Lisa Cresswell - Storyteller

STORYTELLER

Book One: The True World

By Lisa T. Cresswell

Copyright 2011 Lisa T. Cresswell

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Acknowledgments

I want to thank my family for encouraging meto take this path less traveled, my editor, Anika Henrikson, and myfriend for over 20 years, Suzann Henrikson. May you all know thejoy of such friendship in your own lives. And many thanks to ChrisAsh, for his beautiful cover design.

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Chapter 1 Lily Lightfoot, the Storyteller

Weird was quickly becoming a fact of life forLily Lightfoot. For the third time in a week, she got the feelinginvisible icy fingers were slipping down the back of her neck,seeping into her spine. It was if something was tugging at her verybones, pulling her toward her future. She walked along a brokensidewalk littered with fall leaves toward her school; her friendPeter up ahead on his skateboard. The crisp air was heavy with themoldy smell of decay as the skateboard clicked on the cracks in thesidewalk.

Spinning around, Lily saw nothing but leavesrustling as the wind swished them across the sidewalk. Lily pulledher coat closer around herself and sighed. Maybe she really waslosing her mind. Everyone else seemed to think so. Peter wasprobably the only kid in school who didnt cringe when she walkedinto a room. Ever since she gave her entire second grade class thechicken pox, just by telling a story, everyone had avoided her.That was before Peter moved to Maplewood. Lily had a feeling hemight see things differently if he had witnessed the infamous poxincident. Peter stomped the end of his skateboard, stopping it, andlooked back at her.

Hurry up, Lily! he said. Why he walked toschool with her every day was a mystery to Lily. Peter had lots offriends - normal kids - he could hang out with. Still, Lily wasglad he didnt seem to mind her little quirks. OK, so maybe theywere big quirks.

Im coming, said Lily. Unfortunately, sheadded under her breath.

So, tell me a story, said Peter. He grabbedthe end of his board and walked next to Lily.

I dont know what youre talking about, shesaid, staring straight ahead.

Cmon, witch girl, Peter teased, pushingthe dark brown hair out of his eyes.

What kind of story? asked Lily, annoyedthat Peter would call her that. Still, it was better thanfreakazoid, which was what most people called her.

You know, the kind where you make somethingup and then it happens, he said.

I dont know, Peter. That last one got me introuble, said Lily, remembering the math test two weeks ago. Peterhad bet Lily he would score higher than she would and she wanted toput him in his place. Unfortunately, she flubbed the story tryingto whisper it during the test so no one could hear.

His answers are gone, she said softly. Notonly did Peters answers disappear, so did every other guys in theclass.

Yeah, but you have to admit, it was prettyfunny watching Mrs. Doorman trying to figure out what happened,said Peter. Lily grinned at the memory of her poor, franticteacher. She didnt mean to upset Mrs. Doorman. If only she couldget the hang of storytelling.

Just a little one? Its so cool, beggedPeter, smiling sweetly.

Nothing big? asked Lily. She had promisedher grandmother she wouldnt tell any more stories, but it was hardto tell Peter no.

No, nothing big, said Peter, grinning. Howcould she disappoint her best friend in the world?

Are you sure youre prepared for theconsequences? You know I cant always control what happens, sheasked.

Im not scared, he said.

Well, all right. Just a little one. Lilystepped over the smashed remains of a jack-o-lantern on thesidewalk, scrunching up her freckled nose.

Tell a story that will help me passpre-algebra, said Peter close to her ear.

Lily smirked at him. She thought to herself,and closed her eyes in concentration until she got that familiartingle in her toes, like theyd gone to sleep. She listened for thewarbling of birds, like far away meadowlarks she always heardbefore storytelling. Sometimes it took awhile to hear them, buttoday they sang instantly. Lily opened her green eyes and began hertale. Peter listened closely.

The boy who smashed this pumpkin will comearound the corner in two minutes and slip on the mess he made,said Lily.

Peter interrupted impatiently. Lily! I justwanted you to help me pass math.

Im not cheating again. Ill help you study.Here he comes now. Better stand over there, said Lily, pointing asshe backed off the sidewalk.

Sure enough, a burly eighth grader namedDillon Thompson raced around the corner on his bike. He hit theslimy pumpkin smear and launched into the neighbors bushes wherehe lay stunned for a moment.

Lily and Peter were stunned, too. Dillon wasbuilt like a bulldog and no one with any sense ever messed withhim.

Run! shouted Peter as they both tore downthe street. Finally rounding the corner by their school, Lilystopped to catch her breath, and giggled at Peter.

You didnt tell me it was gonna be Dillon,said Peter, laughing with her.

I warned you. Run! she teased him in mockterror. A snide voice interrupted them.

Whats so funny?

Lily turned around to see Heather Whipple, ablonde with a permanent sneer staining her otherwise pretty face.The sight of Heather always made Lily slightly ill, like when sheate too many of Grans homemade caramels and they threatened tocome back up. Heather sort of looked like she felt the same wayabout Lily. She seemed to suck the happiness right out of the airaround them.

Oh, nothing, said Peter, smirking.

Did your little witch friend do anothertrick? asked Heather, joining her own friends.

Shes not a witch, shouted Peter after her.Dont pay any attention to her, Lily.

Its all right. I know everyone hatesme.

No they dont, Peter tried to convince her.Only Heather hates you. Everyone else just thinks youre a littleweird. Lily gave him a sour look.

That helps a lot, Peter. I think maybe Illskip school today.

Dont be crazy. Your grandma would findout, warned Peter.

Not if you dont tell her.

You cant skip today. We have a historytest.

Lily groaned.

Did you forget again? asked Peter.

Umsort of, admitted Lily.

After lunch, the seventh graders had twentyminutes to enjoy the beautiful fall sunshine outside. Peter playedbasketball with some friends while Lily sat on a bench and tried tostudy for the history test she had forgotten about. Nothing sheread seemed to want to stick in her brain. She tried to ignoreHeathers voice, which was just loud enough for Lily to hear.

I dont know why she bothers, Heather wassaying. Shes such a retard.

Lily rolled her eyes.

I can hear you, Heather! Lily shouted.

I dont care, Lily! Heather sassedback.

Lily slammed her book shut and retreated tothe bathroom. Its a good thing for her I promised Gran nostories, thought Lily. She doesnt know how lucky sheis. Still, it didnt stop Lily from imagining ten differentways to humiliate Heather. Lily had experimented with storytellingfrom time to time, just to test her limits. She knew she couldaffect things that already existed, but she couldnt make a milliondollars appear out of thin air or make it rain cupcakes, althoughshe had really tried. A lot.

Instead, Lily half-heartedly tried to studyhistory in the bathroom, sitting in the last stall nearest thewindow. It was the closest thing to a hiding spot she was able tofind in her school.