The Door in My Hand

By Hannah Strom

When one door closes, another opens...

 

In 2300 the world is obsesseed with Shade Pry--a sixteen year old daredevil wtih her own acrobatics show. To her she the world: parties, endless friends, fans from all over. She's untouchable until a spot appears on her hand. Everything goes downhill as she loses her job, best friend, and goes into hiding.

 

There she finds another friend of hers--Wintermin Addy who's got a secret bigger than Shade's ego. He has a door on his hand which inside lurks a strange creature with magical abilities--and Shade's spot is one too.

 

It doesn't take long for Shade to realize these creatures aren't the angelic guardians Wintermin promised. That they are plotting for something. As she searches for a way to beat the monsters she finds herself in a new life--one of choas, magic, and hiding. But it's rather hard to hide a secret when everyone knows who you are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hannah Strom
• Release date: Jun 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393506362

Book preview

Chapter 1

Shade

––––––––

As I bolted through the hallway toward my dressing room, the mental clock in my head ticked closer to showtime. Thirty minutes. How could I only have thirty minutes left? This was my show; I should be in charge. But time was a hater. 

I could only catch blurry images of the outside crowds swarming my daredevil theater‒Pry Circus‒next door. Everyone probably thought I was inside it warming up or signing autographs, not screaming, at the top of my lungs for more room. I guess maybe other acts didn’t care, but I couldn’t run late. I was the only act here and I never ran late. I had a show to put on, not run around screaming for my make-up artist. And she better be there. 

Murrang, open the door! I’m coming! 

I slammed into the dressing room door, shoulder-first, and bounced back on my bare feet. Let me in! The knob didn’t even twist halfway. Why’s this locked? Open up! Are you in there? 

My chest felt sick inside of last show’s stained leotard. For crying out loud, this was ultra-fan week the biggest show of 2300! This can’t be happening! The same thousands of people were expecting to come for one week straight to see a unique performance each time. And unique didn’t mean I wasn’t there. The thought of missing a show made my insides crack. 

I turned back around at footsteps. I didn’t even know the employee behind me, but in most cases, it was my parents who hired the employees. I just told them what to do. He was barely over to me when I blurted for him to make an over-head announcement for Murrang. And the words were barely out of my lips when he hurried away. The dude was fast but not as fast as I would have been. I would have moved like my life depended on it, because it did. In the city of Showbiz, you were your reputation. Bad or good. Not like that pressured me to be good. Some natural talent had to fall into place. Showbiz, was like this perfect little place. No, I wouldn’t call it little by no means. It combined the size of New York City with the fame of Hollywood and the craziness of Las Vegas. Basically, you had to be famous to live there. If you were on the streets you were either a tourist, a worker, or a family member of some superstar.  

With the new guy now gone, I slumped against the bubblegum pink walls of the backstage building. Even from here, I could tap my foot to the upbeat music booming from Pry Circus. Right before the show was one of my favorite parts beyond the act itself. Even now, the air hung with the sugary smell of kettle corn and cotton candy. Outside a window, robots buzzed around souvenir stands surrounding the Bigtop shaped theater, and laughter came from students starting their three-month fall vacation. 

I had heard in the past that fall vacation used to take place over summer. Of course, I didn’t really want to go back in the past. Back then technology was still dull. Now technology’s so powerful, no one really had to work nine-to-five jobs unless they want to. 

Most everyone had their seats by now. Despite having tickets, fans liked to rush to their seats ahead of time. These were just those that straggled behind. Like Murrang, who, after scanning the outdoor area, still wasn’t there. I knew she was having a bad day, moving in with her new foster parents plus fourteen-year-old angst and all, but this didn’t mean others weren’t counting on her. 

At this point, I was itching for good news. Yanking out my tablet and punching in my ID code, I got to the camera setting for my pinkish backstage building. Here, all the room numbers were set up like a playlist. I scrolled a bit, jumping both through this building, the souvenir stands, and the theater itself, but she still wasn’t there. In the mechanics room, though, I managed to stumble upon someone else‒the new health-and-safety intern, Wintermin Addy.  

Wintermin had been here about a year, and was going to be a senior in some fancy boarding school next year. Cool guy, even though he could be a bit strange sometimes‒talking to himself and whatnot. At first, that’s what I assumed he was doing until his intern manager entered the colorful, small square. After a bit of soundless interaction, Wintermin reached out for an overhead pipe like he was grabbing for a trapeze bar. His hands were gloved, but then again, they were always covered in these thick, wooly gloves. Not like that was weird for an in-training health-and-safety inspector, although it was weird for this daredevil to be late. 

A blur dashed across the screen. I bent over. If it was Murrang...

My hair fell in front of my face. I brushed it out of the way and saw my left palm. There was a perfect brown circle on it. 

I didn’t have it before, and I certainly wasn’t going to have it now.  

I wiped my other hand across it, but it was still there. I pressed on the spot harder, and in the empty hallway, a woman screamed my name. But her voice was rough, gargled, and choppy like she was just learning to speak. 

Shade Pry! 

I turned both ways, but the main building had cleared out like a fire drill. It wasn’t the crackly overhead speaker either. I couldn’t be losing my mind now. It had to be from the tablet, but before I could check its volume, a ding rang out and, the overhead speaker came on. It wasn’t the same man as before. 

Murrang, please report to Shade’s dressing room with the key. Thank you. 

Someone cleared their throat. I spun around to Murrang, holding up the dressing room’s keycard. Although only thirteen, she was the best hairstylist around, given by the fox’s tail of a ponytail that swung on her head. I forced a smile for her.  

Do you know how much time is left? 

You know, Shade, calling me on the overhead speaker won’t make me grow wings and fly, right? Besides, I was coming anyway. Murrang unlocked the door but paused before opening it, slowly killing me. Did Wintermin buy a ticket? 

I rocked back on the heels, staring at the keycard. Just a bit more and the door would be unlocked. Yeah, he’s been staying for my show. Is that a bad thing? 

No, I just think he’s weird. 

You’re weird. 

Murrang laughed before swinging open the dressing room door. A creepy feeling hugged my mind like I was being watched. An omen? It couldn’t be. The shows had always been fantastic. Always. 

Meanwhile, the circle on my hand had become a rectangle.

Inside my marvelous changing room, everything was still the same.  

Long mirrors stretched over a sparkly, red vanity. Actually, a lot of things in the room were red, since Murrang refused to design red clothes for me. She said they clashed with my green eyes. Usually, I pulled the decisions around Pry Circus, but my appearance was all up to her. 

I twisted and turned in front of the vanity as Murrang dug through my professional makeup kit. My skinny yet muscular frame was blasted across the rest of the cramped room’s mirrors. As I had outside, I shot a hand through my purple hair and frowned. Its four hot pink streaks were beginning to fade into a lilac again. 

Thankfully Murrang had picked up some new stuff that’d make it last longer. Not like I’d ever be far from Pry Circus and the dressing room. 

Hand, Murrang grumbled as she held on to nail polish, snapping me back to reality. 

I slung my hand over. How long will this take? 

Murrang just shrieked in return. What did you do to your hand?

Huh? Oh, that. The spot. I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, right? 

Um, yeah. This looks bad. After this, you better be in Nurse Pearl’s office. 

No! That’ll take too long. 

Murrang turned the nail polish bottle away. Then I won’t put anything on your hand. 

Are you kidding me? I looked around for a clock, but there wasn’t one. Fine. But make it quick.

––––––––

Fifteen minutes later‒finally‒I was hit by the stench of medicine as I entered Nurse Pearl’s office. Nurse Pearl was Pry Circus’ doctor. I wasn’t supposed to use her for injuries or anything. Just if I was sick, which rarely happened. And I had never stopped a show for a little sniffle yet. If I had any major injuries, there were doctors on board to fly me to Sky Hospital. But I was too graceful for that.

As I entered, it hit me; she was the only one behind her desk since everyone was out ready for the show. Even Murrang at this point, but not me, not the star. 

Pearl raised her eyebrows. Shade! What a surprise. You’re not ill, are you? Do we have to cancel the show? 

My body stiffened. No. Never. Listen, I just need you to look at this spot. I held my polished hand out. It’s nothing, really. 

Pearl ignored me with a grunt and leaned closer. 

She jabbed and flipped my hand over, bent and unbent my fingers. Then she rubbed the mark like it was a lottery ticket. But she didn’t win, and I was losing badly as the clock ticked on. I glanced over at a scanner that hung on the wall. All she had to do was use it and presto, this would all be over. Why wouldn’t she? I was about to rip it off the wall when Pearl frowned. Like a deep canyon frown. Like the type, you didn’t want to see from a doctor. Especially not on ultra-fan week. 

Pearl dropped my hand like a dead fish. I haven’t seen anything like this before, and I’ve been doing this for a while now. 

I attempted to mentally block out the clock on her desk, but it was still like a heartbeat. I could still hear it ticking. Can’t you use the scanner? 

Pearl dropped my hand. That scanner isn’t magic. It might not help. 

The show’s about to start! 

I never said I wasn’t going to. She shuffled as slowly as possible to the scanner and unhooked it. When she sat back down, her chair wheeled a bit to the left, making her miss my hand. This wasn’t going as planned at all. 

She snatched my hand with her claw-like nails and pressed the scanners flat side against my palm. Beeping exploded, then silence. 

I whipped my hand back. What was that? 

I don’t know. It’s not supposed to do that. One beep. That’s it. 

Chills slid down my arms and legs. She was going to refer me to Sky Hospital or something. I would miss the performance, and I never missed performances.  

As I turned back to Pearl, I caught the clock fade from fifty-four to fifty-five. The breath inside me died. Five minutes! That was barely enough time if I sprinted for my life. 

Pearl shouted at me to come back, but I didn’t care because if there were two things Shade Pry didn’t do it was to get scared and to miss performances. A stupid spot wasn’t going to break my world-wide reputation. 

A lot of sprinting, and I was slipping through a back door, entering my theater, Pry Circus. It wasn’t much, this backstage, a dozen or so wooden planks, a trapdoor in the middle, and finally the maroon curtains separating me from my fans. I made a crack in in the curtains. The bleachers surrounding the giant octagon ring were filled with people. Wintermin, tablet beneath one arm and stylus in his mouth, stepped over someone to get to his seat. He fumbled with pulling a gloved hand out of his vest. His mouth was moving, but no one seemed to be listening. His attention was on his hand.  

The lights shut off for a second, making me lose him even when blue spotlights scanned the crowd, so I stepped into the ring.

Applause made a warm bubble go through my bones. 

I threw my hands up and smiled, the mark still sitting in the middle of my palm. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Pry Circus. I’m you’re daredevil, Shade Pry. Was the spot growing? Oh well, cut to the chase. Now, who’s ready for the show? Music blared overhead. Here we go! 

Hitting every beat right, I danced over to the trampoline. Only to throw myself on it, and get launched to a wobbly platform five feet above. The crowd cheered. Tossing my weight around the board, I jumped for the trapeze. No net under me, the bar fell perfectly into my hands. As I was launched back and forth, I transitioned onto my knees. The crowd’s gasps were drowned out by the roar of fire. I could just feel the lick of heat as the hoop under me burst into flames. But it was only going to get hotter.     

With shouts for me not to do it, I let go. Smoke went through my body as wind screeched by. The heat was in and out in a flash as I fell through the hoop. I forced my burned eyes open and curled into a summersault. My back hit the trampoline hard, sending me across the stadium and to a sponge mattress. The crowds couldn’t get enough. They were chanting trapdoor, trapdoor. But of course, they were. It was my newest addition to the act. Only my ultra-fans knew about it. 

Lights dimming, I skipped to the center of the ring as a trapdoor on the other side opened. The spotlight slammed down on the robotic beast, a metal lioness. It glowed blue from pointed snout, to razor-sharp claws, to a slim and muscular body. The beast would start coming to me but hit a ramp. I would duck. Win the fight. The crowd would go crazy. 

From the bleachers, Wintermin moved fast, hand raised. Then he slumped back in the chair. 

Shaking my head, I turned back to the robotic beast. It clawed the ground and roared. My signal. We ran toward each other. It hit a ramp, flying into the air. As it came down, aiming for me, I slid underneath. I was so close I could see my purple hair and each individual pink highlight reflected on its stomach. 

I got to my feet quickly and bowed as the music changed to my exit music. The crowd gave a standing ovation. I grinned. This was exactly where I belonged.

––––––––

Head held high, I twirled out the back entrance, muffled exit music far behind me. Outside, the sun, that gigantic spotlight, was back on me, I breathed in. It had been such a good show. Marvelous, actually. Nothing went wrong, the equipment stayed in place, and of course, the crowd gasped and clapped at the right times. But else would anyone expect? It was Pry Circus. I owned everything from the name to its shape. It literally lived or died with me. 

As I gave myself a small fist pump, I noticed Wintermin. He did not look great. He sat on a stone bench, rolling his stylus against his tablet. A blank screen, actually, as I got closer. He was so focused on his reflection‒eyes narrow, face wobbling‒he didn’t notice me. I wasn’t supposed to do anything except go home after the show, but he didn’t look great, even when his eyes finally met mine and he tried to do that dumb I’m okay face. 

Hey, I said.  

Hey. He removed his bag from the seat next to him. Here.

I did. The stone was so cold; my sweaty legs were practically freezing to the bench. Did you enjoy the show?

Wonderful. I squirmed to lift my legs from the bench. Wintermin didn’t look over. He looked pale, really pale. Are you okay? You look ill. 

Wintermin’s voice trailed on and off. Things aren’t right...something’s off...I just don’t know what. 

I tensed. Like something with the inspection? 

No...with... Wintermin looked at me, eyes lost in thought. ...the universe. He ducked his head. That sounds so stupid. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. 

You’re probably just exhausted. 

No, I’m waiting. 

I pretended to scan the car-rental parking lot. For the universe?

Wintermin laughed. For my ride. His face twisted, and he screamed. As he fell forward, off the bench, he grabbed his chest.  

I leaped to my feet. I’ll get Pearl.  

No! Please, not now! 

Don’t be stupid! My heart was racing. I had to run and find Pearl, or call an ambulance, or something. But I couldn’t. My feet were glued to the ground. 

Shade. Wait. Don’t. Gasping. Don’t go. I’m fine. It’s over. 

Over? What’s over? Your life? 

Trembling, Wintermin stood. I’ve recently had surgery on my hand. It cramps like that sometimes. Wintermin winced. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to scare you. 

His breathing was calm and steady. He looked okay. Right? I smiled, and he smiled back. At least that was one thing. 

I threw my head back. Please. Shade Pry never gets scared. 

A tablet buzzed from his bag. Wintermin leaped to turn it on, his words flying out like I didn’t even exist. Ralsue, there you are. Where are you? What? I told you the second exit...Yeah, I’ve got it...coming. Wintermin threw me a smile like I still thought everything was okay, and left me. Just like that. 

I listened as he left. Listened for him to scream. Listened for a thunk as he hit the ground. All that happened was his voice fading into nothing.  

Speaking of fading, the spot on my hand hadn’t. It had grown.

Keeping it pressed against my sparkly purple tights, I jogged around Pry Circus in hopes of finding my parents before any fans, or the paparazzi found me first. 

I stopped beside the closing ticket stands. Laughter was coming from somewhere. Two female voices, one young and one old, spoke up. 

Well, what did you think of it, Mom? 

I mean, it looked nice, but overall, the whole show was wretched. I don’t know why we came. 

I peered around the corner. Two women stood apart from each other, arms crossed. Reviewers? No, they couldn’t be. I didn’t know these people and they were talking smack about me. 

The daughter sighed. Me too. The acts were horrible, and that daredevil was too‒what’s the word?—Oh, I don’t know. Something terrible. I hated her. I hated the whole thing. 

The mother nodded slowly. Next time, we’ll pick a different show. Paint drying would have been more exciting. What a wretched disaster. Her eyebrows pressed together. Who okayed this? There’s no future in it and everyone has to know it by now. They have to. 

My heart vanished but came crashing back so fast my throat constricted and eyes watered. Wretched disaster? I swallowed. No future? Who did they think they were? My face burned. I pushed my way through an employee’s only entrance and into the main hallway of the backstage, where Pearl had been. There, my body froze, and it just wouldn’t move. 

Time slowed. Employees crept by like fog. Their hands smacked together, but I couldn’t hear the applause. The women’s words screamed too hard. Disaster. No future. I never got reviews like that. Actually, I had never gotten reviews at all. Someone had been hiding them from me. Were they always that awful? That nasty? That hateful? 

The cement walls were darker than those ladies’ souls. If they had one at all. My body rocked as I stood in the center of a noiseless crowd of employees. Hands patted my back, my arms, each a roaring boom across my hollowed-out body.

A hand shoved me too hard, and I fell forward into a walk. I couldn’t stop. Why me? Why couldn’t they have said that about a different show. With the Stilt Sisters, it wouldn’t have been that hard. A monkey on a typewriter‒whatever that was‒could have done it. 

When I found them, Mom and Dad were washing down the windows outside our personal house. Water hit the glass and bounced back like a rainstorm. They might have said something, but I didn’t hear it.  

Mom switched off the hose, the smell of the lunch she made for the employees still on