Twisted Time



  Twisted Time

  By Jennifer Hitzeman

  Copyright 2013 by Jennifer Hitzeman

  Cover Art By Melissa Kepler

  Chapter 1

  We drove up to the new house and my heart sank. It was so old. The shutters were falling off. The wrap around front porch was in disrepair, with peeling white paint and vines winding between the floor boards. There were front steps, but many bricks had fallen out and lay crushed on what was left of the grass. Tall weeds grew high around the front side walk. There were a few older looking houses along the street, but they all looked desolate. Ugh. It looked like we were moving into a haunted house! I stopped at the curb and imagined all the hard work my brother and I were going to be forced to do. Just then, a shutter on an upstairs window slipped down, partially covering the glass panes, and it looked like the sinister old house was winking at me. My summer was going to be miserable.

  “Kids,” exclaimed my mom, “Isn’t it beautiful. It’s exactly what we were looking for. I fell in love the moment I saw it. Your father and I have always wanted an old house to fix up. We can finally move out of that cramped apartment in the city. What a wonderful yard. Now, it will take some work, but we have all summer.”

  My father looked longingly at my mother. “We can finally live in the suburbs. My commute into the city won’t be so bad, and you won’t have to go back to school to start teaching again until September. I’ll help as much as I can in the evenings and on weekends. You’ll have the kids to help all day!”

  Oh boy. I am not looking forward to all that work, but it’s great to see my parents happy. They have been pinching and saving since my brother was born so we would have a better life. I guess eventually this house could be “a better life”.

  My dad is a technology specialist and was lucky enough to find a great new job with an expanding computer company downtown. My mom is a second grade teacher. She is going to substitute teach until she finds a full-time job in the new town. They are so excited, but I am not so happy about the move. I am about to turn 16 in two weeks and will be a junior in high school. Our new town is two hours away from our old home. I already miss my friends terribly. It’s so hard to make new friends at any age, but especially when you’re a teenager and shy like me. No one will be able to come for my birthday. But on a good note, mom promised I could get my driver’s license this summer! I have been practicing a little, but it’s hard to learn in the city with the traffic jams, buses and taxi stops. Maybe I can get more driving time now that there is no traffic! Maybe things are looking up!

  “Okay kids,” shouted my mom, “Grab some things and let’s go inside.”

  She opened the trunk of the car and started doling out suitcases and boxes. I grabbed one of each and headed for the front door. Next came the moment of truth. As my father pushed the door open, we all stood there gazing into the hallway. The inside of the house was much more attractive than the outside. The cherry hard wood floor extended through the entire downstairs, and was adorned with a lighter colored design inlaid in the center of the hallway. A winding staircase emerged on the left, with Victorian finials symmetrically placed on the dark wood bannister. To the right was a parlor with large windows covered by dingy curtains. At the far end of the room was a fireplace with an intricately carved mantel piece. The room was beautiful, but as a typical teenager, I found myself searching the walls worried that there were no cable outlets in this old house. Hopefully we would at least have electricity. I crossed my fingers.

  My mom flipped the switch on the wall. Thank goodness there was light coming from an antique crystal chandelier hanging at the center of the hall ceiling. The old light was angled to the side as it hung by only one wire. Many crystals were missing and only half of the lights worked, but compared to the lights in the rest on the house, this one was a peach. Most of the other lights didn’t work at all and the ones that did work were about to fall to the floor.

  This did not worry my unflappable mother and she calmly responded with, “Looks like we need to set up some lamps in here. It’s a good thing the furniture is on its way”.

  The moving van was on its way, but because we did not have much furniture they had to stop and pick up a small load from another family that was moving to a neighboring town. Our apartment did not allow room for much but the bare necessities. This house is huge in comparison. I wondered if I would be able to buy the full sized four poster bed I had seen in a catalog. My previous room was so small there was only room for a twin bed and a dresser. I hoped the upstairs was as enormous as the first floor.

  We glanced toward our mother. “Okay kids, go look upstairs. You can each chose a room, but don’t fight over them! The big one at the end of the hall is ours, though.”

  We raced up the stairs. My brother was pretty fast for his size. He was eight. His real name was James, but we all called him “P”, short for Peanut. He was born seven weeks early and had always been small for his age. He was so tiny when he was born that I told Mom and Dad he looked like a little peanut, and the name stuck. What he lacked in size, he made up for in energy. He could out run any other eight year old, always came in first place at races at school field day, and never seemed to get tired. Mom and Dad tried for eight years to give me a brother. At first I was used to being an only child and I didn’t like him, but he’s grown on me over the years. We get along surprisingly well, and I’m thankful that I have him with me in this new place.

  There were three rooms at the top of the stairs. P ran to the one on the right. “Oh, wow, this one has a big window with a seat in front. Oh, and the seat opens up into a box. I can put my cars inside! And I can set up my race track on the top. Please, Emma, can I have this one?”

  “We’ll see. Let me look at the others. I am the oldest and should get to choose first.”

  The middle bedroom had a small window overlooking the yard to the side of the house, and a large one overlooking the porch on the front of the house. There was no window seat and it had a very small closet. Definitely too small for a teenagers wardrobe! I left that room and walked down the hall to the last available bedroom. The big drawback to this one was that it was across the hall from my parents’ room. That would mean a loss of privacy for me.

  I walked over to a medium sized stained glass window that was set into the wall overlooking the side of the house. I could see a small flower garden outside, through the clear glass in the window. Sunflowers, petunias and hydrangeas peeked out through the overgrowth of weeds. A tall ancient oak tree outside the window appeared distorted through the swirled colored glass of the window. As I stepped back I could see a shaft of light shining through the window creating a colorful pattern on the carpeted floor. Beautiful! If I placed my bed just so, I could wake up to the multitude of colors each morning.

  I then began to search for the closet. That could be the defining factor for my room choice. I eyed a door at the back of the room. I crossed my fingers as I walked toward it and made a wish for a “walk in” closet as I opened the door. Awesome! The room extended about six feet to the left and was deep enough to fit two rows of clothes. I needed my dad to put up some racks, then it would be perfect.

  I ran to the hall to meet P. “You can have that bedroom. I will take this one. No problem.”

  “Okay sis, but you will have to come visit me way down the hall!”

  “It’s a deal kiddo.” And we raced back downstairs.

  Mom and dad were eyeing the kitchen at the back of the house. There was a thick layer of dust on the cherry stained cabinets. The sink was stained porcelain and an old rusted gas stove stood in the corner of the room. “We’ll need to replace that old stove, and I think the fridge will fit well in that corner over there,” thought my mom. “What do yo
u think hon? “

  “Yes, it will fit perfectly. We will have to use the microwave for a while. I’d be afraid to use that old stove. Maybe one day we will get a dishwasher. We can use the kids in the meantime.”

  “What!” I gave P a serious look and my excitement over my new closet faded away. “No dishwasher? Ugh. You mean we have to wash and dry dishes. I hate this house. The kitchen looks like it’s falling apart. Is it the same as when the house was built a hundred years ago? Can there be more work for us?!”

  “Now sweetie, you know it’s going to take a lot of work to make this place feel like home. Please bear with us. We have a lot of cleaning and fixing and painting to do. And, you’re right, this house was built in the later 1800’s. It is about a hundred years old. Some of the families that lived here did some fixing up since then, but not a lot.”

  “There goes the summer. I had to leave my friends and my school. Now I have to work all summer. So much for sleeping in, going to the pool, learning to drive. “

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” voiced my mom as she rolled her eyes.

  Mom and Dad then proceeded to the backyard through the loose squeaky screen door leading out from the kitchen. We followed with our curiosity to see what strange things we could find outside. The house had a huge yard overgrown with weeds and what was left of a wooden picket fence. Enormous oak trees with dark green leaves stood just beyond the fence. The yard seemed to go on forever, but finally stopped at a dense wooded area.

  “See kids, this is so much better than the city. You guys can play ball and run around and play, play, play.”

  I glared at my mom, “Maybe if I was eight. For your information, 16 year old girls do not “play” outside. They drive and go to the mall! No offense P, I know you like to play.”

  “Wow. This yard is great. Maybe I can find some new friends and we can play baseball,” Peanut exclaimed. “Can we go to the store and buy a bat, ball and glove?”

  “Sure thing kiddo.” My dad smiled gently. “I can start practicing with you as soon as we get some equipment. It’s been a long time since I got to play ball. Any time you want, okay?”

  “Sure thing Dad. I can’t wait!”

  While they were discussing the wonders of backyard baseball I began to look at the back of the house. There were two normal sized windows off the kitchen. I could see that awful stove through one window. I saw a large double window at what I thought was my parents’ bedroom. To the far left of that window was another regular sized window frame. But that should have been off of my new room. I didn’t remember seeing a window at that back of the room. It would have been in the closet and there was definitely not a window in there. It would have interfered with my clothes space.

  My pondering was interrupted by someone talking to the rest of my family. I turned around to see the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. He was tall with almost black hair that swooshed over his forehead, just barely touching his eyebrows and framing his bright blue eyes. As he talked to my parents and smiled, clean, perfectly straight, teeth appeared and cute dimples formed in both his cheeks. I forgot about the window and stood in awe.

  “Hi, I’m Zack. I live next door past those old oak trees. My parents sent me over to welcome you to the neighborhood. They are busy preparing a meal for church or they would come themselves. Anything I can do to help?”

  “Thank you son,” my dad interjected, “Not a lot of work to be done until the moving van gets here. We were going to get some lunch. Would you like to join us? We will probably get some fast food from somewhere. Ah, these are our children.” He waved us over.

  “Umm, Hi, I’m Emma and this is P, uh James,” I wavered. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t think there were any other kids in the neighborhood.”

  “Oh, we moved into my great-grandmother’s house about two years ago. My parents had this great idea that they would fix it up. We’re slowly getting there, I think. Most of the other houses on the block are owned by elderly couples that never want to move.”

  “That’s funny, my parents are so excited about fixing our new place up. I just think it’s a lot of work. I can see my summer slipping away.”

  “Don’t knock it until you try it. It’s a great feeling to have a hammer in your hand, building and putting that fresh coat of paint on the wall.”

  “Well you should come over and help us.” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t know any other teenagers that would rather spend their summer fixing up an old house than doing teenagerish things.”

  “I’d love to help! Just come get me if you need me. “Zack turned toward a noise coming from his house. “Oh, gotta go. Mom’s calling. We are going to eat lunch today with a needy family. Oh, and thanks for the invitation to lunch Sir.” And he was gone.

  So, I have a cute neighbor boy, who lives right next door, AND wants to help us work on this old house. “Hey Mom and Dad, when can we start fixing up the house? I’m ready to hammer and paint!”

  “I think we need to eat first,” answered my dad, and we left for some lunch.

  The next week was very busy. We had stacks of supplies everywhere. Paint cans were piled high in the parlor, stacks of wooden boards lay in the front yard, and buckets of nails and screws were strewn on the front porch. P and I had two jobs. One was painting, which I love to do, and the other was yard work. I just don’t think I like to sweat and get dirty. I inevitably get covered with mud and leaves. It is just not very “lady like”. Our orders were to trim the bushes and pull the weeds which seemed to have taken over the whole yard like a little marching army.

  “Okay, let’s go P.” and we started pulling weeds.

  We had been working under the hot sun for about two hours when I heard, “Hey Emma and James, do you guys need any help?”

  I looked up to see Zack standing there in all his cuteness. I glanced down at my dirt covered legs and my now mud caked fingernails. My stick straight dirty blond hair was in a ponytail covered with little pieces of plants. I knew that I was a mess and I accidentally let out a groan. As I wiped the sweat out of my eyes I smudged mud across my cheek. I then summoned the imaginary self-confidence that I didn’t have, turned to Zack, and smiled.

  “Sure, we could always use an extra hand. Go grab the extra pair of gloves up on the porch. I think there are enough weeds to share.”

  Zack laughed at my joke, then smiled sweetly at me. I was so flustered that I lost my balance and fell into a bush. He reached down to help me up and then I laughed too. We then went to work pulling out all those pesky weeds for about another hour. By that time all of our stomachs were growling.

  Just in time, Mom called out from inside the house, “Everyone come get some sandwiches.”

  We ate heartily and washed it all down with ice cold sodas. We worked about three more hours after that. Zack ended up helping our mom fix some boards on the porch, and P and I finished the weeding. The yard actually looked much better when we were done. It no longer looked like a haunted house, and appeared rather welcoming. The shutters still needed to be fixed and the outside needed to be painted, but that would have to wait.

  The next week flew by. Zack came by to help when he wasn’t working at the neighborhood hardware store. Dad helped us paint the outside of the house and fix the shutters. The house was no longer winking at me and laughing. We had taken control. The next set of jobs was to paint the inside walls, while Mom repaired the chandeliers and lights. Zack, P and I painted until our arms ached. We laughed and laughed, and both of us were developing a friendship with our new neighbor.

  The next weekend was my sixteenth birthday. I was so excited. I could get my driver’s license. I had a learner’s license but Mom insisted that I needed more time with teaching before getting my real license. She had promised that she would do some driving with me, but we only went out a few times because of all the work that needed to be done on the house. When Friday, my official birthday, rolled around I was all ready to go. But then my mom burst my bubble.

  “Emma b
aby, I don’t think you’re ready to get your license. We haven’t been out on the road as much as I would like. I would feel more comfortable waiting a few more weeks before we go. I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy with the house that I haven’t had the time to help you.”

  I was crushed. “But every sixteen year old needs to get their license on their birthday!”

  I started to cry. My sixteenth birthday was not the exciting party that I wanted it to be. Dad was out of town until next weekend. Zack, my only new friend, left to go to the beach with his family for the weekend. That left P and Mom. No party, no license and probably no gifts. This was the last straw. I ran to my room sobbing. I threw myself down on the bed and cried. Sometimes it just makes you feel better. I had never been a popular girl in school and had many a meltdown from the jokes and jeers from the beautiful cheerleaders. Self-esteem was not my forte, but I managed to endure high school. I had a handful of close friends, which is all I needed, but I left them two hours away. Everything piled up in me all at once and I couldn’t stop crying.

  About a half hour later my body relaxed and I fell asleep. I dreamed about haunted houses, secret passageways and scary monsters living in the basement. I awoke with a start covered in sweat. Where do these dreams come from? I shook off the sleep and stepped up from the bed. Then I remembered the window. The window that did not have a room. It should have been at the back of mine.

  I jumped off the bed, raced to the closet and threw open the door. Nothing. Just empty walls. I walked inside and travelled to both ends of the small room. No windows, no doors. I began to feel along all of the walls. The two sides were clearly thick plaster with areas of peeling paint. The back wall felt wooden and I assumed it was like a cedar closet, just so old it had lost its odor. I felt along the top and middle of the wall, then down at the bottom. Suddenly my hand moved across a small piece of wood emerging from the base. I reached underneath and the object easily moved upward with gentle pressure. I heard a click, then I saw light coming from a crack in the wall. A panel slowly slid to the left and I saw light streaming in through the bare window.

  The room was about three feet deep and ran the entire length of the closet. To the right I saw a girls dress stained from age hanging on a small hook. It was white and had a high waist and lace around the circular collar. The sleeves puffed at the shoulders then tapered to fit snuggly around a slender arm. Lace trimmed the sleeves at the wrist and the base of the long skirt. It looked like it would fit a girl about my size, but the style had to be at least 100 years old.

  Next, I turned my attention to the left corner. There was a small box about eight inches high and about twelve inches wide. The wooden top was attached by tiny metal hinges and a clasp at the center. No key appeared to be needed. I gently raised the top to see a pile of small treasures. I found coins, buttons, small pieces of cloth, stones and other odd looking pieces of metal. I placed each item into the floor. Underneath the treasures, I found a thin book that appeared to be a journal of some kind. The edges of the papers were browned and the spine crackled as I slowly opened the book. Neat cursive letters covered the top of the first page. “Our Journeys”.

  I heard my Mom calling at that moment. I quickly flipped through the next few pages. Underlined titles appeared at the top of each page. London, Paris, Cairo, Tokyo and more. I heard my mother coming up the stairs. I didn’t want her to find my secret room. I may need to use it to hide sometime. I don’t think I will tell P either. I placed the book back in the box, piled the treasures back on top of it then backed out of the room. As I slid the panel shut, the shaft of light from the outside window, that had illuminated the closet, became smaller and smaller until it vanished. I raced down the stairs and met my mom at the landing.

  “Are you all right dear? You’ve been up there for over two hours. I usually just let you cry it out but I got worried about you. Honey, I’m sorry, we’ll go out driving tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

  “Don’t worry Mom, I’m sorry I got so upset. I guess it’s the adjustment to the new place.”

  “Well let’s grab some dinner. We can go to that little Greek diner you loved so much last time. “

  “It’s a deal. Food always makes me feel better.” We all jumped into the car. P screaming about eating yummy French fries, Mom humming along to the song on the radio. I couldn’t stop thinking about that journal. Who wrote it? What were the travels? Why was it all hidden in that secret room? Was the girl a teenager like me and needed her privacy? Did she have a little brother too?

  The next day was a house working day. I didn’t have time to be in my room alone to investigate further. I found out that Dad was coming home from his business trip earlier, and we planned to have my birthday cake on Sunday evening. The phone rang.

  My Mom reached for the cordless phone that did not seem to fit with the house décor. “Yes, she is…okay…how bout I let you talk to her. Emma, Zack wants to talk to you.”

  She threw me the phone before I had time to feel nervous. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Em. Just calling to wish you a happy birthday a bit late. We are actually coming home tomorrow so if you and your family are eating some cake and ice cream, I would love to crash.”

  Be still my heart. “Umm, sure that would be er nice. (Wonderful, magnificent, awesome!) I think we’re cooking out around six and then will have cake after.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll be there!”

  Okay so this birthday wasn’t as bad as I thought. I can be patient with the driving. I didn’t really have anywhere to go yet anyway. The next day was wonderful. Dinner was great. Zack was great. We ate hot dogs and hamburgers, potato salad and good greasy potato chips. No health food for me today, and Mom was okay with that for once. My parents bought the cake from the neighborhood bakery. The cake was so moist and the icing was divinely sweet. Ice cream topped everything off.

  Zack actually bought me a birthday gift. A silver necklace with a swirly blue rectangular stone set in a silver filigree design. Blue is my favorite color. How did he know that? He placed it around my neck and of course my heart raced. Little did he know that I would probably never take it off. Mom and Dad surprised me with a lap top computer.

  “This is really for school sweetie, but we know you may get bored when the house is finished and may want to play on the internet. Our good news is that we are getting cable in a few days and it comes with an internet subscription.”

  P and I looked at each other. “Woo hoo,” he yelled, “I can play intergalactic space battle with my friends back home.”

  I rolled my eyes. P was young for that kind of stuff but he always seemed to beat the other kids. He was definitely smart beyond his years… and his size.

  “Great, now I can chat with my friends back home. Uh, I mean in the city.” Cell phone reception was intermittent out here and the long distance for our home phone was outrageous, so I hadn’t talked to my old friends very much since we moved.

  “Thank you guys so much!” I hugged Mom and Dad, but didn’t know what to do with Zack. A small head nod from him acknowledged the thank you and I nodded back. We all talked a while longer then Zack left through the front door, and we all went to bed.

  It was four o’clock before Mom let us go for the day and I had a chance to investigate the journal without interruption. I locked my bedroom door, mostly to keep out P, crept to the closet and crossed my fingers that the lever would open the panel again. The panel did slide open, and I again squatted on the floor next to the box. I rummaged through the treasures to remove the journal. I knew it was fragile so I was very careful as I turned to the first full page and read.

  “This is the diary of the travels of Julia Barnaby with her companions, Christopher Smith and her younger brother Steven. We have set out on many journeys through the mist, to many ages and have learned a great deal in doing so. Were it not for the magical tome of words we would not have had this opportunity. It must be divine intervention that has sent us out and brought us safely home
. I have hidden the book in this home that my father built for his family. I have no further use for its properties as I am growing up and need to set off for a new life. One day I will have children of my own and maybe we will return. This book is special to me but cannot be left for anyone to see. It can only be read by a child that will use its power for knowledge not fortune. The secret to the book’s hiding place is cleanliness and observation. Be careful and watchful and the clues will come to you. I have set our adventures down in writing so future children may know of them, but this must remain a secret for all times. We have learned much and want to share it, but only with those that will use it wisely.”

  I paused and took a breath. I looked around the small room to try to find this book she was talking about. No book. No visible clues. If this is the girl who wore that dress she would have written this about a hundred years ago. The book must be long gone by now. I read on. The next page seemed to be missing. There was a small tab of paper left in the binding but that was all. The following page was entitled “Paris” in neat block letters and underlined. The following words were perfectly spaced cursive with a fancy curly q at the end of each word.

  “I had just turned 16 prior to our first adventure. We were whisked away not knowing where we would land. We embarked in London, frightened at first until we realized what had happened. To our surprise the passersby nodded to us as if we belonged there. Some men wore peasant garb of thick wool dyed bland colors and dingy from the dirt streets. Others wore silk pleated shirts and heavy knee length coats with wide shoulders and floppy velvet hats. Some women wore brightly colored dresses with high ruffled collars and sleeves that extended like bells to the end of their dresses.

  A young child about the age of my brother approached us. “What’s it like to eat with the king?” he said.

  We were confused until we turned to look at one another. We were all wearing the dress of the nobility, even little Steven. We spoke to this little boy, pretending to be nobility, and learned that we were in England during the time of Henry VIII. There were many changes at that time and many people lived in fear. The king had already had his wife’s head cut off. We remained in this time period for a few days, acting as nobility but ever watchful of being caught. Our visit ended unexpectedly with a journey back through the mist to our home where we awaited another opportunity.”

  I was stunned and couldn’t put the journal down. She wrote of Paris during the revolution, meeting Julius Caesar and Michelangelo and travelling to Japan during the period of the Shoguns and Samurai. These kids walked where George Washington’s army walked, and they looked through the window at the signing of the Declaration of Independence. They saw Napoleon make a speech and watched Columbus board one of his three ships. They met knights on their way to the Crusades.

  I read as much of the diary as I could before my mom knocked on my door. “Emma, time for dinner. After dinner we’re going to watch a movie. Your Dad brought home a few we can choose from. You and P can pick.”

  The evening was enjoyable but I couldn’t stop thinking about the journal and the book. I didn’t quite understand the writings. I assumed the girl had a wild imagination but the stories were so detailed.

  My Dad found me daydreaming at the table. “Are you okay Em? You seem a little distant tonight.”

  “Just tired I suppose. Too much work on the house.” And we all laughed.

  We watched the movies then went to bed. I dreamed about travelling through time and meeting the girl with the journal.

  The following day I paid a little more attention to detail while I was finishing up the painting and cleaning up afterward. I thought that if the secret book was still in the house I could find it. I had promised Mom that I would dust the parlor and the dining room. As I pushed the little feather duster around the furniture and shelving, I was careful to feel for little levers like the one upstairs. I searched and searched but to no avail. The downstairs was definitely free of dust when I was done. I scanned the rooms again for any signs of concealed drawers or panels. I was disappointed when I found no evidence of the book, and reminded myself that the journal was written over a hundred years ago, and the book was probably drummed up by a young girl’s imagination.

  Dejected, I strolled over to the mantel in the parlor one more time. I ran my hand slowly over each stained board. I stood on tip-toes to see the very top of the mantel but nothing stood out. I laid my hand flat along the boards and slowly pulled it along. Then I felt it. A small bump in the wood just barely as wide as my pinky finger. I pushed down with my finger. Nothing. I pushed harder. I heard a quiet click, then an inset panel slid backwards towards the chimney. I reached my hand into the small space. Just to the left of the opening I felt a small metal box and pulled it out. I expected to find a book but it couldn’t possibly be so small. The top popped open. Inside I found a folded piece of paper with a poem.

  “What you are looking for, is much higher than the floor, aim your vision high, as you look toward the sky, once found, feel around, there may be more than meets the eye.”

  At that moment, my mom came around the corner and I shoved the folded paper into my pocket. “Hey, can I take a break for a little while?”

  “Sure honey, you know what, just stop for the day. You’ve been working so hard these past couple of weeks. I think you’ve earned a shopping spree. We can go to the mall this weekend if you want. I promised James I’d buy him some new cars and maybe some trains”

  “Awesome Mom! I’d love some new clothes.”

  “You need something new for when you and Zack go out.”

  “What!? Go out? Um, I don’t think so. Zack just likes to help on the house. I don’t think he thinks of me that way.”

  “Do you really think he comes over just to help and hang out with your mom and dad? I know we’re pretty cool but I doubt it.”

  “Ugh. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” My face reddened and I ran out the front door.

  Once outside, I remembered my mission. The poem urged the reader to look high. I started with the roof of the porch. It didn’t seem like a place to hide a book, but then the book could be very small. From the ground, I couldn’t see any buckling of the tiles or abnormalities in the edges. Zack and my Dad had been up there last week fixing some old tiles and they didn’t see anything. But they weren’t looking.

  The only way to get a good look was to go out onto the roof from P’s room. I’d have to do this when mother went to the store later on. There’s no way she’d let me go up there.

  I thought the roof of the house would be an impossible hiding place, especially for a young girl. Plus, going up there was out of the question. I guess “high” could simply mean upstairs. I could try to search through those rooms while I was waiting for Mom the leave. I slinked back into the house trying to avoid the previous conversation, quietly tread up the stairs and began my search. I started with my parents’ room, running my hand along every board I could reach. The furniture served as a hindrance but I tried my best to get to all the spaces. I crouched on the floor in their closet feeling for levers or buttons. Nothing. I had already searched my room for other hidden door so I skipped that room. I scanned the extra room completely and found no signs of the book’s hiding place. P was in his room playing with his cars.

  “Vroom, vroom. Watch out Emma my truck will run over your foot.” He stood and stared at me.

  I was franticly feeling the walls in his room, kneeling down and running my hand along the base board. I was frowning and didn’t realize it.

  ”What’s wrong Em? You look upset. Did I do something? Can I help?”

  “No P. It’s a secret. Hmm, but I’ll let you in on it if you help me.”

  “Please, please. I can help,” he yelled.

  “Okay, we have to move these cars and open the window box. I’m looking for a secret hiding place,” I said as I scooped the cars to the floor.

  “Are you hiding something?” P asked.

  “Oh,
no, silly. I’m looking for something. A book.”

  “What does it look like,” he asked sincerely.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before,” I replied.

  “What, I don’t understand. Why are you looking for it if you’ve never seen it before?

  I rolled my eyes, but then thought that Peanut may be able to help me. “Okay, promise not to tell Mom or Dad and I’ll tell you.”

  “I promise, cross my heart,” and he made an X with his finger over his heart.

  I explained that I was looking for a very old book that a young girl had hidden in the house years ago. I didn’t tell him about the journal or about travelling through time. I didn’t even think that part was true, but part of me wanted to believe. P helped me look all over his room, but we did not find a hiding place.

  Mom called from downstairs, “I’m going to the grocery store. You guys want to come?

  “Hey P, maybe if you go by yourself, you can get some candy.” I prompted him. I needed him to go with Mom so I could use his window to get onto the porch roof.

  “Yeah,” he yelled. “I’m coming Mom.” And he raced down the stairs. I heard him at the bottom, “Maybe I can get some candy?”

  “Maybe if you’re good.” I heard my mom reply. “What about you Em?”

  “I don’t feel like it. I think I may just read a book or play on the internet.”

  “Okay sweetie.” And my mom shut the door behind her.

  I waited to hear the car back out of the driveway and start down the street before I went to the window. I unlatched it and slid up the bottom panel. I carefully placed my right leg through the open space until it touched the roof, then I wiggled the rest of my body through. The search began. No levers or buttons around the window frames. No hidden panels in the siding. I couldn’t find a single bump in the black tiles. I had just about finished when I heard a rustling from down below.

  I peered over the edge to see Zack standing there with a funny smirk on his face.

  “Whatcha doin’? Looking for something?” He just stood there staring at me.

  I tried to think of an excuse but nothing came to mind, and as always when I’m nervous, I got clumsy. My left foot slid out from under me. My body flipped so I was nose down on the tiles then I slid down the slanted roof. Ouch. I kept sliding until my shirt caught on a nail sticking up from the eave. My legs were dangling over the edge and I was holding on for dear life with my fingertips.

  Zack ran over me with a scared look on his face. When he saw I was all right he started to laugh.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll help you down.” He reached up and grabbed my legs and gently pulled me to towards the ground. I wiggled the wrong way at the last minute and we both ended up flat on the ground.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?” I asked sheepishly.

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just glad you aren’t, but what in the world were you doing on the roof?”

  Should I share my secret with Zack? At that moment I decided I needed a confidant. He may think I’m crazy in the end but I was itching to tell someone about my discovery. “Stay here!”

  I ran quickly upstairs, threw open the closet door and slid back the panel. I grabbed the journal and raced back downstairs. “Come sit on the porch, I want to show you something.”

  Zack sat beside me on the wicker bench and his shoulder gently touched mine. I showed him the first page of the journal then explained to him about the missing book. He seemed confused and I let him read the rest of the diary page by page, then I opened the small folded paper with the poem.

  His mouth dropped open. “Do you really think there’s a magical book somewhere in this house?”

  I nodded, “I’m sure there’s an old book hidden somewhere in this house. I’m not sure if it’s magical or not, but it may be worth finding. I’ve searched all the rooms upstairs, and as you know the porch roof. The poem states to look high, any other ideas.”

  Just then Mom and P drove in to the driveway. P came flying out when he saw Zack. “Hi! Did you come to help us paint some more? I got candy at the store, want some?”

  “No thanks little man. I don’t want to spoil my dinner.”

  Mom eyed Zack, walked nonchalantly by but whispered, “See I told you.” and as she was walking through the doorway added, “Kids I think we will start on the attic tomorrow, it’s a mess. Zack you are welcome to come and play with us too.” Then she was inside the house.

  Zack’s eyes were wide as I turned toward him. “The attic, that’s high, right?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. ‘I’ll be over first thing in the morning to help you search.” He winked at me then jumped off the porch to go home.

  That night I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned for most of the night, and finally nodded off around three in the morning. I awoke to the sun streaming in through the stained glass window. A blue streak softly touched the wad of sheets and blanket at the base of the bed, and I realized how restless my sleep was. Groggy, I raised my body up and stepped to the floor. Suddenly, I remembered that Zack was coming over to help us clean the attic today. I ran to the bathroom, took a fast shower then tried to fix my hair. I peered at myself in the mirror. I parted my limp hair to the side and tucked it behind my ear. I imagined myself with luxurious blond curls like magazine models. Then the doorbell rang and broke the spell. Zack was early. P was already at the door talking his ear off. Then my mom invited him in for breakfast.

  I ran downstairs. “Hi, how about we just have some cereal. No need to make anything special Mom. We are anxious to get cleaning, er uh, that way we’ll get done sooner.” I glanced at Zack and he nodded.

  “Okay kids, I’m sending Peanut up with you to help. He is very good at dusting.”

  Ugh, we can’t hunt for the book with P. I guess I did tell him about the book. What would it hurt? “Okay Mom.”

  The attic stairs were behind a locked door at the end of the upstairs hallway. Mom tossed me the key and we were off for the attic, armed with feather dusters and cleaning supplies. The locked door reminded me again of a haunted house. I let P do the honors because he was feeling brave. He stuck the small key into the old fashioned lock above the doorknob and turned it to the right. After we heard a quiet click, he turned the doorknob and the door creaked open to reveal steep narrow wooden stairs.

  We trudged upwards, tools in hand. Another narrow door stood at the top of the stairs and we all became a bit scared as we walked closer to that door. I gently pushed it open to find a bare dusty floor, streaked with light from the small window at the peak of the roof. To the left, shelves adorned the walls, and to the right were stacks of boxes and old furniture. A wooden rocking chair sat in the corner near the window on the left. A child’s writing desk abutted the right hand wall. We set to work cleaning, but all the while hunting for a sign of a hiding place.

  P caught on, “Hey Emma, what are you looking for? That book still? I can help!” and he ran around dusting and touching all the flat surfaces in the attic.

  We had dusted and cleaned everything by one o’clock. Zack and I were discouraged. We had been searching for a likely imaginary book for five hours. We looked in every box and on every shelf. We searched the desk entirely. We found an old ink well and some faded sheets of paper. I wondered if Julia wrote at that desk. Finally, Zack and I slumped down onto the floor tired and sad.

  P, however, maintained a discoverers spirit. He continued to investigate everything. He made a final sweep of the shelves and happened to accidentally move a picture frame by sliding it backwards, instead of picking it up. We all heard the discreet click, and a small piece of the wall slid to the left. The support on the frame had pushed a tiny button that released a lever and opened the secret compartment.

  The compartment was about a foot wide and four inches high. Zack decided to be the brave soul to stick his hand in and fish around for the book. I was a little squeamish about running into rats or spiders. Zack’s eyes lit up. I saw his forearm
muscle tighten and he pulled a dust covered rectangular object out if the hole.

  He handed it to me. “Do the honors.”

  I grabbed hold of the book and blew the dust off of the front cover. A single word in slightly raised gold leaf adorned the top half, but it was not English. The letters resembled our language but they had extra curves and lines and I couldn’t make out the word.

  “Maybe it’s Russian.” Suggested Zack, and I glared at him.

  “I don’t think so. Russian is very boxy and there are too many curlicues on the letters.”

  “I think it looks Elvish. Like from elves.” Added P. “Like from those movies.”

  I shook my head no, remembering the imaginary language, but then I realized that this book was supposed to have magical powers. I hadn’t let Peanut know because he believed everything I told him and I didn’t want him to be disappointed. The kid had such an imagination. He could whip up a story at the drop of a hat. Even if he told mom what we were doing now, she would think it was just another one of his tall tales. I patted him on the head with my free hand, then realized that the book was heavy and quickly grabbed it with both hands again.

  Zack took the book from my hands and laid it on the top of the writing desk. “Let’s open it up and see.”

  He carefully moved the brittle cover and revealed the first page. More of the unusual writing faced us. The title was repeated and the words that followed seemed to be in a numerical order, like a table of contents. He turned a few more pages but found more unintelligible words. We all looked at each other confused.

  Just then, a breeze caused the dust on the floor to stir and swirl around. The pages rustled slightly, then, a gust of wind made the book’s pages stand in the air. They swayed back and forth briefly, then finally came to rest with the book sitting open to a middle page. Puzzled, we all glanced at the closed window and wondered where the wind came from. We gazed at the open book. The strange letters seemed to vibrate and stretch. Some letters elongated and some shrunk like in the mirrors at the fun house. They arranged themselves in a new pattern on the paper so that they began to look like English words.

  Mesmerized, the three up us stared at the page. Zack began to read,

  “Beware those who take time for granted. What is now, was different then, but past and present can combine as one. The traveler must have innocence and imagination before beginning their journey. Look inside your heart, accept the challenge and take the ultimate leap.”

  Slowly a swirling mist formed in front of us at the center of the attic. The vapor suddenly became circular, with gases flowing clockwise then switching to counterclockwise. Back and forth they flowed until a vortex formed in the center, like a big black hole. A hissing whirring noise emanated from the hole and became louder and louder. We stood in awe afraid to move. P inched slowly up to the circle, curious as usual.

  “Be careful!” I yelled over the din. But I was too late.

  P placed his small hand inside the swirling mass. He couldn’t take it back out. The vacuum pulled his arm farther into the circle. He screamed.

  “No!” I yelled. I lunged forward but the swirling mass of mist pushed me backwards. I was frozen as I watched P’s shoulder disappear, then his head, then his body and legs. He was gone. After that, the swirling continued but the noise was starting to get quieter.

  “We have to go after him!” yelled Zack, and he pushed towards the center of the circle. “Grab the book!”

  I pulled the magical tome towards my chest, put my head down and pushed through the spinning vapor. Zack grabbed my open hand tightly and pulled me close to him. “Jump!” he whispered in my ear.

  I closed my eyes and leapt, holding fast to the book and Zack’s hand. We were spinning with the mist, around and around. My head ached and I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes. I think I let go of Zack’s hand, but held tight to the book. The whirring noise continued to surround us. I felt pressure on my chest and couldn’t breathe. I shut my eyes and wished I had never searched for the book. As I hovered in space regretting my decision, abruptly, silence replaced the din and I briefly felt an overwhelming calm. We continued on for what seemed like an hour, floating weightless in the darkness. I had just begun to enjoy the peacefulness, then suddenly… thud. I hit the ground. Ouch. I heard another thud and hoped it was Zack falling near me.