Corinne The Intern hung up her phone and stared at it with foreboding. Her ‘boss’ almost never actually used the phone and he had sounded like he was about to be violently ill.

Still, she finished her task – passing along some messages to someone else at his level in the building – and thumped up to Mr. Slatts’ office. When he called her in, she stopped short and stared at the child standing in the office.

The little girl tilted her head at Corinne. “You must be my adult.” 

“A word alone, please,” Mr. Slatts said, and the girl skipped from the room. “So, um, yes, Corina-”

“Corinne,” she corrected again, and Mr. Slatts winced.

“Yes. Corinne. So, I have a, ah, a very special new assignment for you…”

Out in the hall, Alice was behaving herself by not fidgeting nor eavesdropping. It was good to make a strong first impression; she would be less likely to be suspected of eavesdropping when she did it later. It was tempting, though, to find out how this grumpy Knower broke the news about magic to Alice’s adult.

It took some time for Slatts to say whatever he needed to say, and when Alice’s adult emerged again, she was wearing a squint and a frown. Shame, too, because she might have been quite nice-looking otherwise. Her hair was not quite as short as Alice’s, and rather sleeker and shinier and darker. Hazel eyes, skin the color of an avocado’s seed, slender and tall, or perhaps that was just how ladies were on Earth. Her clothes were all black and starched, but she still felt colorful, not bleached lifeless like Joseph Slatts.

“You haven’t been an adult for very long, have you?”

Her adult was frowning like she had some good practice at it, but she said, as stiff as her clothes, “Only a few years, actually.” This might not be too awful, then. “So…you’re the girl I’m supposed to be…chaperoning.”

“Something like that.”

“Okay. Mr. Slatts told me I’m supposed to go with you to your…establishment.”

“I wouldn’t call it an establishment, really, since it hasn’t been established yet, but I suppose that’s the idea.”

“Lead the way, then.”

Alice did not have as much frowning practice as her adult, and only pursed her lips. She also didn’t have as much experience in this building, probably, but she led anyway, skipping as much as possible. Skipping was a common occupation of little Earth girls, and it might put the lady at ease.

Had the Knower told the lady about how introductions worked? Alice could be waiting for a long time for the lady to give her name, but going first could be impolite, as well as send the wrong message. Alice therefore asked instead, “So…what did Mr. Slatts tell you about what we’re doing?”

“I’m supposed to escort you to your building and help you set up your business,” she answered flatly.

“And did he tell you why?”

Just as musiclessly, she replied, “Because you’re a witch.”

“Oh, you’re a skeptical kind of person.”

“I don’t like having my time wasted.”

Apparently, Joseph Slatts had not told Alice’s adult to be courteous. “It won’t be,” Alice assured her. They had wound down to the front door of the state building now, and Alice gratefully hopped into the sun.

The day was bright, blue but fleeced with clouds brushed along by a flowery breeze. The set of her adult’s shoulders unbunched, too, along with her eyebrows and the creases at her lips. That was one of the problems with the offices that were so popular here. You couldn’t get the energy to do anything, when surrounded only with the ghosts of colors and caged air.

“Alright. So I guess we have somewhere to go?” Alice’s adult peered down her nose.

“Oh, something like that,” Alice murmured thoughtfully. This part of the city was much too grey for her, and all these squat, new buildings looked identical. Besides, Alice could tell just by looking that the soil was no good here.  She tucked her gloves into her pocket and prodded a plot near her feet anyway, and frowned. “What is this?”

“…the tanbark, you mean?”

“I guess I do.” Alice dusted her hands on her fluffy dress and dug into one of the pockets of her cloak. “It seems splintery and dangerous.”

“Don’t try to swim in it, and you’ll probably be okay.” Alice cast the peppery seeds from her pocket onto the ‘tanbark.’ The books hadn’t mentioned that kind of ground. Hopefully they hadn’t missed much else.

“What is that? Glitter?”

“No,” Alice said cheerily, as she skipped on. “Do you know a place in the city with good soil?” 

“Uh…there are some parks..?”

“Great! We’ll go there.”

“So I’m just…taking you to the park.”

“That’s right.” The lady squinted at her, and Alice folded her hands neatly behind her back. “What would you be doing right now if you didn’t need to accompany me?”

“I would be…” The lady’s face crumpled.  “You know, don’t worry about it. C’mon. Your shoes are clean, right?” She cast a narrow glance at Alice, as if she hadn’t been checking for these things before.

“Spotless.” Alice’s skipping seemed to have done its job now, so Alice only walked after the lady, watching the hard black ground. Parts of it were painted. ‘Asphalt,’ Alice remembered from her classes. Even Alice’s seeds couldn’t grow on it. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t want you to get my car all gross.”

“Ooh,” Alice murmured, earning another stare. A car, that made sense – they went with the asphalt. This world wasn’t so hard to adjust to.

Her adult’s car was blue and very shiny, and the inside smelled like something pretending to be flowers. The back was filled with tidy stacks of books and what looked like some kind of small chest. The lady unlocked the inside of the car into life, and Alice giggled a little as she watched the asphalt glide beneath them, too quickly to see much.

“What?”

“Oh, you know, just – it’s sort of a silly way to travel.”

“And why is that?” The lady’s voice was edgy.

“Well, it goes quite fast,” Alice said easily. “It’s alright for getting somewhere, I suppose, but it’s not very good for the actual going part.”

“I guess you get places by broom,” her adult said, dry as old crackers.

“That’s a way,” Alice said with a nod. The woman blew her hair from her face.

“Right. Park.” The gliding stopped all at once and Alice mimicked her adult exiting the car.

The park was a good color, nice and green, with these big funny structures painted vibrantly red and blue. It was framed with grey, sturdy ground. Concrete, probably. Alice stepped up to the grass and poked her finger into the dirt. “This isn’t the place,” she announced as she straightened up and tossed some seeds down. Her adult was watching her seriously, leaning up against her car. “Do you know another park? Probably without the…” She pointed at the blue and red. “The pipe-tangle?”

“Like…a field?”                                       

“Yes! A field.”

“Yeah, I know a field,” she sighed. “Wipe those hands off before you touch my car.”

Alice refrained from giggling this time, but there were lots of possible places that they were just passing by. Silly cars.

Still, Alice got something of a sense of the place. Coral Meadows was not much like the Earther cities she had read about – Alice spotted only one ‘skyscraper,’ and it was rather smaller than she had imagined. The place reminded her of a quilt, thrown together from leftover scraps and sewn haphazardly on, so the businesses and houses were all wound together with parks and trees and rivers, and none of the houses looked anything like the ones they were next to. The streets all seemed to work in clumps, though, where the buildings were all together bruised and dirty, and then others were all vivid and pristine.  Alice’s homeland seemed to have given them inspiration, but the buildings were mostly angular and geometric, like they couldn’t think of any other good shapes for a building.      

The field’s soil wasn’t better. After throwing down some seeds, Alice turned to her adult, already getting her keys out, and shook her head. “We’ll need to walk from here. I need to look at more places, and we’re just skipping a whole bunch.”

“Okay, what are we looking for? I can probably help.”

“You can’t,” Alice assured her. “I’ll know when we get there.”

The lady rolled her eyes, but followed Alice as they started across the field. From so close, the buildings did look bigger, but also old. Not the kind of old that learns from having experienced so much, but the kind of old that can barely hold itself up anymore, and that refuses to change with everything else around it.

“Uh, hey. Listen, let’s go – this way.” Alice’s adult caught her shoulder at a corner and turned her another direction, down a different street.

“Why?” Alice asked, peering back the way the lady had avoided. The street they were leaving behind was narrow, the buildings small and crammed closely together. It seemed in some way dirtier.

Alice’s adult leaned in and explained in a low voice, “That’s not a good part of town. You don’t wanna go down that way. It’s not safe.”

“Oh.” Alice accidentally giggled again. “Scary,” she conceded, walking down the cleaner, sunnier path. She probably wouldn’t have found what she was looking for down that way anyhow – she hadn’t seen any trees at all that way, and this way had plenty winding up through holes in the concrete, and little fenced in plots of grass in front of buildings.

“It can be scary,” her adult said sharply.

“Oh, you would know better than I would.” Alice wondered if all Earthers were frightened by alleyways. “By the way – or maybe not at all – we haven’t been introduced. I’m Alice Inkling of Little.”

“Alice Inkling?”

“Good, isn’t it?” Alice said, bouncing just a little. “I chose it myself.”

“Did you?” Her adult almost sounded like she might laugh.

“I did,” Alice said proudly. That worked at least as well as skipping, and it was true, anyway. “What about you?”

“Me? No, I didn’t pick my own name.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a good one anyway. I just wanted to know what it was.”

“Oh, right. Corinne Quincely.”

Not as good as Alice Inkling, but not bad, after all. “It’s nice to meet you, Corinne Quincely.”

“You too, Alice Inkling.”

“Is it just Corinne Quincely?” It tasted like nothing when she said it.

“Oh, well, I mean, I have a middle name?”

“Ooh, what is it?” Alice cast a curious and shining expression towards Corinne.

“Karen,” she said, though she still sounded almost like she was asking it.

“Corinne Karen Quincely?” Alice repeated, and now it tasted like many things, but mostly like paper, half-inked, and clean ceramic, and something that had once been earthy but was now smooth, like metal. Now that was a complete name.

Corinne sniffed. “Something wrong with that?”

“Not at all! It’s great. I like it’s…I like how all the starting sounds are the same.” Alice knew the word for that – alliteration – but the smaller words worked better, because some of the edge went out of Corinne’s gaze and mouth, for a few seconds, at least.

Corinne Karen Quincely was a tappy, foot-jiggling kind of person, in addition to being skeptical. She didn’t ask many questions, but she became much wigglier whenever Alice would stop somewhere and test the dirt, and was sighing in that quick way people do when they want everything else to be that quick. Alice pretended not to notice.

“It’s a nice day,” Alice observed, after another plot failed to meet her requirements. Corinne only nodded. Alice didn’t have her timekeeper with her, but she thought they had only been at this for an hour or so. The light hadn’t changed all that much since they had started, although the day was rather warmer now. “Corinne, can you answer something for me?” 

“That depends on what it is,” Corinne said guardedly, and Alice smiled to herself. If one had to have an adult, it is so very much better to have one that is only ignorant instead of completely stupid.

“I’ve heard adults say that time keeps going by faster as you get older. Do you think that’s true?”

“Well, yeah, I guess I would say so.”

“Then why have all the adults I’ve met lately have such a hard time being patient when I, who have to wait longer – you know, because time is slower for me, being just a child – am very good at it?”

Corinne was silent. It was possible that Alice hadn’t sounded quite innocent enough for that question. Then, on her long long legs, Corinne caught up to Alice and squinted down at her. “Probably because we know so much better how important that time is, since we have less of it left,” she said sourly.

Oh, Corinne was a good adult to have indeed.

“Ah!” Alice stopped. They were standing in front of another field, but the city didn’t like it as much – it was empty, and there were only houses nearby, no businesses, and the trees were all overgrown and bent over in surrender, while the grass and weeds were up past Alice’s knees. Even before she touched the ground, she knew.

“Ah?”

“This is the place.” Nobody was out on the street, but it didn’t really matter. People would need to get used to magic soon anyhow.

“Is it?” Corinne folded her arms. “There’s nothing here. So is the joke over?”

“It’s not a joke,” Alice told her with a big smile. “But you don’t need to believe me yet. Just stay where you are, and you’ll see.”

Alice watched Corinne to make sure she would stay. Many adults think they know what’s safe and what’s not. It wouldn’t be Corinne’s fault for being wrong, but it could be unfortunate.

Corinne was good again, though, standing on the sidewalk as Alice pulled her boots off and planted her bare feet on the ground, just barely wading into the grass.

A turn away from Corinne to her new home hid her grin. Oh, friend, Alice thought, if only you knew what you were in for.

Alice flung her arms out to her sides, her palms tipped up towards the sky. Earthers were convinced more easily with showmanship, or so the books said. Back home, being showy was a sign of sloppiness, and with it, weakness.

When she spoke, though, it wasn’t for Corinne’s benefit, and she wasn’t even certain that Corinne would be able to hear her. 

“Though this land is strange to some

A world much stranger I hail from

And though I seem to come alone

I carry dark and white and bone

And though my kind is known to roam

I choose this place

And call it home.”

It didn’t happen slowly, but took its time to begin, then happened all at once – a sudden laugh that hadn’t been there before, riding the breeze – a rush of blue and grey smoke and mist spattered with tiny twinkling lights hummed and croaked up from the ground, whirling and burbling and leaving the scent of brine and sparks and freshness and flowers, stone grinding and bricks plunking – and with that, Alice’s home clunked into being and wriggled itself comfortably in the field.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three: Alice Makes Friends, Better