Chapter 9

When I was thrust back into Wonderland, time had certainly passed. No longer was the sky a happy blue. Although the sky still had some light shining through it, the whole place seemed to have turned colder, harsher.

            I had no idea where Alice would be now, which made me uncomfortable. I had always been right behind her, making sure that everything was alright. Roderick had dropped me in front of the White Rabbit’s house, at the exact spot that he plucked me from.

            I was still recovering from the shock that was his gallery. How could someone steal books? How could they take them from the world? Why? And more importantly, why did I feel like I knew him? Why was I pulled to him?

            I had too many unanswered questions. I don’t like unanswered questions.

            So I walked along the path past the White Rabbit’s house, trying to figure out both how to stop Roderick, and how I might have known him. I walked aimlessly, as if in a trance. I was in no state to be a savior. I didn’t want to be one anymore.

            I ran into a tree. Not my best moment. Let me tell you. I rubbed the spot on my forehead, and fixed my purposeless course. It was still purposeless, but I was trying to not hit any trees.

            I was terribly homesick again. I wanted my mother. I wanted my father. I wanted my cat.

            The thought of my mother caused me to tear up. She was my rock. She was the person who held the family together. She was a brilliant woman, but soft and caring. She knew when to throw down the gauntlet, and knew when to wrap you in a hug so warm, you never wanted to leave. Even when she was building her coffee shop, she always made time to fix boo-boos, and make hot chocolate. I don’t remember what she did before opening her coffee shop, but I remembered, faintly, a time when our house didn’t smell like freshly ground coffee. Her face was blurry, in my memories, and she was sacred.

            My head hurt from thinking so far back into my memories. I don’t know why she was scared, and I was probably making it up. Childhood memories are never to be trusted.

            Memories can be false. The brain has a wonderful safety feature. Our brain to manipulate our memories to make sure we are still sane. Like a Band-Aid, or stitches, the brain can mend itself and recreate memories. The brain can save you from yourself. I needed to sit down, so I found a patch of grass under a tree, and let myself have a moment.

            I was unprepared to be the savior. I have never saved anything in my life. Speaking of childhood memories, I remember this one time when I tried to save a bird. I was playing by myself, again, in the park behind our house. It was lying on the concrete, cooing for help. Since I was an innocent child, I picked it up, not thinking about germs. I brought it to my parents, who freaked out. In retrospect, it was a stupid decision, considering the bird was a pigeon. Pigeons carry all sorts of diseases. They are gross rats with feathers, and I hate them. But I wanted to fix it. It was by this time that I had lost many of the friends I had in elementary school. They left me on the swings, telling me how weird and strange and terrible I was. I wanted to fix this bird because I needed to be fixed. In times of low self-esteem, I can remember their words. I can remember their laughs. I remember how I felt, and I was feeling it now.

            Low. Not wanted. Strange. Un-loved. That’s how I had felt when left alone on those swings. And I was feeling them now, for some reason. It was a strange, overwhelming feeling. I knew I was loved. But I was feeling like the stories that Roderick was stealing – not wanted by anyone except a select few. And those few had abandoned me in Wonderland, with nothing to help me. For me to save it.

            I could not for the life of me go on without any help. I was defeated. I was done. I wanted to go home.

            I put my head in my hands and started to cry. I hated this place. It was nothing like I had imagined. I didn’t want to help save it. I wanted to meet the characters and have my own adventure. Being the hero is hard. I don’t like it. Nope. I’ve decided. Screw this place. Roderick can have it.

            I could have really used a hug then. I hugged my knees to my chest instead. It was the best I could do in this terrible situation.

            “I told you that you would lose, Cassandra.” Roderick was standing in front of me again. I was no longer in the forest. This was my worst nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. I didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. I just wanted to go home.

            “Please just leave me alone.” I hugged my knees tighter to my chest, and tried not to look up at him.

            “Can I get you anything?” He squatted down to my level. “Would you like a sandwich?”

            “A sandwich? Why do you care if I eat or not? Don’t you want me to starve?” This time I had looked up at him. I was confused by his gesture. I didn’t know what he wanted from me. On one hand, he wanted me to fail. He wanted to consume my precious stories. (For a minute there, I started to sound like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings). On the other, he was offering me a sandwich. What was with this guy? I couldn’t figure him out.

            “Sure. I’m starving, actually.” He offered his hand to me to help me up, and without thinking, I accepted.  WHAT THE WHAT? WHAT WAS I DOING? I was…cavorting with the enemy. I hoped he wouldn’t poison me.

            We walked past the gallery, and I had to stifle the urge to look down the hall at all the paintings. I really, really wanted to. I needed to see all of the paintings that he had collected.

            “You know, Cassandra.” Roderick led me into a kitchen that looked pretty professional. “I think what you’re trying to do is admirable. But, like I said before: you’re going to lose.”

            I ate my sandwich in silence. The sandwich just appeared, actually. Which was awesome, but strange. And it was everything that I was craving. Gluten-free whole wheat bread, turkey, pepperoni, mustard, and banana peppers, with a side of carrots and guac, plus a diet coke. It was everything I could have asked for. I was ravenous.

            He actually smiled. And reminded me of someone. I couldn’t quite figure it out, but I had definitely seen him somewhere, like a magazine, or an episode of Law & Order. Yep, he was definitely one of the judges on Law & Order. Now that the confusion is out of the way, I can focus now. Bad guy is being nice. Stop it, bad guy.

            “You, know Mister, I gotta go. I have like, a story to save. There’s also a really young girl wandering around Wonderland with your black fog-monster just waiting to swallow her up. Can you show me how to get out of here? To be honest, this place is starting to creep me out.” I started for the door.

            “You’ll be back, Cassandra. Sooner than you think,” and poof. I was back under the tree on the trail. This Roderick guy was starting to really piss me off. First the sandwich was super creepy. It was delicious, so it’s hard to be really mad, but he’s plotting my demise. Yes, definitely angry. I decided to stick to that emotion. Anger was good for me. It was a new emotion. The last time I got angry was at the last Twilight book. Mostly, because it was so bad.

            “How fine you look when dressed in rage. Your enemies are fortunate your condition is not permanent. You're lucky, too. Red eyes suit so few.”

            I was startled. That was the appropriate, but outdated, word for it. The voice had come from above me.

            “Rage?” I found myself asking. “I’m angry, sure. Rage seems a little harsh don’t you think?”

            At the end of my question, I had to look up to where the voice was coming from. Call it curiosity.

            Curiosity killed the cat.

            Speaking of, the voice from the tree was a cat. A purple cat. A purple cat with pink stripes.

            “I don’t think.” The cat with the wide grin told me. Well, that explained it. Right.

            “Are you here to help me? Because if you’re not, I’d like to get on my way. I have to find a little blonde girl, I have to save a story, I have to get home. So, if you’ll excuse me.” And I walked away. I was proud of myself. I went through a lot of bull crap during this journey, so it was good to not try to fix anyone.

            “Only a few find the way, some don't recognize it when they do - some... don't ever want to.” The cat – or whatever he was – appeared in front of me, again.

            “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Do you do anything except speak in riddles?” I walked around him. I did not have time for riddles.

            “We really need your help, okay?” That got me to stop.

            “Huh?”

            “I speak in riddles for the effect of the story. But I can speak in complete sentences. I have quite the extensive vocabulary.” This was not happening. “Cassandra, the black fog is coming, and rapidly.”

            “You’re the Cheshire Cat,” it was my best observation yet. Not really.

            “Your powers of observation are impeccable.” I swear to you that this cat wanted to roll his eyes at me. Fortunately for me, his eyes were very large, and he was having a hard time even moving them.

            “Sorry, this whole Wonderland thing is still kind of weird. What should I do? I’ve had zero help from my spirit guides since I got here. I’m starting to lose faith in them,” I shuffled my feet.

            “Faith is overrated.”