by Box Set
Austin King?
He cocked his blond head and pierced me with his pale green eyes. “So you’re coming to Hollywood?”
I blinked. Austin King was talking to me? Why? Austin was a good-looking, popular guy who’d gone through a string of girlfriends since freshman year. I spent my first two years of high school as a social nobody and then when Nate came into my life, I rose to overnight celebrity status. Except for having Nate, I kind of preferred being invisible, it was safer with my condition, plus, I wasn’t accustomed to the attention. I fell off the social radar again when Nate left for college. Every guy knew I was taken, so, unless there was a class project or other school-related reason to socialize, it just didn’t happen.
“Yeah,” I said, smoothing the look of confusion on my face.
“Your boyfriend’s letting you go? I thought you were on a pretty tight leash.”
What? That was what people thought? That I was controlled by my boyfriend?
“Nate’s not letting me go,” I said indignantly. “I didn’t have to ask his permission.”
“You’re telling me he’s okay with you coming on this trip? Unchaperoned?”
We weren’t going to be unchaperoned. “Mr. Ryerson is coming.”
“I don’t mean by Ryerson, Donovan. I mean by Mackenzie.”
Exasperated, I shook my head and turned my back to Austin King. Who did he think he was! I certainly didn’t answer to him.
“Struck a nerve, huh?” he said.
Just ignore him.
I could ignore Austin King but I couldn’t ignore the hot feelings of anger he’d stirred up in me. I just couldn’t tell if my anger was with Austin or with Nate.
Mr. Ryerson and his mustache called the class to order. “The list is now closed. For those of you who still need to deliver final payment…” His gaze landed on me. “Make sure you do so by the end of the day. I’ve confirmed those who have paid and tentatively booked flights for those who have not. We leave Thursday morning from Logan. Meet in the front parking lot at 7:00 am sharp to catch the bus to the airport.” He handed out sheets of paper with the details printed on them. I plucked the check Mom had written for the remainder of the fee from my bag and handed it to Mr. Ryerson.
I carefully avoided looking at Austin as I walked back to my desk.
We spent the rest of the class working on our scripts. When the bell rang, I was surprised to find that Austin King followed me out of the room and kept pace with me down the hall.
I glanced at him sideways, feeling perplexed by his sudden interest. “What are you doing?” I finally asked.
“Walking. I think.” He stared at the sneakers that peeked out of his hip-hugging jeans. “Yup. Walking.”
“But why are you walking beside me?”
“Uh, do you have a no-go zone circling you? Last I heard, this was a free country and this particular hall is available to all registered students.”
This guy was such a smart aleck!
He shoulder-bumped me playfully. “So what’s your boyfriend doing while you’re gallivanting across the country?”
I stopped short. Austin was the same height as me, maybe a smidgeon taller. I looked him straight in the eye. “Why do you care?”
He shrugged. “Just curious. I mean, I think I read somewhere that the Terriers were going to Spain.”
“So?”
“You’ve been with Nate for a long time.”
Again I said, “So?” Except maybe with a bit more feeling.
“First boyfriend?”
I started walking again. “What’s with the first degree?”
He grinned. “I just think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you has never shopped around.”
“What?” I stuttered to a stop again and stared at him. “Why would I do that?”
“Donovan, please don’t tell me that you’ve only ever kissed one guy?”
I folded my arms and cocked my head. “Are you suggesting I kiss you?”
He smirked. “I’m a worthy candidate if you’re looking.”
Austin King was attractive, but super-duper arrogant. I picked up my pace. “No thanks.”
I could hear him chuckling behind me. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
I stopped at my locker, the last one of the row where the hallway intersected in a T-formation, to exchange my books for my last class. Austin King’s unexpected conversation not only had my head spinning, but also had me running late for algebra. The halls were emptying out as other stragglers rushed to class. Just as I was about to slam my locker door shut, I heard male voices around the corner, and I froze.
“If he can’t afford to pay, he can’t afford to play.”
“What do you want me to do, break his thumbs?”
A low chuckle. “A sprain will do for now.”
I hid behind my locker door and watched as Sam Capone strode confidently down the hall, his back to me. I locked up my locker as quietly as possible and ran to class. I itched to get to Lucinda after the last bell to warn her about Sam, to tell her what I’d heard, and I could hardly concentrate on the assignment. I sighed. Just meant more homework for later. The class finally ended and I raced to meet Lucinda at her car, but I was too late. She was leaning against her bumper, holding hands with Sam Capone.
I relaxed my gait and forced a smile as I approached.
“Oh, Casey!” Lucinda said when she spotted me. She dragged Sam by the hand until we were standing in a close huddle. “I don’t think you’ve officially met. This is Sam. Sam, this is Casey.”
To my horror, Sam extended his hand to shake mine. I never, ever purposely touched anyone skin to skin for fear of bringing them back to the nineteenth century with me. My eyes widened and I stared hard at Lucinda. Help me!
Lucinda snatched Sam’s extended hand and held it in her own. “Casey has, a condition, of the skin…”
Oh, God, she made it sound like I had a disease!
Sam’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. “Nice to meet you.”
I felt my face flush with embarrassment, and then I remembered the little convo I’d overheard and straightened my shoulders with indignation. I know about you, buddy. “Yeah, same,” I said.
I waited in the passenger seat as Lucinda and Sam took much too long to say good-bye.
“Are you guys official now?” I asked when she slipped into the driver’s seat.
Her face flared a warm crimson. “Yup.” As we headed home, I tried to work it out in my head how I was going to tell her about what I heard.
“You really like him?” I asked.
“Yeah, I do. Why? You sound concerned.”
“No, I’m not.” Yes, I was. “He seems nice. Except…”
She cut me a look and I pointed to the windshield. “Eyes on the road.”
She looked ahead and said, “Except?”
I hated to say anything, but the truth was, I’d heard rumors. I didn’t want to say anything to Lucinda on Saturday morning because she was so excited and, let’s face it, I was too exhausted. Plus they were rumors, but now I’d heard evidence myself.
“I’ve heard that Sam Capone is involved in an online gambling ring.”
Lucinda responded sharply, “Not true.”
“But..”
“It’s not true. I’ve heard those rumors too, you know, and I straight up asked him. He admitted to playing the odd game of poker with his friends but nothing illegal.”
“It’s just that I heard…”
“Casey, they’re rumors.”
She was really defensive, but I’d known her long enough to know that when she made up her mind about something, no one could change it. And besides, I only overheard a couple sentences and maybe I was taking everything out of context. They could’ve been talking about a school assignment or football for all I knew.
“You’re still going to Hollywood?” she asked. She knew today was the last day to pay up or bow out.
“Uh, huh,” I answered. She wasn’t the
only one who could be stubborn. She gave me the evil eye once she put her car into park in my driveway. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“About?”
“Flying.” She squeezed my shoulder. It was a common form of physical endearment because she didn’t want to take the chance of tripping back in time with me either. “I’m worried. I’d hate for something to happen.”
I offered a soft smile. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I really need this.”
She nodded with understanding. “I know you do.”
I spent an hour after school watching HGTV with my mom. We both loved the makeover shows. Something about taking a wreck and making it beautiful—it was an ugly duckling story for homes.
My phone pinged, notifying me of a text, and I grabbed it. Finally, a message from Nate.
But it wasn’t Nate.
The message was from Austin King! No words, just an image of a puckered set of kissing lips. Gah!
Chapter Six
I was finishing up my algebra homework when I finally got a text from Nate.
Nate: Got here okay. Jetlagging though. Coach says to tough it out and play ball! Miss you.
Casey: Miss you too!
Nate: Bad news. I forgot to change my phone plan! Means it’s going to cost a zillion dollars to call and text. Sorry!! Must to keep it to a minimum.
What? He forgot to change his phone plan? How could he do that?
Casey: Can you at least receive texts?????
I hoped he could read my panic and frustration in those question marks.
Nate: I don’t know. Will have to limit use. But let me know when you get to Hollywood!
Ugh! This was awful. I’d imagined us texting and calling throughout our time apart. If I couldn’t visit Spain, I at least wanted to hear about it and see pictures. I had planned to give Nate a play by play about my time in California. Now it was going to be a long, agonizing blackout.
I let out a long groan. At least I had Hollywood. It would be a distraction, and if I ever needed one, it was now. I forced myself to get off my bed, pulled my suitcase out of my closet and started packing.
* * *
I’ve always been a good kid. I guess time traveling from a young age made me responsible and resilient. I had to learn survival skills during my stints to the nineteenth century, always on alert and anticipating the unexpected. I had to be on my toes, one step ahead of the game. Because of this, I tried to keep my life in the twenty-first century as tame and uneventful as possible. I didn’t feel the need to fight with my parents or rebel. With my world in the past being so uncertain and often dangerous, I longed for things to be as predictable and stable as possible on this side.
I tried not to lie to my parents. They didn’t know about my other life in the past, so in a way that was lying by omission, and a big enough lie to convince me I had to balance things out by not lying otherwise. And sometimes, like when my stupid brother did stupid things, I was forced to lie to cover for him, but generally, I was a fan of telling the truth.
This was why, as I was packing my summer clothes for California, I found myself knocking on my mom’s office door.
“Hey sweetie,” she said as I entered. Her skin had paled to a winter white, but she’d gain some weight back and looked much healthier now than she had last summer.
“Mom? I need a favor.”
She turned from her computer and lowered her glasses. “What is it?”
“I’m nervous about flying.” The truth. Just not for the reasons she assumed.
Her expression softened. “Your chances of crashing in a car going into Boston are much greater than those of an airplane crashing in the USA.”
“I know that, but I’m still nervous.”
“Do you want to cancel?”
“No, I don’t. I need to do this. Face my fears, and all that. Plus, I really think I want to be a writer, so this is too great of an experience to pass up.”
She folded her hands on her lap and gave me her undivided attention. “What do you want to do, then?”
“Remember when Tim went missing?” I hated to bring it up. It was such a horrible time for her, and I cringed inwardly when her expression drooped. “And the doctor gave you a prescription so you could sleep?”
She frowned. “You want my sleeping pills?”
“Just for the flight. If I sleep, I won’t spend the whole six hours white-knuckling.”
“I don’t think there are many left, only three or four, and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t share my prescription with you.”
“They just make you sleepy right? And it’s not like I’ll get addicted if there’s only a few left.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give them to you, but only if you promise you won’t take them unless you absolutely need them. You might find that once you’re up in the air, you actually enjoy it.”
“Deal,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. I absolutely did need them.
Mom retrieved the little blue container of pills, hesitating before dropping it into my hand. “For the record,” she said, “I’m uncomfortable with this.”
“I know, Mom. It’s just a one-time deal, I promise.”
I packed four pairs of shorts, three skirts and a dress along with an extra pair of jeans, a half-dozen shirts and sweaters, and underwear for the weekend, plus my hair and makeup products—and with hair like mine, wildly curly, there were a lot of hair products. I could barely get my suitcase closed. I wrestled with the zipper, using all of my body weight to hold the top down until it reached the end. There. I stood back and studied my bulging purple animal-striped suitcase. It looked like it ate a baby elephant.
I was ready for Hollywood. Only two more days to get through and my adventure would begin.
There was a light tap on the door, and before I could say, “come in,” Tim was inside and sitting at my desk. Since the summer fiasco, he no longer wore guyliner or excessive amounts of cheap cologne in an effort to mask a temporary smoking habit. He did, however, walk with a limp. That unfortunately wasn’t going away.
“Can I help you?” I asked, knowing that Tim wasn’t here to ask for advice but to offer it.
“Okay, say you do manage to sleep for the whole flight and avoid a deathly tumble to the earth somewhere over Nebraska, what about when you get there? What happens if you visit California in 1863? You don’t know anyone there. You don’t have supplies hidden away.”
“True,” I said. “I don’t know anyone and I don’t have supplies, but California in 1863 is a lot safer place to be than Cambridge during that time.”
The civil war was raging in the eastern states by the mid-1800s and navigating through those troubling times had gotten increasingly difficult. I missed the Watsons who had become like family to me, and their farm was a home away from home, but they had their hands full with the war, and it was best for all of us if I didn’t go back there.
“I guess you got a point,” Tim said. He knew better than anyone how dangerous it could be. He leaned forward and settled his pointy elbows on his knees. “I’m worried about you, Casey.”
Awww. I flashed Tim a sisterly smile. “You know, I haven’t tripped back since last summer, almost eight months. Maybe I’ve grown out of it. That’s what Samuel said happened to him.”
Tim’s eyes widened with hope. “You think so?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve been plenty stressed these last few weeks,” I said. Thanks to Fiona Frias the Floozy. “And I never tripped.” I pointed to my eyes. “See, no dark rings. And I haven’t spent the whole day in bed for ages.”
Tim knew that these were the tell-tale signs of a return trip from the past: raccoon eyes and intense fatigue.
“I hope you’re right,” Tim said.
“I am right,” I returned with newfound confidence. “This class trip to Hollywood is going to be smooth sailing. So don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Dad drove me to the school early Thursday morning where I met up with my creative writing class. He
got out of his Passat to shake Mr. Ryerson’s hand and then gave me a hug good-bye.
“Thanks for letting me go,” I said into his thick shoulder.
He rubbed my head. “You’re welcome. Have fun, kiddo.”
We loaded all our bags and gear on the bus. I sat beside an African American girl named Artimisha who had long tight curls kept off her face with a purple headband and wore round, clear plastic-framed glasses. The group was evenly split with eight boys and eight girls, which made it nice for sharing rooms. I knew everyone, some better than others, but none of them really well.
Turned out there was a lot to flying beyond finding your seat. You had to stand in a long line to check in, then you had to stand in another line to go through security, where basically everything you weren’t wearing had to go through a scanning device and then you had to walk through a personal scanner and hope the beeper didn’t go off. I made it through no problem but the bells sounded for Austin King. He smirked at me when he caught me watching. He’d forgotten to empty the change from his pockets.
Then there was another wait at the gate before we were called to board the plane. Our tickets and ID were checked once again before we headed down a long walkway and onto the aircraft.
That was the first moment my heart started to race. I downed two pills with water I’d purchased after we’d made it through security. I couldn’t take any chances. I found my seat, by the window thankfully, so I could lean against it to sleep, put my purse under the seat in front of me and fastened my seatbelt.
Austin King stopped in the aisle and reached up to put his carry-on in one of the overhead bins, exposing a swath of tummy flesh as he did so. I had to admit that he had nice, toned abs. I couldn’t help that I saw them, and it was true. I looked out the window and watched as the baggage handlers loaded the suitcases into the lower section of the plane.
I felt movement as the seat next to me was taken, and gasped when I saw who it was.
“Austin?”
“You called?”
“You’re not sitting here.”
“I’m not?”
