Preordained World: The Girl That Didn't Belong

By Helen Mullen

Petite, brunette, Phoebe Cartwright, isn't an ordinary fifteen year old girl. As she starts her new life with her 'long lost' aunt and uncle, hundreds of miles from the place that she used to call home she tries to adapt to her new world without her parents. While super cute Jack seems to fancy her, Kirsty automatically seems to dislike her and the mysterious and intriguing Collum Bradley seems just as drawn to her, as she is to him. But Phoebe has a strange voice talking in her mind. Talking, not in her voice, but someone else's. A strange voice talking just to her.
Is she crazy?

As the voice tells Phoebe that the world as she knows it is preordained - with every life and every action determined by Twelve Ancient Spirits millions of years ago - Phoebe wonders if she is going mad? She alone does not belong in the preordained world?
But if the voice in Phoebe's head is real what does that mean for the world around ... and how would the Ancient Spirit's react if they discovered her existence in their preordained world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helen Mullen
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310403606

Helen Mullen

Helen Mullen loves reading and writing Young Adult fictions and is thrilled to release her debut YA novel 'Preordained World: The Girl That Didn't Belong'. She is currently writing her second novel.When not reading and writing she loves spending time with her family and two cats.

Book preview

Preordained World: The Girl That Didn’t Belong

Helen Mullen

Copyright Helen Mullen 2014

Published at Smashwords

Chapter One

The window ledge I was standing on couldn’t have been more than twenty centimetres wide, and the drop below was at least five metres. I tightened my grip on the frame as I nervously edged my foot a little farther to the right, thankful that the dark night masked the sheer drop beneath. It had been a dry day, but heavy dew had formed since sunset, and my foot slipped slightly against the damp wood. Involuntarily, I gasped and bit my lip against the escaping sound.

From inside the old Victorian house, I heard the faint sound of my aunt’s slow footsteps padding on the landing. I froze. Please don’t look into my bedroom, I thought as her steps came to a stop outside the door. My hurried efforts to stuff pillows under the covers to represent my sleeping form would only fool her for a moment. I pictured her listening outside the door, her hand resting on the door handle, ready to turn it and check up on me once again. I squeezed my eyes shut, silently willing her on.

Two seconds passed…three…four. I pressed my back against the window pane, as far from the edge as possible, and counted. Finally, her softly padding feet continued down the hallway. A late night bathroom stop, that was okay. I needed to hurry—I was already a little behind schedule. Sliding my feet farther to the right, I paused as I reached the edge of the ledge. This was the tricky bit. I needed to lower myself half a metre below onto the flat kitchen roof, but to do so I had to release my tight grip. Summoning every ounce of courage within me, I released the frame and carefully lowered my foot onto the hard surface below, just as from inside the house I heard my aunt’s muffled tread return from the bathroom. Panicked, my foot slipped, and I half fell, half jumped onto the roof, grazing my knees on the rough surface. My ears instantly strained for signs that my aunt had heard.

I waited. The night was silent. I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Brushing my long chestnut hair away from my face, I tucked it into the hood of my jacket, scrambled up, and hurried across the roof. Almost immediately I found the neat trellis that provided a perfect ladder down to the ground and climbed it deftly, grateful that my uncle had planted honeysuckle and not prickly rose bushes up it.

I did it! I murmured triumphantly as my feet touched the earth below.

Well done, Phoebe! The response was smooth and strong, a whisper straight into my mind.

I briefly closed my sapphire eyes and drew in a calming breath at the voice that had led me out of my bed tonight. The same voice that had come to me after my parents died this summer, coaxing me out of my reverie with promises of the person I was meant to be. Was I just a crazy fifteen-year-old girl listening to a strange voice whispering straight into my mind? It definitely wasn’t my voice, but someone else’s, a vaguely familiar man’s voice talking directly and only to me.

I sometimes wondered if I was just grief ridden and desperate, imagining the voice in my lonely world. I squared my shoulders. That was what I was here to find out.

The darkness seemed to close in around me, engulfing me like a thick blanket, and I blinked until the crisp, autumnal English countryside began to take shape around me with the help of the light from the crescent moon.

Where to? I asked firmly in my mind.

Straight down the garden to the field at the bottom, the voice instructed back. Be quick if you want to make a difference.

I pulled out my phone and glanced at the display: 12.18 a.m. I really needed to hurry. I ran as fast as I could down the garden, pausing only momentarily at the fence before vaulting over it. Where now? I demanded, sounding more in control than I felt.

Right here, by the fence, the voice returned.

I dropped to my knees and scanned the darkness. There! To my left, a tiny movement caught my eye. My heart leapt. A rabbit twisted awkwardly before me, its eyes bulging as a desperate rasp sounded from its throat and its body twitched. My eyes slid down to a tight length of twine digging deep around its neck, and my fingers trembled as I pulled out the penknife stowed carefully in my pocket. Very gently, I took hold of the creature and eased the sharp blade against its skin. With a quick flick of the knife, I sliced through the twine, and the rabbit gasped.

For a moment I thought it was too late, but then the rabbit blinked its shining eyes and sprang lightly from my grasp, leaving me holding nothing but the twine. It turned to stare straight at me, its eyes wide and wary. Then it shook itself vigorously and, with a final glance, scampered away into the darkness. I stared after it, both my heart and mind racing at a furious pace.

It was there! I gasped. I saved its life. I absently examined the twine. A neat knot formed a perfect noose: a trap. I shoved it deep into my pocket in disgust.

I told you it would be, the whisper responded with a soft, tinkling laugh.

I closed my eyes, my mind reeling. Was it all true? I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone to text Cally, wanting my best friend to know straight away.

It was there, I saved it! x

A twig snapped loudly in the darkness, and I instantly crammed my phone into my pocket and shrank back into the gloom, glancing around nervously. My skin prickled. Was someone watching me? Snap. Another twig broke, and I pressed my hand to my mouth to mask my ragged breath. Who was there? I strained my ears. Could I hear breathing?

Brrr! Brrr! My phone vibrated, and I jumped a mile, my pulse spiking. Cally’s response; of course she’d be awake and waiting to hear from me.

I used the opportunity to take flight, launching myself back over the fence and running as fast as my legs could carry me up the garden. No one followed, and by the time I reached the house, I wondered if I was being silly getting spooked so easily by the night. Just before I began my ascent back up the trellis, I glanced at my phone and smiled. Cally had sent not one, but two messages.

OMG! You need to tell me all about it tomorrow. x

And then another: Is it better to have an imaginary voice in your head…or a real one?

The words swam before my eyes, and unease sliced through me as I hurriedly began my climb back into the house.

Chapter Two

Note to self, I thought. Do not go out on midnight adventures the evening before starting a new school. I felt shattered.

Dragging myself out of bed, I took a long, hot shower, turning the taps to cold for the last thirty seconds for a freezing burst of icy cold water. That certainly woke me up. I dressed slowly in my new school uniform and assessed my reflection in the mirror. My petite frame looked okay in the outfit, and at least the blue tones brought out the vivid hue of my eyes, although they didn’t sparkle as much today as usual. I felt totally exhausted.

In my old school, Cally used to say that I was the prettiest girl in our year, although I had always been too quiet to have a trail of boys after me. Joining a new school, though, especially so late into the year, I really wasn’t sure where I’d fit into the social hierarchy. I frowned as I applied a subtle dusting of bronzer to my pallid cheeks in an attempt to give my skin a healthier glow and knotted my glossy hair into a high ponytail. I pursed my lips critically; the dark line of my thick lashes seemed to accentuate the shadows beneath my eyes today in a way that concealer did little to hide. I added a quick dab of lip sheen as an afterthought and then dismissed my reflection with a shrug.

Downstairs, the high ceilings of the large, old house echoed my approach to the kitchen. Mahogany antique furniture lined the hallway, with dark velvet curtains framing each window, dimming the bright morning light. I resisted the urge to throw the curtains open wide and let sunlight spill into the stuffy old house. My aunt and uncle eyed me apprehensively over breakfast, and my aunt politely inquired how I had slept, before returning to her morning newspaper. As always, we skirted around each other, polite and awkward, complete strangers thrown together by a sad twist of circumstances.

We had hardly known of each other’s existence three weeks ago, and yet now, since the car crash that had killed my parents at the start of the summer, and after months of searching for a ‘suitable guardian’ for me, my long lost aunt and uncle had been located. And now I lived with them in their old brick house in the small valley town of Ardcastle, surrounded by rolling hills, hundreds of miles from the place that I used to call home. I desperately missed my old life.

My aunt was possibly the most prim and proper woman I had ever met. Every day she wore her greying hair in exactly the same low chignon style that I suspected she had adopted at least twenty years ago. She always dressed smartly, even if she wasn’t going out, and I’d never once seen her in slouchy clothes. Her voice was low and soft, and sometimes when I spoke, a small crease would appear between her brows as though she thought I was speaking a strange language. I was fairly certain she didn’t have much experience with teenagers.

Though my uncle worked as a solicitor, he possessed a military air that often made me imagine he was an army sergeant major instead. When I had first arrived in Ardcastle, tired and disorientated, he had shown me round the house, booming out instructions on the daily routine that I was expected to follow in a loud, authoritarian voice. I had nodded, trying to take everything in, feeling very conscious how much their lives must have altered because of me.

For the first day at my new school, my aunt insisted that she accompany me and dressed for the occasion in a smart navy suit. We walked the fifteen minutes through the small Derbyshire town briskly. The pavements were blanketed with crisp autumnal leaves, and I scuffed my feet through them, kicking them up so the bright colours danced before me. I glanced at my aunt and noticed that she stepped over them purposefully, the small crease appearing between her brows as she watched me. I’ve done this ever since I was a little girl! I thought fiercely, kicking my feet a little harder and watching with a little satisfaction as my aunt’s frown deepened.

My first impression of Ardcastle High was that it was a typical school. It was spread over a number of linked buildings, erected at various times over the years to accommodate the growing population. On the school driveway, boys and girls milled, chatting, laughing, and calling out to each other, ambling slowly to their form classes. I glanced at the faces apprehensively, wondering if any would become my friend, but I had no time to stop as my aunt sped us past them and straight through the main entrance to the office.

We were met by my new Head of Year, Mr Joseph, a balding man with a round face and round spectacles to match. He was dressed in a tweed sports jacket from which a slightly musty smell permeated. He greeted my aunt warmly, pumping her hand up and down in an energetic handshake. To me, he offered a grave nod of his head that told me he was well aware of the circumstances that led to me enrolling here. I bit my lip to prevent me from saying I didn’t need his pity.

While my aunt completed and signed various forms, Mr Joseph talked me very slowly through my timetable as he might a much younger child. At every opportunity, he stressed the importance of me catching up on the school time that I had missed, and while my aunt nodded seriously, I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. I was well aware that by joining the school a month late I had already missed a serious amount of work.

After I had officially been checked in at school, my aunt departed with a formal Good luck, and I was led by Mr Joseph to my first class. When I arrived, the lesson was already in full progress, and Mr Joseph knocked briefly on the door before swinging it wide open and nudging me inside.

This is Phoebe Cartwright. She’s joining the class today, Mr Simmons!

The class stopped at once, and all faces turned inquisitively to me. Mr Simmons opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture, and for the briefest of moments, I thought he was about to hug me. Ahh welcome, Phoebe. Do come in. He smiled kindly, and I hesitated at the doorway.

Phoebe has the same timetable as Jess. Mr Joseph turned to a slim, athletic girl. Jess, can you show Phoebe around until she has found her feet, please?

Sure, the girl breezed. A spattering of freckles peppered her nose, and she still had a slight tan. She raised her hand up to me and wiggled her fingers in a brief hello.

I smiled shyly, still standing by the door.

I’ll leave you to it then. Mr Joseph lowered his glasses and inspected the class over the top of them before closing the door as he took his leave. I stood in the room with all eyes turned to me and felt my knees wobble. I took a tentative step forward, swallowing nervously.

Miss Cartwright, Mr Simmons addressed me in a theatrical manner. He had sandy hair, which stuck out in all directions, and his strange attire of casual khaki corduroys, lumberjack shirt, and a brown tie gave him an eccentric air. You are joining us for a tough academic year, with exams coming up in the summer, but I am sure we will all do everything possible to help you settle in. He turned to the class with an encouraging smile. The class continued to eye me carefully, probably deciphering where I would fit in.

Do tell us a little about yourself. Mr Simmons beckoned for me to come a little farther into the room. I took another step forward.

Erm… My mind went blank.

Favourite colour? he asked, casually leaning against his desk as I nervously glanced round the room. I wished Cally was here to give me a supportive boost.

Err…pale blue.

He nodded wisely as if this said something important about me, and the class tittered. I blushed a little and inwardly cursed myself for it.

Star sign? A small smile played at Mr Simmons’s lips, and the class leant forward in their seats.

For a moment, I wondered if he was mad. Sagittarius, I said finally.

Ahh. Calm and clever but with a sense of adventure. He nodded very seriously, and the class absorbed his words. He was clearly a popular teacher, I surmised. Thank you, Miss Cartwright. Now tell us one more thing about yourself—something we’d have no way of knowing. His eyes danced enthusiastically, and he clasped his hands together in anticipation.

My mind was a complete blank. The only thing I could think was that I had a strange voice talking to me in my head, but I could hardly say that. Erm… I scanned the room for inspiration, and my eyes settled on copies of Romeo and Juliet on each desk that the class were studying. I nodded towards the books. I’ve never been in love, I declared with a shrug.

The class whooped, and Mr Simmons clapped his hands together. Excellent!

Jack will be willing to help you with that! someone called from the back of the room, and a cute boy with a big grin puffed his chest out while the rest of the class laughed raucously.

My face burned brighter, to a deep red. Why had I said such a dumb thing? I cursed myself fervently, wishing I hadn’t tied my hair back in a tight ponytail as it revealed the vivid red flush stretching right to the tips of my ears.

Try not to take that as a personal challenge, Jack, Mr Simmons chuckled, although Cupid may well already be working in your favour. He indicated the empty seat next to him. Phoebe, if you would like to take your seat next to Jack, I think we can put you out of your misery and get back on with the class.

I hurried to the seat and sank gratefully into it.

Act Two, Scene Three. Come on now, everyone. Mr Simmons rapped the table, calling everyone back to the lesson.

Jack turned to me with an easy grin, and I felt the fading flush of my cheeks reignite. Dimples danced at either side of his mouth, and a fresh, soapy smell drifted from his messy hair. Nice to meet you, he whispered, holding his hand out in a formal handshake, perhaps a little ironically.

You too. I shook his proffered hand, sinking a little lower into my chair. He was really cute.

I’m sure I can help you with that, you know. His brown eyes held a mischievous glint.

Huh?

Not having been in love! he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, and despite myself, I giggled.

***

At the end of class, Jess came over and introduced herself cheerfully, and I instantly liked her warm, friendly manner. Another girl shimmied over, swinging her hips confidently, and Jess introduced her.

This is Kirsty, my best friend. She’ll help you settle in too.

Kirsty gave me a half-smile as she blatantly looked me up and down. Her violet eyes were framed by dark lashes, and her face was a perfect heart shape surrounded by soft, blonde curls that bounced neatly to her chin. She was pretty but definitely knew it.

Bye, Phoebe, Jack called to me from the doorway. He bent low in a mock bow. A pleasure to meet you.

Kirsty scowled. Leave her alone, she admonished. She’s not interested in your charms. She pouted her raspberry-tinted lips in his direction.

Ahhh, of course she is. Jack shot me a wide-eyed look, and I cursed myself as my cheeks flushed again. Kirsty narrowed her eyes and turned deliberately away.

Ignore him, Jess interjected. He’s just a bit of a flirt. He’s harmless, though. Way more interested in football than girls when it actually comes down to it, much to the disappointment of half the girls here. She glanced in Kirsty’s direction. Come on, let’s go.

The school seemed to consist of a labyrinth of corridors, all looking pretty much the same and with a slightly clinical feel. My timetable sent me from one side of the school to the other, and within moments, I felt lost. Jess guided me to each class confidently, though, pointing out little landmarks to help me learn the way. Thankfully, the teachers in the rest of my classes acknowledged me with little more than a nod, hello, or brief check of the subjects I had studied previously, before continuing with the lesson.

By the end of the day, I felt physically weighed down by the amount of catching up I had to do, and my bag bulged with textbooks that I had acquired throughout the day. I knew my evening would be spent studying. I scarcely had a chance to even think about last night’s midnight outing, but when I did, my stomach flipped. What did it all mean? I couldn’t wait to talk to the voice as soon as I was alone. The idea of the voice’s warm presence slipping into my mind filled me with anticipation.

Do you want to come for a coffee? Jess called from across the room to me.

I wrinkled my nose apologetically. I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got so much to do. I indicated the homework list we’d been given by our biology teacher, Mr Branningham, a strict man with short, black hair and a temper to match. Thanks for asking, though, I added gratefully. I felt a little guilty that really I just wanted to get back to my bedroom