Chapter 1

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Lyla

         Lyla was flying, the wind whipping her clothes around her. She smelled rain and fire on the breeze. She didn't know where she was or how she got there, but the feeling of the wind rushing around her was exhilarating. She'd never felt anything like it before. she felt alive and awake for the first time in years.

         The forest rushed by in a blur beneath her. She barely had time to register that it was a forest before it was replaced by ocean. The wind crashed against the waves and the waves reached up with their claws. But they could find no purchase in the ever-changing wind.

         Suddenly, the wind pushed her down with a forcefulness she didn't like. She was headed straight for the water. Faster and faster she went, crashing down. Just as she was about to break the surface, a tree reached out and snagged her out of the air. She clung to the strong branches that held her safely.

         Lyla awoke with a gasp, her heart beating out an uneven rhythm in her chest. The breath whooshed out of her lungs and she had some difficulty in catching it again. That dream had been so realistic! She could almost feel the wind on her face still.

         Light from the moon arced in through her open window and lit the mirror on her closet, which bounced the light back onto her ceiling. As she lay in bed, and stared at the patch of moonlight on her ceiling, a shiver travelled down her spine. It was chilly in her room. Her dad would no doubt make fun of her for leaving her ceiling fan on again in the middle of winter. But she didn't care; she simply could not sleep without a breeze on her face. Lyla looked around her room thinking abut how she really needed to redecorate it. She stil had the butterfly stensils she had spent days painting when she was twelve years old. She had begged for weeks to be allowed to paint her room herself. Her father had finally given in, saying that it was her room and she could do whatever she wanted to it. It had been the most amazing paint-job she had ever seen in her short life. Then she grew up, and she began to see the flaws in it. But that's how everything works. You grow up and the magic disappears.

         Lyla glanced over at her fuzzy blue alarm clock that her dad had gotten her for her last birthday and was startled to see that it was already a few minutes past six. She needed to get up and get in the shower so she would have time to wake up Joey and get him ready for school.

         With a groan, she pulled back the covers and stepped onto the cold tile floor. Where were her slippers? Her cat Maggie must have stolen them again.

She tiptoed all the way to her bathroom and turned the hot water on full blast. Once the water warmed up all the way she stepped into the shower and started lathering her hair.

         Thoughts flitted through her head all throughout her shower. She vaguely remembered something about a calculus test today. Great. She hadn't studied at all.

         Once she was done with her shower, she walked into her butterfly bedroom and grabbed a stack of clothes that was sitting on a chair located in the corner of her room. One good thing about going to a private all-girls school was that you never had to worry about what to wear, navy blue, red, and green plaid skirt, and a navy blue polo shirt. It was the most awful uniform ever, but at least everyone had to wear it.

         Sighing, she walked downstairs to make coffee and cereal for Joey. Once his bowl of peanut-butter cap'n crunch was ready she walked upstairs to wake him. She sighed as she walked into his room. It looked like a department store threw up. Clothes were strewn everywhere: on the floor, on the TV, piled in the closet, and even on the bed. How could a 10-year-old boy create this big of a mess? Looking at his bed, it was hard to tell he was even on it. The only part of him you could see was his hair.

         Lyla walked over to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder, gently waking him. He rolled over with a groan and she noticed that he looked very flushed.

         "I don't feel so good..." he said.

         Lyla looked at him with a stern expression on her face. "Nope," she said, "you're going to school. I've already missed too much school because of you."

         Joey groaned and rolled his eyes. "Fine." he muttered.

         Lyla smiled, "Good," she said, "be ready to leave in like 30 minutes." She walked out of his room and headed down to the kitchen.

         It was a simple kitchen, with only the most basic furnishings: a fridge, an oven, a sink, and a microwave. There wasn't even a dishwasher! There was very little cabinet space and even less things to fill them with.

         Lyla walked over to the old, beat-up fridge and grabbed the sandwiches she had made last night. She put one in Joey's lunch bag and left the other one sitting on the counter. She would grab it later.

         She was just starting to pack the rest of Joey's lunch when Joey himself walked through the open doorway. He looked a little unsteady on his feet and his face had a faintly greenish tinge to it. He took one look at the bowl of cap'n crunch and bolted for the bathroom. Lyla could hear him retching through the walls.

         Lyla sighed and picked up her cell phone from where it lay on the counter charging. She hit the speed dial and her dad picked up on the second ring.

         "What's up?" He asked curiously.

         "Joey's sick." Lyla replied tiredly, "I'm gonna stay home with him so I'm gonna need you to call both our schools and let them know, okay?"

         "Mmm hmm, sure..." her father replied distractedly. There was a lot of background noises: phones ringing, people shouting, and printers whirring.

         Lyla's father worked at a publisher's office. It was the ideal job for him. He just sat at a desk reading books all day. Her father had loved books for as long as Lyla could remember. When she was younger, she used to love curling up next to him and listening to his voice as he read aloud from whatever book he happened to have lying around.

         "Dad." Lyla repeated. "Joey's sick so I need you to call the schools and inform them we won't be there today."

         "Right, sorry." Her dad replied, "I'll do that."

         "'Kay thanks." Lyla responded. "I gotta go. Talk to you later. Bye." The phone clicked off and she set it down with a sigh, going to help Joey.

         He was lying on the tile floor of the bathroom with his face pressed against the floor. Lyla bit back a laugh and went over to help him get to bed.

         Once Joey was asleep in bed, Lyla walked downstairs and sat on the sofa. Grabbing the TV remote, she started flipping through channels until she found something that looked interesting.

         She didn't watch a lot of TV usually. She just didn't have the time. She took care of Joey until around 8pm when dad usually got home and then she just did her homework and went to bed. So it was nice to have some time to herself for once. 

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