envy and happiness asking me how I did that, and I wanted to yell at them. Come on! I mean, where were these girls' confidence?! Since when are we not allowed to ask some dumb, timid boy out to some dance!?! Was I the only feminist on the planet? Of course, right then I was experiencing the exact same emotions those girls must have been feeling at that time. I was experiencing an unusual Girl Power deficiency.
"Hi," I said, scraping enough common sense and confidence together to sound like a normal human being. I took my hand out of my pocket and shook his. (While shaking his hand, I noticed he had a string bracelet on. It had two tiny glowing balls attached to it. Both of them glowed just a tiny bit, and had a sparkly pattern mixed with bubbles inside them. One was orange and the other was blue.)
"I'm Sandra. I was just reading over there, and I heard you cough. I didn't know I wasn't the only one here." That sounded so pathetic, I thought.
"Hi," he said. I liked his voice. "I'm Chans."
My first thought was: Monopoly. Second: risk. Third: cool name.
"What are you writing?" I asked suddenly.
I looked at what he was writing. It wasn't English, or any of language I knew.
"Oh," he said, his turn sounding awkward. "Umm… Arabic! Yes, it's Arabic. I'm writing a letter to some relatives."
I was too impressed now to be embarrassed.
"You know Arabic?" I said.
The moment the words came out of my mouth, a little nagging feeling trespassed into my brain. I snuffed it out instantly, because I was determined to have a perfect day, no negativity included. I don't know how we settled into a conversation, but we did. Music, books, everything that I was interested in. I found Chans to be intelligent, witty, and a great listener. He was so cool, I could not believe it. The next thing I knew, we were rushing toward the door, late for the period, scribbling down each other's numbers. I was in a consciousness of happiness I have never experienced. It was like a calm form of ecstasy.
The rest of the day I was happy, alert, and fully knowledgeable. Later that day, when school was over, I got off the bus and ran into my room. I glanced at a note on my bed that said Reb had gone flying, and I grabbed the extension in my room. My first thought was to call one of the Animorphs. I mean, people that know the deepest, darkest secret of the world with you should be your closest friends, you know? And I badly needed a friend to talk to. But somehow, this didn't seem like something I could talk to with Cassie, Rachel, or even Rebbie. I needed to talk to somebody I had known longer. Preferably, a friend in NYC. I thought a second and tapped out a number to one of my closest friends.
Riiiinnnnggg. Riiiiiiinnnng. Riiiiinn- "Hello,-"
"It's Sandra. I'd like to talk to Kiana, please," I said, not even waiting for Kiana's mom to finish.
"Oh, hi, Sandy! Nice to hear from you. I'll get her right away," she said.
Almost instantly I was hooked up with K. I could practically imagine her sitting on her bed, her extension, a bright pink sneaker-phone (K loved tacky stuff) lying against her ear. I could almost see her there: a small, thin girl with her huge mounds of black hair, so much that I've always wondered how she manages not to keel over, twirling around the cord with her index finger.
"Hi, Sandra! I thought you had forgotten about us!"
I felt a wave of guilt, which I tried to snuff out, but couldn't seem to. I couldn't believe how long I had not talked to my NY friends. What with the Animorphs and spying, I had totally forgotten to keep I touch. And what made me feel worse was that I couldn't tell her why I hadn't.
"So, what's up?" she said, and the reason I had called instantly lightened my spirits.
15 minutes later, I took a breath. "So, what do you think?" I asked her. I heard silence at the other line. "Well?" I asked.
"Sandra, did you ever consider that maybe you, say, LIKE like this guy?" I was taken aback. How I had figured was that I simply liked him. Where did this LIKE come from? I asked her that.
"Sandra, you just talked about one guy and how wonderful he was for 15 MINUTES. We are not dealing with a simple "like" here. You are in major Crush City."
I thought about this. She was right. I thanked her profusely for this revelation and said bye. Immediately afterward I called up Chans. For a date. I don't waste any time at all, do I?