What if Narnia's wardrobe was in a psych unit?
Agatha Stone is not the chosen one--she's the last one. She's thirteen, mentally ill, and whiny, but she's all that's left.
She's not what they were expecting, but she's all they have. Maybe with the...
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I run outside, jump from the top of my stoop to the sidewalk, and fall to my knees. Blind panic brings me to my feet and starts them moving. I have nowhere to go.
Oberon bolts in front of me, and I follow. He's fast, but I manage to keep pace while we weave our way down multiple side streets until I'm completely lost. I run until my legs fail, sending my body tumbling through a narrow, garbage-filled alley. The fire in my lungs distracts me from the filth I'm lying in as I gasp for air.
The need to vomit jolts me back to my feet. I barely make it to the side of the dumpster when my stomach violently empties. Never in my life have I exercised like this. My heart might explode. I sit back down on the grungy alley pavement, and Oberon rubs himself against my shins, purring loudly. He probably thinks I'm dying. He's probably right.
When my breathing returns to normal and I'm relatively confident that I'll live, my brain flashes back to my real problem. "What am I going to do, Oberon? Why am I following a cat? I don't know where to go. I can't report this to anybody. I have no friends and nowhere to run. Tell me what to do."
Oberon stares at me for a moment, then holds his head up and opens his mouth to speak. "Murr, murr, mow," he says with confidence.
I roll my eyes. "Great. Bugs can talk, but cats can't."
Tears fall in abundance down my cheeks. I can't remember the last time I cried. "I'm scared, and alone, and have no idea what to do next."
Oberon continues to rub his body against mine, almost as if he's petting me, but in spite of his solace, I sob for a long time.
The little tabby offers quite a bit of comfort, and my crying fit abruptly ends. It's getting dark, and I'm afraid I may have to spend the night in the alley.
"Maybe we should head back, Oberon. I'll tell them what I saw," I say, not liking that idea but not having many options. I can't even think about what happened in the apartment without my chest seizing. I should do nothing and just sit here with my cat. "I don't like that plan either."
The sun sets, and I'm glad that it never gets too dark in the city. I almost convince myself to relax when a long shadow creeps down the alley. I look for the source but there isn't one. No one is coming. When it reaches my feet, the black monster from the apartment oozes up from the ground.
"Agatha Stone," it says in a deep gravelly voice.
That's the second time this thing has said my name, only now I'm not scared. And because I'm not scared, I'm worried. I'm not a brave person. This monster should be terrifying me out of my mind, but instead, I'm overcome with relief. I'm less afraid of this monster than of being alone in the alley.
"You must come with me. Quickly."
"Why?" I ask with astonishing composure. I'm grateful to have a place to go and thankful someone else is making the plans. I've never been in charge before, and I don't want to start with life-changing decisions.
