Eleanor Vance's life was measured in thirty-minute increments and governed by a color-coded whistle.
At 7:45 AM, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but Eleanor was already standing in Room 102, battling a jammed laminator. "Please," she whispered to the machine, her fingers crossed. "I just need the 'Parts of Speech' posters to be waterproof. Is that too much to ask from the universe?"
The laminator let out a tragic beep and died.
"Great," Eleanor muttered, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
By 10:15 AM, the classroom was a whirlwind. Twenty-two third-graders were mid-lesson, and the air smelled of pencil shavings, grape juice, and damp mittens.
"Miss Eleanor!" a small boy named Leo shouted, tugging at her cardigan. "Leo, remember our 'Inside Voices' chart?" she said, her voice soft but firm despite the rising headache behind her left eye.
"But Miss Eleanor, I think my tooth is loose, and if it falls out during math, will the Tooth Fairy find me at school or do I have to wait for the bus?"
Eleanor knelt down, ignoring the sharp pain in her knee. She gently checked the tooth. "The Tooth Fairy has a very sophisticated GPS, Leo. She never misses a desk. Now, let's focus on these fractions, or the Tooth Fairy will think you can't count your own quarters."
She spent the next six hours being a therapist, a referee, a nurse, and a human encyclopedia. She solved a "stolen eraser" mystery that involved a three-way interrogation, wiped a tear off a girl who missed her mom, and managed to teach the difference between their, there, and they're for the fifth time that week.
By the time the final bell rang at 3:30 PM, Eleanor felt like a squeezed lemon.
"El, you look like you've been hit by a bus. A school bus," a voice joked from the doorway. It was Sarah, the PE teacher and Eleanor's only tether to adult sanity.
"I'm fine," Eleanor said, currently buried under a mountain of ungraded essays. "I just need to finish these, then prep the 'Star of the Week' board, then call Leo's mom about his tooth, then—"
"Then you're going to go home, eat something that isn't a lukewarm chicken nugget, and sleep," Sarah interrupted, grabbing Eleanor's bag. "You're gray, El. You're overthinking the curriculum again. Go. Home."Eleanor sighed and followed her friend out thinking how the heck did she end up with such a bossy friend.
Eleanor's apartment was a sanctuary of safety. She had corner-protectors on the coffee table (she'd tripped once in 2022 and decided never again) and a pantry organized by expiration date.
She fed her cat, Junjun, who judged her silently from the top of the fridge. "I know," she sighed, heating up a bowl of instant noodles. "I forgot to buy the fancy salmon treats. It's on the list, Junjun. Item number fourteen."
She fell asleep on the sofa not having enough energy to go to her bedroom.Thinking about the weekend brings smile to her face that looks like a squeezed lemon.
At 6:00 AM on Saturday, her doorbell rang with the aggression of a fire alarm.
Eleanor scrambled to the door in her pajamas. "Who is it? She asked.
"It's me! Open up!" Sarah shouted.
Eleanor opened the door to find Sarah dressed in high-tech spandex and hiking boots, holding a thermos.
"We are going to the Blackwood Trail," Sarah announced. "No grading. No 'What-ifs.' Just trees and oxygen."
"Sarah, I haven't checked the weather report for the higher elevations," Eleanor stammered. "What if there's a flash flood? I don't have my emergency flare kit. I haven't stretched my hamstrings! My hamstrings are very tight, Sarah!"
"I have the flares. I have the map. I have the snacks," Sarah said, literally pulling Eleanor toward the bedroom. "Put on your sneakers. We are leaving before you can find a reason to stay." Eleanor gave Sarah a most vicious glare and went to change.
The Blackwood Trail was beautiful, which only made Eleanor more nervous. Every rustle in the bushes was a bear; every low-hanging branch was a potential eye-injury.
"Look at the view, El!" Sarah called out, jogging ahead.
"I am looking!" Eleanor shouted back, staring intensely at her own feet to ensure she didn't trip on a root. "I am observing the geological stability of the path!"
The air grew strangely heavy. The chirping of the birds stopped abruptly, replaced by a low, humming vibration that seemed to come from the ground itself. Eleanor stopped.
"Sarah? Did you hear that? It sounded like... like a cello. A very large, underground cello."
"Hear what?" Sarah was already twenty yards ahead, disappearing around a sharp bend.
"Sarah, wait! The safety protocol says we stay within visual range!"
Eleanor hurried to catch up, her heart thumping against her ribs. She rounded the bend, her foot hitting a patch of loose, shimmering shale.
"Oh no," she gasped as her balance vanished. "Step one: Center of gravity. Step two: Grab a—"
She reached for a branch, but her hand passed through it as if it were smoke. The ground beneath her didn't feel like dirt anymore. It felt like nothing.
She fell. She scream but it looked like Sarah couldn't hear her.
Then, there was the impact.
Thud.
She felt like a truck hit her. Her body was in so much pain that it was hard for her to even gasp. Then slowly the pain faded away like what she felt before was nothing but her body and mind playing tricks on her. She opened her eyes and saw something like ruins covered with thick vines. She had never seen such thick vibes before wondering if she had ever read about them. Her mind went blank.
She wasn't in Oregon. She was lying on a slab of white marble, and the grass towering over her was tall enough to hide an elephant.
"Okay," Eleanor whispered into the terrifyingly giant green silence. "New 'What-if.' What if... I'm not in Kansas anymore?
Hello