Stay a Spell

by Nicholas O. Time

  “I knew you would be,” I say. Then I sigh. “But now what am I going to tell Daniel?”

  Daniel is reading through some texts on his cell phone when we meet up with him in the library. We’re not allowed to use our phones during the day in school, but after dismissal it’s allowed. Of course, as soon as the last bell rings, the hallways are full of kids tapping their cell phone screens furiously.

  “I got a lot more suggestions, Jada,” Daniel says excitedly when he finally realizes that Abby and I are standing right next to him.

  “That’s cool,” I say. “But I’ve already figured out where we’re going. I hope you still want to go.”

  Daniel starts hopping from foot to foot.

  “Do you need to use the bathroom?” I ask.

  “No.” Daniel laughs. “I just can’t wait to hear this. I know you’re going to pick the best place ever, and this is going to be the most exciting moment of my life!”

  Abby starts to giggle.

  “Think about it, Daniel. Isn’t time travel—just the concept, on its own—exciting?” I ask. “It doesn’t really matter where we go, right? It’s the fact that we’re going through time at all that’s so cool.”

  “I guess so . . . ,” Daniel says tentatively. “I’m a little afraid where you’re heading, though, Jada.”

  “Okay, but what if I told you we were going back in time one week, so I could retake my spelling test? It would still be totally cool. To travel through time together. Right?”

  “WHAT?” Daniel roars. “Could you pick a time even more boring than that, Jada? Let’s see. . . . How about we go back to the moment this morning when I was flossing my teeth in the bathroom? Or better yet, when Abby was sitting at her kitchen counter, watching her mom make her tuna fish sandwich? Why not go there? That’s pretty thrilling, don’t you think?”

  “It’s my trip, Daniel,” I say adamantly. “I get to choose. You get to come along, if you want. If you don’t want to, fine.”

  “Aw, come on, Jada,” Daniel whines. “You know I’ll be there. But could you please give it a little more thought? I’m sure Ms. Tremt will let you have another day or two to figure it out. It’s our one chance to time travel. Using it to go back and retake a test seems like such a waste.”

  “It will make my life so much better, though,” I explain. “I can get my mom off my back for a while. She’s been bugging me about spelling words almost every night. If she sees this progress report, I might be grounded for life.”

  “I think you’re being a little dramatic,” Daniel says. “But it is your trip.”

  “You know I’m ride or die, Jada.” Abby laughs. “If that’s where you want to go, I’ll be there by your side. But I’m going to have to step onto Daniel’s side for a minute.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s hear it.”

  “IT’S A TIME MACHINE, JADA!” Abby yells. “Are you sure you want to use it to retake a spelling test?”

  “I’m sure,” I reply.

  “It’s a very logical choice,” Ms. Tremt adds from nowhere.

  Suddenly, she pops up from behind a desk. Her scarf looks shredded and she seems nervous. She keeps looking around as if she’s expecting to see Dracula or some kind of scary monster appear in the library. For our sake, I hope not!

  “I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Jada,” Ms. Tremt continues. “But I wonder if you would indulge me for a moment.” Then she ducks down again.

  Ms. Tremt looks from side to side and waves us over to her. Daniel, Abby, and I look from side to side, too, just to make sure Dracula isn’t lurking behind a box of books. We crawl behind the desk with her.

  “I’m afraid that I can’t send you back to last week,” Ms. Tremt whispers. “It would be unfair to the other students in your class.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “I know,” Ms. Tremt says. “But please trust me. I have a proposal I’d like you to consider for a moment.”

  “Okay,” I reply.

  “I wonder if you’d allow me to send you to 1977,” Ms. Tremt suggests.

  “YES!” Daniel cheers as he starts to hum the theme from Star Wars. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! We can be one of the first to see Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader on the big screen! Now, that’s worth taking a trip back in time!”

  “Oooh, that’s when my Aunt Katy worked in Hollywood,” I say. “She was an intern in a movie studio then. I wonder if she knew anyone who worked on Star Wars. I bet she did. I never even thought to ask her.”

  “Well, now’s your chance,” Ms. Tremt says. “Because, if you’ll agree to my proposal, that’s exactly where you’re going—to the movie studio where your Aunt Katy worked in Hollywood in 1977.”

  Abby and Daniel do a happy dance. I decide not to think about my progress report and join them. I mean, I can’t let my best friends—or Ms. Tremt—down, can I?

  “We’re going to Hollywood. . . . We’re going to Hollywood,” we sing together.

  Then we pretend to pose like movie stars. Abby and I can do glam selfie poses like we were born to be on the silver screen. Daniel, not so much, but I think we’ll all fit right in anyway.

  “Unfortunately, your screen test will have to wait for the future,” Ms. Tremt says. “The rules of time travel are strict. You must limit your conversations with anyone you encounter. You must not bring any items from the future back to the past—electronics, dated books, or money, things like that. Because if you show anything from the future while you’re in the past, it will bounce you right back to the present. And under no circumstances can you tell your Aunt Katy who you are.

  “Also, when you travel through time, you need to fit in as best you can,” Ms. Tremt continues. “I have some clothes here to help with that. But in an emergency, a real emergency, you’ll need one of these.”

  Ms. Tremt pulls open a large drawer in her desk. It is full of the wacky, colorful scarves that she wears every day.

  “Some fabric-of-time experts have been working on these for me,” she says. “They’ve informed me that this batch of scarves is ready for a beta test.”

  “No way,” Daniel says. “I am not wearing one of those.”

  “Hopefully you won’t have to,” Ms. Tremt says. “They are just in beta stage, which means there are probably a few kinks to work out.”

  “What kind of kinks?” I ask, a little worried.

  “Nothing to worry your fashionable little head about.” Ms. Tremt chuckles. “They really are just in case of emergency. The scarves are made of a special nano-fabric that you can compress into a small ball. They’ll fit right in your pocket, along with The Book of Memories, Jada, which you will also need to keep on hand in its shrunken form.”

  “I can do that,” I reply. “But what kind of emergency cases are we talking about?”

  “Well, if you find yourself in a situation where you need to appear time-appropriate, but don’t have the right outfit on hand, you can just wrap the scarf around yourself,” Ms. Tremt explains. “You will see yourself as you are, but to other observers, it will appear that you are dressed appropriately for the times.”

  “A fashion lifesaver!” I cheer. “I can get on board with that!”

  “Be careful, though,” Ms. Tremt warns. “They haven’t been tested beyond a fifteen-minute period, and in some tests the scarves have gotten rather glitchy well before that. And, whatever you do, do not take the scarves off in front of people. You will immediately return to the present—we think. We’re not exactly sure about that.”

  “Great,” Abby sighs sarcastically.

  “The good news is, Daniel, that while you are in the past, no one will actually see you wearing the scarf,” Ms. Tremt says. “Except your time-traveling companions, of course.”

  “Is that a pinky promise?” Daniel asks as he takes a scarf.

  “Indeed it is,” Ms. Tremt says.

  Ms. Tremt takes our cell phones and hands us each a wristwatch, the ones where you actually have to be able to tell time from
looking at the minute and hour hands. We hand her all the money we have, too, and Ms. Tremt gives us back bills that were issued before 1977, and a cheat sheet with some fast facts about 1977.

  Jimmy Carter was president of the United States.

  Laverne & Shirley and Happy Days were the #1 TV shows.

  A loaf of bread cost less than fifty cents.

  The Atari 2600 gaming system was released.

  The first Apple II personal computers went on sale.

  Popular musicians at the time were Rod Stewart, Fleetwood Mac, and the Bee Gees.

  “Ms. Tremt, you’re the expert,” I say. “But how are a bunch of middle school kids going to explain what we’re doing in a Hollywood studio? And what will I even say to Aunt Katy?”

  “I’ve done my research, Jada,” Ms. Tremt replies. “I always do. There’s a Crane’s Record Store a few blocks away from the studio. You can walk into the costume shop and pretend that you need directions to the record store. And I think you should pay a visit to the record store while you are there. You might find it . . . enlightening.”

  Daniel, Abby, and I stare at Ms. Tremt. Record store? What’s that?

  Ms. Tremt laughs and then quickly explains that records are vinyl disks that hold music information the way our electronic devices do now. Record stores sold those vinyl disks. They were also the place where all the cool kids hung out.

  “Sounds like the place for us,” Daniel says.

  “Definitely,” Abby agrees.

  “Because we are so cool,” I add. “Movie-star cool.”

  My favorite part of the trip preparation process is next—CLOTHES! Ms. Tremt pulls out a box of clothes from the secret back room. I can’t wait to see what’s inside. Then I see the polyester pants, ugly sweaters, and print tunics Ms. Tremt pulls out and realize that maybe I can wait. Some of the 1977 fashion items need to go back to the drawing board!

  I’m able to pull together a decent outfit of wide-leg navy blue corduroys and a matching striped polo shirt for Daniel. Abby unfortunately gets lime green polyester slacks, which are pretty hideous, but I find a not-so-horrible smock top for her to wear with them. Then I dig deep and hit gold. At the bottom of the box is a cute orange minidress. Orange is not a color that looks good on everyone, but it does on me.

  “Of course!” Abby complains. “You get the cute dress while I have to wear these horrible pants.”

  “Hey, it could be worse.” I laugh. “But let me see what else I can find.”

  I rummage through the box some more. I know Abby likes to push the fashion envelope, so I find her some killer platform shoes and a cool sweater-vest.

  “It’s hobo chic,” I tell her.

  “Better,” Abby says. “Not great, but definitely better.”

  “Jada, what was the name of the studio where your aunt worked?” Ms. Tremt asks.

  “It started with a ‘G,’ ” I say. “Galaxy . . . Galactic . . . Galaxian! That’s it.”

  Ms. Tremt takes out her fountain pen and The Book of Memories.

  “When I write your names in the book,” she tells us, “the book will ask me where you would like to go. I will write down the exact place and year you would like to visit. You will immediately be transported to that time and place. When you see the ten-minute-warning glow, you will have exactly that amount of time to write the date you wish to return to, find a safe place to set the book down, and let it grow so that you may step back into the present day. Do not lose track of time. Now, please synchronize your watches. The time is exactly two thirty.”

  Ms. Tremt opens the book, takes the date card out of the envelope, and writes Galaxian Studios, Los Angeles, California, June 1, 1977 with her fountain pen. Then she writes down all three of our names: Jada Reese. Abby Morales. Daniel Chang.

  The book sparkles and the words Where would you like to go today? appear in glowing green text.

  “Please make sure your watches are synchronized,” Ms. Tremt says as the costume design studio appears on the wall.

  As I check my watch, Ms. Tremt places a small pendant pin in my hand.

  “Jada, I need you to trust me once more,” Ms. Tremt says. “I can’t explain the reasons at the moment, but I need you to place this pin with the jewelry in the costume studio and leave it there. Whatever happens, do not bring it back to the present.”

  “Got it, Ms. Tremt,” I whisper back. “I trust you. And you can trust me too.”

  “I know.” Ms. Tremt smiles.

  I stand in the middle and hold Daniel’s hand with my left hand and Abby’s with my right. Suddenly a building with the name Galaxian Movie Studios appears in the book. My heart is pounding as I realize that we are actually going to travel through time and go to Aunt Katy’s studio. But as we step in, the picture of the studio begins to fade.

  “TIM RAVELTERE!” we can hear Ms. Tremt yell and gasp as we step into the scene. “Stay away from my kids!”

  Once we’re through the portal, things don’t look like the studio at all.

  “Uh-oh,” Daniel gasps. “What’s going on?”

  Somehow, someway, we have not ended up in Hollywood, but by the banks of a river. Nearby, there’s a woman with a baby on her back, gathering water and herbs from the river. Luckily, her back is turned to us. I remember Ms. Tremt told us if we wear her scarves, our clothes will change to whatever time period we are in.

  “Scarves, now!” I command my friends. “We need to fit in.”

  We each take out the scarf from our back pockets, unfold it, wrap it around ourselves, and cross our fingers. To us, it just looks like we’re dressed in wacky clothes and wearing even wackier scarves. Hopefully it looks totally different to her.

  “Greetings, children,” the woman says with a smile when she turns our way.

  “Greetings,” I reply, shell-shocked. “Who . . . uh . . . are you?”

  “What year is this?” Daniel asks.

  “Are you an actress?” Abby wonders.

  “My name is Sacagawea,” the woman says. “You don’t know what year it is? It’s 1805, and I am helping the explorers Lewis and Clark on their journey.”

  “I thought you looked familiar!” Abby gasps.

  “I do?” Sacagawea says, confused. “Have we met before?”

  “Um . . . no . . . not exactly,” Abby stammers.

  Then she pulls us into a huddle.

  “Guys, remember what Ms. Tremt told us,” Abby says. “The Book of Memories is so powerful, sometimes things can get a little wacky.”

  “But how is she speaking English?” Daniel asks, confused.

  “It must be the scarves,” I tell him. “They make everything understandable to us—and us to other people.”

  Abby turns back to Sacagawea.

  “I think my cousin met you at the trading post,” she bluffs.

  “That may be so,” Sacagawea replies. “Who is your cousin?”

  “Hey, what are those herbs for?” Daniel interrupts, trying to change the topic. “Is someone sick? Is that a natural cure?”

  Sacagawea laughs and holds her nose.

  “It’s a natural cure for . . . smelly body.” She giggles. “Lewis and Clark are brave explorers, but it’s been weeks since they’ve had a bath! I think that’s why my baby cries whenever they’re around!”

  Daniel, Abby, and I laugh too. Those are definitely the things they don’t tell you about in history class!

  “This is amazing. Remind me to e-mail my teacher about Sacagawea when we get back,” Abby says. “Oh wait. I forgot that I can remind myself with this.”

  Abby pulls out a thin pen that she got for her birthday and as soon as she does . . .

  Boompf!

  Abby is gone! Daniel and I are left standing with Sacagawea, who had luckily stopped to take care of her crying baby and had missed Abby’s vanishing-into-thin-air act.

  “Where did your friend go?” Sacagawea asks when she turns back to us.

  “Oh, her, well, she forgot something back in the . . . ,” Daniel
begins.

  “Back in our wagon,” I finish.

  “Well, I should get back to camp with these herbs,” Sacagawea says. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “Same here,” I reply. “See you around sometime.”

  We hurriedly wave to Sacagawea, and then Daniel and I are alone.

  “Jada, what are we going to do?” Daniel moans. “Abby’s gone and we don’t know where she went, and we don’t even know how to get out of here.”

  “I have an idea,” I tell Daniel as I start to unwrap my scarf with one hand and take Daniel’s hand in the other. “Hold on. I think if we hold hands we can get back together, but if not, just take off your scarf too.”

  As soon as I take off the scarf, since we are wearing clothes from 1977, we are immediately transported back to the present and the little room off the library. Abby and Ms. Tremt are both there, looking flustered.

  “Oh, thank the time-space continuum!” Ms. Tremt sighs, obviously relieved to see us.

  “What was that about?” I wonder. “Why didn’t we go to 1977 as planned?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Ms. Tremt says, doing that thing where she looks nervously from side to side again. She looks a bit pale, too.

  Daniel, Abby, and I look from side to side again too. It’s like we can’t help ourselves, the way you always have to yawn when you see someone else yawn.

  “I have a confession to make,” Abby says. “I might have been thinking about my Lewis and Clark report when we walked into the portal.”

  “Good! I mean, yes, yes, that must be it,” Ms. Tremt says unconvincingly. “The portal must have picked up some time-wavelength vibrations.”

  “I have been eating, sleeping, and dreaming the explorer life this past week,” Abby admits.

  “And you got back because of . . . ?” Ms. Tremt asks curiously.

  “This,” Abby replies, holding out her pen.

  “Ah, the ballpoint pen,” Ms. Tremt says. “Definitely an anachronism in 1805.”

  “But wouldn’t it have been fine in 1977?” Daniel asks, confused.

  “Not really,” Abby says. “I just realized why.”

  “Why?” I ask.