Foxworth Academy

by Chris Blewitt

  “Didn’t I tell you she was a looker?” Thomas said, rubbing his hands together. The sun had set and night was fast approaching, and with it, cooler temperatures. Ally knew she needed to hurry.

  Ally looked up at him, appalled that Thomas had been talking about her. But then her gaze shifted to the creases in his uniform and then to the keychain attached to the snug belt he wore around his waist. It was a glorious sight. She quickly shifted her eyes back to his and said, “Lovely night, isn’t it?” He said something in reply, but she wasn’t listening; her eyes were back on the belt. The keys were attached to a simple metal clasp, one that could be easily removed.

  “Well?” Thomas whispered.

  “Huh? What?” Ally replied.

  “Care to join us for a nip?” he whispered again.

  “A nip?” Ally asked.

  “Yeah, a nip for bloody hell. Follow us.”

  As Thomas walked past her, instinct took over. Ally reached for the set of keys, but missed, the keys jangling past her outstretched arm. She searched for Brett, but he was nowhere to found.

  <><><><><>

  Brett ran the length of the ship twice in order to lose Lance, and eventually, he did. He hadn’t seen him in almost ten minutes so he cautiously made his way to the bridge and waited for Ally. He worried about her safety and whether or not she’d be able to secure the officer’s keys. After ten minutes, he grew impatient and started to wander around the ship looking for her. He took brief excursions, always returning to the bridge after a minute or two. He strayed in one direction and found a door stating: Officers Quarters. He approached, listening for any movement or sound coming from behind the door.

  Just as he was about to put his hand on the handle, the door swung outward. Brett flattened his body against the wall and closed his eyes, hoping he hadn’t been discovered. He heard footsteps moving away from him, opened his eyes, and glanced around the door. A man was walking away. Just as the door was about to close completely, Brett reached with his hand and held it open, quickly slipping inside.

  The room was empty, with only the soft glow of a light coming from one of the desk lamps toward the rear of the room. Brett tiptoed around and saw various cots, desks, sinks, and washrooms placed perfectly throughout the room. Without even knowing what he was looking for, he started rummaging through drawers, lockers, and closets. At the third door, he hit pay dirt. It was a small closet with numerous uniforms on hangers. Without hesitation he grabbed the nearest one and headed toward the exit.

  He listened, heard nothing, and exited the Officers Quarters without being seen. But now, what to do with the uniform? He couldn’t bring it back to present day or could he? He didn’t want to risk the chance and decided he needed to hide it on the ship. Brett rolled the uniform into a tight cylinder and made his way back out onto the deck. Lined up all along the edge of the ship were several lifeboats. He walked over to the first one in the row, lifted the canvass cover, and tossed the uniform inside. Finished and proud of his work, he walked back toward the bridge to find Ally.

  <><><><><>

  Unsure of where she was going, Ally followed Thomas and a man named Will down a flight of stairs and into the bowels of the Titanic. Floor after floor, they descended until finally the man in front opened a door and stepped into an open room where two other officers were standing. Ally thought the room looked like her grade school gym with its wooden floors and red painted lines.

  “Who’s this?” a man in the room demanded.

  “She’s with me,” Thomas said.

  The room was only half lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls surrounding them.

  “Where are we?” Ally asked.

  “This is the squash court,” Thomas said.

  “Squash? What’s that?”

  The men chuckled and one of them said, “Where you from, babe?”

  “Babe?” Ally asked. “Not from around here.”

  The men laughed, and one of them replied, “Squash is tennis in a room is all.”

  Ally remembered her dad had played racquetball a few years earlier at a place that also had squash courts. She watched as Thomas was passed a small metal flask by the other man who unscrewed the cap and took a small drink. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and passed it over to her.

  “Have a nip, will ya?” he said.

  Ally scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

  “Its berry flavored. Won’t kill ya, hun.”

  She took the small bottle from him and sniffed its contents. It didn’t smell terribly bad. She tilted the flask to her lips, allowing a miniscule amount of liquid to hit her tongue, and then she quickly handed the bottle back to him. She felt like spitting it out as the liquid burn hit her throat. Ally shook her head violently and the men around her laughed.

  “Not bad, eh?” Thomas asked, taking another swig and passing the bottle to the man next to him.

  Ally had to make her move on the keys now if she was ever going to get her chance. But how? The men passed the bottle around, chatting and telling stories about how they had upset some of the passengers with their behavior and how much they hated to be at everyone’s beck and call.

  The door opened and an older man walked in. “What is this?” the man demanded.

  The men in the squash court stared, saying nothing, and Ally could tell they were in trouble.

  “Get back to your positions this instant!” the man said. “You have one minute to return before the captain will throw you in the Brig!”

  The men quickly shuffled toward the door and Ally made her move. She moved in close, and while the men were bumping into each other as they made their exit, she quickly unhooked the keychain from Thomas’s belt and snatched the keys from his possession.

  “And you,” the man said looking at Ally. “You’ll keep your mouth shut and go back to your cabin.”

  She nodded her head and slipped the keys inside the pocket of her ridiculous dress.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Where’d you go?” Brett asked Ally as they made their way out of the classroom. They quickly learned from the class about Lance and Ella’s mission to save the Titanic. No one was going to fail the class if the other couple saved the ship first, but obviously grades were going to be determined on who saved the ship.

  “Me? Where’d you go?” Ally replied.

  “I waited at the bridge for you for ages.”

  “I got stuck with that jerk from the bridge in some squash room with his buddies.”

  “Did you get the key?” Brett asked anxiously.

  She smiled and replied, “No, ‘are you okay, Ally?’ Yes, I got the keys. All of them in fact since we have no idea which one will open the engine room.”

  “Awesome,” Brett said. “I got something too. An officer’s uniform.”

  “What? No way,” she said.

  “Yep, I hid it in a lifeboat.”

  “Nice,” she said.

  As they walked down the hallway, Brett spotted Krista. He bent down to tie his shoe, hoping to avoid the whole situation. After a few seconds he took a peak up and spotted Krista standing in front of him, right next to Ally.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Krista replied, stealing glances at Ally.

  Brett stood up, but was at a loss for words. The two women in his life looked at him, waiting for him to make an introduction.

  “I’m Ally,” she said.

  Clearly not thrilled that he was walking with this girl, she unhappily replied, “Krista.” She looked at Brett who stood motionless, a look of embarrassment on his face.

  “Let’s head to lunch,” was all he could muster.

  The three of them walked toward the cafeteria and Ally departed, walking toward her own table and group of friends. Krista didn’t mention the awkward situation, but it was out there on the table like a pink elephant. Brett ignored the situation as well. His feelings toward Krista were turning from friend to girlfriend, but he had feelings for Ally, too.


  “What’s going on this weekend?” Frankie asked.

  Krista looked over at Brett who returned her gaze. He knew they had plans to go to the fair on Friday night, just the two of them.

  “The fair is Friday,” Liam said.

  Krista’s eyes grew wide but she kept quiet. The last thing she wanted to do was put off their date even longer. She was most certainly looking forward to Friday night. “I thought it was next week,” she said.

  “Not sure,” Brett replied. “I might have baseball.”

  “Dude, do you play baseball like everyday?” Frankie sarcastically asked.

  “Sometimes,” Brett replied.

  “How’s Martin’s history class?” Krista asked, changing the subject.

  “Things just got a little interesting,” Frankie replied.

  Krista did not like the sound of this. She knew she couldn’t ask, but it irritated her that Brett seemed to be getting cozy with that girl, Ally. “Really?” she said.

  “Well, for some of us,” Frankie said, looking at Brett.

  “Not really,” Brett replied. “Still pretty cool though.”

  They moved on from the discussion about history class and came back to their weekend plans. Frankie confirmed that the fair was that weekend and they all agreed to go on Saturday.

  <><><><><>

  Brett’s cell phone rang, jarring him from his English paper he was working on. He had baseball practice after school, and then had a late dinner with his family before retreating to his bedroom to do some homework. He couldn’t focus right now on his Macbeth paper which he had to read over the summer. It was not a book that Brett enjoyed and he was having a difficult time writing a paper on it. He looked at the caller ID and knew it was Ally.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Brett, it’s Ally.”

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Nothing. So what’s our plan tomorrow?” she asked.

  Brett leaned back in his chair and said, “I can’t believe Mr. Martin put that jackass on the Titanic.”

  “He’s not a jackass, Brett,” Ally said, defending Lance. But then she caught herself, “Well, maybe a little.” She laughed.

  “You know what I mean. I thought our mission was to save the Titanic. Why did he have to send two people back there to do the same thing? It’s hard enough without them.”

  “I know,” she replied. “So what are we going to do?”

  “I know there’s a way. I’ve been having these flashbacks and dreams about a time we were on my granddad’s boat. There’s something there, I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Well, we gotta think of something. Tomorrow could be it.”

  “I know.” Brett let out an exhausted sigh. “Maybe I’ll ask my dad.”

  “Umm, Brett?”

  “What?”

  “You can’t ask your dad anything, remember?”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Let’s summarize here. The ship hits an iceberg in the middle of the night. They do everything they can to stop the ship. The captain turns the ship and stops the engine. They obviously did not have enough time to stop after spotting the iceberg. What if we spotted it before then? What if we told the spotters that we see it?”

  “Yeah, but if they can’t see it, they’re not going to believe us.”

  “What if we gave them binoculars or something?”

  “It’s the middle of the night; they’re still not going to be able to see it. There’s just something I’m missing. Something about steering the ship around the iceberg.”

  They soon bid their goodbyes and Brett promised he’d think of something. Which he did, staying up half the night reliving various times he was on his granddad’s boat. Trying, in some way or fashion, to steer around an iceberg that was one hundred feet high and three hundred feet long.

  <><><><><>

  “I think I got it,” Brett said to Ally as they made their way into Mr. Martin’s history class. Ally looked at him in disbelief.

  The class was full of energy as Brett and Ally made their way into the closet to begin their travel through time for quite possibly the last time. This time, Lance and Ella were allowed to go first so they would be waiting for them when Brett and Ally appeared. As they made their way out of their cabin on the ship, Lance and Ella were standing in the hallway.

  “Just trust me on this, Ella,” Lance whispered out of earshot to Ella. “All we need to do is follow them and they’ll lead us right to their plans.” He turned to Brett and Ally who were approaching. “Where to, mate?” Lance asked.

  Brett ignored the question and said to Ally, “We need to figure out what time it is.”

  The walked quickly down the hallway toward the set of stairs and made their way onto the deck. It was a cold, dark, moonless night and they looked around to see if there were any passengers nearby. It had to be late because they found no one within their vicinity. Brett walked quickly down the deck with Ally, Lance and Ella trailing close behind.

  Ally caught up to him and whispered, “What did you mean when you said you ‘got it’?”

  Brett turned his head and said, “Not now.”

  They finally found a crewman patrolling the deck and asked him what time it was. “A quarter past eleven,” he replied.

  Brett walked a few steps past the officer, looked at Ally and said, “We have twenty-five minutes until it hits.” Brett set his own watch to 11:15 so he could know exactly when the iceberg was going to hit.

  “Oh my god, what are we going to do?”

  “We’ve got to get to the radio room,” he said.

  “The radio room?” Ally said. “I thought you wanted to—”

  He cut her off and said loud enough for Lance and Ella to hear him, “No, the radio room. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and they started toward the front of the boat.

  The radio room, or the Marconi room as it was known back in 1912, was used to transmit and receive messages over long distances. Guglielmo Marconi was an Italian inventor who developed a radio telegraph system. That night, multiple ships in the area were sending transmissions to the Titanic to be on the lookout for icebergs. The captain of the SS Californian went as far as stopping his ship that night and waiting until morning to proceed. The Titanic, however, ignored their advice and continued, wanting to make record time to New York.

  “Radio room, eh?” Lance said. “I saw that yesterday by the bridge. Think you’re going to get a message out? Ha! We’ll see you there.” He walked ahead of Brett and Ally and Ella joined him.

  “Brett, what’s going on?” Ally said softly.

  “I’m just diverting them. I’ve got to get to the engine room. Give me the keys.”

  She reached into her pocket and handed over the keys to Brett.

  “Now, I have to somehow get to that lifeboat and change clothes.”

  “What am I going to do?” she asked.

  “Somehow you have to distract them.”

  “What? How?”

  “You’re a pretty girl, flirt with him.” Brett was surprisingly confident in what he’d just said. Ally blushed.

  Brett waited until Lance and Ella were far enough ahead of them and he took off running in the opposite direction. He made his way to the front of the boat where he had stashed the officer’s uniform. He grabbed it and ducked down between two lifeboats and changed into the uniform which was much larger than it appeared. He was shivering from the cold as he put on the navy pants and matching jacket. He had to roll up the cuffs on both the pants and shirt to make himself look presentable. The one thing he didn’t account for was the officer’s hat. He knew he had to keep his hat with the camera on, so he didn’t bother grabbing an officer’s hat.

  Brett checked his watch. It was now eleven twenty-five. He had fifteen minutes. He looked toward the front of the ship out at the horizon, trying to see the iceberg that he knew was there. It was too dark. He took a look up at the crows nest and saw two men standing on lookout. They were looking for the iceberg that was going to
be directly in their path. He had to get to the engine room.

  Brett took a peek around the corner and saw Ally smiling at Lance as they stood outside the radio room, presumably waiting for him. He had to admit, he was a little jealous. Where was Ella? He made a run for it and just as he got to the top of the steps, he heard Ella say loudly, “There he is!”

  Lance said, “Oh no you don’t! Stay with her!” he said to Ella.

  He ran after Brett.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Brett knew he had to hustle. He was coming from the front of the ship on the top deck and had to make it inside the engine room that was toward the back of the ship on the lower level. He flew down the first three sets of stairs and ran through the hallways of the first class staterooms. Brett ran like he was stealing second base. He flew through the maze of hallways, getting yelled at by crew members to “slow down,” and yet Lance still kept pace.

  There was only one more staircase he had to descend to get to the engine room. If he was going to lose Lance, it had to be now. He passed the third-class kitchen, saw a bucket and mop, and made his move. While still jogging, he grabbed the bucket and launched it behind him, sending a gallon of soapy water all over the floor. As Lance turned the corner his feet went out from under him and he hit the floor with a wet, smacking thud.

  Brett smiled and took off for the engine room, fumbling with the keys as he ran. He found the door and started inserting keys into it, trying to find the right one. He was shaking so hard he could barely insert a key. Just as he found the right key, Lance came limping around the corner.

  “You son of a—”

  Brett opened the door, slipped inside, and locked it behind him. He walked quickly down the short hallway and entered the engine room. It was once again very loud as men shouted orders and the engine pumped to life. A man in a similar uniform stood nearby and Brett had no choice but to approach him. He looked at his watch and knew that he had less than two minutes to put his plan into action.

  “Yes, what it is?” the man asked as Brett approached.