Lexicon Chase and the Scrolls of the Harlequin

By Jonathan Fore

Lexicon Chase has never worn makeup or beautiful gowns, known the elegance of a gala, swung a sword, or even rallied an army. Lexicon only knows the infamy of living on the wrong end of an obscure town, with hand-me-downs and a life split between her grandmother’s bungalow and her mother’s trailer.

Her birthday came and went with a whimper until her grandmother changed everything with a single gift: the key to the magical kingdom called Everhope. She discovers a realm of friends, pageantry, and nobility that all exists just for her, but can she find the courage and the strength to keep her new kingdom from ruin?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan Fore
• Release date: Jan 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310007071

Jonathan Fore

Jonathan Fore was born in Marysville, Ohio in 1968, the third son of Dave and Judy Fore. After graduating Manalapan High School in 1987, Jon enlisted in the United States Navy, serving a combat role during Desert Storm.Jonathan lives in Florida with his beautiful wife Lisa, and three wonderful children, two dogs (Katie aka. Nutter-Butter-Butt and Po-po), and a cat or two. The cats' names were withheld because cats don't really use them. I mean, why would they? They never come when you call them. I suppose if you could spell the sound of a cat food can being opened ...Now Jonathan works as a full-time technologist, fails as an impromptu comedian, works with inspiring writers both young and old, and is a full time biker (almost always successful).Jonathan is currently writing a young adult novel series called Lexicon Chase and the Kingdom of Everhope, the first title, 'Lexicon Chase and the Scrolls of the Harlequin' was released to critical acclaim on September 25th of 2015.

Book preview

Chapter 1 - Miss Karma Dorian

On September 25th, Lexicon Chase heard a very odd rumor. It didn't make much sense, but for some reason Mrs. Tipton had vanished. Lexi was sure the old, ornery English teacher simply retired, but there had been no announcement. Usually, when a teacher retired, they didn’t keep it a secret. Sometimes they would be rather animated about the fact, telling favored students they would be missed, and problem students to go see the principal for very little reason. Cards and flowers would be on their desk and even occasional well-wishers would interrupt class, but there was none of that for Mrs. Tipton.

On the 25th of September, Mrs. Tipton just wasn't there anymore.

In a high school as small as Rivermont, in a town as small as Rivermont, this kind of thing would be twisted and played with by the gossiping tongues of students and faculty alike, and from this were born rumors. Lexicon heard things like Mrs. Tipton had gone mad and was in some hospital someplace or Mrs. Tipton was abducted by aliens and even Mrs. Tipton finally went to that retirement home in neighboring Croashburg, or many other outlandish things. Lexi didn't believe any of them, of course, but it was still rather odd.

When Lexi entered her English classroom first thing in the morning, she stared at the floor like she always did to avoid eye contact with anyone who might already be there.

She strolled through the desks until coming to the last row, and sat. In the last row, no one could throw things at her without being seen. In the back row, other students didn't actually see her. In the back row, Mrs. Tipton's eyes couldn't focus well enough to call on her. In the back row, Lexi almost didn't exist, and that was how she liked it. Being unnoticed was the only protection there was.

Today when Lexi sat in her normal hiding place she found not only an empty classroom, but also a strange woman sitting where Mrs. Tipton should have been. So, unlike Mrs. Tipton, this woman was painfully beautiful. A cover of the magazine beauty not even at home in a clothing catalog. Her hair was arranged in glorious yellow cascades over perfect, tanned skin. Even her bluish-greenish eyes twinkled in that perfect way only other girls seemed capable of. On the woman's full lips there teased a tiny, rose-red smile.

Hello, the woman said, a hint of familiarity in her voice.

Hi, Lexi said, scanning the classroom to make sure it was, in fact, empty.

My name is Ms. Dorian, the woman said, her voice smooth and clear and somehow musical.

Hi, I'm Lexi.

Well, it is nice to meet you, Lexi. She lifted a sheet of paper and ran her slender finger down a listing, Lexicon Chase, is it?

Yeah, Lexi said. She scanned the door of the classroom, and wondered where the other students were. If this introduction thing didn't end soon, other students might come in. Other students might see her.

Now that’s a beautiful name, Ms. Dorian said, and laid the sheet of paper back on the desk. I am taking over this class for the remainder of the year.

Lexicon stared for a moment, finding herself drawn to the woman's eyes. I heard Mrs. Tipton was... gone, she heard herself say.

Yes, a fine woman that Tipton.

Where did she go? Do you know?

Well, she asked that I keep it a secret, so I can't tell. Did you like Mrs. Tipton?

Now that was an odd question, as odd as the crabby, wrinkled woman's disappearance. It was well known that nobody liked Mrs. Tipton. She was a bitter old woman that never taught a thing, only assigned reading and the writing of reports. Once in a while, she would toss an unannounced test on the desks without a word. She would just swish by with her large butt squeezed into small polyester pants that swished-swished as she walked. She was a cranky, ugly, given-up-on-kids teacher, but Lexi said, I guess.

Funny, everyone else I asked said they didn't like Mrs. Tipton. In fact, they said she was a sour, old witch.

Lexi felt her face slide into a sly grin, Yeah. She was, actually.

Well, I'm not sour or old, and I believe in reading and discussing the reading. Do you like to read?

Yes, I read all the time.

Dorian smiled easily, Well good then you're going to love this class.

Lexi sat, staring at the woman, jealous to her toes for the perfection in the simple white blouse and the infectious excitement for reading. It seemed they stared at one another for hours, Lexi becoming more nervous and uncomfortable until, as if a long held breath was released, another student strolled into the classroom.

Benny sauntered in wearing his trademark worn-out jeans, his tee-shirt of some rock band concealed within a flannel as threadbare as his jeans. He was one of Rod's friends, but not as mean. He had a small stack of books in his hand and small white ear buds stuffed deep in his ears playing music so loud that Lexi could hear it from the back of the classroom.

As Benny walked by Ms. Dorian, he stumbled, or maybe tripped. Lexi couldn't be sure.

Benny reached up and yanked out his headphones, Hi. I'm Benny.

Ms. Dorian gave him a wry smile, Sit, Benny. Be a good boy.

Lexi felt her eyes widen, and she covered her mouth with a hand. Nobody spoke to Benny like that, not just because he was cute, but because he was famous for being a class disruptor, a class troublemaker, a class clown. But to Lexi's surprise, Benny stood for only a moment before sitting at his desk. She had spoken to him like he was a dog, and he obeyed. To Lexi, the whole thing was just a bit more marvelous than it was hilarious.

Others began coming in. They arrived in small groups entrenched in their own conversation, few noticing the beautiful woman sitting and watching them all politely. Her almond shaped face suspended over politely folded hands, blood red fingernails playing a rhythm on her knuckles. Each student, one at a time, noticed the new teacher and fell silent, staring as they found their desks with searching hands.

Ms. Dorian simply watched each one as they sat, regal, stoic, and for some reason the students’ reactions were so funny to Lexi. She didn't laugh aloud, that would just draw taunting from the others, and Lexi had enough bullying for the day, even though it was only first period.

It was still funny, though.

The bell rang indicating the start of class, and Ms. Dorian stood and strolled to the door, revealing she had a perfect shape to go along with her perfect face, perfect hair, and perfect grace. She closed the door gently and spun on the classroom, catching just about every boy's eyes in the wrong place. Welcome to Creative Writing. I know Mrs. Tipton's leaving may have startled some of you, but you will all just have to get over that. Dorian paused for a long moment then added, I am Ms. Dorian,

Loraine raised her hand then without waiting to be called on, Where did she go?

You will not speak out of turn in this class miss...?

Carter, Loraine Carter. But where did Tipton go?

I assure you, I do not know, Ms. Dorian said evenly then held the girl with her eyes a moment, We don't have special rules in this classroom save one: we will not speak out of turn. This class will include a large amount of open discussion, and it is important that we hold to this rule, or our discussions will fall apart. Is that clear?

The students looked from one to another then back to Ms. Dorian. Lexi couldn't see any of their faces, but she could picture an odd, quizzical expression on every one.

We will have no foolishness either. We are all here to learn about English, and considering this is high school, we should all be adults by now. Any disruption will be punished.

Ms. Dorian let that hang in the air for a moment, but it was disrupted by Benny scoffing. This brought about snickers from other students.

Is that clear, Mr. Weatherly? Dorian asked severely.

Benny squinted his eyes at her and began to draw a cruel smile. Before he could make a response, he suddenly jerked in his chair and let out a yelp of pain. He spun in his chair, What did you do! he shouted at Pamela Scarsdale, one of the meanest girls in the 9th grade.

I didn't do anything, she said in a simple tone, her single shaggy brow arched over a professional quality sneer.

Mr. Weatherly, are we done? Ms. Dorian asked.

Whoever did that, I'm going to kick... Hey! Benny jerked again as if he had sat on a tack.

Lexi wasn't sure what was going on, but she was sure that Ms. Dorian was doing it. Somehow.

"Mr. Weatherly, are we done now?" Ms. Dorian asked again.

Benny looked at Ms. Dorian with shock on his face, and then looked around the room suspiciously.

Lexi was overjoyed to see his face turning a bright freckled red.

We're done, Ms. Dorian said for him. This year, instead of studying the mechanics of grammar and syntax, we are going to share a book. Ms. Dorian turned and strolled slowly toward her desk. This book is about a peaceful young man who is forced by circumstance to become a soldier.

Like in the army? Loraine asked then yelped, and spun in her chair. She pointed at Danny McLaughlin, Don't you ever touch me again! she shouted.

I didn't touch— Danny jerked in his chair as if he'd been pinched as well, Hey!

People, we do not speak out of turn, remember? Ms. Dorian sounded angry, but to Lexi, she also sounded somewhat amused. However, her face was a mask of confident serenity.

He pinched me! Loraine complained.

I did not! She's lying! Danny whined.

They both yelped again, and jerked in their chairs. Their angry faces became confused as they looked at each other.

The book is a favorite of mine, Ms. Dorian continued, and I am sure you will all enjoy it as well. Lexicon, can you distribute these? She pointed at a pile of very thick books—very thick indeed.

Lexi felt her heart lurch over and freeze solid. Her hiding place had been revealed. She was no longer in the back row, but suddenly on display. Heads began to turn toward her in a slow, terrifying procession. Why had Ms. Dorian singled her out like this? It was cruel. The teacher had to know this.

She looked at Ms. Dorian, but there was no helping it now. Lexi stood and walked quickly to the pile of thick books. She grabbed an armload and began walking down the rows of desks, the rows of mean spirited students, and the smirks started immediately.

Each week we will read and discuss a chapter in the book. At the end of the year, you will write a book report containing a synopsis of the plot, character descriptions including motivations for three of the primary characters....

A low moan rolled over the class like distant thunder.

...And an outline of the three primary conflicts.

Thanks, Bag Lady, Benny said as Lexi dropped a book on his desk. Lexi ignored him and moved on, before things could get worse.

What was that Benny? Ms. Dorian asked. Her voice was suddenly playful if not a little flirtatious, and a knowing grin slid across one side of her face.

Uh, nothing, Ms. Dorian, he said quickly.

Ms. Dorian approached Benny's desk in a long, fluid way then looked down at him, the edge of her lip pinched between her teeth, Are you sure, Benny? she asked in a hushed voice.

At this point, Benny was smiling up at her. Lexi didn't know why, but she was sure it had to do with Ms. Dorian's terrible beauty.

It was nothing, Ms. Dorian, just a nickname.

Ah, a friendly nickname. So, you and Lexicon are friends then? Perhaps boyfriend and girlfriend?

Benny scoffed again, No way! Not the Bag Lady.

Lexi felt her face burning and looked down at the floor as she continued to pass out the books. Why Ms. Dorian was putting a spotlight on her like this was impossible to understand.

Ah, Bag Lady, huh? Well, Benny, what if I told you that your family wasn't all that unfamiliar with homelessness? Ms. Dorian squatted next to Benny's desk, rotating her knees to one side in a very graceful and ladylike motion. She crossed her arms on the corner of his desk, and rested her chin there.

When their eyes met, Benny flinched visibly. What'd you say?

Homelessness, Benny, is a cruel joke society plays on people once in a while, and anybody might find themselves without a roof over their heads. It is not a funny thing to have happen, wouldn't you agree? Dorian asked, still using a flirtatious voice.

What are you talking about? he said, louder than he had to considering Ms. Dorian was right in his face.

Here's a little homework assignment just for you, Benny. I want you to ask your mother why it is you started school a year late. You go home, walk right up to her, and say, 'Mommy, why didn't I start school when I was supposed to?' Got that Benny? She will remember, it wasn't that long ago, after all. I expect you to report to the class tomorrow the little personal insight you'll discover, okay?

What's you problem, lady? Benny said, but with without conviction.

People like you, Benny, Ms. Dorian said softly.

Lexi had no idea why, but she suddenly felt much better. Why Benny would have started school a year late she didn't know, but the focus was not just removed from her, but forced on someone else, and it felt good to be out of the spotlight again. That, and she had to admit, she was a little curious.

When the bell rang some time later, the students all stood and shuffled out, their heads hung, their mouths silent. Being in the back of the class meant Lexi was the last one to leave, but Ms. Dorian stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

Lexi looked up at Ms. Dorian, and for the first time saw the extraordinary coloring of her eyes, and the near liquid quality of her skin. When the last student moved through the door, it seemed to close of its own accord, leaving Lexi with the strange new teacher.

Why do you let them treat you so poorly? Ms. Dorian asked.

Lexi looked at the woman then back to the boring grey tile of the floor then shrugged her shoulders. No teacher had ever asked her this. Thug asked, but thankfully didn't make her do anything about it. A teacher could make her do something—or worse, do something themselves.

You don't know this yet, Princess, but you're a special person. A very special person, Ms. Dorian said, and released Lexi's arm.

It doesn't matter, Lexi said. I'm used to it, and it’s never going to change.

You can do something about it, just not anything nice, that's all, Ms. Dorian said, something small and wicked in her voice.

Now that was also odd. Certainly not something to hear from a teacher, but then again, it really had been a very odd day. It's okay, Lexi said, and made her way to the door.

Do you want me to do something about it? Dorian asked in a gentle voice.

Lexi felt her heart freeze over again, No, please. It will only get worse. Please don't, you don't understand.

I understand more than you know, Princess. I will leave it be for now, but all you have to do is ask. A sad smile accompanied a slight tilt to Dorian’s head.

Lexi's heart began to thaw, if only somewhat. For some reason, she felt she could trust this Ms. Dorian, and knew the woman wouldn't report anything. At least, not yet. Thank you, Ms. Dorian.

When we are alone like this, you can call me Karma. It's my name after all. She said this with a conspiratorial grin on her face, one Lexi returned before slipping into the milling traffic of students.

Chapter 2 – By Any Other Name…

The rest of the day filled Lexi with her normal dose of self-loathing. Actually, more so. The constant accusation and terrible names, and twice her books were knocked from her arms, and someone even tried to keep her messenger bag away from her, all the while, others laughed and mocked and cheered the faceless bullies. Before lunch, Lexi had forgotten all about the strange introduction of Ms. Karma Dorian. That was until she discovered that another constant member of her everyday had vanished, and was replaced with yet another extraordinary character. Only this one was very much opposite.

Mr. Kramer drove the bus this morning, but he'd been replaced with a woman. A big woman. A really, really, big woman. Not fat exactly, but enormous all over. Her arms were huge, her neck was like a tree stump, even her lips were the size of uncooked hotdogs, and about the same color. Her complexion was a cruel joke of acne, and her hair was that of an old wire brush used long passed its prime.

The massive woman smiled at Lexi with two jumbled rows of fist-sized teeth, Hi, the woman boomed down on her.

Lexi couldn't guess the origin of the woman's accent. When it came down to it, Lexi couldn't tell if it was the large teeth that made her sound like that or not.

Uh, Hi, she replied, but didn't wait for a response. She turned and sat in the first seat on the bus, the one right behind the driver. The seat was smaller than the others, and that didn't leave room for anyone to sit with her. Unlike the back of the class, the front of the bus was the best place for her to hide. The seat backs were so tall that it was hard to tell who sat in the front, and when the bus got to her stop, she could slip right off and be gone. Fast and unnoticed.

The tormentors tended to gather at the back of the bus, and Thug always sat in the seat behind her, blocking some of the torment when it started. It always started. There was no way to make it not start. Even if Rodney was absent that day or staying after for football practice, someone would take up the slack, and it started.

The next twenty minutes were the worse minutes of her everyday life.

Lexi clenched her eyes, steadied herself then pulled out the new book that Ms. Dorian assigned, and began to read. It was a thick book, more pages than most students were willing to read, but not the biggest book Lexi had read. That, and it was apparently a fantasy novel, which was actually one of her favorites.

Hey, Bag Lady! Rodney shouted as he climbed aboard then promptly fell flat on his face. Hard. Bus-shakingly hard. His hands came down, and his books shot out down the row of seats.

Watch your step, young man, the massive bus driver said in a rumbling tone, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

What was that about? Rod shouted, looking over his shoulder at the driver.

Take your seat, you're holding up the other students. The driver’s voice was as big as she was, and Rod scrambled up and stumbled on to the back of the bus, mumbling as he gathered his books.

Lexi held her laughter like the laugh holding expert she’d become, and began reading her book. It didn't spare her the teasing and bullying that was part of every bus ride, but she at least had a good excuse to ignore them.

Only today, it seemed worse, as if what they shouted to her hurt just a little more than usual.

When the bus reached Lexi's stop, she didn't hear Rod's last comment as she hurried down the small steps. The other jerks did though. She knew because they laughed too loud for whatever stupid thing he’d said. In her stomach rose that bitter taste, flooding her mouth with anger and disgust. The bus door closed with a whoosh, muffling the laughter. Why wouldn't they just leave her alone? Why was it always her? She didn't say anything to Rod, but he always made her feel stupid and gross and worthless.

You all right? Thug asked gently.

Lexi didn't feel like talking. She was afraid if she opened her mouth to speak, it would come out as a sob, and then the crying would start and never stop. Ever. Instead, she nodded her head while keeping her eyes cast downward, fighting the tears perched there threatening to make a break for it. The center of her chest ached terribly.

Don't listen to them, Lexi. You know what they say isn't true. You can't let it get to you, not like this.

She nodded shortly and started down. Thug walked beside her. He always did.

Lexi had known Thug since first grade. He was easy going, tolerant of her gooey, sticky moods, and comfortable talking to a girl even before he really liked girls—even when Lexi was taller and maturing faster. Even now that her friendship made him a target for some of the same bullies.

Thug (whose name was really Thad) had grown fast over the last couple of years, and looked older than he really was. Taller than anyone in his class, and built like a gorilla. His hair was a neatly trimmed lawn over his deep brow, short and cropped and very military. His eyes were kind, but framed by the same stress Lexi endured. His trouble was not just for his friendship with the social outcast named Lexicon Chase, but he was also a favorite target of the large upper class boys, the jocks and burnouts both. Only the big ones though.

However, he always seemed to be there to catch her in times like these, when the taunting and the teasing had become extra cruel.

It'll get better, Lexi, he mumbled into the chilling afternoon.

No, it won't, she risked.

Tell someone, he offered.

Lexi could hear in his voice he knew it was a mistake. That's what an adult would say, not a friend. Lexi gritted her teeth together, It won't change.

It might help. You don't know until you try.

She stopped and spun on him, halting him with her glare, I don't have nice clothes, I don't have makeup, I don't have a cell phone. That's the problem! I mean look at these shoes!

Thug looked frightened for a moment, as if she touched on a secret he was keeping then his face settled into that tolerant, even mood Lexi liked so much, I know.

The streetlights began to flicker on, at least those not burned out and waiting to be replaced.

Sorry, Lexi mumbled, hanging her head again. My life sucks. Hard.

Mine too, Thug agreed.

Lexi turned back toward Grandma's house.

I'll catch you tomorrow, Lex, Thug said as he turned down his own street.

Yeah, probably, she called over her shoulder.

The weather seemed colder than it should for a late September, but Lexi didn't want to put her old jacket on until she couldn't stand it. It was the same jacket she'd worn for three years now, and when it came down to it, it was a granny-jacket. Her mother bought it used at some second-hand store, and it was the best she could do. Lexi hated her for the crummy jacket, but at the same time loved her for it. As much as she couldn't stand the coat with its loud flowers and worn dungaree cuffs, she knew her mother didn't have a jacket at all. No complaints from Mom meant no complaints from Lexi, but she could avoid wearing the thing, that's for sure.

Small, cracker-box houses lined both sides of the street. Most of the lawns, like her grandmother's, were balding with patches of dried, gritty dirt that looked more gray than brown in the dim light. A few were crowded with some form of weatherworn children's toys, forgotten for months if not seasons. Trim fell or leaned lazily from most of the houses, and almost to a one, paint bubbled and peeled in different degrees. It wasn't the slums, but it was close. It would be soon.

Her grandmother owned the small, brick trimmed box at the end of the street, across from the Kramer's house. It was little more than one bedroom and a kitchen, but it fit Grandma just right. On the inside, Grandma arranged all of her knick-knack and dusty memorabilia, her medicine bottles and memories in a neat, grandmotherly fashion. Ever since Lexi was old enough to go to school, she would end her days here waiting for her mother to come and take her home. Grandma would feed her dinner, help with homework, and listen to a young girl's troubles with an old woman's sympathetic ear.

Grandma had always been awesome that way.

But what her mother or her grandmother didn't know was it made Lexi sad to come here. Grandma's place in life was the best Lexi could hope for. It was the best Mom could hope for: no husband, no grandeur, and no luxury. Lexi, like her grandmother, would end up penniless and alone, and most likely living in this very same house. It was how her mother was going to end up. Lexi didn't need a crystal ball to see this, and it depressed her. She always dreamed of more, but at the age of fifteen, she already knew that wasn't going to happen. She had no right to hope for more. This was her destiny. This was her birthright. In social studies, it was called her ‘caste’.

Grandma's yard was enclosed with a short, chain-link fence centered with an equally short gate. It wasn't high enough to keep out any people, but as Grandma put it, it kept the neighbor dogs from dumping on the lawn, which was good enough for her. Lexi worked the latch, and pushed the gate forward with a rusty, gritty squeal. It closed behind her with another squeal and a metallic clap that made the fencing shimmy with the sound of jingling chains.

The walkway from the gate to the front door was cement, but now more cracks than anything. Moss had grown, died, and grown again over the years, staining the walk with browns and ashy grays. On the stoop waited two plastic chairs, one still propping up a Halloween scarecrow from last year, maybe the year before, actually. Both chairs were of different colors. One was white, or used to be. The other was a deep pine green with an ashy trim of blown dirt.

She pulled open the screen door, pushed open the front door, and stepped in. Grandma had turned the heat on early this year. The woman loved heat. The older she got, the colder she got. But today, the warmth felt good considering the colder than normal weather, and the colder than normal mood. The smell of canned soup heating reached her as Grandma called from the kitchen, Is that you, Lexi dear?

The old woman's voice was still clear and sharp, unlike her mother's. Mom had ruined hers with cigarettes in the years since Dad left. Yes, Grandma, Lexi called as she dropped her backpack, the same backpack she'd carried now for the sixth year in a row.

Well, come on! Grandma called, Soup's on and I made grilled cheese.

Lexi heard a plate hit the simple wooden table in the simple wooden kitchen, and despite her sour, cranky mood, she was surprised to find her mouth watered. Grandmothers could always do one thing better than anyone: reach your heart through your stomach, and this Grandma was no exception. Even her canned soup was something special, somehow.

Bending down to untie her shoes, Lexi caught sight of a letter. Not an ordinary letter, not junk mail or bills or anything like that. This one was of a yellowed parchment, the envelope handwritten in calligraphy. The address on the envelope read simply, ‘Queen Abigail, The Other World’. There was no return address, and no stamp. As Lexi kicked off her last shoe, she decided the thing was an advertisement Grandma picked up at the hair salon or something. 'Queen for a day' spa treatment, as if Grandma could afford a day at the spa. She didn't think too hard about her Grandma's name being on the envelope.

Lexi scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to rub away any bad expression she might still be wearing, and ran her fingers through her limp, stringy hair. She stepped into the kitchen and forced a smile on her face. Grandma turned from the old electric stove—a throw back from sometime in the seventies—with a Grandma grin on her face. She looked at Lexi and instantly her face slackened. Not again.

Yeah, Lexi said, suddenly struggling with the need to cry. She thought it might not be too bad an idea to just get it over with, but she was fifteen now, and it was time to give up such childish things.

Was it bad? Grandma asked, letting the wooden spoon fall to the side of the soup pot.

The worst, Lexi said, and pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat hard. "I ignored him, but he kept going