by Aya Ling
Hey, baby. How’s it going over there?
I flipped my phone sideways to landscape mode so the on-screen keyboard was bigger and easier to type on. Just great. Really great.
His reply was almost instantaneous. Lousy day, huh?
I poured out my woes to him, though in the end, I was feeling kind of stupid for complaining. What I had endured was about the same as any overworked person in a coffee shop.
Maybe I was just feeling exhausted. I was fired from my old job in publishing due to the company’s profits going in a downward spiral, and for two months, I had been working at the coffee shop. I get tired easily, especially when I used to sit in my cubicle for hours, but now I have to be on my feet eight hours a day. I had been trying to look for a new job, but so far, no luck.
After a while, my phone buzzed again. When’s your shift off tomorrow? Todd’s going to Boston this weekend, so why don’t you come and stay over?
I hesitated for a second. I have an extra shift during the weekends, and Jason’s place is way farther from the coffee shop. He lives near the university, which is in the outskirts of the city. Still, it had been a while since we had seen each other, and I miss him. Messaging and calling aren’t the same as having his arms around me. And besides, I bought a super sexy Victoria’s Secret babydoll slip last month—the price tag is still attached. What better chance to wear it?
“Sure.”
* * *
Before I arrive at Jason’s apartment, I decide to make a detour to the supermarket. While I am picking through tomatoes, trying to find the best ones for making salsa, my phone rings.
“Hey, Kat!” Paige’s voice, excited and bubbly, transmits from the speaker. “Guess what happened?”
I wonder what it can be that is making her so excited. Generally speaking, Paige rarely has to worry about anything. Having inherited Mom’s beauty and Dad’s brains, she’s popular, pretty, and smart. If she went to a prestigious school in a big city, it might be more difficult to stand out, but in our small rural high school, she easily gets all the attention.
“Jennifer Lawrence is filming in Oakleigh, and you got to be an extra on the set?”
“Ooh, nice guess.” She giggles. “You’ll never believe it—I got that freaking grant for Australia!”
I almost crush the tomato in my palm into pulp. “The one you were talking about that includes a round-trip ticket, tuition fees, and a monthly stipend?”
“Yup. It’s for one year only but renewable for three years!”
“Wow.” I knew my sister was smart, but I didn’t imagine that she would be so freaking awesome. “Congratulations, little sis. I’m so proud of you.”
“I was mad when that exchange program terminated last year. I so wanted to visit Australia after Gabriel told me all those stories when you were still dating. But this is even better! You’ve got to visit me once I’m settled.”
“You bet I will.” I imagine myself petting a koala or a kangaroo. “Have you told Mom yet?”
“I would have, but she’s probably still on the plane.”
“Don’t tell me she’s going to see Ryan.”
Ryan is this middle-aged widower who has a son around my age. He and Mom met during my graduation ceremony, and it was love at first sight. At first, we didn’t take it seriously because the guy is from Canada and they only met for like a day, but it turned out that Ryan is pretty serious about Mom. He flies to Chicago and then drives up to our house every quarter. A few months ago, he took Mom on a luxury cruise tour in Alaska.
“Yeah, I know. Mom is crazy about him, but he’s even crazier about her. Most of the time it’s Ryan flying down to see Mom, though you can say it’s because he can afford to. If this continues, we’ll be getting a stepdad soon.”
We’ve met Ryan. He seems nice, but still . . . I guess I still need a little time to get used to the prospect of having a stepfather. It has always been the three of us in our family for about fifteen years. But maybe it’s because I don't know Ryan well enough. Ever since I moved to Portland, I only see my family like twice a year.
“And speaking of Ryan, he’ll be coming to my graduation in June. They’ve chosen me as valedictorian. Oh, and bring Jason. I owe him one for helping me with my applications!”
I have to smile. “I need to check with Jason—I think he might have his qualifications coming up, but I wouldn’t miss your graduation for anything.”
* * *
When I get to Jason’s house, lugging multiple shopping bags full of groceries, he opens the door even before I raise my hand to knock.
“When I heard footsteps on the front porch, I knew it would be you.”
“It had to be me.” I flash him a cheeky grin. “Because you’d be in big trouble if you were expecting someone else.”
“Nah, because I have no life.” He chuckles, pulls me close for a kiss, and relieves me of my bags. “Geez, Kat, there must be enough tomatoes to feed an army in here. Let me guess—homemade marinara sauce?”
“Sure, if you can wait several hours for it to get done.”
“I’ll wait,” he says, but I know he’s joking, of course. “Honestly, I swear you can quit your job and open an online business with canned jars of sauce.”
“You’d have better luck asking my grandmother. It’s fun to do it once in a while, but I’d be bored stiff if I had to make sauce all day. Anyway, I thought I’d make salsa. I don’t think you’d be bothered to make it by yourself, even if it’s super easy.”
“You betcha. Frozen pizza is my best friend.”
I step inside his apartment. It’s tidy—no beer cans littering the carpet or sweatshirts cushioning the sofa—though I’m certain it’s because I’m coming over that Jason took the trouble to clean up. Bubbles, a stray kitten Jason adopted from the shelter, ambles over the floor, pauses and stares at me for a second, and pads toward the kitchen before I can say hi.
“Why did Todd take off to Boston?”
“He has to present a paper at a panel conference.” Jason starts toward the kitchen, and I follow him. “I expect he won’t be back until next week, actually. His girlfriend is in New York, so it’s much easier for him to take a coach down there than to fly cross-country from here.”
“Ah, the long-distance thing.” I should know. The long-distance thing is really difficult to work with. After Gabriel went back to Australia, we kept up communication for a few months, then it died out when he found another girl. I was sad to break up with him, but I guess when it takes thirty hours by plane, it’s super hard. That’s why I decided to stay in Portland, even though I didn’t really want to be so far away from home.
As I look for the cutting board, Jason’s arms go around me. “I’m so glad you're here,” he murmurs, nibbling my ear. “You know, even though those tomatoes look really amazing, I’d rather have you for dinner.”
I turn my head and we share a long, passionate kiss. I want him, I do. Ever since I got my job at the coffee shop and Jason started preparing for his qualifying exams, it has been weeks since we’ve been together.
A pitiful meow interrupts us and we break apart. Bubbles stares at us with huge, reproachful eyes. His tail gives an indignant thump on the floor.
Both of us laugh. “Someone is hungry,” I say. “Honest to say, so am I. Let’s have dinner first.”
Jason shrugs and sighs in an exaggerated manner of a stage actor. “Grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches?”
“Ooh, yes, please.” I love ham and cheese sandwiches, especially when the cheese is hot and bubbly and melting.
Moments later, we’re stretched out in front of the TV, munching away on sandwiches and salsa. The sandwiches are heavenly, and the tanginess from the salsa balances out the richness of the cheese. Even Jason admits that it was a better idea to have some food first.
The TV channels, though, leave more to be desired. We flip through the channels, going through tons of shows that make me yawn, until a hot red-haired guy holding a dark-haired woman, both astride on a
horse, shows up on the screen.
“Outlander!” I stab my tortilla chip in the direction of the guy who’s playing Jamie, the heart-melting Scottish highlander from the eighteenth century who falls in love with a twentieth-century nurse. “Isn’t it awesome they adapted the book for TV?”
“Hey, don’t tell me you’re still obsessed over that book.” Jason’s voice is affable, but I think there’s just a small amount of derisiveness in it. Oh well. I suppose it’s too much to ask for a guy to appreciate—I mean truly appreciate, not out of politeness—the fantastic escapism that a romance novel offers.
“It’s a classic,” I say, pretending to look offended. “And strictly speaking, it’s not a romance. There are too many elements in it to be labeled your typical romance novel.”
“Okay, whatever you’d like to call it, but I just don’t get it. The girl gets thrown into centuries back in time, where they don’t have electricity or running water. When you’re used to modern appliances, how are you going to tolerate going without them? Can you give up those comforts for the dashing hero who probably has outdated, sexist views?”
Realistically speaking, of course not. But . . .
“We’re talking about a novel here, not realistic non-fiction. It’s the story that counts.”
“Yeah, but if you can have a gorgeous, caring guy in the twenty-first century” —he points at himself with a smirk— “why would you choose an anachronistic man, even if he looks good with his shirt off?”
“I get it.” I throw up my hands in a you win gesture. “You just can’t stand the sight of me drooling at another guy in front of you.”
“Come on, baby, you know me better than that. Hypothetically speaking, you’ll never choose a guy from the past over me. Anyway, there’s no point arguing over a TV show. Let’s move on to something more important.”
He puts a hand on my thigh, right where the remnant of the mud splatter is.
“Just a second.” I stand up. “I’m freaking stinking—let me take a shower.”
“What stink?” He leans in and kisses me. “Seriously, I don’t smell anything. Except you.”
I hesitate, but then I remember that I brought my brand new, hot pink Victoria’s Secret lingerie, which I’ve been saving to wear for an occasion like this.
“I really need a shower.” I push him away and head to the bathroom. There’s a slightly annoyed look on his face, so I manage what I hope is a seductive grin. “But I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”
* * *
The shower did a world of good, washing away the stiffness in my joints and the discomfort I’ve had wearing mud-splattered, coffee-stained clothes all day. Excitement races through me as I slip into the smooth, silken babydoll slip. The front is a deep, sexy V that shows plenty of cleavage, and the back is almost bare except for two crisscrossing straps.
I hope Jason didn’t drink too much or he might rip the slip apart. But then if he does . . . I find myself not too averse to the idea. He can always pay for a new one.
Just when I’m ready to call him, there’s a strange humming noise in the air. I shake my head and tuck my hair behind my ears, but the noise grows louder. Then there’s a popping noise, rather like a bottle uncorked, and a ball of light appears in the air, several feet above the bed.
“What the . . .”
I stare at the light, and I gradually discern that in the center is a book. It revolves gently in the yellow-green glow, and when the front cover is shown to me, I gasp.
The Ugly Stepsister.
One of the few paperbacks that I still own. How did it get here? It’s supposed to be at our home in Oakleigh. I am absolutely certain that Jason doesn't have a copy, and even if he did, the book can’t be revolving in the air, defying gravity.
Then, if things can’t get more bizarre, the pages start flipping, right to the very last page.
This can’t be happening.
I stare in horror, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks on me. I blink once, twice, pinch my cheeks, and rub my eyes.
The book is still there.
A black vortex appears in the middle of the book. The air around me starts to swirl, as though I’m in the center of a tornado, making my hair whip about my face.
What is happening?
I back away, trying to put more distance between myself and the book, but suddenly, my body is lifted in the air and I plunge straight into that black hole. A thick mist surrounds me, and I can’t see anything—I’m in complete darkness. Terrified, I start to scream, but no sound escapes my throat.
Then a strange dizziness overcomes me and I lose consciousness.
2
This isn’t Jason’s room.
I’m lying on a cot that resembles the kind you see in a hospital, only much smaller and harder. A flimsy white blanket covers my body. Apart from a wooden stool next to the cot, there isn’t any furniture in the room.
I sit up. There’s a nauseous feeling in my stomach, and my head feels dizzy, like I’ve just gotten off a ride on a drop tower. I put both hands on my temples and try to concentrate, thinking frantically, how the heck did I end up in this room? Before I woke up, I’m sure I was still in Jason’s bedroom. Maybe I passed out somehow and was brought to the hospital?
The door opens. Instead of a white-uniformed nurse, an incredibly good-looking young man dressed in some medieval prince outfit enters, carrying a tin cup and a paper bag, from which the tip of a baguette pokes out.
“Katriona, here is some . . .” his voice dies away. He stares at me, his mouth slightly open, like I’m an alien with several arms and legs.
I realize that I’m half-naked in my Victoria’s Secret babydoll slip. Blushing furiously, I pull the blanket up to my chin. “Excuse me, but you must have come to the wrong ward.”
He doesn’t move. He just continues to stare at me in disbelief. “But . . .” he starts, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
I could have said the same thing. Am I really in a hospital? The clothes or costume the man is wearing simply aren’t normal, unless it’s Halloween, which is still several months off. Or maybe I’m in a children’s ward? Maybe the guy is hired to do a Shakespearean play for child patients here?
“Can I . . .” I look around wildly, but there’s nothing, not even a cellphone lying around. “Can you tell me where I am?”
The blush remains on his cheeks. You’d think he is a teenage boy barely entering puberty, but I’d put him around twenty. Well over six feet, a body built like an athlete, and a face to die for. This is getting really weird. I pinch my arm until my fingernails leave marks, but nope, I am not dreaming.
He stares at me for a long moment, like I just spoke to him in a foreign language.
“One question,” he finally says. “What is your sister’s name?”
“Huh?”
“Your sister’s name. I need to ascertain your identity.”
“I don’t understand what you—”
“Answer me.” His tone is firm, commanding, like he’s used to giving orders and expects to be obeyed. And there’s a desperate look in his eyes, like if I don’t give him the correct reply, he’ll be forced to do something drastic.
“Paige. But why do you—” I don’t get any further, because he takes a huge stride forward and envelopes me in his arms.
For a second, pure shock turns me into a statue.
“Thank heavens it’s still you,” he whispers.
I have no idea what he’s talking about. But I do know that he shouldn’t be embracing me. I have a boyfriend, for Gods’ sake! I try to shove him away, but the movement causes my blanket to slip off my shoulders.
“Get off!” I hiss, frantically trying to accomplish the impossible task of pushing him away and keeping the blanket wrapped around me.
He drops his arms and backs away, but still, he remains annoyingly close to the cot. Close enough that if Jason suddenly enters, I doubt he’ll believe that I have nothing to do with this guy.
&
nbsp; “I thought the old Katriona came back,” he says slowly, “but instead, you showed up in your world’s . . . is that what you normally wear?”
His gaze flickers to my chest, and even though I’m fully covered under the blanket now, my cheeks still heat up.
“Look, I don’t know if I have an unknown twin out there, but you’ve got the wrong person. You’d better go to some other place to find her—Katriona? That’s her name, isn’t it? My boyfriend is going to show up any minute, and your being here” —I scoot farther away from him— “is definitely going to give him the wrong impression.”
“I have no idea what you are talking of.” He studies my face with the wariness of a cat eying a bird about to take off. “You do look a little different from what I know. Your face seems rounder, your hair is shorter, and most of your freckles have disappeared. You are Katherine Wilson, are you not?”
He knows me. He knows my name. Then why was he talking about some girl called Katriona in the beginning? And what does he mean by my looking different—the version he described of me is more similar to what I looked like several years ago. Can I have met this guy such a long time ago? I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I had met someone like him. He’s so impossibly handsome that he could be a rising star in Hollywood.
I dart another frantic glance at my surroundings. The more I try to ascertain where I am, the more suspicious this place seems. It’s too small, too threadbare, too stuffy—there aren’t any windows—for a hospital room. The tin cup the guy brought looks worn and has floral patterns embossed along the rim. It doesn’t look like something a hospital would use. Ha. Maybe I am in Hollywood.
“Who are you?” I find myself saying. “I don’t know why—how—I ended up here, and everything you say is so confusing! What on earth happened?”
His answer is so shocking that I don’t think even Darth Vader can top it.
“We are married.”
My jaw drops so low it could have hit my collarbone. “MARRIED? I’ve never seen you in my life! Listen, buster, if you think . . .”