Swirls: The Outsiders #1 (The Outsiders Trilogy)

Swirls

The Outsiders Trilogy #1

By F. A. Hershey

Copyright ©2011 by F. A. Hershey

http://fahershey.wordpress.com

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Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, and/or organisations is entirely coincidental.

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Cover art By Claudia McKinney

www.phatpuppyart.com

Proofreading by Natasha Wagner Editorial

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Chapter 1

When I got home, it had already been decided. When I was walking back from school this afternoon I’d still been hoping, but I had no hope left in me now. My father didn’t look up from his newspaper when I got in and I noisily dropped my things on the coffee table, but I only needed to look at my mother’s face to be certain that the discussion had finally come to an end.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying; she looked as if she hadn’t slept all night and I bet she hadn’t.

‘So?’ I said calmly, trying hard to control my emotions, which by now were reaching a tipping point.

‘What?’ my father said, peering over the top of his magazine, distractedly.

I rolled my eyes at him. What else? What could possibly have been making my life so miserable for the last few days? I thought it was pretty obvious.

‘Oh, that…’

‘Yes, that. So…what are we going to do?’ I asked, somehow knowing the answer to that, as if what came next had only been an echo of the answer that I already knew. My heart was pounding in my chest, nonetheless.

‘We’re going to Brazil, Julia.’ He echoed my thoughts, ‘Tomorrow, as previously planned.’ so soon…

I opened my mouth to protest but he held his palms up. The newspaper dropped onto his lap. ‘Your mother and I…’ my mum glared at him from across the living room. ‘Ok, I have decided for the sake of my family that the best option for us right now is to move abroad. I cannot possibly refuse a good work opportunity. It’s unreasonable to do so, considering our current situation.’

‘What about the house? What about Grandma, and school? I don’t want to learn Portuguese, this is ridiculous!’ I burst out – as was only expected – and slumped down onto the sofa.

‘Grandma offered to look after the house for us. I gladly accepted her offer because we know there couldn’t be a better way to have some peace of mind while we’re so far away. She is moving in as soon as we move out,’ he informed me. I opened my mouth to attempt a protest again but he continued before I could voice my frustration. ‘We’ll think about selling it later. And don’t worry about your grandmother, she can take care of herself better then we can.’

I offered another obstacle then for him to deal with.

‘What about school, Dad?’

‘We’re going to look for a nice school together, sweetie. You’re a very clever girl, I’m sure you’ll get used to the language in no time. I’m the one who’s in trouble, not you.’ He straightened himself in the armchair and looked at me properly. I think he could see my anguish because he sighed and looked at my mother, hoping for support.

I did the same; I looked at her with pleading eyes because I knew she hated this situation as much as I did. She would have to leave everything that she loved behind as much as I would have to. She worked in fashion, and according to her there was nothing in the Amazon jungle worth leaving London for, though my father had tried to suggest that she could work with the local community and try out natural materials. She had silenced him with a murderous look.

For a wild moment I thought that together we could be stronger, that we could persuade Dad to stay and find another solution to the financial problems of the family. But then I remembered that my mother and I together were barely half; I couldn’t recall my mother having ever taken my side in any situation. We’d never teamed up.

‘Don’t look at me like that, Julia. It’s hopeless…I’ve already started packing; I suggest you do the same,’ she said in defeat.

‘Sofia…’ my dad started.

My mother just shook her head and looked out the window, deliberately ignoring him. So the battle was really lost.

‘Cheer up, Jul. It won’t be that bad,’ he said, shrugging off my mother’s childish attitude. ‘Can’t you really imagine yourself living in the Amazon jungle? Well, close enough to the jungle.’ My dad was so giddy it was almost sickening to watch. How could he be so happy?

My mum sighed. ‘I’m going to make us some tea,’ she said, and walked like a zombie to the kitchen. ‘Oh and Antonio has sent us the lodge details by email today.’ She could have been announcing the death of a close friend judging by her tone.

‘Great!’ my dad jumped from the armchair. ‘Come Julia, I want to show you how amazing the place we’re staying at is. Oh, you’re going to love it. I hear the Kanuayed community is close by. Your grandma will be pleased.’

I thought I’d heard a grunt from the direction of the kitchen. My mother and I were Amazon natives’ descendants. My grandma was born in the middle of the forest and she had lived almost her whole teenage years without having any kind of contact with the world outside the Kanuayed tribe.

The Kanuayed were Mayan descendants and they had their own way of life. Grandma had told me a few stories about the tribe, but only when I asked. I’d always had the impression that Grandma didn’t really like to talk about the tribe, but when I asked, she was happy to. Now I would have to see everything for myself, without her. I sighed.

‘Yeah Dad, I’m sure she will. I’m going to my room,’ I said, picking up my things and heading for the stairs.

My mother was everything but pleased with this piece of information, I was sure. She had always neglected her origins with all her might as if it was shameful to be who she was. This was something that always irritated me about my mother, amongst other things that are not even worth mentioning at the moment.

I was so disappointed with this sudden shift in my life that I couldn’t be sure how I was feeling anymore. I reached my room at the top of the stairs, dumped my things on the floor and headed straight to the bathroom.

I took a long and hot shower, taking full advantage of the momentary privacy to cry my eyes out. Then I looked at myself in the mirror across the bath and saw that my eyes looked just like my mother’s when I got home from school – red and puffy.

My black straight hair clung to my shoulders and down my back making my copper skin look as dull as it had never looked before. I didn’t feel like a sixteen-year-old. My mind was suddenly so exhausted that all I could think about was my bed. This moving-abroad-all-of-a-sudden-business had really worn me out.

I don’t remember putting my PJs on, though I did. I only remember crashing onto my bed and shutting down.

*

I knew right from the beginning that I was dreaming. Somehow I could feel that my mind was still linked with my body, which I knew was tucked in nicely in my cosy duvet that I had pulled over me while half-awake – but my mind also wandered somewhere much too different from grey and wet London.

In this dream I wasn’t the observer, I was the participant. I was standing smack in the middle of the scene. I stood in the backyard of an old but surprisingly well-kept cottage, which was totally surrounded, almost camouflaged, in dark green towering trees; thick forest invaded the small open grassy space I was standing on. There was movement inside the cottage; I squinted towards the opened back door, but it was totally black. At least I felt at ease, so my life probably wasn’t in peril, despite the fact that I didn’t know who or what might be in the cottage.

A soft sound of hooves made me look the other way, towards a wooden gate, which looked like it hadn’t been opened for a long time. The gate led to a narrow, though clear path within the thick forest, and there stood a tall black horse. A woman was riding it, and it was obvious that she was a very good rider. Her flowing red hair looked as shiny as the horse’s mane; her dark billowing dress covered most of the horse’s back. Her skin was really pale, or maybe it just looked pale because of the exaggerated blackness of the horse; her clothes were very black, like a moonless night.

I couldn’t help but stare at her, and she stared right back. She had a small smile on her ruby lips, an invitation to come to her – that’s what it looked like to me. I walked towards her, but not entirely sure if it was wise. I had no idea who she was. But I went to her anyway.

‘Good morning, Julia,’ she spoke in a calm and somehow familiar voice. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’

‘Good morning.’

‘Would you like to ride with me for a little while? I’d be happy to show you the area,’ she invited.

‘I… don’t know. I have to check with my mother… I think,’ I mumbled, not sure if the movement in the cottage was my mother, or if she was even there. Oh well, this was a dream so why not go for a ride? ‘But then, I’m not sure where she is so… why not?’ I conceded.

‘Excellent!’ the strange woman said, grinning down at me. ‘Here is your horse. He’s been restless; almost as impatient as I. He’s been looking forward to this ride too.’

Another horse appeared inexplicably before me in a way that can only happen in a dream. The sequence of events almost never makes much sense in a dream.

‘I don’t understand.’ It looked like she was expecting me to be here. And so was the horse?

‘I’ll explain to you later.’ She waved her small hand, dismissing this detail.

The other horse was stomping and trotting impatiently, trying to untie itself from the woman’s saddle. The horse was so white it hurt my eyes to look. I had never seen a whiter horse in my life. It was the complete opposite of the black horse the woman was riding. I know the contrast between black and white is pretty obvious, but this horse was painfully white and the other was painfully black.

‘I’m not a very good rider,’ I said, gulping. The horse seemed very agitated. I was not looking forward to falling on my butt, dream or not.

‘Don’t fret, Julia,’ the woman said, smiling. ‘You won’t fall off her. She’s a lady, she’s just impatient.’ She handed me the reins then, and I took them. The horse stopped fidgeting at once and looked at me with such intelligent eyes I almost gasped.

With a deep sigh I gathered courage and mounted the horse, holding the reins with such force that it hurt my fingers.

‘Are you ready, Julia?’ the woman was serious now, her smile gone. She expected an answer.

‘I… think so.’ When it came to riding, I was as ready as I would ever be; but I wasn’t really sure what she was asking me, and somehow her question seemed like such a big question. Who is ever ready? Barely conscious of real life – which sparked disappointment, frustration and sadness – the question bothered me, and she was so intimidating that I just blurted out a ‘think so’ response, choosing not to really think it through.

She gave a wider smile. She galloped forward then, breaking into a run just a second later; her hair and dress billowed furiously against the wind, and I swear the horse’s legs were only a blur.

I patted my white horse on the neck and she nibbled my leg in a friendly way. I didn’t need to command her to go forward. She followed the mysterious woman in a gallop at first, but as I felt more confident on the saddle, the horse broke into a run too, outrunning the black horse in what to me seemed to be as fast as the speed of sound.

I couldn’t say how much time had passed, and I couldn’t also be sure if I was still riding the horse. The only thing I could see was the forest flying by me, only a blur of greens and browns, and my body felt as if at a standstill, just watching. After what could possibly be seconds, minutes or years, everything came to a halt.

The horse stopped right before a tidy little garden that surrounded an abandoned looking shack. The two front windows were dangling by their hinges; the roof had been dominated by climbing plants; the door was ajar.

I climbed down the horse and thought about going straight to it. It felt like there was a gravitational pull making my legs walk forwards. It wasn’t as if I was being forced to go there, I wanted to go inside – it was more out of curiosity than anything else. Then the mysterious woman was suddenly right beside me, as if she’d always been there and I just hadn’t noticed until now. She encouraged me forwards as if she was politely inviting me for tea.

She was still smiling, though it didn’t touch her eyes. She rested her left hand on my shoulder then – it felt warm, soft and homey like a fluffy pillow when you just wake up on a Sunday morning – and she guided me forward.

The room was packed with people. From outside I hadn’t seen any movement, and so it took me by surprise, especially when they seemed to have been very busy until I’d stepped onto the threshold and every face turned towards me. The only problem is that I couldn’t really see them. My eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the place. The lights were out and the weak beams of light that came through the dangling windows didn’t really help. But a second later I realised the problem wasn’t the lack of light, but the fact that these blurry people around me weren’t physically there, not really. They were more like a mirage or something else, something much less consistent than reality.

The tiny living room was bare. There was only an old rocking chair in the right-hand corner, not far from the entrance door I’d just come through. The floor was wooden and dirty, the wallpaper was hanging here and there, showing patches of blood-red paint underneath. On the other side of the room there was another door and it was closed.

The woman squeezed my shoulder ever so slightly and paused by the rocking chair. She turned me to face her and held both my shoulders in her hands. She looked down at me with such intensity I felt a pang in my stomach. Her eyes were as black as her horse, and deep and ancient.

‘Julia, do you trust me?’ she asked.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d just met her, how could I trust her? I didn’t even know her name.

‘Who are you? What’s you name?’ I finally asked.

She sighed and dropped her hands from my shoulders.

‘Is telling you my name going to make any difference to you?’

Technically, yes. Knowing her name would certainly make a difference. But of course I wouldn’t trust her even if she told me her name.

‘Not really…I–,’ I trailed. I felt the blurring silhouettes and faces closer to us now, whispering to each other in the background. ‘What are we doing here? Who are these people? What is this place?’ I changed the subject.

‘Does it matter?’ Ruby Lips asked. I still didn’t know her name.

I gulped. ‘I should go,’ I mumbled, and turned to leave, but the dark silhouettes were blocking the door. I spun around to face the woman again.

‘Are you kidnapping me?’ I gasped. This wasn’t a dream after all; it was a nightmare. Probably one of those where you can never run fast enough and you end up dying, which is when you usually wake up with your whole body aching from the effort of dream-running.

‘No, of course not, you’ll understand soon, I promise. And I hope you forgive me for this too.’ She reached for my arm while she spoke, and her face twisted in pain as if she didn’t like what was about to happen and that was enough for me to start panicking. But with her touch came darkness and nothingness.

As with almost every dream, somehow you just know when something bad is going to happen to you before it happens, and it’s time to run for it. But I couldn’t escape now; I trashed, I kicked and screamed, all to no avail. At intervals, total blackness turned into hazed images,