Prologue
A train was running through a distant field in India. It was a very unusual train for a number of reasons. For one, there didn’t seem to be any track. Not one stalk of wheat was disturbed by the train. For another, the compartments were rather odd. One compartment had sofas, another had desks. There was even a compartment with many squashy sleeping bags.
This compartment had bunk beds. A single bunk bed, to be exact. The usual bunk beds have two levels - this one had four. There were four children in the room. They all wore black, tight fitting jumpsuits with white lining. They were sitting on the bunks since the compartment was small and there was precious little space to move about. They sat in companionable silence.
On the lowest bunk sat a fair girl. Her jet-black hair was a startling contrast to her lily-white face. Her face had a tranquil smile and her slanting eyes were calm and peaceful. Her spectacles were round and had metal rims. She lay on the bed quietly.
On the bunk above her was a boy. His hair was fair, so fair it was almost white. His eyes were blue. A blue that reminded you of skies and water and ice. His eyes were covered with square glasses with a thin black frame. He was fiddling with the corner of the quilt, nervously biting his lip.
Above him sat a blonde boy. Though he did not speak, his thoughts seemed loud. His golden brows were knit and his green eyes seemed to be troubled. They darted here and there, not resting for a moment on anything.
On the top bunk was a girl with coal-black skin. Her bushy brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. This ponytail was so frizzy, it seemed to float. She was grinning playfully and was watching the wall above her.
At length, the frizzy-haired girl broke the silence. “So,” she said brightly, “What are your names and where are you guys from?”
The blonde-haired boy spoke first. “I’m Zacharias Smith and I’m Australian.”
“Well, I’m going to call you Sandy,” said the first girl.
Then the boy with bluish hair spoke up, “I’m Vincent Crabbe and I’m from Norway.” He paused. “But I know what you’ll call me,” he grinned
“We can say it together, if you like,” suggested the blonde boy, laughing.
“Snowy!” they shouted in one voice and broke out into giggles.
The quiet girl at the bottom permitted herself a small smile.
“Hey!” called out the white haired boy to her, “What’s your name?”
The quiet girl smiled and said “I’m Cho Chang. I’m from China,” she added.
“Perfect, Chang!” smiled the bushy haired girl.
“So I’m Chang now?” asked the quiet girl, “Well we’ve all told you our names, why don’t you tell us yours?”
“And I daresay we can come up with an embarrassing nickname for you too!” the blonde boy teased.
“Alright. My name is Angelina Johnson and I’m American.”
“You know what I want to call you?” pondered the boy with the blue eyes. “I’d like to call you ‘Fizz’.”
“Actually, that name suits you.” remarked the girl with jet-black hair.
“Yeah, you look sort of, well, fizzy and bubbly.” explained the boy with green eyes.
They began to talk to each other, now that the ice was broken. The train continued onwards; the driver’s compartment remained completely empty.