Into The Book

4

I don't like this. The light is blinding as were the tears. Wow. I hardly ever cry.
"Conrad. I don't like it. I'm scared. Don't leave please." i beg while clutch his t-shirt in my fists.
"Shh. It's okay. I'm not going anywhere. I swear." he reassures me

Suddenly the white light turns to a pale pink. Pink. I mean why pink. As the colour and light start to fade completely i turn into Conrad's shoulder hiding my tear stained face from view. I know they'll question why he's cradling me but they don't need to see me cry.

As the last of the light clears i feel Conrad stiffen beneath me "Conrad... What's wrong?" i whisper
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" i hear a deep voice demand.
I stiffen also. We are definitely not in school.

I'm alone. No this, this is bad.
Well, I'm not alone but my family and friends aren't here. The people who understand me aren't here. Just to top it off the unknown guy questioning us. I feel so weak. I hate feeling weak.

"I asked you a question."
Oh yeah...
"Actually you asked two." Great smart-ass me is talking oh god Conrad had better start talking before I make this even worse.
"Rebecca" Conrad groans quietly to which I mumble an apologie.
"Erm...we don't actually know how we got here sir. You see we were at school after summer and we were fighting over a book then there was a bright light and here we are." thank God for Conrad.
"So that's your story." a new rough voice says. I decide to peek out from Conrad's shoulder and I see three men pointing wooden sticks at us alongside two women. Okay? Wait they look familiar but not like I've seen them more imagined. Oh no.
"Conrad, we're in a situation." i say quietly so only he can hear (though I swear one of the men heard).
"I can see that Rebecca." he replies
"I mean... I think we're in the pages of a situation." i hint
"Oh...oh. Right. What do we do?" Er... What do we do?
After taking a deep breath i turn to face our audience full on, head held high. I ask "What year is it?"
They all look confused even Conrad. Brill.
Finally, the older - at least I think she the older - woman answers where a cautious yet warm smile "1995, dear." Sugar. "Th-thank you-u" i smile in return.