Foxworth Academy (5 page)

“You’ll find out soon enough.  Have a seat,” Mr. Martin said, gesturing towards the chairs.  “Oh, almost forgot your hat, Brett.”  He reached into a cardboard box on the floor and pulled out a gray Jeff Cap that Brett recognized as something from the movie
The Godfather
.  Brett put it on and now it was Ally’s turn to laugh.  “Please keep these hats on the entire time,” Mr. Martin said.

“The entire time of what?” Ally asked.

When Mr. Martin didn’t reply, Brett and Ally walked the few steps to the chairs and sat down.  The texture of the chairs was rubber-like.  It enveloped their bodies as they reclined into almost a laying position.

“Now, have fun,” Mr. Martin said.

Brett and Ally exchanged worried glances.  They looked back at Mr. Martin who went over to the nearest wall and pressed a button.  A small electrical panel rose up and came out about six inches.  Red lights, black buttons and silver dials covered the panel and a keyboard popped out of the bottom.  Mr. Martin punched a few keys and looked back at his students.  Immediately a glass tube came from above their heads and came down over their feet, completely encasing their bodies.  Brett and Ally had a look of panic on their faces as Mr. Martin went back to the keyboard, hit a few more keys, and punched a button on the panel.

A soft feminine computer voice came on inside their glass chambers:

“Welcome,” the voice said.  “Please keep your arms and legs inside as you enter a journey like never before.  Upon your arrival, you can provide your name and your name only.  It is extremely important that you never reveal yourself in any other fashion such as birth date, hometown, and etcetera.  You must never take off your hat.  Inside your pocket is enough money to satisfy any of your needs.  This money will not be used for bribery, only to survive.  Failure to comply with these rules results in an F for this class.  Finally, your mission this semester is....SAVE.”

With that the recording ended and Mr. Martin went back to the panel, pushing more buttons and switches.  The lights turned green and the two glass tombs were shrouded in a bright light.  Mr. Martin turned and saw his students shielding their eyes.  In less than five seconds, it was over.  The students were gone.

M
r. Martin shut off the only light in the room, climbed the ladder, and went back into the storage closet and into the classroom.  The students were chatting quietly and quickly stopped when the teacher appeared.  He did not speak a word as he closed the closet door and went out of the classroom, leaving the door open behind him.  The students resumed their talking, each questioning the other about what was going on.  A few moments later, Mr. Martin appeared wheeling in the large flat-screen TV.

“Where are Brett and Ally?” someone asked.

“What are they doing in the closet?” another questioned.

Mr. Martin ignored their requests and wheeled the TV to the front of the class.  He plugged in the large machine, reached into his desk and placed a black box on the top of the TV, plugging a cord into the back of it.

“They’re right here,” he said, pushing a button on the front of the TV.

The students stared ahead.  In just a few seconds, the screen came to life, splitting directly down the middle.  The screen on the left showed nothing but white, while the screen on the right showed mostly white with a light fixture off to the side.  The screens moved ever so slightly left and right.  The one on the left tilted forward and now showed an old wooden dresser.  The screen moved left and revealed a bare wall, then turned right and it showed a woman lying on a bed.  It was Ally.

“Ally?  Where are they?” someone asked.

“You tell me,” Mr. Martin responded, arms folded, smiling at the TV.

The students were transfixed, their eyes glued to the television in front of them.  Some of the students in the back stood up to get a better view.  The screen on the right turned left and revealed a young man sitting upright in a bed. 

“Brett,” Frankie said.

Brett was sitting up straight glancing over at Ally.  Now the camera on the right sat up and turned forward, revealing an old wooden door.  It opened after a sudden knock.  A woman came into the picture wearing a long, puffy white dress and she started speaking rapidly.  “Why didn’t ya open when I knocked?” she said in a thick accent.  “I’ve been poundin’ on thee door for quite some time now.  This room has to be cleaned for the next guests.”  She put her hands on her wide hips and said, “Slept in your clothes did ya?  Out late?  Well, time to go.  Hurry hurry.  These linens have to be washed and dried and beds have to be made.”

Both screens turned.  Ally and Brett stared at each other with puzzled looks on their faces.

“What’s with the costumes?” a kid in the back asked and the room chuckled with laughter.

“Nice hats!” another kid said and the room erupted in laughter.

“The hats, Mr. Jenkins,” the teacher replied, “have cameras in them so that we can see what’s going on.”  Four hands went up after that statement and Mr. Martin waved both hands indicating that now is not the time to ask how the cameras work.  “Now, your assignment is to observe, take notes and answer my questions.  Brett and Ally are far away from this academy.  Can anyone tell me where they are?”

The students were silent, no one wanting to give out a wrong answer.

“Well then, figure it out,” he said.

CHAPTER SEVEN

B
rett and Ally got up from the beds and took in their surroundings.  They were in a small bedroom that was sparsely furnished.  Two dressers sat at opposite ends of the room.  No TV, no phone, no closets, no windows.  The woman stood there with her arms crossed waiting for them to exit the room. 

“Where are we?” Brett asked.

The woman shook her curly red hair, snorted, and said, “Too many pints at the pub, eh?  Shouldn’t be in the pubs anyway at your ages.  How’d you even get in there?  Have someone purchase you a few nips, eh?”  She clapped her hands twice.  “Off with ya, let’s go.”

They walked toward the door and the woman moved to the side as they passed by.  Standing in the hallway, they looked left, then right, and saw a staircase leading down.  The walls were pale yellow with ornate wood molding crowning the ceiling.  They walked slowly until they reached the stairs.

“Where are we?” Brett asked again.

Ally just shrugged her shoulders as they descended the winding wooden staircase.  At the bottom was a small room with pale red carpeting and wooden benches scattered along the walls.  A young woman with a hat similar to Ally’s sat at a desk writing on a pad of paper in front of her.  She looked up.

“Running away are we?” she asked.

“Ah...no,” Brett said.

The woman scrunched up her nose and her eyebrows dipped in confusion.  “Your mum and dad just let you get a room for the night?”

They ignored her and walked toward the two front doors on their right.

“Hope you enjoyed your stay at the Hampfield,” the woman said.

Brett and Ally stood on the brick steps and looked around.  The sun was low on the horizon and barely crested the two-story buildings across the street from them.  Looking left, they stared down a cobblestone street empty of pedestrians.  The buildings were gray and drab, some with broken windows, others with flower pots outside the front door and drapes covering the windows.  The same could be said on their right.  They saw a few shops and started toward them.

“Where in the world are we?” Ally said. 

“More importantly,” Brett replied, “How did we get here?”

“We’re not even in the US,” Ally said, “based on how that woman spoke.  Where do you think we are?”

“She sounded English, didn’t she?  Maybe we’re in England.”

“What?  How in the world did we get to England?  And what’s with the ridiculous clothes?”  She took off her hat.

Brett stopped and grabbed her arm.  “Don’t you remember the voice?  We have to keep these hats on at all times.”

Reluctantly she put the hat back on and they started walking down the cobblestone street.  They passed row homes mostly and a few were advertising rooms for rent.  The first store they came to was a florist but it was closed.  Brett checked his watch but it said 11:30, the time it was in class, but maybe not here, wherever here was.  A few houses had names written in script above the front door. 
Adams, Baker’s Pub, Lincolnshire Tavern. 
They were all closed.  They came to a cross street and had the option to go straight, left, or right. 

“Come on,” Brett said, leading Ally left, downhill.

More of the same surroundings abutted both sides of the street.  This time, there were a few people milling about.  Mostly men, walking toward an unknown destination, maybe work, the way they were dressed in dark drab suits and uniforms. 

“Excuse me?” Ally said to the closest man walking in their direction.  “Excuse me?”

The man turned his head in her direction but continued walking.

“Don’t you hear me?” she pestered.  Eventually catching up to him, Ally grabbed the man’s sleeve and spun him toward her.

“Get your mitts off me, vagrant,” the man said.

“I’m not a vagrant,” she said.  “Listen, I just have a question for you,” she pleaded.

The man turned and continued on his way.

“Where are we?” she asked.

The man slowed his pace and turned back toward her with a puzzled look.  He said, “This is Canal Walk, are you lost?”

“I mean where are we?” she asked.

“The County of Hampshire,” the man said, increasing his pace.

Brett and Ally stopped.  “Hampshire?” Brett said.  “Are we in New England?  Like the state New Hampshire?”

The man ignored them, shuffling off.  In the distance, Ally heard a voice shouting something over and over. “Come on,” Ally said, walking ahead of Brett.

As they got closer they could make out the voice of the young boy.  “Daily Echo five pence!  Echo here, five pence!”

They reached the corner of the street.  A boy no older than ten stood with a pile of slim newspapers beside him.  He held one in his hand waving it back and forth.  “Echo, five pence!” he exulted. 

Brett thought about the message back in the classroom and patted his pockets.  There were some coins in his pants.  He reached in and pulled out a fistful of unrecognizable coins.  “I’ll take one,” he said to the boy, holding out his hand of coins.

The boy looked at him, grabbed the coin, and handed him the newspaper.  “Cheers,” he said and he continued his sales pitch.  “Daily Echo!”

Brett and Ally stopped at the corner and Brett read aloud.  “Southhampton’s oldest daily newspaper.”

“What’s it say?” Ally asked, trying to read the paper.

Brett shuffled the paper and paged through it quickly. 

“The date, check the date,” she said.

He flipped back to the first page.  “Edition number one hundred.”  He paused and looked at Ally.  “April 10
^th
, 1912.”

T
he class viewed the unfolding scene with great interest.  Most leaned forward to hear the conversation that was taking place.  The students in the back abandoned their seats, walking up the aisles in order to see and hear better—all of them realizing their classmates had traveled back in time.

“April 10
^th
, 1912,” Mr. Martin said softly.  “Where are they?”

A hand rose in the front and said, “Hampshire County.”

“And that is where, Ms. Elizabeth?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Anyone know why they are in Southampton?  In the county of Hampshire?  In the year 1912?”

No one spoke.

“This is why you are here.  To learn class, to learn.”  He looked at his watch and said,

“Well, class is almost over, let’s see what young Brett and Ally do next.”

“1
912?” Ally said.  “How in the world did we get to 1912?”

Brett folded the newspaper up and tucked it under his arm.  “Wow,” he said.

“Wow what?”

“We traveled back in time, Ally.  Don’t you see?  The capsule we were put into, the warnings not to reveal anything but our names, theses silly costumes.  Mr. Martin sent us back in time.”

“For what?” Ally said, raising her arms wide.

“Beats me,” Brett replied. 

“For how long?  How will we get back?”

“I’m sure he’s worked that all out.  Come on, let’s walk.”

He grabbed her hand and they wound through the streets of Southampton, making their way to High Street and following it downhill.  The street was much busier than Canal.  People walked in both directions, passing them, not even giving them a second look.  Their clothes were identical to the ones the others were wearing and they blended in perfectly.  Other young newspaper vendors were shouting their sales pitches on every other corner, praising the “Daily Echo.”

“What now?” Ally asked, looking around.  The street had ended and they could go either left or right. 

“I don’t know,” Brett replied.

“What are we supposed to do?”

In front of them was a wide body of water with wooden docks running alongside.  Small fishing boats were being loaded with supplies for the day’s catch.  Nets, rods, reels, buckets, and wicker baskets were brought onto the boats by young men.  Older men were shouting orders while the others moved to their commands.

At that moment, Brett had a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.  His knees started to buckle.  His eyes glazed over and he started seeing stars.  He looked at Ally who seemed to be feeling the same symptoms.  Both of her hands were outstretched, as if trying to balance herself. 

“What’s happening?” she said, but Brett could barely make out her words.  In an instant, she disappeared in front of his eyes, and then everything went black.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“
W
elcome back,” Mr. Martin said as the glass tubes encasing the students’ bodies slowly pulled up.  Brett and Ally blinked their eyes a few times and sat up.

“What in the world just happened?” Ally asked.

“What do you think happened?”

“It just couldn’t be,” Brett stammered as he got up from the reclining seat.  “Time travel isn’t possible.”