When an orbiting White Hole rolls through Jennifer Arthur's backyard she, her best friend Willa Walker, and her marmalade cat Atta Girl are swept into it. After a dizzying journey they are marooned in another universe, where everything is white, even the girls. Only Atta Girl retains her rich, tawny hues. The three are promptly confronted by the terrible Ghanglers who rule that planet's surface. Led by the vicious Tehrran Tuhlla, the Ghanglers use the power of the whirlwind to enforce rigid planetary standards of conformity, going about their relentless business on the individual tornadoes which serve them instead of feet. As the girls and Atta flee from a gang of Ghanglers, they are befriended by Morgan, the Magnificent Wandering Wohtt. Morgan "resembles a humungous, full-blown dandelion" but his courage and ingenuity make him a lovable and heroic companion. Morgan leads them to refuge in the secret, underground nation of Chrystellea, where the citizens have problems of their own. Their leader, Behrrn the Rememberer, has forgotten The Dream, a dream which the people cherish, of color in a colorless universe. Now though, even the cherished 'memory' of color fades, draining from the White World "like water from a bathtub" The sequel, Jennifer Arthur and ALL THE GONE, will be published in the fall of 2006.

A WHITE HOLE in SPACE

Book One of the Chrystellean TrilogyBy Alice Salerno

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2005 Alice Salerno
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-595-37049-8

Chapter One

The White Hole

When it happened, it seemed like an ordinary day. Willa and Jennifer were just sitting around in Jenny's backyard, leaning against the garage. It was Saturday, June 4th, the first good day in a long time. The breeze was a little cool, but the garage wall had been soaking up sun since early morning, and it was steaming warmth back at them like a heater.

"Just think, Jenny," Willa said, sighing contentedly, "summer vacation starts next week!" Willa lived across the street and down two houses from Jenny. Willa's was a September birthday and Jenny's was in January, so Willa was a whole grade ahead of her in school. She had all the lowdown on high school, while Jenny was still doing time in middle school.

"We can just hang out this summer. And eat lunch in my tree house every day," Willa added, grinning at Jenny sideways.

Jenny gave her friend her fiercest squelch look, but she really couldn't blame Willa for teasing. She realized there really was something weird about a teenager like herself who had never been on a carnival ride that goes any higher than a carousel. She had never ridden the outdoor glass elevator at the Morris Hotel, either. And she even had trouble making herself climb the rope ladder into Willa's tree house. So she guessed she couldn't blame Willa for giving her a bad time about it now and then.

Willa was a good friend to talk things over with, though. Jenny guessed she did more than her own share of the talking, but when Willa did speak up, it was worth waiting for. And she listened, you know, instead of just racing ahead in her brain to see what she wanted to say next.

They'd been talking about some real important things. You know, stuff like how long time is, where space ends, and why they both were born, anyway. It makes you feel kind of opened up wide to think about things like that, but if you do it too long you start to feel dangerous, like you might split wide open. So then you have to hurry back and talk about the sweater in Gilliam's store window and last night's TV programs and what was on at the movies.

"Lunch is nearly ready, Jenny," Mom called through the open kitchen window. "Willa," she asked, still busy at the window, "would you like to have lunch with us?"

"That'd be great. Thanks, Mrs. Arthur." Willa's mom and dad both worked on weekends, so Saturday lunch was usually solo for her.

"Kee-rash!" Jenny's little brother, Warren, kerbanged out of the garage, where he'd been building another monster kite. "Last one to lunch gets rotten eggs," he shouted as he stomped up the back stairs. When it came to food, Warren had some special kind of radar.

"Fine. I'll call you girls in a few minutes." Mom disappeared from the window, but they could still hear her humming in the kitchen.

"I just remembered what the sun does to my freckles," Jenny grouched to Willa. "Whenever I get in it, my freckles spread out and run into each other like pancake batter on a hot griddle." She stood up, looking for a spot of shade. "That's just one of the disadvantages of red hair."

"If you think that's trouble," Willa said as she got up, too, stretching lazily, "you should try being black for a while."

Jenny sort of knew what she meant. Willa wasn't actually black, of course, any more than Jenny was white. She was a nice, warm brown, about the shade of Jenny's own freckles. But right then it wasn't Willa's problem she was interested in, it was her own. "When it comes to minorities," she insisted, "redheads are in even shorter supply than black people. And everybody's always harping about it, even calling you Red instead of your real name. It's disgusting."

Willa lifted one eyebrow skeptically.

"It truly is," Jennifer insisted, moving toward the back of the yard to lean against the trunk of the big, shady loquat tree. "Like whenever I get a little cranky, somebody says, "`There goes that red-haired temper of yours, Jenny.'" Honestly, did you ever hear of a temper with hair? And if it did have hair, who says it'd be red? Nobody ever talks about blonde temper, or brunette temper."

"Yooowrrr!"

Suddenly a flash of orange dropped from the fence at the back corner of the yard. When they looked, they only saw that Jenny's tabby cat, Atta Girl was standing where she'd landed, on all four stiffened legs at once, with her tail run up like a flag. Her ginger-orange fur was stretched out in all directions. She looked twice as big as she really was, and she wasn't only hissing, she was growling as she stared at a place near the back fence, about three feet to the right of the lilac bush. Her yellow eyes were squeezed up like splinters, and she was making low, mean sounds.

"What is she looking at, Jenny?"

Sometimes people ask you to interpret for your pets, like you have a code you use with them or something. And sometimes Jenny could tell what Atta wanted better than anybody else, better than Mom or Dad, or even Warren. Most of the time, Atta seemed to understand her, too. But Jenny had never seen her cat act that way before. The back of her neck prickled with warning.

"What's the matta, Atta?" Now and then she talked to her cat that way as a kind of name joke, but this time she wasn't trying to be funny.

And it wasn't only Atta's growling that made her nervous. Everything began to seem out of focus—the trees, the fence, the garage—even Willa and Jenny. It wasn't that anything looked different, or wasn't where it was supposed to be. Everything just felt off-kilter ... tilted somehow ... shivery!

"C'mon Atta, don't act so spooky," Jenny pleaded. If she could get her to stop, she thought, maybe the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach would go away.

"No, wait Jenny," Willa reached out to touch her shoulder. "Atta's right. Something weird is going on!"

"But there's nothing there!"

"I don't see anything, either, but just listen!"

Jenny heard it too, then. Over the sound of Atta's growling, and around it, and through it, there was a rolling, staticky sound.

"What is that noise, Jenny?"

"I don't know, Willa. It sounds like its coming from the Johnson's yard, next door. Only it's getting closer!" Jenny's arm trembled under Willa's hand. Willa was right, Jennifer realized. Whatever was making that peculiar sound was moving. Toward them.

"Willa, do you see what I see?" Jenny could hardly push the words past the knot in her throat. "Right there, next to the lilac bush."

"It's ... it's just light, Jenny. Just a pool of light. But where is it coming from? What's causing it?"

"I don't know. It's all shady here, except for that round, bright spot." At first the light was only a few inches in diameter, but it grew as they watched. By now, Willa seemed more fascinated than frightened, but Jenny was spooked.

"Have you ever seen anything like it, Jenny?" Willa asked excitedly.

"No, I haven't. It looks—like carbonated light!"

"See? There's something—some things—moving around on the other side of it." Jenny saw them, too, but she couldn't make out what they were. All she knew for sure was that whatever they were seeing through that sparkling light, it wasn't the ground, or the lilac tree, or the redwood fence that should have...