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 Excerpts from Chapter One of "Another Time" It took a few minutes for everyone to load off the bus once we got to the museum. Mr. Kimball gathered us up for a bathroom break before we headed inside. After the quick restroom stop, and once we were lined up at the first exhibit downstairs, the curator introduced himself to us. “Good morning, everyone,” the tall, pale-skinned man said. “You’re in for a wonderful treat today. I hope you all came prepared to learn about history, and some of the exciting things which have taken place throughout time.” “Yeah, right,” someone within our class shouted out. “Enough,” Mr. Kimball calmly scolded the entire group. “Pardon the disruption, Mr. Steinbeck. Please continue.” The curator laughed and turned his attention to the first exhibit. “Our first stop on today’s tour takes us back in time to the days of the fierce and almighty dinosaur.” Amanda punched me in the side. “What a drag this is gonna be,” she complained. I nodded. “True, but it beats sitting in class, doesn’t it?” She nodded and whispered, “Duh.” “So, what all happened with you and Malcolm on the ride here?” I asked as we joined our fellow classmates around the exhibit. We pretended to read one of the information plaques about the large tyrannosaurs skeleton in front of us. “Eh, we just talked,” she said. She ran her fingers along the velvet rope enclosing the exhibit. “How about you and Falcon?” “Just talk,” I said. “By the way, he asked me to homecoming.” She let go of the rope and put her hand on her hip. “What? You’re joking, right?” I shook my head. “No,” I replied. “He asked me to the dance.” “And you said yes, right?” she asked. “Of course you did. It’s your dream come true.” “Actually, I told him no,” I said. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you crazy? Why in the world did you tell him no? Momentary lapse of your senses?” “We’ve talked about this before,” I reminded her. “Shea’s working on some new steps for her dance recital in October. I promised to help her out.” “And you have to do this the night of the dance?” Amanda asked. “Oh, c’mon, Alli. What are you so scared of?” A small part of me wanted to show up at the dance on Falcon’s arm, but the other part of me wanted to stay home and help out my sister. “I’m not scared of anything,” I said. “Bull,” she said. “I can’t believe you. All these years you’ve waited for him to ask you out, and now when he finally does and you tell him no.” “It’s just bad timing,” I said. “Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Please, just think about going with him. You can say yes. Just work on the dance routine with Shea all the other nights except the night of the dance.” “I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’ll think about it.” “You’d better not take too long, though,” she instructed me. “There’s gonna be a long line of ladies just waiting for him to ask them to go, so don’t drag your feet.” “Yeah, yeah,” I nodded. “Miss Wyatt and Miss McCosh, try to keep up with the rest of the group,” Mr. Kimball said from the next exhibit. We managed to fall behind while talking, and the class was already at the next stop on our tour. Falcon stepped to the side of the group gave me an irresistible grin as Mr. Kimball griped at us. “I saw that,” Amanda said, with a wink. After a brief lunch in the second floor cafeteria, the curator picked up on the last part of the tour. We finally made it to the 1800s by one o’clock in the afternoon. The morning was long and drawn out, but luckily we were only a few hundred years away from the present, so the end was in sight. “Students, by all means enjoy the great pictures in the scrapbooks, and browse by the exhibits,” the curator said. “Most of the photographs were donated by local residents, but they come from all over the country. We do ask you to refrain from touching anything other than the picture albums and scrapbooks. Some of these artifacts are very dilapidated, and others quite valuable.” Amanda and I joined a few other classmates at one of the old photo albums. The black and white pictures were worn and faded, so I knew they were quite old. “Look at this one,” Amanda said, as she pointed to a picture of a young couple posed in a meticulously sculpted garden. “The caption says they were just married. Wow, 1856 was a long time ago.” “Check out her duds,” I laughed. The pretty girl had on a long, frilly dress with a high waist, and the collar was topped off with a beautiful cameo. She was holding onto a lacy parasol. Her beau had on a silly looking light-colored suit with a crazy looking hat on top of his head. In his hand was a wooden cane with some kind of animal carved into the end. The two looked like porcelain dolls the way they were posed. “I can’t imagine living way back then, can you?” she asked me, as the next album became free. “No TV, no curling iron, and no email. I wouldn’t survive one single day back there.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “You wouldn’t miss those things if you never had them in the first place, you doofus.” I wonder if things would have been different for my parents if they’d met in a different time and place? Of course, if they had, I wouldn’t have Amanda for a friend, and I didn’t like thinking such a thought. The pressures of work and money were probably less back then. Nowadays, too much emphasis was put on money and success, and it seemed those things weren’t as high a priority long ago. I knew my parents struggled to maintain their status, and they wanted to keep up with their friends, and by doing so, they fought a lot about money, especially the last years of their marriage. Shea and I always had the nicest clothes and anything we ever wanted, even things we didn’t need. For instance, when my father moved into his apartment, we were short a vehicle around the house. Dad took me into the city to find a car, and we left the dealership with a new Mustang GT convertible. I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but I made such a big deal about the car, he finally gave in and bought it. Sure, I could have settled for something a lot more economical, but I went all out and insisted on the Mustang. The thought of my parents being in a financial bind in order to make the payments crossed my mind, but the more I thought about the divorce and my hostility towards them both for giving up on each other, the less the money factor bothered me. Therefore, my conscious was clean for the most part by the time we got home with the car. I moved on to the second album while Amanda stayed at the first one. I flipped through the pages and laughed at the funny looking people in the pictures. Most of the faces were unidentified, so I tried to guess whom they might be, and where they were from. It made the time go by faster and made the whole museum experience better. Just when I was going to close the album, a picture on the last page caught my attention. It was of a young man who looked my age, and he was sitting on a bench holding a satchel with the letters, GTW, embroidered on the side. His lively, unkempt hair caught my eye. It was pulled back into a tight ponytail, but a few strands had fallen out and hung about his face. Then, I examined his beautiful eyes. Even though the photo was black and white, I felt a connection to his dark eyes. He had a warm and inviting smile, and he looked like he was about to speak just as the picture was taken. The boy genuinely looked happy to be alive. I noticed the class was moving to the next few exhibits, but I couldn’t bring myself to close the album and move on. Instead, I studied the picture more intensely, taking in all of the boy’s features. His cheekbones were well-defined, and his nose was a little big, but it fit in perfectly with his other features. He had on a plain, dark colored suit with boots barely visible from wear-and-tear the picture endured over the years. The caption under the picture read, This young man happily poses for the camera. His identity is unknown, but the photo is said to have dated back to 1863. It was found in the attic of an old home outside of New York City. I closed my eyes and tried to do the math and figure out how long ago 1863 was, and after a few seconds, I came up with an answer of over 140 years. He would be at least 155 years old now, probably even 160, if he was still alive. I opened my eyes and focused on the bag he was holding in his lap. I wondered if GTW were his initials. It was probably his book bag for school, so I guessed he might be a nerd like me. But, then again, it could be a travel bag full of his belongings. Maybe he was going out of town, or on a business trip, or getting set for an adventure around the world. I scanned the room to see if anyone was watching me, but as of yet, nobody noticed I was lagging behind again. Amanda was still hanging back some, but at least she was already at the artifact exhibit. Curiosity gnawed at me, so I carefully lifted the edge of the picture to see if anything was written on the back. Sure enough, there was writing, but most of the letters were faded away. All I could make out was ‘Gr’ in the first word, ‘T’ in the second word, and ‘Wi’ in the third word. Clearly legible, though, was the date 1863. Who are you? I asked the boy in the photograph. You look so thrilled to be alive. Do you know the secret to happy life? I smiled and ran my fingers across the picture, tracing his face and smile carefully. He was such a handsome guy. I wondered to myself if he was a nice person, because he certainly looked like he was. If I were alive during his time, would we have gotten along? Would he have found me interesting? I told myself we definitely would have been friends, and maybe even more. “I’ll bet you were a good listener,” I whispered. “You look like you’d be able to give me some advice about my family, and about what to do.” I stared intensely into his eyes. Then, I again studied his face and all of his features. But, something about his eyes wouldn’t let me walk away. Even though I felt silly for thinking it, it felt like he was reaching out to me. “Tell me something, boy in the picture,” I said softly. “Tell me all of this is for something. Tell me my life will get straightened again somehow.” “Whom are you talking to?” Amanda asked, as she walked up behind me. I flinched. “Girl, you scared me,” I said, as I slowly moved my finger away from the boy’s face. She looked down at the picture. “Hey, what a cute guy,” she said. “Too bad he’s probably dead now.” “Amanda,” I scolded her. “What?” she giggled. “C’mon, Alli. He’s probably two centuries old by now. Sorry, but it’s true.” I shrugged my shoulders, then I looked ahead at the rest of the class. They were at least two exhibits ahead of us by now. “I can’t believe Mr. Kimball hasn’t yelled at us yet,” I said. “Cause we’re dragging behind again?” I nodded. “He’s gonna freak when he sees us way back here.” “Hey, we’re supposed to be learning, and some of us need a little more time to pick up on things,” she said. She leaned down to the picture and grinned. “You weren’t talking to this cutie just now, were you?” I laughed. “The picture? No way.” She looked at me over her shoulder with a funny look on her face. “You were, weren’t you? You were talking to this picture when I walked up.” “Yeah, right,” I lied. “Hey, check out the bag he’s holding,” she said. “What about it?” “It’s in the display right there,” she said, pointing to a roped off exhibit filled with items from the 19th century just off to the side from where we were standing. “See?” I walked over to the artifact exhibit. Amanda was right. The exact satchel from the photograph was sitting on top of an old footlocker just inches behind the velvet rope encasing the exhibit. “It is the same bag,” I said, as I leaned over the rope and let my fingers touch the bag’s tarnished buckle, which just so happened to be unfastened. “How neat,” Amanda said, as she walked up behind me. “I wonder if anything is still inside? Probably not, right?” “No way,” I shook my head. “The picture was shot a long time ago, and I’m sure someone’s cleaned it out way before now.” “You guys are just begging for punishment,” Malcolm said, as he and Falcon walked up behind us. “Are you shooting for detention, or what?” “Huh?” Amanda asked. “Kimball has been on your case all morning, Alli,” Malcolm said. “What’s with you? You got a death wish, or something?” I didn’t understand what he meant. “Say what?” I asked. “The rest of the class is about to enter another wing of the museum,” Falcon said. “You guys are really behind.” “Oh,” I said. “Obviously, Mr. Kimball isn’t paying attention, or else he’d said something by now.” Malcolm stepped up to the rope and looked at the exhibit. “What’s so interesting to keep you back here so long?” “Alli was drooling over a picture of some guy,” Amanda smarted. “We think this bag belonged to him.” Falcon looked at the bag and nodded. “Hmm,” he said. “Looks kind of old.” Malcolm turned his head in all directions, then he reached across the rope and grabbed the bag. “Malcolm!” I scolded him in a whisper. “What are you doing?” “Put it back, you idiot,” Falcon said, as he looked over his shoulder towards the class. “Are you nuts?” Malcolm chuckled. “Chill,” he told Falcon. “Let’s see what this dude had in his bag.” “Don’t,” I said. “Malcolm, don’t mess with it. You’re going to get us all in a heap of trouble.” “Would you relax and live a little?” he said to me. “Man, you’re even more of a drag than I thought you were.” “Hey,” Falcon said. “She’s just trying to keep us from getting busted for something stupid you’re doing.” Malcolm folded back the outer flap of the bag and looked inside. He reached his hand down in the main compartment and dug around. “Oh, man,” he said with a huge grin. “Something’s in here.” I swallowed hard and looked across the room just as the class turned a corner out of sight. My heart was thumping a mile a minute as I waited to see what he pulled out. “Hurry up, would you?” Falcon said nervously. “Come on.” Amanda chewed on her fingertip as she, too, anxiously waited to see what was inside the bag. Malcolm slowly pulled his hand out. He dropped the bag to the floor, then he opened his hand for us to see what was in it. “Oh, my gosh,” I said in a loud whisper. “Check it out,” Falcon said. “No kidding,” Malcolm said. In Malcolm’s hand was a gold medallion. It appeared to be made of pure gold, but seeing as I wasn’t an expert, it was hard to tell. If it ever had writing on it, it was all gone now. The surface was almost completely smooth. “What do you think it is, Alli? You’re the brain here,” Malcolm said. I grabbed his hand and lifted it closer to my eyes. “I have no idea,” I said. “It doesn’t really look like a coin.” “It looks like a medallion to me,” Falcon said, as he took a step closer. “You know, like you get at the Olympics, only smaller.” “It’s not an Olympic medal, you dummy,” Malcolm said, his eyebrow arched. “It would have some kind of ribbon with it if it was. Duh.” I cut my eyes at Malcolm. “None of us know what it is,” I said. “Maybe it’s a necklace charm, or something.” “Was anything else in the bag with it?” Amanda asked, as she knelt down and rummaged inside the precious artifact. “This was it,” Malcolm said, as he bounced the medal in his hand. “Be careful,” I said. I was afraid he was going to drop it, or worse, lose it. “Put it back in the bag before I hurt you.” “You’ve really got to learn to chill out,” Malcolm told me, as he shook his head. “Lighten up a little.” Falcon took the bag from Amanda. “Put it back inside before you mess around and drop it.” “What’s the hold up back there?” Mr. Kimball shouted from the end of the room, his hands on his hips. I grabbed Amanda’s arm. “We’re coming, sir,” I shouted. “Put it back where you got it, Malcolm,” Amanda said. “Fine,” Malcolm said, as he folded the flap back down over the top of the satchel. “Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.” I pulled on Amanda’s arm as we took off running to catch up with the rest of the class. I was relieved Mr. Kimball didn’t realize we were tampering with precious belongings. He would have skinned us if only he knew. “So, what’s on the agenda for us tonight?” Amanda asked, as we exited the main building of our high school after returning from the city. We were headed straight for the parking lot. “I’m exhausted from the museum adventure, so let’s try and keep it simple.” “Exactly what I had in mind,” I said, as I threw my backpack over my shoulder. “I was thinking we’d eat and then lock ourselves in my room and work on homework first, then watch movies until we’re ready to crash for the night.” “Sounds great to me,” she said, as we crossed the street. “I’m so glad it’s Friday.” “Same here,” I agreed. “Hey, how’d it go with Falcon on the way back?” We were just about to my car, and I was going to answer her when Falcon and Malcolm drove up beside us in Falcon’s four-wheel-drive truck. Unfortunately, they pulled up on Malcolm’s side. “Ladies,” Malcolm said, as he rolled his window down. Falcon leaned toward Malcolm’s side and smiled. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, guys,” Amanda said, as she cut her eyes at me and smiled slyly. “I wanted to show you something, Alli,” Malcolm said, as he held his hand out the window. “Come here.” I hesitated at first, then I walked to the door. “What is it?” Malcolm grinned and opened his hand. “Surprise,” he said. He was holding the medallion from the museum. My mouth gaped open. “You stole it?” I was in shock. Malcolm was out of his mind. Didn’t he know stealing was a crime? Incredibly stupid? Insanely wrong? I knew he was an idiot, but I never imagined him doing something this idiotic. “I wouldn’t call it stealing,” he said. Falcon got out of the truck and ran around to Malcolm’s side. “I can’t believe you,” he said. “You mean you didn’t know?” I asked him, a hint of suspicion in my voice. “I swear I didn’t,” he said, as he looked me right in the eyes. “I had no idea until this very minute.” “Why did you take it?” I asked Malcolm. “I don’t know,” he said with sincere ignorance. “I just did. I guess I thought maybe you wanted it.” I laughed with sarcasm. “So you just up and took it out of the museum?” “Yeah,” Malcolm said with a blank expression. “You didn’t want it?” “It’s not the point, Malcolm,” I said, as I dropped my backpack on the ground so I could put my hand on my hip. “What kind of an idiot are you?” Falcon asked him. “You can’t go around stealing stuff.” “I don’t,” Malcolm said. Amanda leaned against Falcon’s truck and sighed. “Not good,” she said under her breath. “Not good at all.” “Well, what am I supposed to do with it?” Malcolm asked me. “I have no use for this old thing.” “Give it to me,” I said, as I held out my hand. “I’ll take it back to the museum this weekend.” “You can’t,” Malcolm said. “It’s closed until Monday.” “No, actually it’s closed all next week,” Amanda said. “I remember seeing a sign on the front door. It’s closed for renovations, or something.” “This is just great,” I said, as I took the medallion from Malcolm. “It’s not like it’s worth anything,” Malcolm said. “Says who? You?” I smarted. “You can’t even tell what it is,” he continued. “It’s just a worthless piece of junk.” “Maybe to you it is,” I snorted. “It probably meant something to him.” “Him who?” Malcolm asked. “Never mind,” I said, as I unzipped the outer pocket on my backpack and slid the medallion inside it. “You ready, Amanda?” Amanda stepped away from the truck. “Yeah,” she said. “Hey, Alli, I’m sorry,” Malcolm said, as he watched us walk away. “I thought you’d appreciate it.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “Whatever, “ I said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired,” Amanda said, after our third DVD for the night went off. She fluffed the pillows behind her head and sighed. “It’s been a long day.” I put the DVD back into its case and turned off the TV. “I hear you,” I said. On my way back to the bed I turned off the overhead light. “I still can’t believe Malcolm swiped the medal.” “I know it,” she whined. “My image of him is totally shattered.” I giggled and I slipped under the covers of my full-size bed. “What image? Yeah, he’s cute, but he’s a blubbering idiot.” “Hey,” she said, as she rolled over and faced me. “Watch what you say about my man.” “But, you just said….” “I know,” she said. “He’s all looks and nothing more.” I rolled onto my side so I could see out my blinds. The moon was full and gave off ample light. “So what do you think it is?” I asked. She turned over and faced the opposite direction. “Think what is?” “The medallion thing-a-ma-bob,” I said. “What do you think it is, or was?” “Who knows,” she answered. “War keepsake, maybe?” “What makes you think it’s from a war?” I asked. “No reason,” she said. “I just remembered where it said the picture was taken in 1863, and wasn’t the Civil War going on then?” “Yeah, I think so,” I said, as I sat up in the bed. “He looked way too young to have been in the war, though.” “I don’t know,” she said. “One night my dad was watching a documentary on one of those battles, and I think I heard them say the average soldier’s age was like fourteen, or something really young. The boy in the picture looked older than fourteen.” “Still, the war?” I grimaced. Surely the handsome lad wasn’t in the war. It seemed brutal and barbaric, and to think of him being a solider made me sad. I got up and walked over to my desk and picked up my backpack. I unzipped the outer pocket and pulled out the medal. “What are you doing? I thought we were going to sleep? It’s just about midnight, you know?” Amanda asked, as she sat up, the covers pulled around her neck. “Hang on a second,” I said, as I carried the medal to the window beside my bed. “Alli,” she whined. “I just want to look at it one more time,” I said, as I put it on my bedside table. I pulled up the blinds and let the moonlight pour in through the window, then I knelt down and looked closely at the gold beauty. “Can you tell anything about it?” she asked, as she crawled to my side of the bed and watched. “No,” I said, as I turned my head to the side and focused harder. “Well, maybe.” “What?” “It looks like there might be some writing on it,” I said. The grandfather clock in the hallway started chiming, and at the same time I reached out to touch the medal. The loud sound of the clock startled me and made me lose my footing, and as I fell forward on the table, my hand brushed against the medallion. My fingertip made contact with it, and I must have dragged my sock-feet across the carpet at the same time, because when I did, I got quite a shock. “Ouch!” I shouted, as I fell against the table, first hitting my head, then sliding down the wall to the floor. I heard the twelfth chime as I hit the ground. My head started to throb, and I closed my eyes and blacked out for a few seconds. So, what happens next? Buy "Another Time" to find out! Barnes and Noble Borders Walden Books Amazon.com goHastings.com To return to the main site, just close this window |
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Excerpt from "Another Time" © Kimberley A. Langley. Layout © Manifesto Art