The Dangerous Doors of Shannon Anderson

Chapter Nine

By Tuesday I was really beginning to freak out about how little I had reviewed, well, anything. I had AP US history and drama tomorrow; pre-calc, chemistry, and German on Thursday; and theology and AP art on Friday. That was it. Three days and seven exams stood between me and graduating high school, ditching Iowa for Manhattan, and embarking on what I was very, very determined to make a long and successful career in theater production.

Dad made me an omelet and I kept my butt glued to my chair for four straight hours, reviewing the Constitution and the Henderson-Hasselbalch equation and Catholic apologetics. I stationed myself in the kitchen, which kept me as far away as possible from both my bedroom and Dad's den where all the dangerous books were while still actually being inside the house.

I knew I couldn't go exploring until nighttime anyway, after Dad and Aidan had gone to bed. But I'll tell you, nothing makes me want to run away to an almost-uninhabited tropical island paradise (with flamingos and penguins) more than trying to calculate areas under the curve using the trapezoidal rule for hours on end. I was counting down the minutes until midnight when Dad would be asleep and I could go see Fritz again.

Dad kept a pretty regular sleep schedule: in bed by eleven, read for half an hour, then lights out, awake by five thirty sharp. By my calculations, he'd be fast asleep by midnight and I'd be free to skip off to New Switzerland.

Unfortunately, I had not taken into account the irresistible draw of the Public Broadcasting Service. At quarter after eleven, Dad was still sitting in his recliner in the living room, eyes glued to the TV.

"What're you watching?" I asked. And why aren't you in bed yet?

"Oh, it's a great series called 'Secrets of the Dead'," he said. "They investigate mysteries surrounding ancient dead people. There was one on Buddha last week; this one is Ultimate Tut."

"Fascinating. When is it on 'til?"

"If you want to watch TV, go use the one in the family room."

"That's okay."

"Shouldn't you be getting to bed, anyway? What time do your exams start tomorrow?"

"Not until ten," I said.

"Get some rest, Shannon. I'll make you an omelet before you leave in the morning."

I trudged upstairs to wait. I took my time brushing my teeth, washing my face, and putting on my pajamas, but even then the whole ritual only took twenty minutes and Dad was still downstairs watching TV. I could risk leaving before he went to bed, but I wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't pop his head in to look fondly on my angelic sleeping face before turning in for the night. Patience seemed the more prudent route, albeit the more annoying one.

I could have read to pass the time, but regular reading had somewhat lost its luster now that I could actually go walk around in the stories and interact with the characters face-to-face. So I sat on the edge of my bed, The Swiss Family Robinson in hand, and waited.

And waited. A few minutes after midnight, I finally heard Dad's heavy footsteps on the stairs. I quickly flicked out my bedroom light and jumped into bed, just in case he did the fondly gazing on my angelic face thing. I listened as he went to the bathroom, flushed the toilet, ran the faucet, brushed his teeth, rinsed his toothbrush, turned off the bathroom light, crossed the hall, and closed the door to his room.

I really should have waited longer. I didn't know if he would still take the time to read now that it was past his usual bedtime, or if he would go straight to sleep. Even if he went straight to sleep, it would take a little bit of time for him to fall asleep, and I really wanted to minimize the risk of him jumping out of bed and discovering that I had vanished.

But on the other hand, I really wanted to see Fritz. I opened my book which opened the door, and I ducked into New Switzerland.

I stepped into a clearing not unlike the one I had found myself in during my first visit, but I didn't think it was the same place. I could still see the shore, but I wasn't at the top of a slope, and the trees and grass were situated differently than they were in the other clearing.

It was daytime, but the usually bright tropical sun was obscured by pearly gray clouds that could have given Iowa storm clouds a run for their money. The air was sticky and thick, and I considered turning back and finding a more climatically agreeable book to relax in, when something brushed my shoulder and made me spring forward like a squirrel-pig-kangaroo thing that had just been tasered.

"Shannon?"

I turned around, and Holy sweet Jesus, he was even more attractive in the daylight.

"Fritz!" I practically skipped over to him, closing the gap between us.

"Why, it's been nearly -"

I put a finger to his lips to silence him. I did not want to hear about how much time had passed. The lack of temporal continuity between my real life and my book lives was kind of starting to freak me out. I had come here to ignore that kind of thing.

"Fritz, let me tell you, I just had a long walk from the bay where our ship is anchored up to this spot, and with this awful humidity I could use some refreshing."

"Oh! In any other season I would have recommended the rejuvenating juice of the sugar cane, but you won't find any such fare this time of year except at Rockburg, and we both know it would not be safe for my family to bring you there. The winter season is upon us. Surely a lady who has spent the better part of her youth aboard ships recognizes the mean gray storm clouds of the rainy season?"

I looked up at the sky. "Storm clouds. Right." They did look pretty ominous, but I'd weathered eighteen Iowa winters, how bad could the tropical rainy season be?

"Never fear," Fritz said. "I know of a grove of coconut trees not far from here, and I assure you, the sweet milk of the coconut will quench your thirst."

"Coconut. Okay."

A quick dip in the sea was more what I had had in mind when I'd said I needed some refreshing. But Fritz was already heading for the jungle,and seeing the way his gauzy shirt clung to the sweat on his well-muscled shoulders and back, I really had no choice but to follow.

A/N: If you were in Shannon's shoes, do you think you'd be able to muster up enough focus to study when you had a stack of magical books at your bedside waiting to be explored? Let me know with a comment, and as always, thank you for your reads, votes, and reading list adds!