Ella`s Story
My Love From The Future
BOOK TWO

Chapter 9 : Influencers

Episode 20 : October 5th 2019 Saturday 9th grade

Copyright © 2019-2025 Gary Brandt. All rights reserved.

The high school classroom hums with Saturday morning stillness, its windows framing a crisp November day. Melanie Crenshaw stands at the front, her silver hair catching the light, a tablet in hand. Ella, Roxana, Eileen, and Helana sit at desks, notebooks open but their attention drifting.

"Today's about being effective influencers and role models," Melanie begins, her voice warm but firm. "Your presence—online and off—shapes others, especially your peers."

Helana raises her hand, her expression troubled. "Miss Crenshaw, I have a problem. I set up my Instagram like you said, posted pictures with my girls, and the comments scare me. They're mostly middle school girls, some boys. Look." She passes her phone, and Melanie scans the screen, reading aloud a sampling:

• You’re so pretty, you’re gorgeous, it’s insane!
• SO BEAUTIFUL!! You’re perfect.
• I wish I had your genes.
• How are you so pretty?
• You look so healthy, glowing!
• I can’t explain how gorgeous you are.
• Follow me, please, please!
• Are you even real??

"We *are* gorgeous, twin," Ella says, grinning.

Melanie hands back the phone. "There's a lot here. Recent events—the mall incident, your training—have forged a deep confidence in you. You no longer doubt your beauty; you embody it. Your walk, your talk, your presence radiates assurance, making you more striking. You're becoming celebrities."

She pauses, her tone serious.

"There's a saying: you attract what you are. That's partly true, but more often, you attract those who crave what you have. Young girls lacking confidence are drawn to yours. Be cautious—some attractions can harm. You can also attract opposites: kindness draws abusers, honesty attracts liars, faith draws skeptics who hate what you cherish."

"We get haters too," Roxana says. "Our moms delete those comments."

"Yes," Melanie says. "For every admirer, there's a jealous hater who resents your light and wants to dim it. Don't respond to either—lovers or haters. Engaging encourages them, and some may seek you out to harm you."

"What about comments from guys wanting a 'hot girlfriend'?" Eileen asks, smirking.

"Don't respond," Melanie says sharply. "Those can spark fatal attractions—dangerous obsessions. Same for girls with similar intentions."

"Who *can* we respond to?" Eileen presses.

"Each other, and friends you knew before Instagram," Melanie says. "Only those you trust. Strangers could be impostors—adults posing as kids. That's risky if they learn too much about you."

"Should we even be on social media?" Roxana asks, fidgeting. "It sounds dangerous."

"Danger's everywhere," Melanie says. "Social media's key to engaging your peers, so use it—carefully."

"Is the Navy spying on our accounts?" Ella asks, eyes narrowing.

"Absolutely," Melanie says. "So are the CIA, NSA, and marketers for Target, Walmart, Macy's, Kohl's, and thousands more. Foreign governments too. Never post anything you don't want the world to see."

"How should we present ourselves as influencers?" Helana asks.

"Be authentic," Melanie says. "Show your best self, not a pretense. No photoshop, no 'woke up like this' after an hour of makeup. Just be you."

"At school, girls approach us, want to talk, hang out, sit with us," Ella says. "Some follow us around. Should we shoo them away?"

"Be kind but firm," Melanie says. "Needy people can push boundaries, but don't be cruel—you'd earn a 'mean girls' reputation. Experiment to find what works. This is your toughest challenge."

"Can the Navy buy us new outfits?" Eileen asks, grinning. "Influencers need style."

Melanie laughs. "The Navy'd love to issue uniforms or jumpsuits, but you'll have to get your own clothes."

The classroom door swings open, revealing Alisha Patel and Robert Danvers in Navy-issued jumpsuits, their faces tense. The girls freeze.

"Mom?" Ella says, startled.

"Dad?" Eileen says. "What are you doing here with Ella's mom, in jumpsuits?"

"Commander Beaker needs you for an afternoon mission," Mr. Danvers says. "There's a situation they want you to investigate. Alisha and I are coming along. We're heading to the airport, but it's your choice—you don't have to go."

Curiosity outweighs hesitation, and the girls agree. Mr. Danvers drives them to a private airstrip, where a sleek jet waits, its engines humming. Aboard, they're handed jumpsuits.

"Why jumpsuits?" Ella asks, wrinkling her nose.

"We don't know the situation," Beaker says, buckling in. "We don't want your clothes ruined."

"Where are we going?" Roxana asks.

"Cincinnati, Ohio," Beaker says.

"Cincinnati?" Eileen scoffs. "What's there?"

"Maybe nothing," Beaker says. "Our sensitives—psychics and remote viewers—have picked up cries for help in the area, possibly from young females. They can't pinpoint it. Your telepathy's stronger, so we need you to try."

"We're listening for cries?" Ella asks. "Then what?"

"Guide us to the source, maybe communicate to assess the danger," Beaker says.

"You made us skip lunch," Ella says. "Is there food?"

"Pizza, wings, your favorites," Beaker says, smiling.

"You did it again, sir," Ella says, frowning. "I'm not your sweetie. Please stop."

"Apologies, ma'am," Beaker says. "I'll do better."

After a two-hour flight, the jet lands, and a transport van speeds them into Cincinnati's suburbs.

Eileen nudges her dad. "Excited, Dad? Maybe aliens?"

"Exciting, but no aliens," Mr. Danvers says, chuckling.

"Mom, you excited?" Ella asks.

Alisha's eyes soften. "I came to see what I suspected. You're a telepath, like your great-grandmother in India."

"Really?" Ella says, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"She was our village shaman," Alisha says. "She read thoughts, spoke to animals, even the dead. We didn't tell you to avoid scaring you. Now that you have these gifts, it's okay to know."

"I can't talk to animals," Ella says. "And no way I'm talking to dead people."

"Those gifts may come," Alisha says. "Don't fear them. The dead are just people."

"We're here," Beaker says, as the van stops in a quiet neighborhood. "It's up to you girls. Focus, but no pressure. If you hear nothing, we'll go home."

The group falls silent, the only sound the distant hum of traffic. Eileen, restless, asks for more pizza, and it's delivered from a nearby gas station, where the girls also use the restroom.

After two hours, Helana stiffens, followed by Eileen and Ella.

"It's not a voice," Helana says, her voice low. "It's a feeling—a direction, like 'come here.' Someone's telepathic, but it's muffled, suppressed."

"Can you point it out?" Beaker asks.

The girls turn, pointing in unison. "Over there," Ella says.

"How far?" Beaker asks.

"We don't know," Eileen says. "Just that way."

"We'll triangulate," Beaker says. "Alisha, stay with Ella and Roxana. Mr. Danvers, take Helana to another spot. I'll take Eileen. We'll use walkie-talkies."

Cars arrive, and the groups split, driving twenty minutes to new positions. Walkie-talkies crackle with coordinates: 302 degrees, 210 degrees, 105 degrees. Beaker punches numbers into his tablet, pinpointing a large suburban house as night falls.

"I hear them clearer," Helana says, her voice trembling.

"What's their situation?" Beaker asks.

"Oh my God," Helana says, paling. "I got a visual download."

"Me too," Roxana says, her voice breaking. "It's evil."

Ella steps in, her voice steady but strained. "They're called the pleasure children, used as rewards for adults who complete jobs—horrible ones, like murder. They throw parties where these kids, some as young as six or seven, are forced to… pleasure them. They wear costumes or nothing, servicing old men, women, sometimes each other while adults watch. It's vile."

"I'm so sorry you saw that," Alisha says, her voice thick. "Some things are too horrible."

"It's a pedophile ring, human trafficking," Beaker says. "The FBI and local police will conduct a health and safety check to rescue these kids and get them home."

"Home might be hard," Helana says quietly. "Some aren't from this country. Some, though human, aren't from this planet."

"We'll figure it out," Beaker says. "They got here; we'll get them home."

"Alien kids?" Mr. Danvers asks, incredulous.

"Yes," Beaker says. "And per your oath, this is top secret. No UFO conferences, no friends."

After a late pizza dinner, the group returns to the airport, the girls collapsing into sleep on the midnight flight home.

At 3 a.m., Ella stumbles into her bedroom, the house dark and quiet. She slumps at her desk, opening her diary, her mind reeling.

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NEXT >> Chapter 21
Survival

Four teenage girls reluctantly attend a mandatory survival training class during their school break, where they learn about historical atrocities through Ella's mother's account of her grandfather's survival during the 1947 India-Pakistan partition. The group then travels to a remote South Pacific island for hands-on survival training, where they learn essential skills like fishing, foraging, and assembling bug-out bags while gradually embracing the experience despite their initial resistance.

<< PREVIOUS Chapter 19
19

Four teenage girls with special psychic abilities attend a Navy briefing where Commander Beaker explains to their parents that they're part of an experimental program to train gifted children who could help prevent a predicted global catastrophe in the 2070s. After the meeting, the girls test their telepathic powers by mentally influencing their security agents to buy movie tickets, leading to discussions about growing up, romantic feelings, and the responsibilities that come with their extraordinary abilities.

FIRST Chapter 0 Sleep Over

Thirteen-year-old Ella and her best friends Eileen and Roxana encounter an interdimensional being named Helana during a sleepover, who appears as different benevolent figures to each girl and reveals glimpses of their legendary futures. When Helana tries to leave after accidentally revealing herself and disrupting their timelines, Ella cleverly traps the entity by claiming authority over her domain, forcing Helana to stay as their `genie in a bottle` despite her pleas to return home.