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Book 1 | Book 2 | Book 3 | Book 4 | Book 5 | Book 6 |
#SciFi #ScienceFiction #Futuristic #SpeculativeFiction #MindBending #Interdimensional #Otherworldly #PortalFiction #CosmicEncounter #ParallelRealities#GirlPower #YoungHeroes #UnexpectedHeroes #Teamwork #BraveGirls #EldritchHorror #UnknownEntity #BeyondTheVeil #DimensionalRift #AlienMystery#SciFiAdventure #RealityWarp #ExtraDimensional #StrangePhenomena #SupernaturalSciFi
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The department store hums with Saturday afternoon bustle, racks of clothes bright under fluorescent lights, the air thick with the scent of new fabric and perfume.
Eileen weaves through the aisles, her arms full of jeans and sweaters for Helana, whoâs still adjusting to her new, human-sized wardrobe.
A sudden chill stops her mid-stepâshe spots Helana near the jewelry counter, chatting with a man whose smile is too sharp, his posture too close. âMom!â Eileen hisses, darting to Mrs.
Danvers, whoâs flipping through a sale rack.
âCall for backup!â âWhat?â Mrs.
Danvers, in her off-duty police jacket, snaps to attention.
âWhatâs going on?â âHelanaâs talking to some creepy guy,â Eileen says, her voice low and urgent.
âI think sheâs in danger.â âWhere is she? Whoâs she with?â Mrs.
Danvers demands, already moving toward the jewelry section. âWait, thereâs more,â Eileen says, grabbing her arm.
âWhen we parked, Helana saw a girl in a carâsad, scared, with some sketchy guy.
Helana followed him in here.
With her broken English, he probably thinks sheâs an easy target.
Heâs offering to buy her jewelry, maybe to lure her.
I think he wants to abduct her.â âThatâs not happening,â Mrs.
Danvers says, her voice steel.
âIâm calling it in and alerting security.
Letâs find her.
We need to talk.â They weave through shoppers, the storeâs upbeat music jarring against their urgency.
At the jewelry counter, Helana stands alone, her face flushed, clutching a silver bracelet.
The man, in his forties with a slick grin, hurries away as Mrs.
Danvers approaches, her badge glinting. âHelana, sweetie, what are you doing?â Mrs.
Danvers asks, her tone a mix of relief and reprimand. âHelping.
Girl.
Makeâworldâbetterâplace,â Helana says, her English halting, each word deliberate. âWe all want to make the world better,â Mrs.
Danvers says, softening but firm.
âBut you canât do it like this.
You used yourself as baitâthatâs incredibly dangerous.
You shouldâve come to me or called 911.
Donât *ever* do that again.â âIâm sorry,â Helana says, tears welling as she grabs Eileenâs hand.
âSo sorry.â âMom, youâre scaring her!â Eileen protests. âShe scared me first,â Mrs.
Danvers says, her voice trembling.
âYou donât understand the danger.
A girl like youâbeautiful, trustingâcan vanish in seconds, found dead weeks later.â Helanaâs tears spill, and Eileen squeezes her hand.
Mrs.
Danvers exhales, her shoulders slumping.
âFrom now on, I need to see you both in the store.
No wandering off.
Weâre done shopping.
Grab your things, and letâs go home.â --- That evening, the Danversâ kitchen glows with the warm light of a single lamp, the scent of leftover coffee lingering.
Mrs.
Danvers sits at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug, her face drawn as she speaks to her husband. âSomething weird happened with the girls today,â she says, her voice low. Mr. Danvers looks up from his laptop, concern creasing his brow.
âWhat? Are they acting out?â âWe were shopping,â she begins.
âEileen runs over, panicked, saying Helana was following a creepy guy because she thought heâd abducted a girl in the parking lot.
Helana used herself as bait to get his attention.
She had no idea how dangerous that was.â âDid you catch him?â he asks. âYes, but thatâs not the weird part,â she says, leaning forward.
âHelana can barely form a sentence in English, yet Eileen knew exactly what she was doing, in detail.
Thereâs no way Eileen couldâve known that without a conversation Helana canât have.â Mr. Danvers shrugs, a faint smile.
âThose girls communicate beyond words.
Eileen probably read her body language.â âNo,â Mrs.
Danvers says, shaking her head.
âIâm not buying that.
What if Eileen saw the girl in the car and put Helana up to it? But hereâs the kicker: we parked in section C, the guy was in F.
No way they saw them from that distance.
Store footage shows he was inside before we arrivedâthey couldnât have seen him drive up.
Somethingâs off.â âDo they know the girl from school?â he asks.
âMaybe theyâd heard about her situation.â âNo, sheâs not local,â Mrs.
Danvers says.
âTurns out, sheâs his daughter, but he doesnât have custody, so itâs kidnapping.
The manâs intellectually disabledâhe thought he was finding a friend for her to cheer her up.
Helana mightâve gone with him willingly to help, not grasping the risk.
We need to watch them closely.
They canât roam town unsupervised.â Mr. Danvers leans back, thoughtful.
âIâm glad sheâs safe.
But the girls wonât like supervisionâtheyâve had freedom, within limits, for a year.
Rolling that back will be tough.â âThatâs it?â Mrs.
Danvers snaps, her voice rising.
âYouâre worried about their feelings when they couldâve been killed? Youâre unbelievable!â âLetâs not fight,â he says, raising a hand.
âIâm worried sickâhavenât slept well since this âsave the worldâ mindset took hold.
But grounding them like six-year-olds wonât work with teens.
Since that Navy program, they act more like Marines than high schoolers.
Letâs talk calmly, find solutions to keep them safe.â âFine,â she says, her voice tight.
âBut freaking outâs hard to avoid.
They know things they shouldnâtâimpossible things, like the boy on the mountain, now this girl.
Iâm sorry, Iâm scared.
Whatâs happening to our girls?â âI know,â he says gently.
âYou wonât like this, but hear me out.
You hate my UFO and conspiracy groups, think itâs nonsenseâmost is.
But theyâre right about one thing: this generationâs different.
Many kids are psychic, far more than we were.
The only logical explanation for what youâve seen is that our girls are psychic, especially Helana.
They sense things we canât.
What else explains it?â Mrs.
Danvers shakes her head, eyes glistening.
âThereâs got to be another answer.
Maybe theyâre communicating through social media, Snapchat, something.â âLetâs get them flip phonesâvoice only,â he suggests.
âSmartphones might be the issue, too complex for kids.â âGood luck,â she says, a bitter laugh.
âRemember when your dad took your beeper? Didnât slow you down, did it?â --- Monday morning, the high school campus buzzes with students, the air crisp with early fall.
Ella, Roxana, Eileen, and Helana stride in, their new outfitsâjeans, graphic tees, no middle school uniformsâboosting their confidence.
Their mood shifts as three boys saunter over, led by Jimmy Sterling, his smirk dripping with disdain. âEw, the Navy girls,â Jimmy sneers.
âNo boats here to sail.
And they brought their retard friend.
Hey, retard, you wannaââ His taunt cuts off as he stumbles, face-planting into the dirt. âWhoa!â another boy laughs.
âJimmy ate it right in front of the new girl!â Ella locks eyes with Helana, thinking, *Did you trip him?* *Nope,* Helana thinks back, a mischievous glint in her mindâs voice.
*I made the stupid prick bow.* *Helana, be careful,* Ella cautions.
*Your emotions can reveal you.
Thatâs dangerous.* *Okay, Iâll be good,* Helana says.
*But Iâm done with their crap.
Iâm hating boys more each day.* âNot all are bad,â Eileen says aloud, grinning.
âBut Jimmyâs the worst.
Iâm down to face-plant him again.â âLetâs get to class before more drama,â Roxana says, ushering them forward. Jimmy spits out grass, blinking back tears, as a voice calls from behind.
âDonât sweat those idiotsâtheyâre harmless.
If you need anything, weâve got your back.â The girls turn to see three senior boys, led by Bobby Miller, his easy smile aimed at Helana. âOh my gosh!â Eileen squeals as they walk on.
âThat was Bobby Millerâtotal hottieâand he was staring at Helana.â âInteresting,â Helana says, her tone analytical.
âHe was checking us out, claiming territory, like weâre his now.â âSo cool,â Eileen says, dreamy-eyed. âSo *not* cool,â Ella snaps.
âWeâre nobodyâs property, even if theyâre cute.â âDefinitely not,â Helana says, then giggles.
âBut heâs cute.
Heâll be in college when I can date, so Iâll add him to my prospects list.â --- After school, Mr. Danvers pulls into a pizza parlorâs lot, the neon sign casting a warm glow.
âWhy are we stopping?â Eileen asks from the backseat, where she sits with Helana, Ella, and Roxana. âYour momâs not feeling well,â he says.
âIâm grabbing pizza so she doesnât have to cook.
Also, we need to talk.
Your momâs freaking outâabout the boy on the mountain, the guy in the store.
Youâre showing your new abilities around the one person who canât handle it.
Be more careful, more discreet.â âOkay, Dad,â Eileen says, smirking.
âWeâll be discreetâonce I look up what that means.â At home, the girls burst in, pizza boxes in hand.
âMom, we got pizza!â Eileen calls, heading upstairs.
âWeâll be doing homework.â Mrs.
Danvers, in the kitchen, pauses, her face pale.
âGirls, turn around and look at me for a second.â âSure, Mom, whatâs up?â Eileen says, turning with Helana. Mrs.
Danversâ breath catches.
âNothing.
Just wanted to see your pretty faces before bed.â âGoodnight, Mom,â they say in unison, disappearing upstairs. Mrs.
Danvers sinks to the living room floor, tears streaming.
Mr. Danvers kneels beside her.
âWhatâs wrong, honey? Are you okay?â âI donât know how to handle this,â she sobs.
âI donât know who Eileen is anymoreâor Helana, Ella, Roxana.
Whatâs happened to them?â âWhat do you mean?â he asks, his voice gentle. âI asked them to look at me,â she says, trembling.
âBut I didnât say it out loudâI thought it.
They heard me.
Iâm afraid, honey.
Iâm afraid of our own kids.â --- In her room, Ella opens her diary, the weight of the day pressing on her heart.
Dear Diary, Iâm so worried about Eileenâs mom.
With us at the Navy program for months, Mr. Danvers wanting to adopt Helanaâthis girl who appeared from nowhereâand the things sheâs seen us do, her mindâs fraying.
I hope Eileen and Helana are safe there. Mr. Danvers loves Helana, maybe too much, and thatâs probably worrying Mrs.
Danvers too. We need to get serious, or people will get hurt.
Mrs.
Danvers is already hurting. Goodnight, Diary.
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