Trapped in Wonderland (Wonderland Chronicles Book 1)

by Dani Hoots

  “You mean the arcade? Is this some new attraction they added in the back?” I asked, referring to the arcade called “Wunderland” off Market street. I looked at Davis and Melvin. They didn’t say a word but just glanced at each other. He must have meant that, maybe they got a new attraction in the back, like laser-tag but more like a virtual reality game. I heard they were making great progress with VR in Utah or Idaho or something. As I kept an eye on Melvin and Davis, I noticed Melvin had bunny ears matching his orange hair. I was just about to point them out when Malcolm shook his head and answered my question.

  “No, not the arcade. This is the real deal. This is Wonderland.”

  “I don’t understand. You can’t possibly be talking about the children’s tale, can you?”

  “Yes.” He peered around, as if making sure no one else was around. “But you shouldn’t be here. It is too dangerous and you aren’t ready.”

  “Aren’t ready for… what? “I began when Melvin and Davis grabbed me and Malcolm pressed a vial of liquid to my lips. I tried to struggle, not quite sure what the heck he was trying to give me.

  “Drink this, Alice. You must go home now, and forget everything you saw.”

  Forcing the drink down my throat, I felt the sweet liquid start to make my body tingle. My vision was getting blurry and I had no idea why the world felt like it was spinning around. How could he do this to me, I wondered. Why couldn’t he have just asked?

  I shoved him back, but it was too late as the vial was empty. “What the hell did you just give me?”

  Before answering, I felt Chase wrap his arms around me and pull me back into the doorway that Malcolm had appeared out of. I let out a slight girly yelp, which I of course immediately regretted.

  “Come on Alice, we’re going for a ride!” Chase laughed as we started to travel down and down and down.

  Great, the falling feeling all over again. It wasn’t like my head wasn’t already spinning.

  CHAPTER 2

  When I opened my eyes, I found my friend Kate standing above me. Her long brown hair was braided back, in contrast to my short blonde hair that always seemed messy no matter what I did with it. Kate also always wore jeans and a cute designer top, much nicer than the oil-paint covered jeans and simple t-shirt I usually wore. Just a note, oil-paint doesn’t come out of anything. Ever. It even keeps that grease smell to it, which surprisingly I could still make out even after all the paint thinner fumes I had breathed in over the years.

  “Alice! Are you all right?” She bent down next to me, her brown eyes wide. I must have really worried her.

  I started to sit up and moaned. My head was pounding, as if Thor was inside my skull wielding Mjölnir. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the school. I waited for you to come back out to your bike but you never did. I wanted to make sure you got your slippers without getting in trouble, since you didn’t go through the main entrance as usual.” I believed her, Kate always worried about such things. Wasn’t like I really would get into trouble. I was good at talking my way out of any situation with a teacher. “I came inside looking for you and found you passed out in the middle of the hallway.”

  I tried to remember what happened but only found a dark haze in my memory. Dark haze; why did that seem familiar? I couldn’t recall anything, only coming back into the school, and then everything else was gone. What happened, I wondered.

  “How long was I out?” I asked. So much time seemed like it had passed, as if something had happened, yet it could have only been a minute or two.

  “Just a few minutes. I’m glad I found you first, you would have been in big trouble if a teacher found you.”

  I tried to remember why I came into the school after hours, then it occurred to me. “Oh no, dance class!” I rushed up, which made my head hurt even more. I fumbled and almost fell back down.

  Down…

  I grabbed my head as it began to pound even louder. I must have hit my head on something, or tripped as I was a bit of a klutz after all, but I didn’t feel any bumps on my head.

  Kate helped me stay up. “Alice, you can’t go to dance, you should go see a nurse. I think you might have a concussion.”

  I shook my head which made it hurt worse. Stupid thing to do. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Well at least go home, you shouldn’t dance in this condition. I can see if my mom will take you home. We still have the bike rack on the back of our car from our weekend trip.”

  I thought for a moment. She was right, I really shouldn’t dance in this state. I would be falling all over the place and end up with more problems, not to mention making other dancers mad for running into them. “Fine, I will text Becca.”

  I pulled out my phone and texted my ballet teacher Becca, as both Kate and I snuck out of the school and headed towards her mom’s car.

  Hey Becca can’t make it tonight have bad migraine C u tomorrow.

  Kate’s mom was waiting for her in the parking lot. She drove a little Mini Cooper Countryman that was a bright blue. I liked to call it ‘Smurfie' because, let’s be honest, it looked like a big Smurf.

  I grabbed my bike and hooked it up to the bike rack on Mrs. B’s car. Her full name was Jenny Benjamin, but I always called her Mrs. B. It’s always awkward trying to figure out what to call someone’s parents. Luckily she told me what to call her when we first met.

  Climbing in the car, I smiled to her. “Thanks Mrs. B, I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Alice. How’s your head feeling?” she asked. Apparently Kate already had told her while I was busy hooking up my bike to her car.

  “It’s all right. Just need some rest.”

  “Have any idea what happened?” she asked.

  “No, I just went into the school and the next thing I knew, Kate was next to me trying to wake me up. I probably tripped or something, should be fine after some Tylenol.”

  She turned back and started the car. My iPhone buzzed and I looked down to find Becca had texted me back.

  K. Feel better. C u tomorrow.

  “So how has school been this year?” Kate’s mom asked as we headed down Lancaster Drive. East Salem High was located at the end of D Street just behind an older strip mall thing. It was small and nothing was ever open. I called it a waste of space, but that was just me. There was a cute dress shop though, and I loved admiring the dresses in the shop window.

  “School’s good,” I knew it was the typical evasive teenage answer but my head was killing me.

  “What’s your favorite class so far?” Mrs. B always liked to make small talk. I never did mind it but my head was killing me and I would rather just rest though I would never tell her that.

  “Probably Japanese.”

  “I can’t believe that you and Kate are taking Japanese. I know I would never be able to take it. It seems so hard,” Mrs. B went on yet again. This was the sixth time she said it was hard, can’t believe it, etc.

  I wasn’t going to lie, it was totally because of anime and manga that I decided to take Japanese. I grew up watching Sailor Moon, Trigun, Fruits Basket, along with all the Miyazaki films of course. I couldn’t get enough of the art. I loved art, as I myself wanted to be an artist. I spent most of my nights in my room either drawing or painting whatever came to mind. I enjoyed all kinds and types of art as well, not just manga. I was most fond of oils and watercolors, complete opposites in reality, as one took a lot of time and could be fixed quite easily, while the other was quicker, more delicate, and was easier to make a mistake. They took different strengths and I liked practicing with both in order to work on my weaknesses.

  What I really loved about painting was that I was able to create a world that was only in my mind. Anything I could come up with, I tried my hardest to represent it on the canvas or paper. The only limit I had was in my imagination. It was the greatest feeling in the entire world.

  “But you must also enjoy art class as well, Kate says you are really good,” Mrs. B commented. She must have noticed I was off in
my own little world. Again.

  “Yeah, I do. Right now we are doing portraits in art so that’s fun. I haven’t really done much with portraits.”

  “You really like art don’t you?”

  “I do. I love being able to make anything I want. It’s like being in a different world in which I can let my mind wander. There’s nothing else like it.”

  “You think you will do it professionally? Go to art school and all that?”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to think about it really. It was my dream, yes, but others haven’t been that supportive of me. My parents thought art school was a waste of time and money and that I should pick a better career like business or engineering. They said there is no money in art and that it wasn’t real work, and many of their friends agreed. It didn’t help that I had a sister that was starting medical school, another sister that was a senior going to major in physics, and that both of my parents were CPAs, Certified Public Accountants. None of my family understood anything about art, they only cared about what they called ‘the real world’, and nothing about the world of imagination.

  “We will see, I guess,” I finally answered. I looked over to find Kate staring at me. “What?”

  “You know you can do whatever you want,” she whispered quietly so her mother wouldn’t hear. “You don’t have to listen to your parents.”

  Good ol’ Kate had been at my side every time my parents threatened to take away my paint or ballet shoes when I did badly in a class. If I got anything less than a ‘B’, I was doomed. If I ever had problems with homework, she was there helping me. I was thankful for such a great friend. “I have a while, I just don’t want to worry about it.”

  “Okay.” After that serious question, she smacked my arm. “I saw you looking at Malcolm in English. You really like him don’t you?”

  Not this again, I swore she made it her job to bug me every chance she could. I smacked her back. “I told you to knock it off. He would never go out with someone like me.”

  Kate gave me that face, like I was despicable for thinking he wouldn’t like me. “Why not? You are awesome and creative, he would be lucky to have you.”

  I sighed. “Because, there’s a bunch of girls lined up all the time trying to get him to take them out, and they always get rejected. I don’t want to be one of those girls.”

  “But if you did get him, think of how crazy you would make them all. It would be awesome!”

  “Just forget it, it will never happen.”

  “Never say never.” She smirked, as if she knew something I didn’t.

  I rolled my eyes. That would be the day, me with one of the most popular boys at school. That would just turn me into the most hated girl in school. Though Kate still would be my friend, which she really was my only real friend at school anyway, so it wouldn’t be much different. Maybe I should try, it wouldn’t hurt anything other than my ego.

  No, I would never have the guts.

  After a while, we made it to my house off Highway 22. Mrs. B dropped me off and I pulled my bike off the back of her car. I waved goodbye to them, after they made sure I had my keys this time, and unlocked the front door.

  No one was home as my parents were still at work and my sister was at racquetball practice. For some reason Oregon was big into racquetball. It was fun but nothing I would compete in. The ball moved so fast sometimes and I would just get stuck on the wall, not moving my feet, as my sister’s coach said when I did try outs. He was pretty scary.

  I set my things on the dining room table and grabbed the phone to call my mom. Usually I biked to her office after dance practice so I needed to let her know I didn’t feel well and that I got a ride home. I also knew I should call right now before I forgot, which has maybe happened once or twice. After ringing a few times, she picked up.

  “Amanda Moselle speaking,” my mother answered her phone. She must have not looked at the caller ID again.

  “Hi Mom, it’s me. I wasn’t feeling well so Mrs. B took me home.”

  “What’s wrong, Meredith?” I hated it when my family used that name. It was my legal first name, but I never came to like it. It felt too stuffy for me, so I always went by my middle name and made sure teachers knew that before they did role call in class.

  “Just have a bad migraine. Decided not to go to dance,” I explained. It wasn’t like she really cared about me skipping class as she didn’t see the point of ballet other than for exercise. It was so much more than that though.

  “All right, thanks for calling. See you later tonight.”

  I heard her phone click off and I hung up the phone. I sighed and grabbed my backpack. I needed to relax and the only way to do that was to paint.

  I grabbed my stuff and went to my room. As I stepped inside, I could feel my worries just wash away. Splashes of color filled my room as most of my paintings covered all the walls, and even more canvases were stacked inside the closet. People always wondered why I didn’t have that many changes of clothes, and if they ever came into my room, they would understand why. I simply didn’t have room and I spent my allowance on other things, like paint. If it wasn’t art related, then it was comics, manga, and books that littered the shelves and floor.

  As I took in all the bright colors I painted with, as I always liked to capture the boldest of subjects, I caught sight of a painting I did from a year ago. Bright greens and blues were used, with red flowers.

  I stared at it, as if recalling something, or some place. Why did the smell of fresh-cut grass just come to me? I pondered. It was like a memory that had been repressed.

  I shook my head. It must have just been an idea I had for a project. Maybe that was what I should work on next, creating a world made of grass and plants.

  Pulling out some old brushes, I got busy. Homework could wait until after dinner.

  CHAPTER 3

  I slammed my locker shut as the first bell rang. I had five minutes to get to class, plenty of time to get there and be able to chat a little with Kate. We both had first period English. What a great way to start the day, with English. Though, in reality, was there any class that would be good in the morning? I didn’t think so.

  Heading towards class, I hurried through the crowd of students who were all trying to get to class before the tardy bell went off. I had learned to get through crowds pretty well, it was almost like a dance: jump over the bags that were left on the floor, step to the side as two friends who acted like they hadn’t seen each other in forever even though it had only been a day ran to each other and hugged, duck as the arm of a basketball player punched one of his friends in the shoulder. With some of things I had to avoid, I swore it was like I was invisible.

  Finally reaching English class, I found the room to be the same as usual: posters of classic novels littered part of the walls, a newly installed whiteboard in the front, and the professor’s desk near the old chalkboard that was covered in the reading lists for each class that Mr. Barnes taught. I wasn’t looking forward to the next year when we have to read an even longer list of books, of which none were sci-fi or fantasy I might add. I didn’t care what he said, Isaac Asimov and J.R.R. Tolkien were classics.

  Kate was sitting in the back as she always did. I grabbed a seat next to her and placed my books on the desk. Right now we were reading Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. It wasn’t my first choice, but it wasn’t too bad.

  “How are you feeling today?” Kate asked. I didn’t get around to texting her back last night as I had become so engrossed in my painting. I also ended up not going to bed until three in the morning due to putting off homework until midnight and was beyond tired. Good thing my parents didn’t notice my light still on so late at night.

  “Great, other than really tired. I got in one of my hypnotic states while painting last night and forgot about everything else again. Before I realized it, it was midnight and I hadn’t done any homework. Got done around three. My Global Studies homework probably makes no sense whatsoever. I don’t even remember wha
t I wrote.”

  She laughed. “I will take a look at it during lunch. What did you end up painting?”

  Just as the bell rang, I watched as Chase and Davis hurried into the room. It was strange, for some reason I could picture them in Victorian costumes. Must have been because we were reading Great Expectations and I had a vivid imagination, at least that was what my father said. I couldn’t help it if I had imaginary friends growing up, it was normal. I think.

  Chase and Davis took the two seats in front of us, which was strange since usually they sat across the classroom. I turned back to Kate and our conversation. “I ended up painting some buildings with flowers all over them. I had a vivid image of it in my mind when I got home.”

  Davis dropped his books onto the floor. Good thing Mr. Barnes was late as he would have scolded him for being so disrespectful with someone else’s property as all our books were owned by the school. Chase smacked him in the arm. “Watch it, clumsy.”

  Davis didn’t say anything but retrieved his books from the floor. I turned back to Kate. “So, that’s what I painted.”

  “That’s cool that you can see something clearly in your mind. You’re lucky to be so talented.”

  “I don’t know, I love art but my parents won’t ever understand it. They don’t see it as a career, just a hobby.”

  Kate put her hand on my back and made one of her ‘I’ll always be at your side’ smiles, which always made my chest feel a little warmer. “It’s your life, Alice, do what you want with it.”

  “Thanks Kate.” I knew she was a great friend, that I probably wouldn’t find another person like her. Through thick and thin she had been by my side. I just hoped one day I could do the same for her.