Sombra Mundus: PG13, saga; teen, fantasy, non-Sci-Fi world travel, teen romance, clean romance, realm, magical realism, shadow world, school/new school, high school. #isekai ♫♪ #ReadFree
Come journey with Mina and her mysterious travelers into a world between worlds, shadowed in realities, where memories and hopes blend.
Suggested Music: on AudioNetwork
Mina slid into the desk behind the blonde girl and sighed.
Kelli turned around in her seat to face her. "You'll like Mrs. Swanson. She's so easy-going. Not like Mr. Briggs." She made a face that gave her the impression of a chipmunk. "We're starting The Crucible next week. Talk about dull. So, where're you from?"
"Chicago," Mina said, slouching back in her chair, sending a surly look around the room. Not an Asian in sight. "I can't believe how small everything is out here."
"Oh. Yeah." Kelli looked a bit deflated. Her blue eyes were too large for her face, and they took a downward turn for a moment. "I guess it would be boring after a big place like Chicago. But we do have an active sports program for our size school. Even JV teams. Freshman basketball is full, but volleyball will start after the holidays."
Mina only half-listened as the blonde extolled the virtues of Morrow High School's athletic teams. She had almost completely tuned her out when Mrs. Swanson stood before the class as the break bell rang.
"... But we have a killer hockey team," Kelli added with a quick smile. "In the second semester."
Mina gave a nod, and then wished she could disappear completely as the teacher pointed her out to the entire class and had her introduce herself.
She stood and did so, begrudgingly, and tried not to look at anyone.
When she regained her seat a few minutes later as Mrs. Swanson briefed them on the highlights of Arthur Miller's study in hypocrisy, Mina slouched back in her chair.
Why Morrow, Indiana, population 5,800? Her mother could work from home anywhere. Why settle here, with no archery program or even local clubs for the sport? Unless she was willing to join the bow-hunting division of the rod and gun lodge at the edge of town – which she wasn’t. At least in Oak Park there had been a small but fastidious team at a nearby high school, and she had been allowed to become a member only last year.
"Are you, like, Chinese or something?"
Mina looked to the dark-haired boy seated across the aisle from her. She shook her head.
"Shut up, man," said a male voice from behind her. "Don't ask stupid stuff like that."
"Well, I mean, she's something," the first boy said lowly.
"So are you. Idiot."
Mina propped her head on her hand and focused on the teacher who had sat on a stool before the class. This was just what she expected from a hick place like Morrow. No one in Chicago even gave a second glance at her Asian looks. Well, not too many, anyway. Here it was like they had never seen someone of Japanese descent. She watched Mrs. Swanson's mouth move, but didn't care to listen. And she wasn't entirely Japanese, anyway. There was equal part Korean and plenty of German in her, too. No one ever commented on her last name of Knudsohn unless they were trying to spell it.
The boy to her left wasn't worth a closer look and she ignored him, and the rest of the class and the teacher, until the bell rang for third hour.
Lit class promised to be a drag, and she wasn't looking forward to the rest of the day. First days were always tough, but she hadn't had to start a new school in three years, and never six weeks into the first semester.
The bright spot of the day was missing the bus to go home. Being rural, nearly everyone at the high school rode the bus, and Mina was glad not to be among them. She hitched her book bag over her shoulder and started the trek home, wondering how long she had before the sidewalk ended and she'd have to cross yards. And if there were dogs. She hadn't thought about that part.
When she reached the modest two-story house she deigned to call home, Mina checked the mail box at the street and headed in with a peevish frown. Inside the kitchen she dropped the mail on the counter and looked around. The house was actually a bit larger than their house outside Chicago, and the yard in the back was more than they had had, but there were town ordinances, and one of them was no gun or bow shooting in less than half an acre of property, and the Knudsohn home had less.
She sighed, placing her shoes at the back door and hanging up her coat on the row of six pegs. Only her mother's coat and a sweater hung on the other pegs. She wondered if her father's coat would soon be there also.
And was it really a Knudsohn home if her father was absent?
"How was school?" her mother called as Mina passed the open door down the hallway a moment later.
Mina paused, pushing her dark hair behind one ear. As close as her mother and she usually were, lately there was dissension. She backed up a step and peeked into the small office. "I still hate it."
Her mother's shoulders sagged as she looked up from the computer monitor. "You're not giving it a chance, daughter. What about the stables?"
"I don't want to learn how to ride. And it doesn't help—"
"—that you can't shoot there." Her mother sighed, taking off her glasses. "You might find other interests, Mina. There's more than archery. And," she said, rising to her full five-foot three-inches before Mina could interject, "I'm not saying to give it up. We just haven't found a place to shoot yet. We will. But meanwhile, try something else for a while."
Mina nodded, but didn't feel like agreeing. Her mother's petite form seemed somehow smaller since they left Chicago. It was most notable when they had had to hire a handyman to do some outside work. Not a tall, sturdy man like her father was, but the laborer still towered over her mother's short stature.
Mina headed down the hallway to the staircase.
"You got an email from Aunt Gretchen."
Mina's foot froze on the first step, her hand tightening on the banister. Her mind ran cold. "What did she say?"
"I didn't open it, honey. Send her our love and kisses for the kids."
"I will." Mina sighed and continued up to her room. After recovering from the initial shock, guilt swept over her. Her mother would be so hurt if she knew what the message was probably about. She dropped her book bag beside her desk and sat at the window seat that overlooked the backyard.
It was the one redeeming attribute to her new bedroom. The window seat was built right into the wall, accommodating the closet next to it, and from it she could see across their backyard and the neighbor's behind them. Beyond that was another street which ran parallel to her own. A timid November drizzle began outside and she was glad she'd gotten home before it started.
She glanced to her desk where the computer monitor was black, awaiting her attention, but she was in no hurry to hear from Aunt Gretchen. In fact, she was very close to abandoning the whole idea of trying to go back to Chicago. Her mother would be hurt, and she didn't know what her father would do.
But she did not want to stay in Morrow.
She turned to look back out the window.
On the road across the backyards she could see a dark blue truck slowly make its way down the street, a white sign on the driver's door. It paused at a few houses, and she figured it was a lost contractor. After a moment it was out of view among the block of houses.
She sighed. Maybe she could just finish out her sophomore year in Chicago, and then start again in Morrow her junior year.
Thanks to P.G. Waters for the use of her story!