excitement or panic. He couldn’t tell which. Either way, he had better get out of there quick.
Scuttling back toward the tunnel entrance, Goban caught sight of a block of white cheese sitting on the counter and grabbed it before ducking back into the welcoming darkness of the tunnel. As he pulled the small door shut behind him, he remembered something that he had overheard a few days before.
“She is coming! I see her, plain in appearance and yet adorned with power. She is coming to return that which was lost. When she opens the door, our world will tremble with her coming!”
Goban did not know who the old soothsayer had been talking about. He only knew that she, the one who called herself Queen, had laughed with icy delight at the prophecy, and that nothing which made her happy could possibly bring anything but sorrow to him.
Interview with Leena
The following items were taken from the notes of Greer Douglas, a student reporter for Seelie High’s Druid Chronicles, and from the transcripts of an interview conducted by Ms. Douglas on September 5, 2014. The interview was published in the Druid Chronicles on September 7th.
[Excerpt from Greer’s notes]
Leena Wallace is freakishly tall for a girl. That’s the first thing I noticed about her. I’d guess she’s at least 6 feet. I also noticed that she hunches a little, as if she is trying to be smaller. She has long reddish blond hair that would probably be gorgeous if she put in a little effort. Instead, it’s just a mess of frizzy, out-of-control curls. Maybe she didn’t have time to use gel this morning, or something. Her eyes are bright green and she has a lot of freckles. She was dressed in jeans and an orange shirt that clashed horribly with her hair. You can sort of tell that she could be really pretty, though, if she wanted to.
After what happened later that night, I feel a little weird about these notes, which I took just after the interview. I was going to tear out this page and rewrite them, but then I remembered how Ms. B always says that a journalist is dispassionate and unbiased and this really was what I thought after I met her. So, I’m going to leave it. I hope I don’t get in trouble for this.
[Interview Transcript]
Greer: All right, are you ready? This is Greer Douglas, conducting an interview with Leena Wallace, a junior here at Seelie High. So Leena, I understand that you are captain of the varsity cheer squad. That’s quite an accomplishment for a junior, isn’t it?
Leena: Actually, that’s my sister, Caitlin.
Greer: Oh, sorry. My source must have gotten you two mixed up. You’re twins, aren’t you?
Leena: Yes.
Greer: So you probably get mixed up all the time, right?
Leena: Not really.
Greer: Okay…So, not the cheer captain, but you are the president of the French club, right?
Leena: Um…No. That’s Caitlin again.
Greer: Are you a member of Lyrical Lasses, the all-girl a cappella group on campus?
Leena: No.
Greer: Did you play Sleeping Beauty in school play last year?
Leena: Sorry, no…
Greer: Play on the girls’ volleyball team?
Leena: No, those are all things Caitlin does.
Greer: Well, what do you do? I mean, do you have any extra-curricular activities?
Leena: Not really.
Greer: Maybe we should just stop and I’ll interview your sister instead.
Ms. Brannon: Greer, you are being very rude to Leena who has taken time out of her day to come and speak with you.
Greer: But you always tell me to stick to my note cards and my note cards are all about her sister!
Leena: I don’t mind, Ms. Brannon. Really. I’ll just go back to class.
Ms. Brannon: No, Leena, please stay. Greer, note cards are very useful but there are times when any reporter must be able to improvise. This is one of those times. Ms. Wallace might not be heavily involved in social activities here on campus, but I know that she does some wonderful work in the community with her mother. Perhaps you could ask her about that.
Greer: All right. Your mother is Aileen Wallace, isn’t she? I’ve heard about her. Isn’t she the mayor or something?
Leena: No. She doesn’t hold any political office. She’s just very…involved, I guess. She used to be a lawyer like my dad, but she stopped practicing when Caitlin and I were born. Now she spends most of her time doing charity work and organizing town functions.
Greer: And you help her?
Leena: Yes. I’m kind of her secretary.
Greer: Is it like a real job? Does she pay you?
Leena: During the summer she pays me to keep track of her schedule and answer her phone and things like that. During the school year I mostly just go with her to meetings and help hand out flyers. She says I should just count it as community service hours.
Greer: That sucks. I hate doing stuff like that.
Ms. Brannon: Professionalism, Greer.
Greer: Oh, right. Sorry, Ms. B. So, what kind of charity work do you and your mother do?
Leena: Lately, she’s been trying to raise money to get some new playground equipment at the park. It’s pretty old and a kid got hurt this summer when one of the swings broke. I’ve been going around to local businesses and giving them a little pamphlet about the park and how to donate. Oh, and she’s trying to talk the school board into putting in a pool here at the high school, too.
Greer: Really? I support that! Do you think it will happen?
Leena: Maybe. Mom can be pretty persuasive.
Greer: Nice.
Ms. Brannon: Third period is almost over, girls. Greer, do you have anything else you’d like to ask Leena?
Greer: Yeah, I do. There have been reports of strange things happening all over town this week. Have you seen anything like that yourself?
Leena: Well, my history teacher made it rain yesterday.
Greer: What?
Leena: We were doing current events and he was talking about the flooding that happened last month down around Detroit. He got kind of intense about it and then it started raining.
Ms. Brannon: I believe that was turned out to be a problem with the fire sprinkler system.
Leena: That’s what Mr. Kelley said today, but…Well, there were clouds. And lightening. Inside the room.
[At this point the school bell rings in the background and the recording ends.]
New Boy
Sometime in October 2014
Dylan sat slumped in the backseat, staring out at the endless trees that flashed by as they raced down the highway. Trees. To Dylan, a tree was a domesticated thing that had been pruned and fertilized into submission in someone’s front yard. He had never seen trees like this, overgrown and wild. They reminded him of the dark forests in fairytales that lulled children off the safe path and into the witch’s cottage.
In the driver’s seat, Callie—she insisted on being called by her first name, as if that somehow made them friends—was talking. She never quit talking, but he had quit listening about fifty miles ago. Either she hadn’t noticed when he stopped responding, or she didn’t care. Maybe she couldn’t help herself. Maybe it was some kind of disease. Or phobia. That was it, he decided. She was afraid of silence.
He turned up the volume on his IPod, trying to drown out her voice, but in a lull between songs, he heard, “We’re almost there. Are you ready to see your new home?”
Home. His stomach clenched at the word and he turned up the volume even louder. The heavy beat of the next song on his playlist overwhelmed Callie’s voice, finally erasing her from his immediate world. He wished that he could go on raising the volume until it drown out not only the sound of his social worker’s voice, but also the sight of the feral trees, the vibration of the car, and finally the existence of the house they were racing toward. Because it wouldn’t be his new home.
Whatever Callie might say, he knew by now that that wasn’t how it worked. The place where you slept and ate and did your homework was a house. Your home was something else entirely. Home was mor
e about the people in the house than it was about the house itself. He had lived in a lot of houses, but he could not remember ever being home. Home was the place where they wouldn’t send you away no matter what happened. Home was forever. Dylan had no doubt that all he was headed toward was a new house.
About the Author
Aubrey Fredrickson lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with a landlubbing pirate, an amateur train enthusiast, and a baby boy who may just turn out to be a piranha in disguise. When she was quite young, she found something that described the origins of her name and it said that Aubrey meant “ruler of the elves.” This may very well be why she dreams of the Otherworld. She is a full-time stay-at-home mom, a part-time freelance writer, and an in-between-time teller of tales. Not to mention an elf queen, of course.
About Tales from Seelie High
Tales from Seelie High is a series of short stories which I began writing many years ago, although I didn’t know it was a series of short stories at the time. I thought it was a novel. However, in the fall of 2014 I wrote the first draft of New Girl (the first story in the series) and realized that it was a collection of short stories, told from the various viewpoints of the main characters. I hope to publish a new story once a month where possible. Leena and the Giant is the second story in the series. The third story, New Boy, will be published sometime at the end of May 2015. You can watch for more details by visiting my website at aubreyfredricksonauthor.wordpress.com/.
The bonus materials included in this ebook (The Door Opens –