Otherworld

Chapter 1

I woke up covered in sweat... again. I already knew what happened. I had that dream again. The one where the blue wispy air surrounds me until I'm an inch away from death. Then I wake up. Every time before I wake up, there is a voice. A man's voice. It calls out my name. It makes me want desperately to know who and where it came from. I feel like I know the voice. Sometimes it is speaking to me in a reassuring tone. Other times all there is, is a cry for help.

The voice haunts me every day. I hear it every night. There is no escape from the voice.

I got dressed and hurried downstairs as soon as Mrs. Pherell called for everyone. She always is using that stupid whistle of hers. Shwee shwee shwee. Each day before breakfast and each evening before curfew, Mrs. Pherell calls us with three shrill whistle blows so we can eat our food before it gets cold. I know I should be thankful to her and her husband, Mr. Pherell, for taking us (meaning me and the other nine kids I share a room with) into their home and feeding us, raising us, and teaching us. The only thing I will never thank them for is the snow. I hate the snow more than anything. It makes you cold and sucks all of the happiness out of you. Why run an orphanage in Main when you could run one in Florida? It's much warmer. Then again, there are Palmedo bugs and no one likes those. Maybe in California or something like that.

Mrs. Pherell hadn't called for breakfast or curfew. She had called for adoption. That means that someone was going to walk out of this dusty, old, rundown orphanage and into a new life. And it could be me.

Oh what am I thinking? No one is going to adopt a 15 year old girl. Not ever. Especially me. Never.

The lovely couple strode into the dining hall oohing and ahhing at the beautiful architecture. Even though this place was rundown and dusty, it was a beautiful sight in an architect's mind.

I know this because of a boy named Phillis who came to the orphanage five years ago on my eleventh birthday. He is the same age as me right now. There is only 23 days in a year that I am older than him. His birthday is 23 days after mine, so he came to the orphanage with the early birthday present of his parent's death. At least he knew them.

I never knew my parents. My mum died giving birth to me. It was quite tragic actually says Mrs. Pherell. She was apparently good friends with my mum. My dad's death was even more tragic. I can't remember anything up until Mr. Pherell's face and faces of many hospital workers. He told me that he had heard a scream from within the woods near my backyard as he was passing by our (meaning my dad's and I) house. They never found my dad's body. All they found was an expensive jar of lemonade, which my dad apparently wouldn't have been able to afford.

I guess that pretty much sums up my life so far. Go on. Feel sorry for me. I don't care.

The room could have been on fire and none of the orphans - including me - would have cared a bit. We were all too tense and nervouscited (nervous and excited). Someone was going to be taken home with this couple.

We all stood in anticipation while Mr. and Mrs. Pherell spoke to the couple. The woman had long, almost down to her waist, golden-brown hair that seemed to shimmer when the sunlight hit it just perfectly. The man had icy blue eyes, but the kind ones that nice people wear with a smile.

The couple had something off about them. They were perfect. They were a little too perfect for me. Was I just dreaming again? I really hope not. I wasn't quite paying attention until the lady pointed at me and whispered something into the man's ear. Could it be? Was this the start of a new life?

I almost cried when the lady came up to me and asked if I would like to be their new daughter.

Is this another one of those Annie stories? Will life turn out the way that I've been dreaming?

The couple led me to their car. They seemed really nice. They had already filled out all of the adoption papers. 

I Kayla Frost, officially have a family. 

...Or so I thought