Phased Worlds

By Linda Cook

Sage Nichols is a young teen growing up in the Midwest. For some reason, the kids at school love to pick on her--especially Tonya. Sage bears the emotional and physical brunt of all their jokes and teasing, and things only get worse in junior high. Luckily, she does make one friend, Brandon, but even together, they arent able to avoid the school bullies.
One day in the woods, Sage meets a strange man. A violent turn of events sends her and Brandon to a strange world though a portal to another world. The people of Lacean have been watching humanity for a while. For Sage and Brandon to return to Earth they needed to be given special powers that make them stronger and more intelligent than they had been. In return, they must keep their knowledge of Lacean a secret, as well as protect Earth from a deadly enemy.
Back home, Sage is again faced with her bullies, including the dreaded Tonya, Sage has spent so much of her life building walls around herself to feel safe, but now she has received strength and support she could never have imagined. With the help of Lacean technology, will she be able to stand up to her enemies? Or maybe Sage will learn shes been powerful all along-powerful and worthy of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532045257

Linda Cook

Linda Cook is a retired junior high math teacher living in the Midwest. She has always had an interest in writing and has written many short stories and poems over the years. This is her first novel.

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Copyright © 2018 Linda Cook.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-4524-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-4526-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-4525-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018906224

iUniverse rev. date: 05/22/2018

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

Epilogue

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my best friend, my lover, and my husband.

Thankfully they are all the same person:

Dennis Cook.

Acknowledgements

I am so grateful for my family’s support by way of encouragement, help, and hard work to make my dream come true. Four people especially assisted with typing, listening to my ideas, helping me edit them into a story, and encouraging me to keep going.

First, Karen Moffett, my daughter-in-law, sat with me many hours transcribing my ramblings into a coherent manuscript. She was very encouraging and helpful with keeping the story flowing. I could not have had a better ‘sound board’ than her.

I also want to acknowledge my sister, Patti Temple. She spent hours on Facetime writing for me and suggesting edits with great ideas. Patti was a great support when I thought I wouldn’t get it done and encouraged me to continue. I couldn’t have a better sister or editor than her.

The third person I want to thank is Nicholas Moffett, my grandson. Nick spent many hours reading the story to me, so I could listen to the flow and clean up the grammatical sloppiness. He would also suggest editing changes by reading them into the manuscript and encourage me to think about them.

These three people along with the support of my husband, Dennis cook, have helped me reach a goal I never thought I would achieve. Thank you all!

Lastly, I want to thank all the test readers who gave me feedback along the way. They gave me very positive feedback on the story line. Some of the suggestions were valuable in enhancing a character or plot line. I especially want to thank: Jenny Bowers, Elaine Thomas, Amy Willman, Connie Heine, Polly McCallister, Carl Bender.

Prologue

The Greening, that is what I call it, the time in early spring when you see the world awakening from its cold, dreary sleep. This is the time when you see the first green buds of life. The air still holds the last crisp chills of winter, yet the sweet warmth of sun promises winter is finally over.

I can still see my grandma standing in front of her tiny home looking at the new spring world. I see her bright smile and loving eyes looking for me. I can hear her calling me to come out and enjoy the beauty of the beginning of a new season.

With an outhouse out back and a hand pump for water in the kitchen sink, Grandma had more zeal for life than most people I knew then or know now. I have often wondered if my life would have been different if she hadn’t died when I was only eleven. Would my roots have grown deeper if she had been around for my teen years? This is a question I will never have answered. When I see the greening of spring, I can’t help but think of my strong Kentucky grandma.

When I was in her presence, I felt safe, loved and secure in my place in the world. Grandma’s house was such a sanctuary for me. Thank God she did not have to watch the misery and heartache that was coming in my life. It would have hurt her to see me in so much pain and sorrow throughout my early teen years, but I know she would have loved me through it.

Today, as I watch the never-ending circle of seasons start the greening again, a bit of my grandma still lives in my heart. I can only hope this will give my grandchildren the same wonderful feeling of the newness of life as I share ‘The Greening’ with them.

I am writing this memoir in story form for my children, grandchildren, and all the greats that come after. This is the beginning of how I became the person they know today. This is my Greening. I will use this to help them remember to live each of their lives to the fullest, just as my grandmother tried to teach me. It began in 1964.

1

Another day of school, another day of misery; I had no idea how I would survive until graduation. It was a little more than five years away, and I was almost at my wit’s end! It was not the classes, not even the homework. It was one person, and one person alone: Tanya! As usual in the halls, I tried to keep an eye out for her and her followers. There was no telling what they would come up with.

I stiffened as I heard her behind me, There she is! As I turned around I saw them, I felt myself tremble as they came closer.

Nice look, Sage. Tanya said as she passed by. Did your mom go to the thrift store again? I was not able to avoid her elbow in my ribs. The girls around her laughed and pointed at me as I bent with pain. I knew I would have a huge bruise, which is normal for me.

I did what I usually did, ran away. I headed to my health class with all my books, except my health book, but this would not be the first time. I hadn’t taken it home to study. Why wasn’t this a band day? I could have headed straight from the bus to band; my instrument was stored there.

When I arrived at my class, I had to ask the teacher if I could go to my locker to get my book. I had done this before and I could see the exasperation in her eyes. I felt ashamed that she would have to punish me yet again.

I am going to have to give you another detention for this, Sage, she shook her head as she spoke.

I know, I said. I’m sorry.

See me at lunch, bring your food tray. She began to write out the detention slip for the office. You will have to miss your lunch and free time

Yes, ma’am, I replied. I will be here.

I was actually happy to miss the free time and lunch. It was the most likely time I would be attacked by Tanya and her friends. Although I had to be careful how many of these lunch detentions I would get each grading period. If I had more than three lunch detentions in any one class, I would get an after-school detention and my parents would be notified. Mom and Dad were never happy when I had to stay over. There would be extra punishment, as well, at home.

When I returned, I sat in the only available seat. Unfortunately, it was the seat next to Tanya! Oh gee! She moaned. I have to sit next to HER! She turned to the girl on the other side. Trade me seats! She demanded, and of course, the girl quietly grabbed her stuff and changed seats.

There was no ‘thank you’ or any response from Tanya to the girl. She just took the seat and immediately started mumbling under her breath. Cooties, cooties, cooties! Then she started writing on a piece of paper. After she finished writing, she passed it to the next student. I watched as the note was read by each student. Giggling after they read it, they would turn around and look at me and passed it on. After it had been passed around the entire class, it was handed back to Tanya.

She gave it to the girl between us and told her to pass it to me. I took the note and read it. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I had to know what she had written. I read, ‘Sage has cooties!!!!! Spread the word!!!!!’ I put my head on my desk and just tried to be as invisible as possible for the rest of the day.

As bad as every school year had been for me, this year had been worse! I had hoped that junior high school would be better than elementary. I - was - wrong! For some reason unknown to me, I was the class’s verbal, and sometimes physical, punching bag. It seemed everything I did was ripe for ridicule. This week had been especially bad, I had even tried to fit in. Everything I did was wrong - the wrong shoes, an ugly blouse, and a bad hairdo. The list went on.

My aunt had sent over some new ‘hand me downs’ last week, to see if Rosemary and I could wear them. In the clothes that fit me, there was a ruffled, white blouse and a bright teal skirt. Mom and Rosemary commented on how good they looked on me, and I decided to try something more than just brushing my hair.

I had borrowed some of Rosemary’s curlers the night before, and she help me use them around the edge of my short hair. Rosemary had even helped me the next morning to style the small curls around my face. She had softened them into curly wisps. Mom had thought I looked pretty, and both Rosemary and I were happy with the outcome. Rosemary had even let me wear a pair of her shoes that matched the outfit. Even with the span of age between us, we wore the same size.

I felt more grown up than I had ever felt before. As happy as I had been that morning, it hadn’t taken Tanya long to make my day miserable. She and her clique had followed me around and made sure I knew how badly I looked. By the end of the day, I could barely keep myself from crying.

I always tried to sit in the back of the classroom and not raise my hand. I knew the answers; I just didn’t want to be noticed. But when no one else had answered the teacher’s question, she had called on me. Even my answer to the question was too perfect.

It didn’t seem to matter what I did; I was singled out. I tried to be invisible, but it didn’t work. I tried to keep my emotions in check and not let them know how much it hurt to be mocked; I thought I’d been pretty good at that. Obviously, I had been wrong.

By the time I went to bed that night, I could only ‘Thank God’ this was Friday. This day had been as bad as all the others, and I didn’t think I could have handled another day of school. Tanya had been in rare form, and she had zeroed in on me all week.

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I woke up and realized not only was it the weekend, it was the Saturday after my thirteenth birthday. The bright sunlight and warm air was calling me outside. Once I had completed both my and my sister’s chores, it was almost time for lunch. Mom was at work, and I had nothing I had to do before she got home. Thirteen was the magic number; I couldn’t go into the woods by myself before this milestone. Now, I didn’t have to search for someone - my brother, the neighborhood kids, or my cousins - to go with me.

With that in mind, I quickly made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, wrapped it in wax paper, put some potato chips in a paper bag, grabbed an apple from the counter and a Coke from the fridge. Then, I put them in my well-stocked backpack. (I always kept certain items I would need for the woods in there, such as a bottle opener, my knife, and beach towels.) I was a true Girl Scout: ‘Be Prepared.’ I grabbed my sunglasses and the book I had bought last week, stuffed them in the backpack as well, and tied it shut.

I shouted to my sister, Rosemary, I’m heading to the woods! and ran out of the back door before she could think of anything else I should do.

Her reply of Okay, was barely out of her mouth by the time the screen door clapped shut on the back porch as I headed towards the woods.

Rosemary, being five years older, had become a tyrant since the time she was old enough to be the ‘sitter’ of my younger brother, Andrew, and me. She would be the ‘boss’ while Mom was working. The chores that Mom had written down for us to do would be mostly done by my brother and me. Andrew would often escape this by going to work with our dad. Then, lucky me, I got to do all the chores sis didn’t want to do.

At home, I felt almost invisible, except when Rosemary had something for me to do. My siblings were both smart and creative. Rosemary was more beautiful, artistic, and dramatic than I ever thought I would be. She loved to act in plays and sew costumes. She was lovely with her watery blue eyes and dishwater blonde hair always freshly curled and perfectly in place.

She spent what seemed like hours to perfect her make-up and hair. She even demanded her clothes be without blemish and perfectly ironed. Mom sometimes called her a drama queen; even her fits were overly dramatic. I would run and hide when she and our parents would have one of their loud disagreements. Rosemary slammed doors and declared that Mom and Dad did not understand her.

The air had an unusual warmth in it for this time of year. It was a perfect day for walking in the woods alone. It was late April and spring was really just beginning; it had been a long, harsh winter that year. I sighed as I thought about that, and walked quickly through the backyard to the old, red wooden barn and ducked behind it. There was a spot where the fence separated our property from the woods. It sagged from years of climbing over it, and was very easy to cross. I could have walked over to our neighbor’s land and used the gate, but this was just as easy and closer. Also, it was out of sight of my sister.

Always patient, but always calling, the woods had waited beckoning me to my shady retreat. This was my time: time to read, time to be myself, time to breathe. I needed to get away to do the things I loved - like walking in the woods and reading, and to get away from the things I hated - like feeling lonely at home and trying to fit in at school.

2

Our house was on the east edge of a country block, which was a mile long and a mile wide. A major highway ran past our side of the block. To the north and south were gravel roads and a paved road marked the west edge. Houses sprouted along three edges of the block, and the huge center was filled with trees, brooks, creeks, small lakes, and clearings. We knew everyone in the area, and although my parents were not the owners of the woods, we - as well as every other kid on the block - had permission to roam and investigate.

I had walked almost half a mile into the woods and the time had gone by quickly. I had probably walked more than that, but I was following the meandering brook instead of heading straight to my goal. The fresh smell of the rushing water, the reawakening trees, and the newly sprouting plants were perfume to me. The brook was wonderful. In the heat of summer, it usually dried up; we would search for pretty rocks the water had smoothed with its flow. In the winter, it froze over and we skated on it in our snow boots. Now, it was running swiftly from the still melting snows of winter. The brook was too cold to walk in, but easy to walk beside. The undergrowth had not started to fill out, and the leaves were barely past the bud stage because of the long winter. The aroma of this new ‘greening’ brought tears to my eyes and I thought about my grandma.

I wasn’t concerned about my foot placement, so my mind was still pondering the perpetual problem of how to survive five more years of school. I wasn’t sure I could handle it; I loved learning but hated school. Just the thought of going back on Monday made my stomach do flip-flops. If there had been a way to put myself in a bubble, I would have done it. I dreamt of putting up walls around my desk, like the imaginary walls around myself. I prayed to God to just let one or two of my tormentors be sick and not at school Monday. Give me one day of peace and just let me learn!

I had plenty of time, and was enjoying the walk. I was nearing the clearing in the middle of the woods. This was almost a magical spot to me, and it seemed stuck in time. While the woods could be dark and mysterious, the clearing was always bright and cheery. Yet, it still had its mysterious side. There was an old cabin in this clearing, and people had made this their home at some period in time. I often wondered how life was in the time before we were a state. Why had they tried to make a new life out here? My brother, the neighbor kids, and I had explored this clearing and had found a small cemetery on one edge. The stones had been carved with names and dates of the 1700s. One was of a young child of two years; I’d always put wildflowers on his grave when they were available.

The cabin itself was dilapidated. We had found a few odd things in and around the structure, but nothing more interesting than a button, a rusty nail, or a broken piece of a dish. When I was ten, I accidentally stepped on a plank inside the cabin and drove an old rusty nail through my foot. My brother had to help me hobble out of the woods. Mom took me to the doctor for a tetanus shot. Now I was much more careful when investigating the area, which was good for the poor toad I almost stepped on.

The brook was on the edge, so I was safer there. The clearing looked almost barren without the grass and weeds that populated it in the summer months. You could see where the cabin had fallen a bit more with the harsh winter we had just experienced. Someday it would no longer be there at all. That was a sad thought.

The closer I got to my goal, the more I relaxed. I knew my sister wouldn’t venture out this far, unless Mom sent her out to get me. She would not bother me here. Rosemary was much too interested in dresses, parties, and boys to want to get dirty from the woods. She didn’t have time for childish pleasures - or for me.

My attention was brought back to the reality as I noticed the place where the brook emptied into the creek, which was nearby. I could actually hear the water moving along its banks. The winter had been an extremely wet one, and the creek was running rapidly with the winter runoff.

I headed towards the spot where an old tree had fallen across the creek. That was our favorite way to cross anyway, unless it was very hot. We had strung a rope across the creek and tied it to a tree on each side. I wasn’t the most agile person in the world, so I could hold onto the rope to help keep my balance. We rarely brought the younger ones out this far into the woods, but it was good to have when we did. Even though it was supposedly for the younger kids, I was secretly glad it was there so I could use it. On the other side of the creek, the woods began again.

A few steps further into the woods were the remnants of an old railroad track running north to south. The half-rotted ties and many of the old rails remained. The odor of the old, wet, musty ties made me sneeze. We had dug out some of the rusty spikes when we first found it, and I still had one in my bedroom. The only proof of this track’s existence was in these woods. It did not protrude outside my private world.

On the other side of the rails was an old hard-packed dirt road which meandered along the track. You could see it had probably been a well-used road at one time, but now was grassy and littered with the winter damage of trees and branches. Nothing had traveled on it for a long time, except for the feet of a few neighborhood kids that roamed this way. The older kids and I would clean it up later in the summer. It too, did not make its way out of the woods. Sheltered as it was from the passing of time, it reminded me of the Frost poem I had memorized in 6th grade, The Road Not Taken. My road even had a fork in it.

As I began walking on the road, my steps quickened; I was almost to the lake. This had been my goal: my lake. About a quarter mile from the south side of the block, was a beautiful, old, deserted strip pit. It had a small point of land with a knoll projecting into the water. It was raised in the middle with a single tree growing at the peak. The mound was just at the right angle to lay my towel on and recline - it was my own natural beach lounger. I always sat facing the water. I could read and relax. The water in the lake was so clear I could see fish swimming.

In the summer, when the heat was close to unbearable, the lake was very refreshing. My brother and I would wear our swimsuits under our play clothes and enjoy a good swim. Now that I could come out alone, I might even skinny dip - I snickered at the thought.

I followed the bend of the road past a large ridge that blocked my view of the lake until I walked around it. I knew the area had been strip mined at several different times in the past. It was not apparent whether they had mined clay or coal, but there was an abandoned brick factory nearby, so I was betting on clay.

The ridge bordered most of the lake; it was covered and surrounded with trees. I had always had the feeling there had been a huge hill here at one time. When they had mined this area, the dirt was deposited around the pit. When you were on the gravel road that marked the south side of the block, you could not see the lake for the ridge and trees. The north side of the lake, where I was headed, was probably the entrance to go down into the pit to dig deeper when it was active. The dirt road was close enough to have been the way out of the surface mine and the land under the water gently sloped down on both sides of the knoll. This side of the block also had no houses on the edge; there would be no one that could see me unless they were here in the woods. The steep inner walls of the ridge gave the lake the appearance of being protected like a fort.

My destination was now in sight. The maple tree looked sad with just the small green leaves on it, but I knew soon the leaves would fill out and offer welcomed shade. It was not scorching hot this time of the year; the sun would feel good today. I had my sunglasses, so I was ready for the brightness. The sunlight was dancing on the small waves rippling with the breeze. The birds were singing their spring mating songs, and I could hear the quiet buzz of the early bees and flies.

I was looking around with new eyes, even though the scenery was exactly the same as any other time I had been out here. It seemed newer and fresher to me today. This was my first experience out here by myself; I was drinking in the freedom and was drunk with that feeling of power you get when you accomplish something new. This was a power I had rarely felt before, and definitely not at this level. No one would tell me what to do here today. No one was responsible for me and I was not responsible for anyone else. I could just be me, though I almost had no idea what ‘me’ should be. I knew I would be back to the same old me when I returned home, but for now, I was free.

The breeze was warm and gentle. This was just a perfect time to lay out here under my tree and read my new book, Witch World, by Andre Norton. I had waited for this day to start reading it, a new book to commemorate the newness of my life. I opened my backpack and laid out my beach towel. Then I placed my sandwich, chips and Coke beside me. I was hungry, and it was time for lunch. The apple I would save for later.

I ate slowly, tearing off small chunks of the crust and tossing it into the lake for the fish. It was always fun to watch them come to the surface to nibble on the small offerings I gave them. I loved to fish, but I knew I would never fish here. These were my pets.

Sorry, I said to my fishy friends, I was in too much of a hurry and forgot your slice of bread. I promise, next time, I’ll bring it for you. Although they did not answer me back, I was sure they understood. It was not unusual for me to talk to my friends in the lake.

When I had finished eating, I stuffed the paper bag and wax paper in the front pocket of the backpack. My Coke was still about half full, and I knew I would get thirsty as the sun heated my body, so I took out the bottle stopper and put it on the Coke bottle. I place it on the shaded side of the tree to keep it as cool as possible. The bottle would be put in my backpack when it was empty. I never left any mess out here. This was my place, and I wanted it to look nice.

After lunch I rinsed off my hands in the water and dried them on my towel. The sun was shining on the lake, sparkling