Foxworth Academy (7 page)

Nick walked over and held out his hand before saying, “Oh boy.”

Brett laughed and said, “Good luck.”

Nick took the pepper and tossed it in the air a few times and then stared at the pepper in his hand.  “This is not going to be fun.”  He lifted the pepper high in the air as if trying to look through it, to see if there was any way this pepper was going to be kind to him.  He closed his eyes and lowered the pepper to his mouth.  Like ripping off a Band-Aid, he took a bite.  Not a nibble, but a healthy one-inch bite, taking almost a third of the menacing pepper into his mouth.  Still with his eyes closed, he began chewing vigorously, trying to get this over with as fast as possible.  Then it hit him.  The pain was intense.  His whole mouth felt like he’d stuffed a cactus into it as it slowly knifed down his throat.

“Ahh!” Nick screamed.  He was pacing back in forth in the garden, eyes now wide open, his hands acting as a fan as they waved in front of his face.

Brett couldn’t control his laughter.  “Ha-ha!”

“Oh man,” his dad said, taking deep breaths.  He used the back of his hand to wipe the tears that were now coming out of his glossy eyes.  “Whew,” he said.

“Hot?” Brett sarcastically asked.

“Wanna try one?” his dad responded.

“No thanks.  It’s one thing to put a couple pieces in my chili, but that’s just crazy.”

“Alright, let’s get pickin’,” Nick said.  They spent the next twenty minutes grabbing over one hundred hot peppers from the various plants.  Seeing that the other vegetables had called it quits, they uprooted them and put them in a trashcan for collection on Monday.  Nick was happy to spend this time with his son.  It was usually just baseball practice, baseball games, and the occasional family weekend at the beach, but this time was special, just the two of them.

“You like your new school?” he asked.

Brett wanted to tell him all about history class and about Ally, but he didn’t.  “Yeah, it’s good.  Different from grade school.”

“In what way?”

“You know, just different.  Older kids are there.  More freedom I guess.  It’s cool.”

“Just remember, you’re there to learn.  Foxworth is not cheap.”

“I know, Dad,” Brett pleaded.  They put the last of the dead vegetables into the trashcans, brushed their hands, and headed inside.

Nick put his hand on Brett’s shoulder.  “Let’s go wash up for dinner.”

Brett’s sister, Reilly, came home from school after acting lessons and the family had dinner together.  Unfortunately, Brett’s mom stayed late at work so it was just the three of them.  After cleaning up the dishes and doing their homework, Nick challenged his kids to a game of Wii bowling.  The kids complied after some pleading by their father.  They played two games before retiring to their separate corners.  Brett got beat by his sister in the second game.  His focus was not on bowling, however, it was on April 10
^th
, 1912.

CHAPTER TEN

S
leep came quickly for Brett after such a long day, but it didn’t last.  He was awake from 2:30 a.m. to almost 4:00 thinking about his journey back in time. 
How in the world did Mr. Martin build a time machine?
He repeated the question in his head over and over.  It didn’t make sense.  Maybe it was some sort of virtual reality thing.  But he didn’t put on those silly goggles like he’d seen people do on TV.  He decided he’d have a talk with Ally to see if she believed what they experienced was real. 
Ally
.  He couldn’t wait to see Ally again.

The 6:30 alarm blared next to his bed.  Brett reached over and slapped the alarm clock, hoping to hit the snooze button.  On his third try he finally hit the right button and rolled back over on his side.  It seemed like ten seconds had passed, but six minutes later the alarm sounded again, jarring him from sleep.

“Get up,” Reilly said after punching open his bedroom door a foot.  She had a bathrobe on and her short, brown hair was wrapped up in a towel.  “Shower’s open,” she said.

Brett rubbed his eyes open and sat up in bed, stretching his long arms over his head.  He quickly showered, got dressed in jeans and a green and gray short-sleeved T-shirt and ate a quick English muffin with turkey bacon.  His dad drove him to school and he met his friends in the cafeteria before the first bell rang.

“Hey Brett, what do you think?” Krista asked.

“About what?”

“What movie should we see this weekend?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  You’re going to the movies again?”

Krista looked concerned.  “You’re not going?”

Brett was caught off guard and replied, “I just didn’t know that was the plan.  I don’t know.  I have a baseball tourney in Maryland on Saturday, so I don’t know if I’ll be around.”

“Oh,” said a dejected Krista.

“Cool,” Frankie said.  “Good luck.  Now, I say we see
Alone
.”

“Dude,” Liam replied, “that looks freakin’ scary.”

“I know,” Frankie replied.

Krista ignored the rest of the conversation as did Brett.  She occasionally glanced over at him and he did the same, but they never locked eyes.  Brett was confused. 
Was she really interested in him
?  She hadn’t even hinted that she was until that little thing happened at the movie theater.  Now she appeared to be visibly upset when he said he wasn’t sure if he could make the movies this weekend. 

A
ll eyes were on Brett as he made his way into Mr. Martin’s history class; even Ally smiled at him as he took his seat.  The teacher rolled the large screen TV into the front of the room and powered it on.  The anticipation was even greater than before.  Yesterday, no one knew what to expect, today they did.

“Now class, just to re-cap,” Mr. Martin said, while pushing play on the remote control.  The television replayed the last five minutes of their journey through Southampton, England.  It showed them buying the newspaper from the vendor and then walking the short distance to the seaport.  The teacher paused the recording when Brett and Ally were about to return home.

A boy in the back raised his hand and said, “So, wait.  What we saw on TV before, the Lee Harvey Oswald thing.  That was real, wasn’t it?”

The teacher smiled and said, “Yes, Brian, as real as that dirty t-shirt you’re wearing.”  The class chuckled and Mr. Martin continued, looking at Brett and Ally as he spoke.  “They failed their mission.  If there are no further questions, let’s resume,” he said.  He gestured to Brett and Ally to follow him and they obliged, following him to the utility closet, where he pulled out his keys to unlock the door and then down the hidden stairs.  “Are we ready?”

Brett and Ally changed into their early twentieth century clothes and climbed into their respective glass enclosures.  They both nodded at the professor as the tubes closed and they were sealed away from the world.  Mr. Martin smiled as he walked over to the wall with glowing lights and switches.  He pushed some buttons and flipped some switches.  Brett looked over at Ally as the voice boomed overhead, “Your mission...SAVE”, and within seconds, all went dark.

S
outhampton was quiet when Brett came to.  It was still morning when he found himself in an alleyway a short distance from where he’d disappeared the day before.  It was only seconds before Ally was standing right next to him, regaining her balance as if she just jumped off a balance beam.  It was slightly colder than she remembered and she soon wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

“Why does it feel colder?” she asked.

Brett shrugged and replied, “Feels the same to me.  Let’s start walking.”  They continued down the alley until they came to an intersection.  Looking left and right, the scene was the same: small one and two story buildings that were attached to each other showcasing homes, shops, and small offices.  On the left they noticed the same boy they had bought the newspaper from shouting “Daily Echo!” on the corner.  They walked towards him to try and regain their bearings.  They still had no idea where they were or what they were supposed to do.

“I can’t stop shivering,” Ally said.

“Look, that place up ahead looks like a little café or restaurant, let’s go inside.”

Brett and Ally walked up to the front of the Tremont Café and opened the heavy wooden door.  It was brightly lit and almost looked like the inside of a home.  There were couches, chairs, bars and small tables scattered about the place.  A handful of people were sitting on chairs or standing at the bar, drinking beverages out of plain, white ceramic or porcelain mugs and cups.  A disheveled looking man with stained, brown pants and a grimy white shirt with suspenders, was sitting at the bar nodding off when Brett and Ally walked in.  He raised his cup and turned to look at them.

“Well, look what the cat drug in,” he slurred, spilling some of his drink in the process.  “Ssshhhshouldn’t you two be down at the docks working?  Or at least
you
ssshould.  The pretty one there should be down at the factory, folding shhhheets and towels.”

Brett and Ally just stood there not knowing how to reply to the drunken man.  They turned to walk back out of the café when they heard a voice from behind the bar.  “Never mind you, William, you leave those children alone.”  The woman walked over to the bar with two steaming plates in her hand and set one down in front of the man named William and another she brought to a man sitting in the corner reading a newspaper.  “Come in, come in,” she pleaded, gesturing with her arm to a small table near the back of the cozy room.  A great amount of heat was coming from the fireplace nearby and Ally was anxious to sit down.  The woman had the girth of two high school freshmen, Brett thought, and the short, brown hair of a boy which was underneath a white bonnet.  She wore a long, green dress that was half covered by a greasy, white apron.  “Does not surprise me a wee bit that you are skipping your duties today,” she said.  “Tea with or without milk?” she asked.

Brett and Ally looked at each other.  Brett spoke first, saying, “Two without please.”

The woman walked away and Ally said softly to Brett, “Tea?  We don’t drink tea.  Well, at least I don’t.”

“I don’t either, but it seems like everyone here does, so we will too.  This further confirms our thoughts that we are in England.”

“Shh,” Ally whispered.

The woman returned with two small cups and a small kettle with steam coming out of its spout. She placed them on the table alongside a small glass bowl of sugar.  “Anything to eat, folks, before you make your way down to the harbor?”  She winked.  “That is where you’re going, right?”

Brett played along, “Yes.”

“How about a few lemon scones to fill up your skinny bones?”

“Sounds great,” Brett replied.

“The harbor?” Ally asked when the woman was out of earshot.

Brett just shrugged his shoulders.  “We’ll check it out after we eat.”

T
he class watched Brett and Ally on the big screen TV chewing away on their scones and sipping their teas.  Both of them had put a healthy amount of sugar in their cups.

“It’s definitely England, Mr. Martin,” a girl said near the front.  “Tea?  Easy giveaway.”

“Is that your final answer, as they say on that old game show?”

“Yep,” she replied.

“You are correct, Tina.  Although I’m not sure tea was the easiest of hints.  They drink tea all over the world.  Ireland consumes almost twice as much tea as England.  But five points to you, Tina.”  He went over to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk and wrote while speaking.  “So we know they are in Southampton, England in April of 1912.  What happened here on this date?  Or close to this date?”  He turned to the class.  “No one?”

They stared back him and turned to one another.

“I understand,” Mr. Martin said.  “You only get one chance to answer, but I thought at least one of you would have the correct answer based on the date and the location.”

A boy in the back of the room cautiously raised his hand.  He had dark hair and dark eyebrows and seemed skeptical in his response.

“Chase Browning, adda boy.  Let’s hear your one and only guess on what’s going on here.”

The boy brushed his bangs away from his eyes, exhaled, and looked at Mr. Martin.  Full of confidence he said, “It’s the start of World War one.”

Like in a tennis match, every pair of eyes went from Chase Browning in the back of the room to Mr. Martin in the front.  The teacher nodded his head slowly, crossed his arms, and walked to the other side of the classroom.  There were murmurs slowly forming throughout the students and even Chase Browning started to smile.

“Not bad, Mr. Browning, not bad at all.  Only problem is, you’re two years away.  World War one officially started in 1914.  Very good guess, Browning, very good indeed.”

The kid was crushed and he dropped his head onto his chest.

“I give Mr. Browning here credit,” Mr. Martin said to the class.  “Anyone else want to step up to the plate?  Throw their hat into the ring?  Take a bite out of history?”

All was quiet.

“Well then, let’s resume watching, shall we?”

A
lthough the sugar helped, the tea was certainly not to their liking.  They managed to get through half a cup, mostly to wash down the dry lemon scones they were eating.  Soon, the café emptied.  Brett surmised that they were all going to their places of employment, wherever that may be.  He waved the woman over and asked for the bill.  She verbally said they owed sixty-five pence.

“Cents?” he asked.

“My dear, cents is the American word.  Here in England, we say pence.  You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

Brett did not act surprised when she said they were in England, he figured as much.  He reached into his pocket and found some coins and paper bills, thoroughly confused as to how much each coin was worth.

The woman chuckled and grabbed a few coins from his palm.  “That should cover it,” she said.  “Now then, I assume you will make your way to the harbor?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Well, you better get going,” she said looking at the clock on the wall.  “Have a safe trip.”