Fic: Beyond the Thirteenth Hour

Jul 18, 2008 17:30

Title: Beyond the Thirteenth Hour
Chapter: 2/16 (Stacey)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,526
Summary: Two years have passed since Sarah's adventure in the Underground, and she's now coming to terms with her family's recent move. Not long afterwards, she receives a sudden plea for help from the Underground. Returning to the Labyrinth once again, she sets out with old friends, and a few new ones, to defeat Jareth again.
Note: This story has no beta, so please overlook the occasional mistake. Thanks in advance.



When school let out that day, Sarah exited Theodore Roosevelt High School through the front doors, amidst a large group of other students. As far as first days went, it hadn’t been a complete disaster. Her new English teacher turned out to be quite passionate about some of the classic playwrights, including Oscar Wilde and Arthur Miller, and Sarah had spent most of her study hall period with her, discussing their favorite plays. In the end, her English teacher had promised to try to have her placed in one of the school’s drama courses.

With a smile forming at the thought of getting a spot in a class that interested her, Sarah started to head off in the direction of her new house. Before she could even take ten steps, however, she was halted by three girls Sarah remembered seeing sitting together in the lunchroom that day. The brunette, who Sarah guessed was the leader of the trio, was the first to speak.

“Hello, you must be the new girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m Sarah.”

“Sarah, huh? It’s very nice to meet you,” the brunette girl smiled kindly. “Welcome to Kent. My name’s Phoebe. These are my friends; Quin and Rosabel.” As Phoebe introduced the black haired girl and the red head respectively, they each gave a friendly wave.

“We were just wondering,” Rosabel continued. There’s this little bookshop not to far from here that includes a coffeehouse. We go there every day after school. Why don’t you come with us, as a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ treat, from us to you.”

“Actually, my dad and stepmother are expecting me to come home right after school,” Sarah explained. “I sorta have to help them unpack.”

“It won’t take that long,” Quin persisted. “You can even call them from the payphone at the bookshop to say you’ll be a few minutes late. They couldn’t possibly expect you to not try and make some friends, and the unpacking won’t be going anywhere.” In the end, Sarah agreed to go along, but only for five minutes. The last thing she wanted was to deal with Irene if she was much later than that.

-----

At the local bookshop, Sarah finished her call home, thankful that her father had been the one who’d answered. After all, he’d been the one who wanted to see her make new friends, and Phoebe, Quin and Rosabel seemed like nice girls so far. Joining the three girls at their table, she selected one of the four hazelnut Cappuccinos they’d ordered during her phone call. For a while, Sarah enjoyed chatting with the three girls, listening to their overall descriptions of the teachers she had, but the pleasantness of the conversations ended when Quin happened to glance over towards the books on sale and smiled cruelly.

“Hey, girls,” Quin whispered. “Check out who’s over in the fiction section again.” When Sarah followed the direction of Phoebe and Rosabel’s glances, she saw another girl their age, in the process of studying a book from the shelves, clearly debating making a purchase.

“Oh, what a surprise,” Phoebe sighed dramatically, with a disgusted tone in her voice. “Stacey’s searching for more of her weird books.”

“Who’s Stacey?” Sarah asked in curiosity, watching as the girl in question continued scanning the books on display for something of interest, tucking her short auburn hair behind an ear as she did so.

“No one,” Rosabel dismissed offhandedly. “Just a weirdo girl in our year. I wouldn’t be caught dead with her.”

“She doesn’t even have real parents,” Quin added. “That old carpenter who lives a few blocks away just found her abandoned seventeen years ago and took her in.”

“I can’t say I blame her parents, of course,” Phoebe laughed. “If my kid was like that, I would have abandoned her, too.”

“She doesn’t look that bad to me,” Sarah frowned, starting to gain a dislike for Phoebe and the others.

“That’s because you don’t know her like we do,” Phoebe pointed out. “Let me tell you, Sarah. When that Stacey isn’t off somewhere playing chess, most often with herself, she’s hidden away in the back of the library, only reading books from the fantasy section. All her sculptures and paintings in art class are of dragons, unicorns, and who knows what else. And I haven’t even mentioned her homework papers. Whenever she turns in a test or assignment, the back is filled with her drawings of these little monsters. Now, what did she say they were supposed to be again? Oh, yeah. Goblins.”

“Goblins?” Sarah felt her eyes widen as she glanced back at Phoebe. For a brief moment, an old memory of hers resurfaced, and she remembered a magical world from long ago. A place where everything was possible, and nothing was as it seemed.

“And that’s not the worst part,” Rosabel continued. “When the teachers tried talking to her about it, trying to get her to read something else, or paint something that’s actually normal in art class, she insisted that she couldn’t stop. You see, we once eavesdropped on her talking to the school principal about it. She told him that when she read all that fantasy crap, she always gets that feeling you get when you’re trying to remember something, but the more you try to remember, the more you forget it.”

“They’ll be carting her off to a mental hospital any day now,” Quin predicted. “Imagine, thinking that you can actually remember things like dragons, fairies and goblins. Everyone knows that they don’t exist.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sarah asked, once again remembering a night that seemed so long ago now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rosabel glanced back at Sarah, a calculating expression on her face.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Sarah shook her head, getting up from the table. “Listen, as much as I appreciate your warnings, I think I’ll risk hanging around with Stacey.”

“Fine,” Phoebe replied stiffly. “Just don’t say we didn’t try to warn you.” Not paying attention to Phoebe’s final words, Sarah made her way over to Stacey, who was now flipping through a large, thick book.

“Finding anything interesting?” Sarah asked, for the sake of conversation. In response, Stacey turned and glared at Sarah.

“What do you want?” she snapped, immediately defensive.

“Nothing, really!” Sarah assured her. “I was just wondering what book you were looking at, that’s all.” Stacey fixed Sarah with a suspicious look for a brief moment but then returned to studying the book. This time, Sarah could make out the title on the front cover, seeing that it was an encyclopedia about mythical beasts. “So, you’re really into fantasy, aren’t you?”

“Let me guess,” Stacey responded without looking up. “You’re here to make fun of me, too.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement, or a prediction.

“Of course not. Why would I make fun of you for liking something?”

“For one thing, everyone else does. And besides, I saw you hanging around with Phoebe and her harpies.”

“Well, I’m not everyone,” Sarah reasoned. “And Phoebe and the others are not my friends.” Stacey didn’t reply, but started glancing through a second book that focused solely on unicorns, dragons, phoenixes and griffins, and the stories that revolved around them.
After Sarah watched Stacey skim through the books in silence for a moment, she tried once again to continue the conversation, hoping to get Stacey to open up a bit more.

“So, do you just read encyclopedias focused on fantasy, or…”

“I read real books, too,” Stacey interrupted. “J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Lloyd Alexander, L. Frank Baum, Peter S. Beagle, do you want me to continue?”

“Wow,” Sarah laughed, realizing that they’d both read the exact same books. “Do your friends like reading as much as you do?” Instantly, Stacey closed the book with a low snap and returned it to the shelf, grunting in deride. “What? Did I say something wrong?” Sarah stared, wondering what had caused Stacey to react that way.

“Friends,” Stacey hissed as she turned away. “Who needs them, anyway?” In and instant, Stacey stormed off, leaving the bookshop and a baffled Sarah without even a goodbye. It was a moment before Sarah’s confusion wore away enough for her to notice a navy blue drawstring bag with an owl embroidered into it just lying on the floor. Realizing that it belonged to Stacey, Sarah hurried out of the bookshop to catch her, but it was already too late, and Stacey was nowhere in sight. Making a decision, Sarah headed up to the clerk behind the checkout counter, and asked if he knew how to return the forgotten bag to Stacey.

“Oh, Stacey, of course,” the clerk nodded. “One of our most frequent customers. She and the old carpenter don’t live far from here at all. You can easily return her bag in person. All you do is head right when you leave here and go down two blocks. If you wait here for a moment, I can write the address down for you.”

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled in gratitude, standing back to wait for the clerk to write down Stacey’s address.

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