1. The Back Alley
The toe of my shoe slipped suddenly from the next step as I ran up the metal staircase leading up to my apartment. My body came crashing down to the dull edges of the stairway. Impulsively, my hands flew up to protect my head from injury, leaving my shoulder to take the initial impact. Slowly I rolled onto my knees and clutched my arm. I knew instantly that my bone was going to be bruised and my skin would most likely not do the same. It was like all the times in my martial arts class when I forgot my shin guards and went up for a leg block. My shinbone would be bruised for at least two weeks and the pain was extreme when something happened to brush against it.
The sound of clumsily hurried footsteps from the lower stairway reached my ever vigilant ears. I fumbled to my feet, darting up the remaining steps to my door. I turned the brass knob on the left side of the door and threw my weight at it.
It's locked! I thought. Of all times to not know where I put the key, why—and again I ask why—does it have to be now? I jammed my hands into my jean pockets, but found them empty. Come on . . . come on!
"What's the matter—gasp—Imari?" So my suspicions were correct . . . he had followed me. He huffed in deep breaths and huffed them back out again. If only one flight of stairs did that to him I would have hated to see what he looked like in Mr. Pack's gym class.
"Please, leave me alone, Matthew!" I whined. I kept trying the door knob, thinking it might somehow get so fed up with me that it would let me in. I could feel him take a step toward me, still breathing heavily.
"But, Imari! If you don't like chess then why do you play it all the time? Why won't you join the Chess Club?" He said earnestly. He obviously didn't know that being nice had its limits depending on a person's level of patience and I had just about reached the end of mine. Normally I felt sorry for him—no one liked him once he started blabbing. If you had never talked to him before you would probably think him a kind, innocent freshman which, actually, he was. But he was so persistent—that would be the nice term, but most people would say annoying.
"It's not that I don't like chess, I just don't have the time for clubs!" I retorted.
"What do you mean? You're in the swimming club and you do that fighting thing, you certainly seem to have the time for those stupid things!" He said with a hint of disgust. He took another step toward me. My fists were tense and white with the restraint. I wanted to slap him! But I couldn't tell him why I played chess, or why I enjoyed swimming and martial arts so much. The only reason I did play chess was because of a promise someone had made me—a promise to let me have a rematch to regain my "honor". In truth, the guy had annihilated me in the game months before. But there was no way I was going to tell him about my infatuation with a college man. The other two activities were another matter . . .
"We'll do anything if you'll just—" I whirred about sharply. I had almost forgotten about . . . them.
Matthew's coke-bottle glasses were falling off the brim of his nose as I walked to the overhanging and leaned over. And, just as I had expected, there standing at the base of the complex were several members of the chess, math, and science clubs, or the "nerds" as everyone else called them. (They had actually been on their way to some kind of study group when they spotted me sitting in the back of a bus. Matthew took the opportunity to attack, since his prey had no were to run. Once the bus stopped I ran all the way to the apartment complex and they had all followed, even though I had hoped the rain would have stopped them.)
The fact was that I wasn't exceptional in any of those subjects. My testing scores were average, and to my own opinion, dropping by the day.
"And the rest of you can go away, too!" I yelled. "I'm not joining your clubs! Any of them! And that's final!" I turned back to him.
"Go home, Matthew." I reached into my back pockets this time, which I had before failed to search, and found my key. I slipped the thick, gold key into the hole, gave a slight push to the white, wooden door and slipped into my sanctuary.
"I don't want anyone to worry about you," was the last remark I gave, then shut the door with my back to it. I let my weight pull me down to the floor and rubbed my hands over my face, trying in vain to rub away the tension I felt.
"I'm glad that's over."
Normally I could take Mathew's consistent nagging with admirable tolerance, but that day was, well . . . different. It was the anniversary of the first day I had started supporting myself. My parents—exactly two years before—had been trying to get a divorce. Neither one was having an affair, but they had lost the so called 'love' they had once shared for sixteen years—in other words, they were bored. I think it was young passion getting in the way of sense; they never really loved each other to begin with. They had met at a dance and within the same week were married in Las Vegas. Then, about every three years they moved somewhere new. The last place they settled was Chicago. Anyway, back to the 'losing of love'. They wanted to get a divorce and with no consideration on my part. On the way to the court house their car was hit head on by some drunk who had stolen a semi truck. Though I had never had a very close relationship with either of them it had been a stumbling blow. Thankfully at the time I had a part-time job that I worked at after school for extra money. With the saved up money in my account I rented an apartment near to the school I was attending.
Knowing my predicament the school didn't make me pay for meals or anything like that, which was a big load off. On Sundays I ate anything that I could rummage from my fridge and cupboards. But on Saturdays I . . . well, actually it was pretty much the same as Sundays. Most of my money went into paying rent and the essentials. When ever my friends asked if I wanted to come over I accepted readily, secretly hoping that they would serve a meal or some snacks so I could preserve my food stash as long as possible. I couldn't bring myself to tell my friends about my situation. Well, actually they knew all about it. From my ever changing jobs to the small four room abode. (It was more like three since the kitchen and mini-living room were only separated by the edge of the carpet and tile.)
A small beep pulled me out of my reverie. I looked over to the small coffee table that sat next to my sofa. The phone that sat on top was slowly blinking, indicating that I had a message. I slowly stood on my feet and made my way to it. I pushed a button and held it up to my ear.
"You have 4 new messages." I sighed and pused the button again to hear them.
"Hiya, Imari! This is Damaris, as if you didn't know. I'm just calling to remind you of the movie tonight. Make sure you come over as soon as possible. See ya soon!" I pushed the button.
"Hey, it's me again! I know I called just a second ago, but I had to make sure you remembered what time it started. It starts at 7:30 but be here at 6. We need good seats! Bye!" I smiled at Damaris's enthusiasm. She was such an optimist. It always made me feel happy to hear her talk. Your mood was always brighter afterwards.
"Okay, so it's like, 5:00 and I still haven't heard from you. Where are you? Call me!"
"Imari, what are you doing?! Don't you ever pick up the phone? You'd better not be ignoring me!" I laughed. Damaris had been planning this night for weeks. It was her turn to pick which movie we would watch. The movie 'Gladiators' fit in perfectly with her Rome obsession and there was no way she was going to let us miss it.
I put down the phone and looked down at the clothes I was wearing. My navy blue jeans were now faded from excessive use, as were my black and white sneakers—the laces were a dark grey and were frayed at the edges. A dark grey vest-jacket went over my white, long-sleeved, turtleneck shirt. I stared for a moment then decided it was good enough for the movies and if it wasn't, the people at the theater would just have to descend to my low fashion sense standard.
I glanced around at my home. It was actually large for an upstairs apartment, though a lot smaller than what I was used to when my parents were alive. It had a living room slash kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and one closet. I walked swiftly to the crowded bedroom and looked around thoughtfully. My room was mantled with many different objects—weapons, pots, maps, fossils and so forth. My father had been a collector. He loved to study different cultures and especially their forms of fighting. He just had to study every kind of martial arts and weapon style that existed, just to say he'd tried it. What can I say? He was a full-fledged guy! During his small visits at home he had taken the time to teach me what he knew. The one I was most skilled at—but still very lacking in—was the sailor's cutlass and the like.
Standing there, I suddenly felt very hot. Lately, I had been getting hit with heat flashes when ever I felt stressed or thought too much. I searched the room for the small blue bag that held my swimming gear.
I guess I'll go for a swim after the show, I thought, putting my hand on my forehead. Swimming, along with the martial arts class, was where I had my own world. I didn't have to think about anything except the 'here and now'. My friends understood without a word from me, but I wasn't about to go telling Matthew, or any one else, my reasons. Talking about it usually made me feel worse.
Noticing that I had a bit of time before I had to start off I picked up the newspaper that I had borrowed from Kuri that morning. She said there was an interesting article that I should check out. I flipped slowly through the pages looking at the titles carefully—Kuri said I'd know which one it was when I saw it. I stopped at a small article that had a picture of a very familiar ice cream shop owner.
"Uncle Mike?" I whispered to myself, pulling the page closer to my face to get a better look.
Local Resident Claims Time Travel Is Real
Matt Jacobs
"I've been back in time," claims Mike Thicket, owner of Uncle Mike's Ice Cream shop and long time local resident of Chicago. "I've gone to the past twice already—once when I was fifteen and again when I was forty-one and I hope to go back again." Thicket told me yesterday as I was sitting down to one of his famous Suicide Banana Splits. Thicket went on to explain that he had stumbled upon a time-rip in one of the back alleys here in Chicago when he was fifteen and found himself in the middle of the American Civil War. He said that he fought in the battle of Gettysburg but in the thick of things was suddenly transported back to 20th-century Chicago. After he returned he went back every day at the same time that he had fallen through the time-rip until it happened again—26 years later. It has been 26 years to the day, says Thicket, since the last time-rip and it will be back tonight—
I glanced down at my wrist watch and gasped—the time pushed the strange article from my mind and I threw the paper onto my chair and gave one last look in the small mirror next to my bedroom door. My dark blonde hair was loosely tied back into a ponytail, as it was my favorite style. Easy, simple, quick. It looked a little ruffled from my incident on the steps, but giving myself an encouraging smile, I started for the exit. My hand reached for the door, but abruptly froze.
What if he's still out there? I tried my best to open the door slyly, but even a deaf man could have heard the creak and scrape that my door always made. I poked my head out of the opening and searched the area. All was clear. I flipped the switch to the light and stepped out.
My key. Quickly I went back to the small table that stood next to a lone chair and found the key I had deposited when I entered. I locked the door and, leaving the key in my secret place in the flowerpot next to my door—a completely obvious, nonetheless effective hiding spot— I began my descent. I would be right on time in getting to Damaris' house. It was a ways, but I could get there within a half hour if I walked fast.
On the way I thought over the article. It was certainly interesting. I had no idea that Uncle Mike believed in time travel. Though, he could certainly tell stories as if he had. He told them like he had experienced them himself and sometimes I almost believed him. He was one of my closest friends and his shop was actually were my friends and I first met and started our little historic club.
Because we all had our special interests in different parts of history we thought it would be a fun thing to do. When we got together we would watch movies and then dissect them according to how accurate they were. Yeah, we weren't exactly part of the 'popular' kids, but we never cared.
My specialty was the fighting styles and weaponry of all ancient and more recent cultures. Damaris, as you may have guessed, was in love with Ancient Rome. She studied the old language and read up on all she could get her hands on. Kuri, the smallest of us, is half Japanese and so knew how to use the language without much trouble. She often visited her grandparents who still lived in Japan and was able to practice with experts from time to time. Elene, the tallest, was in to Mid-evil England. She worked at the local library and had plenty of time to study the culture and was even starting to learn how to speak their tongue.
I looked up from where I had been staring at my feet to see I was a few houses away from Damaris' place. I heard the sound of wheels drifting slowly over the pavement behind me and glanced back out of habit—you can never be too careful, right? The car stopped in front of my destination and for a moment nothing happened. I continued to walk along the sidewalk until I was across from the car. A girl emerged from the back seat and looked in the open passenger window. It was Kuri. I withheld my call of greeting when I noticed her talking with someone still in the vehicle. A moment later she turned away from the car and began moving up the walkway to Damaris' home. Again I almost called out to her but was interrupted when suddenly Damaris burst from her door and in an instant was next to Kuri. I could hear her yelling how late they were and how she thought they could no longer get good seats. Elene's towering form came casually up behind Damaris. She had a warm, sympathetic smile on her face.
"Now where in the world is Imari?" Damaris shouted. I laughed loud enough for them to hear me. Their heads turned towards me, surprised.
"Let's get going, or we're really going to be late." I said. I knew that if I hadn't said so, Damaris would have been all over me about why I had been late, too.
I took my place next to Damaris in the front while Kuri and Elene walked behind.
"So who dropped you off, Kuri?" asked Damaris. We all gave our attention to Kuri as we continued to press forward.
"Just my mom and her new boyfriend," Kuri shrugged and shook her head slightly.
"Oh, really? What's this one like?"
"He's a Linguist Professor at the college or something like that." Kuri, obviously wanting to change the subject, turned to Elene and said,
"So how was work at the library?"
I and Damaris turned to walk backwards. Elene's smile withered.
"I got fired." She looked at the ground sadly, but we could see the anger behind it, too.
"I'm so sorry! You really loved that job and you were so devoted to it, too. They could never find a more enthusiastic employee, so why would they fire you?" I commented, a little upset myself.
"What happened?" Kuri asked soberly.
"Someone probably complained about me or something. My ex-boss didn't give me a reason. He basically said 'You're fired!' and shoved me out the door." Elene sighed and bowed her head.
We all said a few words of comfort to her because we knew how much that job had meant to her. As Damaris and I walked backwards she chanced another question to Elene and glanced at me.
"How's your brother doing, Elene? Is Alex ready for a rematch?"
I felt my face grow instantly hot and I flipped around.
"Oh, he's just fine!" Elene teased. "And he's been eagerly awaiting a chance to go head to head and toe to toe with a formidable opponent!"
Everyone laughed heartily at this joke, while I blushed like a ripe tomato.
I guess I forgot to say. The one who had told me he would give me a rematch was Elene's older brother, Alex. I had a major crush on him. It was actually kind of embarrassing having a crush on the brother of one of my best friends. That kind of thing was just awkward for everyone, but what can I say!? I mean come on—it's not like I could help it!
As I tried to hide my embarrassment Damaris nudged my arm where I had hit it not to long before. I gasped sharply, gripping my shoulder.
"What's the matter?" She looked worriedly over at me and slowed her pace slightly, but instantly picked it up again.
"I fell trying to get away from Matthew," I said bluntly.
"You mean that chess-science-math-geek?" Damaris blurted.
"Yeah. It's hard trying to be nice and still put a firm line down with him. Poor kid."
"Poor kid," they agreed.
There was a moment of silence as we all tried to come up with another subject.
"So, Imari." Kuri said. "Did you find the article?"
"The one about Uncle Mike, right? Yeah, I never heard him talk about that before. I mean, he never mentioned it even when he tells stories."
"Oh, are you talking about the time tear, rip thing?" Damaris asked.
"Yeah. I think we should ask him about it." I said.
"It would certainly make for a good story." Said Elene.
"And good stories always cheer you up." Kuri nudged her and we all giggled.
We arrived "incredibly and intolerably late" according to Damaris and the best seats were already taken, even though there was more than twenty minutes till the previews began showing. At the end, Damaris came stomping out in a huff.
"I can't believe how incorrect that was!" She drew her jacket about her tighter, the February air biting down hard when the sun had set.
"Well, you can't expect everyone to know everything that you do about Rome, Damaris," said Kuri.
"Yes, but the fighting was so unrealistic," I said. Damaris nodded in agreement.
"Exactly!"
"Well, I know something that would cheer us all up!" Elene said. "Uncle Mike's!"
We all cheered in approval. It was our main meeting place, after the library.
"I need a double-scooper today!" I said and everyone laughed in agreement.
"With an extra helping of blood pudding on the side!" Elene teased. We all moaned and gagged. That was Elene's favorite joke. Blood pudding was a special treat for the people of ancient Germany and Elene took every opportunity to bring up her favorite culture—even if it was through something so disgusting.
We decided to take a short cut through some alleys to get to Uncle Mike's. Our chattering died slowly as a strange feeling came over us. My stomach turned slowly and my head spun. We all lagged to a stop—it seemed we all felt strangely. The ground was shifting. I panicked and threw my arms around a thin pipe that hung on the side of the wall. The last thing I saw was the ground folding in on itself, taking my friends with it.