By: Maggie Z

“I honestly have no idea how I got here,” I said to myself, sitting up. I was wearing only my pajamas, and when the wind blew I felt like I was being stuck in a freezer. However, the wind did not ruffle my hair the way winds did back home. I started to regret my decision to not wear socks to bed.

I got a closer look at my surroundings. The land around me was flat and dry with huge ridges that jutted out from random points on the horizon, although I could barely make out the shapes through the heavy fog. The girl offered me her hand.

“You just fell out of the sky,” she informed me, helping me up. She had a surprisingly strong grip and a crisp accent. “I’m surprised you didn’t break any bones. But that’s probably just because of the zero-g here. Although you did fall from an awfully high altitude. Come, traveler. At the pace you’re going, you’re going to be late.”

“Late? For what?”

The girl stared at me like she thought I was joking, and for the first time, I got a close-up view of her eyes: they were purple with gold flecks. Then, she apparently decided that scrutinizing me wasn’t worth her time, flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, and said frankly, “Administration.”

She turned and led the way down a path I could’ve sworn wasn’t there a second ago. I paused for a second, then hurried after the girl’s retreating figure.

She was waiting for me around a bend in the path, tapping her foot impatiently. “Took you long enough.”
She stretched out her hand and made a door-opening gesture, and I thought, What in the world? And then, there was a large, imposing building with an open door in front of us.

The girl held the door open for me and said, “Go.” I really didn’t want to do that because the building gave off a sort of vibe that set me on edge. And even though there was no light, I could clearly see the girl. She led me into a sort of locker room, went to a row of boxes, selected the first one, and handed it to me.

“It contains your formal dress. In order to see Admin, you must wear it.”

I opened the box and took out a black bodysuit like the one she was wearing, although I couldn’t see a zipper.

“How, uh, do I get into it?” I asked her.

The girl tilted her head. “You get into it.”

“Do I put it on top of my PJs, or do I need to take them off?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “First, you put your foot through the top. Then the other. And so on. Need I say more?”

She left as I squeezed into the bodysuit. It was really tight, and I felt like I was suffocating. The girl seemed to fit into hers pretty well, so I figured I should just not complain. She was taking me to her ‘Administration,’ which was probably her community leaders or something. Maybe they could help me get back.

The girl returned shortly after, took off her gloves, removed an amber pendant from around her neck, and held it in the air. She whispered something that made the little orb absorb some of the darkness, and when it was a glowing yellow the girl held it out to me.

“This is the key. To Admin.”

I reached for it, and when I did, my fingers touched hers. Her hand was frigid, and the contact sent a shock through me. She quickly yanked her hand away, fingertips smoking. It looked like someone had lopped off four of her fingers at the joint. Her form flickered. She narrowed her eyes, but after a long time, she grabbed my wrist and started muttering under her breath. A moment later, a portal opened up in front of us.

“Go,” the girl said. “Administration will be waiting for you on the other side.”

I stuck a foot through but froze. “What’s your name?”

The girl acted like nobody had ever asked her that before. “Everybody has two names: their official one and the one Dreamers call them during the Apprenticeship. Dreamers call me Violet, because of my eyes.

My secret name you do not need to know. However, some have three: a combination of the two.” She glanced around warily. “The portal will not hold for long. It will not be safe for you after I am gone.

Farewell, traveler.” She fixed me with a hard stare, and—I know, I must have imagined it—I heard her voice in my head, and she said, “They call me Katrina.” Then she looked around again, just sort of faded into the shadows. One moment she was there, and the next she wasn’t. The moment she disappeared, I heard something shift in the darkness. It made me really, really nervous.

I stepped through the portal and found a bunch of people wearing suits gathered around a huge table. The woman sitting the farthest from me stood up and said, “Who are you? State your business here or get out.”

“I’m Theodore,” I said, “but you can call me Teddy. I don’t know how I got here, but I think I just started falling in my sleep. I was hoping you could help take me back?”

“Are you an Earthling? Who brought you here?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m from Earth! A girl named Violet or Katrina —” The moment I said ‘girl,’ the table erupted in chaos.

“SHE IS NOT A GIRL!” the person who was probably in charge shouted. “You dare insult my daughter?”

I decided to switch tactics. “Who’re you?” I said as sweetly as possible.

The leader drew herself up to her full height. “I am Patricia.” She gestured around the table. “This is Stan, Dennis, Wilma, and Dora and — it’s not important. We are . . . What do you call us? Ah, yes.” The air around her crackled with electricity, and the air suddenly felt a lot more humid and wet. Patricia smiled, the way snakes do before lunging in for the kill. “We are retired hurricanes. You humans stripped away our honor and our power by refusing to let us terrorize Earth, thinking we were too dangerous.” She rubbed her hands together. “Now. If you cooperate, I’ll let you back to Earth. If you don’t . . . let me just say you don’t want that to happen.”

It suddenly occurred to me that they could have blown me to smithereens when I entered the room. So what were they keeping me alive for? Surely they didn’t want me to . . .

“We want you to be our messenger. We now have access to your DreamWorld, so we can contact you at any time. I understand you are the child of the leader of your Hurricane Administration?”

“We call it the National Hurricane Center, but yes. My dad is their leader.”

“Good. Tell him we expect to be let back into their system or whatever, if he values your life.”

“But,” I began but stopped when I saw that same shadow-shift I had seen in the locker room. I could make out a vague humanoid shape, but that was about it. I heard Violet/Katrina’s (I decided to call her Vika, because, y’know, Vi-Ka) voice in my head, saying, “I know you can see me. Be quiet, and I will get you out of there.”

“Well?” said Patricia. “Any objections?”

Aware of Vika’s message, I said, “No,” then thought to add, “Ma’am.”

Patricia smiled, then turned to address an old man in a tuxedo. At that same moment, Vika said, “Cough.”

As I did just that, Patricia flinched and scooted away from the table, like she was afraid of the germs. I kept on coughing, which resulted in everyone starting to back away until they were pressed to a wall I didn’t know was there. A second later, the wall collapsed on them, dousing them in inky darkness that yanked weaker storms into the shadows. Vika appeared next to me and said, “Sorry, Mother. But I can’t let you hurt a guest.”

“TRAITOR!” Patricia roared. “Guards, seize them! Throw them in with the prisoners!”