Table of Contents
Title Page
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
A note to the reader:
Paris Hemsworth’s story is the second in a series of releases, all written by different authors who came together with one idea in mind: to be part of a team that could create a world away from reality, where struggles are dealt with today in order to find a better tomorrow.
This is their journey to Wonderland.
For more information on upcoming
releases, please visit Twitter @RTWSeries
or like our Facebook page at
www.facebook.com/RTWSeries
Paris Hemsworth’s Road to Wonderland© 2015
Francesca Marlow
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotion via blogs.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, events or any other incident is entirely coincidental.
Front cover image by author LJ Stock.
Edited by Heather Ross and Claire Allmendinger.
Francesca Marlow is in partnership with Victoria L James as co-creator of
MP ~ Wonderland©, an independent twitter RP group that was created in January 2012 and
still runs to date. All stories played out there are from the future of these characters lives and do contain spoilers. Please be aware of this when choosing to follow.
Acknowledgements
I would just like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has supported me along the journey of writing this novel. To my friends who have provided endless amounts of encouragement and inspiration to keep going to the end. To all the followers from twitter who have offered endless kind words and hours of support, I thank you all so much.
Special thanks to my two editors, Heather Ross and Claire Allmendinger who gave up many hours of their time to guide me along the correct grammar path and to my betas, Charlie Shelton and Amy Wood Trevathan for the loan of their impeccable eyes. To the designer of my cover, LJ Stock, for producing a fitting picture of Paris and to Crystal Valley for allowing me to use the character she created, Joel Fairchild, I am extremely grateful.
The advantage to having a blonde clone who knows me better than I know myself is that she knows when I need her, without asking, what to say without prompting and the best way to pick me up when I’m down. For constantly standing by my side, for all the highs and lows, and all the support she has provided from day one of creating MP Wonderland, I want to say a huge thanks to my partner in crime, Victoria L James. Love you like a sister!
Big thanks also go to Wendy and Claire at Bare Naked Words book blog
(www.barenakedwords.co.uk) who have gone above and beyond to help with the promotion of this book.
Leaving the best until last, to the two, special little ladies that are my life, I can’t thank them enough. Their unconditional love and hugs along the way are what have kept me striving to achieve my dreams and I hope one day I can do the same for them.
Dedicated to...
All the Wonderlanders out there. Never give up, there’s always hope.
Prologue
August 1997
“You know these are the only decent thing about having to go to this sodding dance class,” I lie, dangling my glittery silver shoes in front of Mav’s amused face.
She stands there, leisurely spinning the football in her hands. “You moan every week and I always say the same thing back. If you hate it that much, just speak to your dad.”
Her sensible tone causes me to roll my eyes as I slump onto the step outside the local town hall and change my leather boots for ballroom dancing shoes. “You know it’s not that easy. I don’t want to disappoint him for, like, the millionth time in my short existence.” A trait that is fast becoming a speciality of mine. I adore my dad and hate to disappoint him in any way. Yet, I have a fierce, wild side, which seems to land me in hot water more often than not. I think that’s one of the reasons he encourages me to hang around with Izzy. She’s the much-needed ice to my fire – total opposites, but when put together, the chemistry is a powerful balance. At the age of fifteen we are an unlikely duo – my brown hair to her blonde, my green eyes to her blue – we love hard, we laugh harder and we are extremely loyal to each other. Other friends approach us with caution, knowing full well we come as a twosome. We are like The Krays of the Manchester High School milieu. I need to convince her to stop watching that damn video she stole from her dad.
Dropping the ball to the ground in front of me, she stomps her foot on top of it. “You’re such a drama queen sometimes, you know that? Your dad loves you, and I’m sure he would understand if you just explained.” She continues to chuckle “It’s not like he hasn’t witnessed how bad you are.”
I quickly bat at her leg. “Says you, pigeon ankles. You’re hardly…”
My words get caught in my throat when I lift my head and catch a glimpse of the brand new, blue Fiat Punto pulling into the car park behind her. I attempt not to stare, diverting my gaze to my hands tying up my shoelaces. I must not look. In that car sits the only decent reason I continue to come to these classes. One I haven’t spoken to Mav about. I hate to keep secrets from her, but I know she will taunt the shit out of me. While she is completely uninterested in boys, unless they’re in Take That, I have been known to like one or two… Or possibly five. She is completely clueless, and I need to stop fumbling at my shoes, so she doesn’t catch on.
“I’m hardly what, eh? At least I’m capable of tying my shoelaces. What the hell’s wrong with you?” She frowns, ruffling my hair.
“Gerroff me,” I quip, shoving at her hand, quickly smoothing my hair back into place. I can’t let him see me looking like a bird’s nest. His appearance is sickeningly perfect every week. He’s so pretty I want to cry.
“Jeez, chill out, woman. I was only messing.”
I can’t chill out. I stand watching him climb out of the car, and it’s like a cheesy, slow motion scene. My heart is pounding; my hands are clammy and my cheeks flush. Just a single glance at him sends me weak at the knees. He’s half the reason I have two left feet. I can’t concentrate in his arms. He’s just too much of a beautiful distraction.
As he works his way up the path, he saunters past, flashing me a cocky wink. If I wasn’t blushing before, I’m a bright red freaking beacon now. I see Mav’s jaw drop, mouthing, �
��Who… is... that?” as she points to his back.
All I can do is shrug awkwardly “My dance partner.” The problem is, he isn’t just my dance partner. He’s my latest crush, and I seem to have an inability to control my emotions around him.
I hurriedly follow him into the building like a lovesick puppy, desperate to avoid an interrogation from Mav as to why one simple wink has me so embarrassed. She’s going to catch me out. She’s like a dog with a bone if she gets a sniff of a lie from my mouth. I don’t even have to do much these days for her to recognise my telltale signs.
I hear her laugh with enjoyment. “That’s right, Goose. You can run, but you can’t hide. I’ll be right here waiting,” she teases, followed by the sound of the ball hitting the wall, before I slam the door shut.
*******
I’m in a complete trance when I walk out of the hall after class. My eyes fixate on the firm, pert bum sauntering in front of me. I can’t help but stare; I have a strong urge to bite it. As per usual, I was rubbish at the dance routine, yet my partner shone like a star in the making. I’m glad I have him to cover for me and lead the way, although, I’m slightly worried about the topic of conversation I stumbled myself through with him today.
For weeks, he has hated being here just as much as I have. His mum forces him to come, just like my parents. He’s had enough and he’s going to stand up to them, tell them what he thinks. In an attempt to cover up my growing feelings, I stupidly encouraged him - pretty much shoved him into doing it the moment he got home. The consequences of my actions sit heavily on my heart. If he quits class, the likelihood is I will never see him again. He won’t hold me close and guide me around the room like a princess. I’ll miss the fresh, sporty scent of the deodorant he quite clearly douses himself in before class, but most of all, I’ll miss talking to him.
“Then when I get home, I’ll tell them.” He turns to look back at me with a hopeful face like he’s seeking further support from me, when in reality; I’ve been too busy gawking at his bum to pay attention to his words.
“Umm, sorry, what?”
He chuckles. “Away with the fairies again I see, Pumba.”
Pumba. His nickname for me. Another thing I will miss. It’s totally insulting, but, it’s our private joke. I got the name after my shocking attempt at the rumba. At the time, I was unable to think fast enough on my feet, managing a lame comeback of, “Cheers Timon.” It’s just another memory I hold dear, even if it was a further example of how shy I appear to be around this boy.
I’m quickly knocked from my dismal daze as a football comes crashing into my head at lightning speed.
“Jesus Christ, you idiot,” I curse before even noticing who the culprit is.
Frantically rubbing my head, I shoot my eyes across the car park and spot Moffy jogging towards me with a young, brown, curly-haired boy in tow.
“Are you okay?” a voice says quietly from my side as a hand places on my shoulder.
I stiffen, muttering a quick response, “Sure. I’m fine”
How embarrassing. He caught me being hit by a ball and squealing like a complete girl. Another addition to the long list of monumental cock-ups. Nice one, Paris.
We stand for a moment and exchange a weird glance – one we have never shared. His hand remains draped on my shoulder, causing me to feel a nice fluttering in my tummy. The crease of his brow, coupled with the tightness of his lips, suggests concern, but why, I’m not sure. I could kid myself into thinking he might genuinely care whether I’m hurt or not, but it’s probably more a case of not wanting to dance with someone who has a black eye. He’s too good for that.
“Sorry, about that. Kicked it a bit too hard to try beat your mate ‘ere,” the boy huffs out as he bends over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
The warm hand moves from my shoulder, leaving behind an unwanted cold spot. I instantly long for it to return. Instead, it swiftly taps the young boy around his head.
“You moron. You could have hurt her.”
“You’re a moron. It was an accident,” the boy snipes back, wincing.
Then I hear the laughing. Izzy thinks it’s amusing, and I know why. I’m praying she doesn’t give the game away for me as she jogs up alongside the lad, slapping him on the back, sporting a big, breathy grin. “Ah, don’t worry about her. I think she has other things on her mind right now.”
I widen my eyes and tense my jaw in response, giving her a look she has seen all too often. She better not say anything else, or I will kill her. The last thing I need is to double this discomfort. This is revenge for all the times I’ve tormented her over that chin of hers. She’s eager to get me back. It’s the way it goes with us – swings and roundabouts when it comes to one-upmanship on the wind-ups. I can see by her expression that she loves watching me squirm.
“Yeah, like getting home for tea.”
I step forward swiftly, grabbing at her elbow to drag her in the opposite direction before she has a chance to say anything further, but of course I fail. She tugs it to one side at the right time, scooping up her ball and spinning it between her fingers. Her smirk is the size of a Cheshire cat. She’s about to say something. She is. She is. She is…
“So, you’re our Paris’ dance partner. She’s spoken a lot about you, you know.”
Oh my god! I think I’m about to curl up and die.
All I can do is grimace through a fake smile.
“What was your name again?”
Enough. Enough. Enough.
I rush my words out a little too quickly at the now amused, group of people stood in front of me. I’m certain I look like a beetroot thanks to the heated flush of my cheeks.
“Seriously, Izzy. We need to go,” I say through gritted teeth. “Dad will be wondering where we are.”
This time I don’t miss, gripping her arm so tight, I nearly pull the thing off as I heave her from her rigid stance towards the car park. Izzy is relentless, however. She never gives up on a challenge easily. She strains to look back over her shoulder, shouting out, “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime, whatever your name is. What did you say it was again?”
I almost trip up over the pavement in my hurried attempt to stop her. He’s going to think I’m a right idiot. He’s got such a cocky confidence about him while I cower like the flustered teenage girl I am. Someone like him would never be interested in me, especially after this display of awkwardness.
I think I’ve managed to get away with it when I hear his deep, charming voice call-out.
“It’s Liam. Liam Jenkins and this is my brother, Scott.”
That was the last time I saw Liam Jenkins.
I suppose boys will come and go, but one thing is for sure: no matter how many times she winds me up, my best friend is forever.
One
August 1998
Laid out on my bed, with my head in my hands and my legs swinging, I continue to half-heartedly watch Top Gun on the television, but my attention becomes distracted as I hear a familiar scratching noise at the drainpipe. When I glance over, I can see a hand creeping over the ledge. Then the window opens wider. I start to grin as I see the face of my best friend, Isabella Moffit, emerge. As she hoists herself through the small gap, she has created to get into my room; she hits her head on something, crying out. "Dammit! You and this incense stick phase. It's driving me crazy."
Moving them to one side, she falls to the floor with a thud before quickly wiping her eyes and cheeks, removing the tears she has clearly shed on her way over here. She's also out of breath, which means she’s done her usual sprint across the field, over the fence and down the road. I quickly slide from my bed, helping her up off the floor, rolling my eyes as I reply.
"It's not a phase. I had a crafty smoke and needed to try and hide the smell."
As I lift her, the realisation of how upset she is hits me. Her whole body is trembling, and I’m fully aware of why. The same reason she always escapes to my house. Her good-for-nothing, abusive father.
I pick up the bag of Doritos I’ve had sat on my bed for the past hour, ripping them open, cautiously watching Moffy dusting her knees off out of the corner of my eye.
"Your dad will kill you if he finds you smoking. You know what he's like," she reminds me before proceeding to perch on the edge of my bed. A small smile creeps across her face when she notices one of her favourite films on the television. "I can't wait to become a pilot when I'm older," she says enthusiastically. I know it’s just a phase; we both change our dreams on a weekly basis, but never question or argue any of it.
I can’t help but laugh in response. "And me the air hostess. Think of all the places we can visit. All the parties and fit boys." That’s how we roll. Always have. She’s the brains and I’m the beauty, or that’s how it seems to be perceived to outsiders, even Moffy, I think. She’s never seen herself as pretty or attractive. I blame her father for that. His abusive ways have shattered her confidence. He’s knocked her ability to see anything, but a mere shadow of him looking back at her in the mirror. To put it bluntly, he’s a tosser, and I hate him.
When she turns up here like this, I try to keep her talking – take her mind off whatever incident has happened to make her run to me. She needs me to be strong for her – her ‘lean-to’ in these moments of darkness. I would do anything for her. She's more than a best friend to me. We've been friends for twelve years, thick as thieves since we were four. She's like the sister I never had.
Paris Hemsworth's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 2) Page 1
