osprey_archer | Time Travel Tuesday

Here is the third and final installment of The Time-Traveling Popcorn Ball! (Here are chapters 1 & 2 and chapters 3 & 4, if you need to catch up.) The book itself will be released next Tuesday; it’s already available for preorder if you want it.

Chapter 5

“Rosie!” I cried. “No, you’re not – ” I hopped off the window seat so fast that I knocked over one of the book piles. “Oh, crap, Angela’s gonna be mad.”

“We’ll put them back,” Rosie assured me, swinging herself inside the room. She looked older than she had yesterday: almost Angela’s age, and Angela’s height too, and she had little gold earrings. But her monkey-like grin was still the same. “Gosh! Your floor is cold!”

“Sorry,” I said, and ran across the room to shut the door so Dad couldn’t hear us – well, hear me – not that he’d be listening.

Turning back, I suddenly saw the room through Rosie’s eyes: the two sagging twin beds from a garage sale, with a suitcase sitting between them for a nightstand, and on top of it a gooseneck lamp so battered that it permanently drooped. Even the white walls looked scuffed and dirty, and suddenly I was ashamed.

But Rosie didn’t seem to notice. She knelt on the floor and took one of Angela’s books in each hand, looking back and forth between them. “Enchantress from the Stars,” she said. “And The Moorchild. These are beautiful. Do you know when they’ll be published?” She dropped The Moorchild and flipped open Enchantress from the Stars. “1970! I’ll be twenty then! Oh please, couldn’t I borrow it?”

“It’s Angela’s! She barely lets me borrow her books, and I live here!”

“Well, I live here too,” said Rosie. “Only fifty years ago. In this same room, though! Maybe there’s somewhere I could hide it, so you could find it, a loose floorboard or…”

“The mice would get it,” I said firmly.

“Mice!” She scrambled up off the floor, like they might come scurrying out at her from all sides. “You do live like Sara Crewe. In A Little Princess? You have – you haven’t read A Little Princess,” she said.

She sounded so horrified that I felt a little defensive. “I have read The Moorchild, though,” I said. “Or my mom read it to us, anyway.”

She scooped it up again. “And I won’t get to until – 1996! I’ll be forty-six! Do you think a forty-six year old can properly appreciate fantasy books and fairy tales?”

“My mom…” I began, and trailed off. I knelt to stack up our books myself.

“I’m not even sure I can now. Maybe you should take your best books back to lend to my younger self. Do you think it would rip the fabric of the space-time continuum if I read books that haven’t been published yet?”

I had finished stacking. None of the book covers had gotten creased in the fall, thank goodness. Angela seemed to think that books could actually feel pain if a page got ripped. “Could you carry one back with you?” I asked.

“Oh, probably not. It didn’t work with the Kit Kats. Drat!” She heaved a great sigh and fell backwards on my bed. Then she lifted her head. “Why are you wearing a boy’s jacket?”

I grimaced. “Angela says there aren’t really boys’ clothes or girls’ clothes,” I informed her. “And it was the only one in lost and found, and I had to get a new jacket, because I left mine at your house – in your time, I mean.”

“You did! I wore it for Halloween that year.” Suddenly she sat up. “I told the neighbors that it was the wave of the future, a genuine taste of 2013. They thought I was bats, but then that’s generally what they thought already. At least we won’t all be dressing like the Jetsons, right?”

I didn’t know who the Jetsons were. “Or like Star Trek,” I suggested.

“Like what now?”

Wasn’t the original Star Trek super old? Clearly not old enough. “I may have just ripped the space-time continuum by telling you,” I said.

Rosie widened her eyes and sucked in her breath, like maybe she could stop space-time from blowing up if she stopped breathing. Then she let it out with a shout of triumph. “Oh! Oh!” she cried, jumping to her feet and clapping her hands. “You left your jacket! Which means! Which means that maybe you can bring things back to my time, even if I can’t carry them! So you could bring books – ” She sat down on the bed again with a bounce, adopting a thinking pose. “Do I suddenly remember more books now that I’ve asked you to bring them? But how would I know? Wouldn’t it just seem like the memories had always been there?” She lay back down again. “What’s Star Trek, anyway?”

“It’s a TV show about space exploration.”

“Space exploration! Do we make it to the moon?” Rosie asked. “Do we have moon colonies? Have we made it to Mars? Do any girls get to go in space, or is it only for men like always?”

“You don’t want me to tell you everything,” I said. “Don’t you want surprises?”

“You won’t tell me anything,” she complained, and then jumped across the room to look out the window. “No flying cars,” she said. “No floating houses. I don’t suppose you eat pellets instead of food? I’ve always thought that sounded like an awful future, don’t you? I love food. Except sauerkraut. Mom says I’m a little too American, not liking sauerkraut. But I believe I would eat even sauerkraut if the alternative was pellets.”

“No pellets,” I promised her, and pushed the slice of pie in front of her. “Peanut butter pie, though.”

“Great!” She took a bite, still looking out the window. “Your cars are so boring. No fins at all.”

“Fins? Did you expect us to have swimming cars?”

She giggled again. “Wouldn’t that be great? ‘It swims, it flies, it drives – all the transportation you’ll ever need in just one vehicle!’ I should go into advertising. I’ll come up with the slogans, and someone else can make the products to match them.” She took another bite of pie and then politely handed it back to me. “Is it almost Halloween? It looks Halloween-y out there. I can see pumpkins on the porch at Linda’s. Who lives there now?”

“Dunno.”

“You don’t know?”

She sounded incredulous. “We only just moved here,” I said defensively.

“Oh, so that’s why the room’s so bare! Can I see the rest of the house? I left a message in the broom closet downstairs – you know, like a message in a bottle, except in a knothole in the wall.”

I picked up crumbs of piecrust with the back of my fork, scowling. “We only rent the top floor,” I muttered. And I didn’t want her to see the rest of our apartment: it wasn’t anything like her pretty dining room with the pink china teacups in the gleaming dark cabinet. “Anyway I’m busy,” I added. “Thinking about Halloween costumes. Because it is Halloween almost; it’s on Thursday.”

At once she sat down on the window seat, eager as a spaniel. “Can I help? I love Halloween: I love ghoulies and ghosties and things that go bump in the night, and making costumes, and all of that, and I’ll never get to do it again because I’m really too old to go trick-or-treating now – ”

“You can’t be that old!”

“I’m almost thirteen. Next Halloween I’ll be a teenager,” said Rosie, with great tragedy, and she collapsed back against the window with her hand pressed against her brow. “It’s the end of all things. We must see if we can make the clock stop time somehow – preferably before I hit the dreaded teens.”

“Angela’s going trick-or-treating, and she’s thirteen,” I said. “I mean – if we can get costumes. We left all ours behind…” Angela had insisted on cramming books in every available space in our suitcases.

“We’ll make something. That’s the best part anyway,” Rosie said. “This year Karen and Linda and me – they’re my friends – ripped newspapers into strips and painted them green to make hula skirts.”

“Dad doesn’t get a newspaper.”

“Doesn’t get a newspaper!” Rosie was scandalized. “Did television kill newspapers, then? Millie says they will. Newspapers, magazines, books, she thinks it’s all going to be replaced by TV. ‘Read Fahrenheit 451,’ she says. It’s dreadfully depressing. I won’t believe it’s the future…But she must be wrong!” Rosie added triumphantly. “Because you have all these books! So television didn’t win! Unless you’re part of a secret literate insurgency, hiding books from the government? Are you?”

I couldn’t resist. “Yes, of course! Angela and I are secret agents. That’s why we moved here, you know, to distribute these books: we have to find more secure hiding places for them. And when the bad guys come, that’s why I go back in time, to hide.”

“Really?” she said breathlessly, and for a moment I thought she honestly believed I was part of a book-loving ring of resistance fighters. But she was interested in something else. “Do you know how to control time travel, then? Because I only know about the clock.”

“Yes, of course,” I said recklessly. “Mom invented it, you know. Only I can’t tell you anything more, because…”

Her eyes narrowed. “Because?”

I took another bite of pie.

“Because you’re making it all up!” she said, and took back the pie and sighed. “Oh! I just had the best idea!” she cried. “Is Angela about my size?”

“Ye-es…”

She began to unbutton her dress. “Genuine historical costume! It’s perfect. She’ll like it, won’t she? It’s almost like something out of Anne of Green Gables – didn’t you tell me Angela loves Anne of Green Gables? Call her attention to the puffed sleeves.”

“Won’t your mom mind?” I asked.

“Oh, Mom won’t notice,” Rosie said, undoing her buttons. “This is just one of Millie’s old things; no one wears sleeves like this anymore. Which is too bad.” She slid out of the dress and laid it on Angela’s bed. She wore a sort of sleeveless nightgown underneath, trimmed with lace at the shoulders and hem.

She shivered. I grabbed the extra blanket off the end of my bed, and she wrapped it around herself. “I feel like a mummy,” she said. “There’s another good one for you: you just need a roll of toilet paper for that. You do still use toilet paper in 2013, don’t you?”

But before I could answer, the front door slammed open. “Piper!” Angela sang. She must have had a good day at practice. “I’m home!”

My heart gave a great thump. “Hide!” I hissed at Rosie.

“She can’t see me,” Rosie pointed out, and plunked herself down on Angela’s bed, right next to Angela’s one remaining teddy bear.

“Piper?” Angela called.

“Hi, Angela!” I yelled back, gesturing wildly for Rosie to hide. But she just sat there. “Dad brought us pie! I’ll bring it out to the kitchen – ”

But Angela stomped into our room then, scowling. “Of course he did.” All the singing had gone out of her voice. “If he’s so worried about money, he should think of the dentist bills… Piper!” she cried, and I just about had a heart attack, because it looked to me like she was looking right at Rosie.

But Rosie was right: Angela didn’t see her at all. Instead she held up Rosie’s dress. “What’s this?”

“I got you a Halloween costume!” I said.

“With puffed sleeves, like Anne of Green Gables,” Rosie prompted. I stuck my tongue out at her.

But Angela didn’t need prompting. She held the dress up against her and swirled around the room, watching the skirt flutter. “It’s so perfect,” she said. “How’d you get it?”

I hadn’t thought how to explain it. Angela knew I didn’t have any friends to lend me things. “Mrs. Schroeder.”

“Mrs. Schroeder? I thought you were afraid of her.”

“Yes, well…” I had no answer to that. “But she’s got a bunch of old clothes! Nothing that fits me, though.”

“Oh, Pip…” Pip is an old nickname, from my initials. Angela set down the gown gently, then spun around. “Well, we’ll come up with something for you!” she cried. “We could… let’s see…”

“You look like a boy in that jacket,” Rosie supplied, swinging her legs. “Aren’t boys monstrous enough for a Halloween costume?”

“I can’t dress up as just a boy,” I said, annoyed.

Angela stared at me. “Well, no. I never suggested that. But with the jacket – and you could wear your cargo pants – no! Wear mine, and then you’ll look like one of those tramps in thirties movies. We’ll put your hair up under Dad’s newsboy hat – he brought that, right? I could borrow one from Hannah if he hasn’t – and your shoes…”

We both paused, thinking of my shoes with their sparkly purple streaks. “Maybe no one will see the glitter,” I said. “Because they’re so worn?”

“Shoe polish!” Rosie supplied.

“Does Dad have any shoe polish?” I asked.

“Let me go check!” Angela said, and she dashed from the room.

Rosie hopped off Angela’s bed and went to inspect our books again. She picked up Enchantress from the Stars wistfully. “Won’t she notice the book hanging in midair?” I whispered.

“Dunno,” said Rosie. “Let’s find out!”

“Shoe polish!” said Angela, and her voice made me leap in surprise. I jumped in front of Rosie, trying to hide the floating book as Angela came into the room. “Should we do your shoes now, or – ”

But a thump interrupted her words. “What was that?” Angela cried.

I turned around. Enchantress from the Stars had fallen to the floor, right on top of a heap of blanket. And Rosie was gone.

Chapter 6

I didn’t see Rosie again until Halloween. I looked for her. I climbed in all the closets and even the cupboards, just in case the backs would give way, like Lucy’s wardrobe to Narnia.

No luck. There had never been doors involved before, anyway, just popcorn balls and clocks. But if Rosie’s clock was still in the house, it must have been in Mrs. Schroeder’s downstairs apartment. She was always away on trips, so maybe I could sneak in sometime…

But Mrs. Schroeder was at home just then. As cold as it was, sometimes when I came back from school she was sitting on the porch, hunched over and scowling like a crow in her black coat. She didn’t even say hello to me when I scampered past.

Dad had to work on Halloween night, so I wanted us to dress up early to show him our costumes. I was so certain Angela would object that I spent most of the school day making up arguments for it. My seatmate Shelby had to poke me when the teacher called on me, because I didn’t even notice.

But Angela surprised me by seeming pleased. “That’s a great idea, Piper,” she said.

I was so pleased. Maybe she and Dad would start to get along again.

“Not that he’ll care,” Angela added.

I sighed.

But he did. We almost didn’t get done in time. Angela was still trying to pin up my braids so we could hide them under my hat when we heard the front door open for Dad to leave.

“Wait! Wait!” Angela shouted. She stabbed the bobby pin into my head and tore out of the room, Rosie’s skirts fluttering around her.

Dad stood waiting in the door, and his tired face split into a smile when he saw us. “How are my beautiful girls?” he said. He flourished his Perkins cap and bowed formally to Angela. “May I have this dance?”

Angela was too surprised to say anything. He took her hands and galloped her across the empty front room and back to the door, ending with a twirl that made Angela laugh. Dad made a show of wiping his forehead. “And Piper, you look just like the Kid from a Charlie Chaplin movie,” he said. “Have you ever seen Charlie Chaplin? We’ll have to get one from the library sometime.”

“We don’t have a TV,” Angela pointed out.

“Well, maybe I’ll buy one on my next day off,” Dad said. “We can put it…” He paused, looking at the empty room. His face seemed to sag, and then his shoulders, and I could see the tiredness settling on him again like a weight.

“On the counter in the kitchen!” I cried. “It’s warmer in the kitchen anyway. And we can keep the front room for a dance studio.”

Angela’s face brightened again. “I could have my friends over for a dance party,” she said.

“Sometime when Mrs. Schroeder is gone so you don’t keep her up all night,” Daddy said, and for the first time in forever, she smiled at him. “There’s my girl!” he said. “Let me get my camera.” And he snapped a whole series of photographs of us both. “I guess I won’t need to bring home any pie tonight,” he said. “You girls look so cute, they’ll give you enough candy for a month.”

After he left, I said to Angela, “See? Told you.”

“I don’t remember you telling me anything,” Angela said, annoyed. But all of a sudden she grinned. “Oh, whatever. You ready to head out, Piper?”

I was aghast. “It’s not even dark yet!” I protested.

“It’ll be dark soon,” Angela said. “It’ll be dark by the time we get back. And anyway, we’re all dressed up already, so why waste time – ”

“It’s not a waste of time! We always read ghost stories before we go out.” Mom always read them to us. So the dark would be properly frightening, she said. “Only babies go out this early,” I added, my voice rising into a whine.

“Yeah, and they get to pick the best candy,” Angela said lightly. “We’ll be done in less than an hour.”

“Less than an hour?” Suddenly I got a sick, suspicious feeling in my stomach. She’d been planning this. That’s why she had been so willing to get on our costumes early! And like an idiot, I’d thought she was trying to get along with Dad!

“But we have all night. And we always take a long time to trick-or-treat. So even if some places get picked over, we can go everywhere and get lots of candy. Because Dad won’t get back till midnight! We’ve got hours, right, Angela?” Angela raked her fingers through her hair, disarranging her curls. “Angela! Right?”

She wouldn’t look at me. “Look, I’m going trick-or-treating with Hannah later, okay?” Angela said. “I figured you and I could fit trick-or-treating in before she got here to pick me up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” I asked. My voice came out so high and squeaky and sad that it enraged me, and I added, “Just let me come with you and Hannah. I won’t be any trouble. I’ll distract her mom!”

“No,” Angela said.

“Why not? Hannah’s mom loves me!”

Angela gave her foot a little stomp and huffed out a breath. “Because it’s not just me and Hannah, okay? Some of my other friends are coming too.”

“Other friends,” I echoed.

“They’re just these girls Hannah and I sit with at lunch, whatever,” Angela said, as if having a whole lunch table of friends didn’t matter to her at all. “They’re not on cross-country, you haven’t met them. But there’s going to be six or seven of us – ”

“Six or seven,” I echoed. I had thought her only friend was Hannah. How had she made so many friends that she couldn’t even properly count them?

“And I can’t bring my little sister along. You understand, don’t you? If it was just me and Hannah I would. And the gang’s picking me up at 7:30, so you and I need to hurry and go trick-or-treating now, Piper.”

The gang. How had she gotten a whole gang of friends, when I hadn’t made any at all?

But I had! I had made a friend. “Well, I don’t need to go trick-or-treating with you, either,” I said. “My – my friend Rosie asked me to go with her! And I said no because I thought we’d be trick-or-treating together, but as you’re busy I’ll just go with her.”

Angela blew out a gust of air. Even to me it sounded like I’d made Rosie up on the spot. “Piper, don’t be so childish about this,” she said, in her most irritatingly grown-up voice. “We have time to get plenty of treats, but we have to leave right now.”

“I’m not being childish. I do too have a friend named Rosie. And we’re going trick-or-treating at eight o’clock! So have a good time with your gang!” I cried, and I stormed to our room and slammed the door and locked it.

“Piper – Piper!” Angela yelled, and pounded on the door. “Piper, that’s our room, you can’t just lock me out! Piper, open up! Piper!”

I snatched her pillow off her bed and pressed it over my head. It barely diminished the sound of her fists on the door.

But suddenly the pounding stopped. “Fine then,” she said. “Have it your way.”

The floor creaked as she walked away from the door. The apartment was so silent that I heard the ancient landline phone, so old it had a curly cord, click as she lifted the receiver.

“Hi, Madison!” she said, in a cheerful perky voice, as if we hadn’t just had a fight, or as if the fight didn’t even matter at all. “I know, it’s way earlier than I said… yeah, I can come at seven after all! My little sister found someone else… yeah, little sisters can be…”

I would rip up her books. I would set them on fire.

“I mean… but no, Piper’s not really a pain. She actually found my costume. It’s so great. You’re going to love it.”

I slid down the door, pressing my face against the frame. A tear leaked out of my eye.

“So you can pick me up at… Really, that fast! Glad I called now!… Love ya lots!”

I pressed my arms against my ears to try to block out the sounds of Angela getting ready, but I heard it all. Angela stomping her feet against the ground as she put on her shoes; Angela’s nylon jacket swishing as she put it on; the zipper hissing as it closed. Someone knocking on the door at the bottom of the stairs.

“Piper?” Angela said, and I jumped. She stood just outside my door. “I’ll share my candy, okay? Okay, Piper?”

The knock repeated impatiently.

“Piper, I’ve got to go. Please…”

I pressed my mouth against my knee so I wouldn’t speak.

The knocking changed to a pounding.

“I’ll talk to you later,” said Angela. She clattered down the stairs. The door opened. Angela exchanged cheerful “Hello”s with the girl outside. The door closed. The key scraped in the lock.

And the apartment was silent and empty.

I sat there for a long time, huddled in that stupid jacket. Our room turned shadowy and gray with the encroaching dusk. I gave a teary giggle. Angela had been right, of course. It would have been dark before we got back. And now I wasn’t going to get to trick-or-treat at all, because of course I didn’t have plans with Rosie.

“Rosie?” I said huskily. My voice seemed to hover in the darkness. “This would be an awfully nice time for you to show up.”

No answer. The creepy empty silence of the house settled around me. I would have turned on the light, but that would require crossing the room to the suitcase-nightstand, which meant passing the shadows under the beds…

No. It would be better to look for Rosie in the dark, anyway. I felt for the doorknob above my head and scooted myself out of the bedroom back into the front room. At least in the front room, there was no furniture to cast creepy shadows.

The apartment didn’t seem as frightening now that I was moving, anyway. In fact, the darkness seemed soft, almost welcoming. The front room didn’t look bare anymore, just…open. Like a dance floor.

This was the place to call Rosie.

I pulled back the drapes, coughing on the dust that rose off the curtains. Had we opened them since we moved in at the end of August?

I wished I had great sweeping skirts, like Rosie’s dress, but oh well. I shut my eyes tight, imagining I did, and then swirled across the room.

“Rosie,” I sang. “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie…”

I lost my balance and fell to the floor. “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down,” I murmured, and then I rolled to my feet again. Dust streaked my costume. For a moment my throat closed up. Yet another thing gone wrong!

“It will make me look more ragamuffin-y,” I said. My voice trembled a little, but speaking steadied me. “That just makes the costume better.” I began to twirl again, more slowly this time, going in a wide circle like there were a whole lot of us dancing together. “Ring around the Rosie, pockets full of posies…”

It was truly dark now, all the sunset glow gone. The windows were like mirrors – mirrors dotted with fairy lights, street lamps and a distant stoplight and even the jack-o-lanterns across the street. I couldn’t see my feet on the floor, but I went faster and faster, spinning the circle tighter. “Ring around the Rosie, pockets full of posies; Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”

But rather than fall, I just skipped faster and shouted louder. “Ring around the Rosie – Ring around the Rosie – Ring around – Ashes, ashes, we all fall – ”

And then I ran right into someone, and fell down to the floor with a shriek. It loomed over me, a great tall creature with feathers sprouting from its face.

“Piper?” the apparition said, pushing the mask up on top of her head.

“Rosie!” I cried, and flung my arms around her legs. “Trick or treat!”