Fly: A PORTAL Chronicles Novel (The PORTAL Chronicles) (2 page)

“Until now?” I repeated. I didn’t understand. I enjoyed spending long nights with Dad at various musty universities — he grading papers and I with my nose in a book. It was what I knew. It was familiar. It was home.

“I want you to interact with people your own age,” he said, stroking my cheek. “Get in a little trouble for all I care. For once in your life, act your age.”

Sensing my iciness melting, I rolled my eyes and pulled away from him. “People my age are ridiculous, Dad.”

To my dismay, Dad laughed at me — so not the response I was looking for. “Case in point,” he chuckled. “I don’t want you to miss out on being a kid, having fun, and finding yourself. You can’t honestly say you’re not tired of following me from lecture to lecture at random universities or waiting in rancorous offices while I grade tests.”

“But I like doing all of that,” I insisted. “It’s our thing. It’s what we do.” Dad backed away looking defeated. “And did you really use the word ‘rancorous’, Dad?”

“Don’t digress! You know what I mean.”

“Only because I’m not like most kids,” I vexed.

“What kind of monster have I raised?” he mused, a smile teasing at his mouth. “My little adult, whatever will I do with you?” Backing into a nearby chair, he sat and placed his head in his hands, his fingers disappearing in the thick, dark waves of his hair.

Realizing my tactics weren’t working, I opted for a different route hoping a little humor would help. “Why do I have to be away from you to live a little and act my age? Can’t I rebel while I’m with you? Do I really need to be halfway across the country to do it, because that’s going to be one expensive plane ticket when I get expelled and you have to come pick me up.”

“Then I’m in luck because my close friend Dr. Smitherson is the headmaster and would never expel you.”

I panicked. “But you need me. Who’s going to cook for you or do the dishes and the laundry? Have you honestly forgotten how you turned all our white laundry purple by leaving a blue sock in the wash?” Dad laughed and I couldn’t help but smile recalling the bewildered look on his face as he learned he’d turned his white business shirts a vibrant shade of violet. “Who’s going to schedule your doctor appointments, remind you to take your pills, or discover new bookstores and coffee shops with you if you don’t take me with you? And who will make Congo Cookies with you in celebration of Mom’s birthday?”

Dad shot me a meaningful glance before quickly looking down again, pensive. I felt guilty for involving our ritual of making Mom’s favorite dessert on her used-to-be birthday, but I was desperate. When Dad finally looked up again, determination was in his eyes.

“Sophie, I’m almost fifty. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.”

Sensing my imminent defeat, I threw caution to the wind. “I won’t be fine!” I screamed. “What about me? What about what I want?”

“Yes, you will be fine!” Dad yelled. “You will! I will make sure of it if it’s the last thing I do. I owe your mother that much.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he put his hand up to stop me. Court was adjourned. My stomach soured as the judge rose to give his final edict. “You will be fine. You will go to Brightman and get the best education possible and make lots of new friends, and you will have fun doing it.”

I didn’t know the look in his eyes, on his face, all over his body, but I could translate its meaning clearly. Dad turned to leave the room, signaling the conclusion of our debate. I was to be sent away to Brightman Academy hell!

“I won’t be fine. I won’t have fun and I’ll hate every second of it.”

“Sophia Margaret, that’s enough!” Dad snapped. “You are stubborn like your mother! It was her very stubbornness that got her killed and I’ll be damned if I loose you too. I’m doing what’s best for you. You’re going to Brightman and that’s final.”

A dull, tingly pain stabbed at my chest at the mention of Mom. Dad had crossed an invisible line. Unwritten rule number one was to never speak of Mom’s death — ever. No matter what.

Thoughts raced through my head a mile a minute — too fast to linger on or comprehend. Mom’s stubbornness got her killed? What did her stubbornness have to do with cancer? And how did sending me away prevent him from losing me? Didn’t the two contradict each other? He was obviously delusional.

I opened my mouth to shout back — something nasty and horrible that would hurt him — but nothing came to me. I could feel my face going red as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I bolted from the room, accidentally knocking Dad into his chair in my haste.

Once in the safety of my room, I sobbed confused, frustrated tears into my pillow for what seemed like hours, trying to mastermind a way out. But now as I wept in my bathtub, I slowly accepted the truth: I was a good girl and an obedient daughter. I would follow through with whatever my father thought best, because I loved him and trusted his judgment.

I resigned myself to fact. I was going to Brightman Academy.

Chapter 2

First Day Dawning

“Well, I guess it’s time to say goodbye,” Dad said, fidgeting with his car keys.

I’d spent the day dreading this inevitably awkward moment while packing my things for my stay at Brightman Academy, but it could no longer be avoided as my flight departed in an hour. I stared at the worn airport carpet, finding it hard to look Dad in the face. I consented to his plan, but was still upset he was sending me away.

“Please don’t be mad, Sophie,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Trust that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“I know,” I said, putting on a brave face. After crying all night, I’d passed the day in a numb state of shock, but now that it was time to part, fresh emotion rose to the surface. I forced a smile. There was plenty of time to be mad at Dad later. “I’ll miss you,” I muttered, knowing I’d regret not telling him.

“Oh, Soph!” He stifled a sob. Startled, I met his gaze for the first time all day to find him worse off than I’d imagined. His crooked grimace and pooling, red eyes were blatant evidence that I wasn’t the only one suffering. He hugged me. “I’m so sorry things have to be this way. This isn’t easy for me either. But one day soon, you’ll understand. I love you, Sophie. I’ll always love you, okay?”

“I know,” I mumbled into his shoulder, willing myself not to cry.

He stepped back, searching through his jacket. “Take advantage of this opportunity. Study hard, but don’t forget to play hard too, okay?” He handed me an envelope and a credit card. “The credit card is for living and school expenses. Use it wisely. There’s enough cash in the envelope to get you to Annandale.”

Opening the envelope, I thumbed through a thick stack of twenties. Guilt money, no doubt. “It’s not going to cost five hundred dollars to get to Brightman from the airport.”

“No matter. Take a cab to Brightman. Once you get there, ask for Dr. Smitherson. He’ll be expecting you,” Dad nervously rambled.

“You already told me all this.”

“I know,” Dad sighed, hugging me again. “I’m proud of you, Sophie. I know this isn’t easy for you.” He stroked my cheek. “My poppet. You be good, okay?”

The grief apparent behind his fake smile was enough to break me right then and there. By now the lump in my throat was burning like I’d swallowed a hot coal. “You too, Daddy. I love you.”

He kissed my cheek and I turned, quickly heading for the security gate. I refused to look back, knowing whatever I saw there would surely break my heart.

Security was a breeze and I soon sat on the plane ready for takeoff. The lump in my throat apparated as I realized Dad had ordered me the window seat. He knew me too well, that my favorite part of flying was staring out the window during flights. My mind skimmed through all our many adventures in the past.

I was born in Paris, where Dad was currently teaching when Mom had me. We moved to L.A. when I was four months old and after spring boarding all over the U.S. through my early childhood, lived in Berkeley, California, until Mom died when I was eight. After that, I think it was too hard for Dad to live where she died, because, despite having his dream job at the university there, we moved to Denmark soon after Mom’s death. From there, we lived in Texas, Switzerland, Illinois, England, and Portland, spending about two years at each destination. Looking back, I wondered if the zigzag from foreign soil to stateside was intentional. Though, Dad was staying in the U.S. again this time, so probably not.

Later today, Dad was flying to Fairbanks, Alaska. Opposed to the cold, I hadn’t wanted moved to Alaska, though where I was going wasn’t much better. Located on the outskirts of Annandale, Minnesota, a Google search told me Brightman Academy was located about forty-five minutes outside Minneapolis. Annandale had a population of three thousand people and boasted frigid, snow-infested winters. Great! Though, Annandale’s autumn was supposedly amazing, so maybe the breathtaking scenery would help my new home grow on me before it became a winter wonderland.

“Hi, there!” A petite woman with short, fiery red hair and pretty peridot eyes settled into the seat beside me. “I’m Gloria. What’s your name?”

“Sophie. Pleasure to meet you.” I shook Gloria’s hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sophie,” Gloria beamed, seeming sincere. I instantly liked her. “Headed to Minneapolis?”

“Annandale. I’m on my way to Brightman Academy.”

“Brightman!” She lit up. “That’s my alma mater. I hope you have no aversion to studying.”

“I can be a book worm when I need to be,” I answered, resisting the urge to admit I was an out-and-out nerd.

“Then you’ll do great.” She nodded. “It’s a good, safe place to learn. I attended all four years of high school there, and loved every second of it.” Her face glowed as she talked. “The best part was the friends I made. When everyone is away from family, you tend to get really close to your schoolmates. You’ll see. I bet you’ll form some wonderful friendships during your time there.”

Her high regard for Brightman warmed me to the idea of attending school there, and with a little encouragement, she was soon sharing stories. Talking to her put me at ease, and before I knew it, I had told her all about Dad sending me away and we were landing at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. After filing off the plane, she helped me track down my four suitcases at the baggage claim before giving me a hug.

“I’m so glad we were seated next to each other. I loved talking to you,” she said.

“Me too,” I agreed. “Your stories helped make Brightman seem a little less scary.”

“I’m happy to hear it. Think you can find your way to Brightman okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take a cab,” I said.

“A cab? Well, I live in South Haven. Annandale is on my way. I could drive you to Brightman, if you’d like,” Gloria offered.

“Thank you, but I’d hate to impose,” I said, feeling her out.

“It’s no imposition at all,” she smiled. “You’d be doing me a favor. I haven’t been to Brightman in forever and a trip down memory lane would be… kind of nice.”

“Okay then. Thanks,” I said, ignoring the voice in my head telling me Dad would kill me for catching a ride with a stranger.

“Great! My car is this way.” Without hesitating, Gloria took off with two of my heaping suitcases.

It was then that I noticed she didn’t have any luggage of her own and only carried a purse. Though odd, I quickly put it out of my mind and hurried to catch up to her with my other two suitcases.

“Umm… Gloria,” I called as we reached the parking garage. “This is short term parking. Wouldn’t your car be in the long term garage?”

She looked at the sign above us. “Oh, silly me. I must have parked in the wrong garage. My bill’s going to be huge!” She laughed, just approaching her car.

Gloria opened the rear hatch of a pretty BMW and, despite her small stature, nimbly threw my two heavy suitcases into the back. As I struggled to lift the third suitcase into the back, she grabbed the fourth.

Soon, we were sailing down the interstate, my stomach flipping nervously. “Is your car new?” I asked, trying to relegate my uneasiness.

“Yes. Could you tell from the new car smell? My husband just got it for me as an early Christmas present. I love it.” Once again, she beamed, vaguely reminding me of Mom.

“Yeah, it’s great. I really like the… oh!” I exclaimed with a start. My rear had suddenly gotten super warm.

Spotting my surprised expression, Gloria burst into laughter. “Heated seats,” she explained through giggles. “Sorry, I should have warned you.”

I laughed too as the warmth spread from my shoulders to my thighs. It was soothing, and I was soon struggling to keep my eyes open.

“Rest your eyes,” Gloria cooed in a motherly tone. “You’ve had a long trip. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

Nodding my thanks, I looked out the window to find the trees here were already turning, their luscious, vibrant colors giving way to glassy ponds that mirrored the radiant beauty around us.

I’m used to this.
The realization put me at ease. The transition from summer to fall usually heralded change for me. I’d had many “first days” at schools and was a pro at starting over. This time was no different. Talking to Gloria had only confirmed that Dad was right. I’d eventually make new friends and hopefully find some semblance of home here.

Staring out the window, I savored the beautiful view as well as some newfound peace, and soon found myself running through a similar forest in my dreams.

Chapter 3

Running

“Sophie… Sophie… ”

I searched for the Voice. But where was she? The rich autumn colors of the forest trees whirred by me in a blur as I ran. The cold wind hinted at winter’s arrival as it whipped at my hair and cheeks.

“Sophie… ” The Voice sang.

I couldn’t find her. Forever running through an endless sea of cold and color, I panicked. Dusk lay ahead. If I didn’t find her before nightfall, I’d surely be lost.

Something caught my eye then. Silhouetted by the setting sun, a looming figure walked a line parallel to the horizon ahead. I stopped in awe of what I saw. He wasn’t just big, but a giant and an ugly one at that.