Disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce, and I refuse to write disclaimers for every single chapter, everyone should know by now that TP wouldn't let her fans down by making up random stories instead of a good book. I hope that no one is too angry with me for writing on this thoroughly exhausted subject.


Chapter One: Blaire White

Standing idly on a tram in Melbourne, Blaire White couldn't help but tap her foot impatiently, holding on to the rail, which allowed her to balance precariously while the transport surged forwards once again into motion.

She irritably flicked dark blonde hair out of her eyes, thinking angrily that she would probably already be at the Dojo by now if she had ran.

She was a black belt in karate, having started at the tender age of three. The only reason she had started at so early an age was because her brother, who was four years older, had decided to start. She had been forced to watch, and had decided that it was boring watching the lines of boys and the odd girl following strict instructions. Her brother had quit karate – like so many other things that he started – while she had continued going.

She was stubborn that way, which was one of the main reasons that people tended to avoid her – she would get an idea and follow it through, almost ignoring anything else. If you asked Blaire, it wasn't so much that people avoided her, it was that she avoided people, feeling much more comfortable when she was alone.

Had she been so inclined, she probably would have been popular at school, with her slender limbs, long dark blonde hair that gleamed as if gold, her unusual eyes: one sky blue, the other soft green, stubborn chin and small, delicate nose. She was stubbornly not so inclined, and had developed a reputation for being a loner, as well as causing trouble for teachers and students alike.

Blaire heard giggles and glared at three girls who were lounging on a seat not far from her position near the doors. They were three of the 'popular' girls, (aka 'bitches that acted as if royalty' in her school) and they seemed to derive pleasure from stepping on people who they saw as different, and Blaire was one of their favourite subjects.

Blaire bit her lip and stubbornly turned away from their faces, reminding herself that physical violence was generally frowned upon in civilised society. She did this often, even though whenever she would look at these girls she would always imagine herself knocking them unconscious, or something as equally agreeable. The problem with this would be that her eyes would glaze over, and they would call her some stupid name like 'space case,' 'dreamer' or 'crack head'. She was always surprised at their restraint; Blaire had given them numerable names, none nearly as polite as those they threw at her.

Blaire looked desperately out at the buildings, and upon recognising the street she silently thanked any higher powers that just happened to be listening for small mercies. The next stop was hers. She glanced triumphantly at the girls as the tram lurched to a halt and fluttered her fingers at them while exiting.

Remembering her tight schedule, she sprinted down the street, dodging in and out of the sea of people, who were all intent on reaching their destinations.

Sighing her relief, Blaire spotted the sign pointing to the stairs leading up to the studio that acted as a dojo. She took them two at a time, slinging her backpack to her front and fishing out the uniform and belt she was required to wear.

She grinned wryly at the receptionist, who was by now accustomed to the girl's permanent lateness, and she quickly slipped into the changing room, stripping off her clothes and donning the loose black shirt and pants.

Abandoning her bag in the cloakroom, belt in hand, she burst into a large room full of children of different ages. Wrapping the black belt around her waist twice and tying it correctly, she slipped in line between two boys. They glanced at her amusedly; she ignored them and picked up the drill, following the movements exactly.

She grinned sheepishly at her Master as he passed her, eyebrow raised. "Stay longer after class." He told her evenly.

Blaire nodded her head slightly, resigned to the extra time of practise that she always incurred upon herself when late – which, she had to admit, happened on a regular basis.

After class the Master made her practise against him, which she had been doing a lot more lately, and only let her leave when she beat him.

Back in normal clothes, she padded down the street towards the bus stop. Everything was one big massive hurt. She could beat her Master, but he always managed to leave her wishing she had a saner pastime.

Tucking her blonde hair beneath a cap and slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she tried to melt into the background of the street. Not that anyone in the city would ever take the time to notice a fifteen year old walking confidently to a bus stop; she still preferred to make that chance smaller.

Hearing the cooing of pigeons she closed her eyes and prayed silently that this time it would be different. Feeling something hit her hat, she sighed exasperatedly. No. Why would I be so stupid as to think anything had changed?

Blaire irritably reached up and pulled off the hat that she wore. Perfect. What she saw there was a large piece of white pigeon poo. This disgusted her, but not as much as it would any other person. The strange thing that Blaire had noticed was that all animals seemed to hate her. Deathly, vigorously, stubbornly and completely hated her.

She let out a few choice swear words and appealed to the heavens, "What the hell did I do? It's not like they go and conspire against the people that pay to have their homes ripped down, nooo. They go and target me. I mean, come on, WHAT THE HELL DID I EVER DO TO DESERVE THIS?!"

She immediately shut up when she realised that she had began attracting strange glances from passers by.

Maybe I should go have a nice chat with the men in white coats… She mused. No, wait a second. Any insane person wouldn't admit to being insane, and thus I may just be sane. But what if I actually am insane and by thinking I am insane which apparently proves I am sane actually just means I am insane?

She rubbed her chin and decided to stop that line of thought. The only animals that didn't seem to totally hate her were the ones that most people would rather avoid; like one avoids falling out of planes or being run over by a bus. Who was she kidding, they would rather do either of those things than meet the animals who didn't hate her, so needless to say she didn't get along with that many animals. Luckily most didn't decide to attack her, she usually got the message when they glared daggers at her – ok, so she kind of imagined that they were glaring at her, but in her defence, they all acted like that would be the expression on their faces, had she been able to interpret them like a human's.

Jumping on the bus, she paid the driver and went to take a seat near the back. She saw some boys about a year older than her glancing at her flirtatiously, but she just gave them a bland look, which for her equated to 'I don't care who you are, just stop looking at me!' They seemed to get the message and turned around to face the front.

The next morning, Blaire rolled out of bed early and padded down to the living room. Careful not to wake anyone, she started stretching, and as she started the exercises that were expected of the students, she let her mind wander.

As always happened, her mind flew off to contemplate the recent books she had picked up. Her favourite at the moment were books by Tamora Pierce, and she daydreamed pleasantly throughout her exertions.

Books seem easier than life. Reading a book you can look at the end and see where it's going. I guess that's kinda like someone fortune telling – if it weren't a big hoax. Blaire shook her head and caught the glaring electric alarm clock that was on the oven. She grimaced. It was already 7:39.

She galloped upstairs and threw on the first clothes she reached – they were a loose black top and pants, much like her karate outfit. She snatched her bag off the floor, checking that her school uniform was inside, hurriedly ran a brush through her long blonde tresses and flew back down the steps.

She grabbed a piece of toast out of her brother's hand and swiped some money off the counter, then sprinted out the door in the direction of the bus stop. She was going to be late. Again.

Munching on the toast, breath heavy, Blaire leaned against the seat that was there specifically for those who were to catch the bus. Catching her breath, she cursed as she realised that the other kids who were supposed to get on here were not there. Shit shit double shit. I am in soo much trouble.

She glanced moodily down the road. Blaire just sat there, in a state of shock, imagining the punishments she would earn for missing the test today. The teachers already hated her, as did her peers (well, she hated them more like) but nonetheless, they will naturally assume she had planned to play hooky today.

"It is all the system's fault" Blaire announced stubbornly.

"Maybe, maybe not. Whose to say?"

Blaire almost jumped out of her skin as she heard some random voice. She had not noticed anyone. She span wildly, searching for the owner of the voice. After turning the whole circle, she collapsed on the bench, closing her oddly coloured eyes, "Ok. That proves it. I need to rent a room at Happy Meadows, hospital for the insane. I could drink cordial all day and sit around watching people drool. I'm sure I'll fit right in. First all the animals hating me, second hearing voices that do not exist. Man I'm mad." Blaire said sarcastically.

"Not quite so mad." A man's voice replied sweetly.

Blaire kept her eyes closed. "If I ignore my insanity it may go away."

"Oh, I am much more interesting then something as commonplace as insanity." The voice responded dryly.

"Suuure you are. And I'm Cinderella, going to a ball in a pumpkin carriage." Blaire responded, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Oh great. Now I am talking to it."

"Open your eyes, girl who seems so intent on declaring herself insane."

Blaire chewed her lip, "I guess I can't get anymore insane." She opened one eye, and standing before her was a man who was lean and muscled and straight-backed like a dancer. He had a salt-and-pepper beard and hair, both cropped short. His coat was a mass of bright yellow, pink, lavender and orange squares. He jingled with a multitude of charms and bits of jewellery. His pants were patterned in black and white diagonal stripes. He wore leather sandals studded with copper, as well as toe and finger rings made of copper and gems

The sight hurt her eyes, and she said, "Oh God, I am worse than I thought!" Blaire rubbed her eyes, and then risked opening them again. The man was still there, black eyes glinting mischievously. Blaire hesitantly removed her hands from her eyes, and upon seeing that he did not disappear, she commented, "You look like a clothing store exploded."

He grinned. Blaire quickly decided to back away very slowly, "Ok. I admit that I am insane, but I think you just may by insane-er. I am going to be going now." She turned on her heel and made to run. The only problem with that was that she seemed to be stuck to the spot.

The man sauntered towards her, "Lass, I can't have you doing that. Ya sure you don't have an inkling as to who or what I may be?" She grinned at her crookedly.

"Oh fu-mhkn." The man put a finger to his lips and she had been forced into silence.

He grinned and took his hand from his lips, and the teenager glared at him. "You are not real. I am sleeping."

He chuckled. "Wrong."

"I am insaner. God I think I waited too long to book a room at Happy Meadows."

"Wrong again." He seemed to be holding back laughter. "You know, for all that you're antisocial, you can be quite entertaining."

She gave him a death glare, "So not funny. Please go away, I am missing drinking cordial in a mental institution."

"You really have to stop with the mental institution thing, lass. You are just as sane as I am."

"As 'reassuring' as that may be…" Blaire started.

"Shut. It." Blaire grinned wryly at something she was telling herself was a very queer dream, or an illusion brought on by being insane.

The god was indignant, but he decided to bow elegantly, "I am Kyprioth, the Trickster God. And I have to inform you that you aren't all that insane."

" 'All that' doesn't mean I ain't insane." Blaire observed dryly.

He grinned toothily, "Nobody I talk to isn't just a little bit insane."

She rolled her eyes, "Big help. Now, can I go back to contemplating a life at Happy Meadows?"

"Stop that and listen up. I am here to collect you. I owe someone something, and it seems that has been cashed in."

Blaire tilted her head, "But you are not real. You are part of a book by Tamora Pierce." She said this slowly.

"In that, you're wrong, youngling. Everything that's imagined can be real. Your universe was imagined by another ect ect. Ok I am not one for lectures, but you are coming with me."

"Wait a second. What do you mean by repaying a favour? And how the hell can I be part of that? I mean that is, so you say, something separate, so how can I be connected? I think you're cracked." She said flatly. She then bit her nail and said, "Oh, wait a second. That means I am cracked, since it's my imagination! But I knew that already." She added, slightly hysterical at being held on the spot by thin air and a very arrogant imaginary character.

Kyprioth rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You are going now, and I guess you can find out how real it is."

Blue and green eyes stared at him, and then closed when the God clicked his figures. Gold light incased the girl, and then suddenly both flashed out of existence.

The God smiled satisfactorily before clicking once more, ensuring that no one would remember the girl formerly known as Blaire White.


Well, I hope no one is too depressed. Please tell me what you think, and I will act accordingly – you know, I could save a lot of people the few minutes that it takes to read this and just delete it. So plz be brutally honest:)