Rachel Harris - A Tale of Two Centuries

I gulp at the revolting image those words conjure, and Cat shakes her head. With an exaggerated sigh and teasing roll of her eyes, she hands me the next best choice, the gown she deemed a frumpy frock , and I eagerly snatch it from her fingers. The fabric is smooth and silky. I hold it up, judging the size and length, and declare it perfection.

“Now unlike you, we don’t have fancy lady servants to help get us dressed, though as modest as you are, I’m shocked you even let them, anyway. But this is the bathroom.” She opens a door to reveal a second room attached to her bedchamber, this one containing a wall of mirrors. “Feel free to get changed in here.”

I tiptoe inside, awed by the abundance of light and variety of basins. A box of glass and a huge white tub take up most of the space. It smells like the satchel of future items Cat brought with her during her stay with my family, and I close my eyes and inhale.

Behind me, the door closes, but Cat continues to talk, her voice easily distinguishable through the thin wood. “I still can’t believe you’re here,” she says as I set the gown on the smooth counter. I grab the hem of my tunic and lift, still in awe myself, and she adds, “But why do you look so much older? It’s only been, like, what? Two months since I left Florence?”

Arms in the air, tunic over my head, I freeze. I catch sight of my reflection, turn five shades of crimson, and spin away. “Dear cousin, either my English translation skills are defective, or your mathematics are. I believe you mean two years .”

Silence on the other end for a moment, then, “Uh, no. I mean two months.”

Holding the top against my chest and cracking the door open just enough to see one of her eyes, I ask, “But that cannot be possible. I assure you, when I entered Reyna’s mysterious green tent this morning, it was the year 1507.”

Her head snaps up from the row of books she is perusing on her shelf. “Did you say 150 7 ?” she asks, emphasizing the last number. When I nod, she tightens her mouth and tilts her head to the side. “Have there been any interesting developments or, err, any changes in the last two years?”

As her sharpened gaze flitters about me, oddly focusing on my face and hands, I reply, “Other than that I was once fourteen and am now sixteen, no.” Cat nods distractedly. Obviously something is consuming her thoughts. “And last I saw you, you had just turned sixteen. How old are you now?”

“Still sixteen.” Cat nods slowly. “We’re the same age.”

The fact that I am now an equal with my older, wiser, daring cousin is not lost on me. My spine straightens with pride.

She blinks her eyes as if to clear away her thoughts, then grabs a thick tome and begins pacing the length of her room. “Since Reyna’s all about the cryptic, I’m assuming she didn’t give you an idea of how long you’ll be here?”

“In a way,” I answer with a shrug and wry grin. “It was Reyna, after all. She said that three signs would mark my journey—an angel speaking, a soft-rose songstress captivating, and life imitating art. When the third sign is revealed, she will return at sundown.” Then my grin turns into a frown. Now that I am here, with my beloved cousin I have missed so much, I know that however many days fate has granted me, they will be over in the blink of an eye.

The matching frown on Cat’s beautiful face tells me she is thinking the same. She forces a smile and says, “Okay, definitely in keeping with the cryptic, but I’d expect nothing less. By any chance, did she include a riddle-like message to go along with your gypsy adventure?”

Choosing to focus on the time that I will have with her instead of the heartache of leaving again, I nod, and then close my eyes to concentrate, wanting to ensure I repeat it verbatim. “She said, ‘The adventure that you seek is full of possibilities, but always remember where your real strength lies.’” I open my eyes and grin again. “As cryptic messages go, I do believe that is a good one.”

Undeterred by my wit, Cat chews her lip, deep in thought. “Well, the strength part at least is easy,” she says with a wave of her hand. “That’s acting. You rock at it, and there’s no better place—except maybe New York—to explore it than Hollywood.” She plops down on her bed, bouncing as the temptingly supple mattress springs up underneath. “But possibilities…what could that mean?”

I lift my shoulder in response. Knowing she has more experience with gypsy riddles than I, I close the door and focus again on getting dressed. I toss my tunic on the ground and tug on my trousers. After a moment, I call out, “Cousin? I appear to have a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” she asks, her voice muffled and distracted.

“A trouser problem. It seems they do not want to be removed. I yank and yank, yet they refuse to budge.”

Seriously, how maidens manage to get dressed alone with clothing such as this is beyond my comprehension. I shove my thumbs beneath the rough band at my waist and wrench.

A lengthy pause from my cousin, then, “Did you try unzipping them?”

“Unzipping?” I ask, not at all familiar with the word or the action.

“Yeah, with the zipper. The metal thingy with teeth?”

Wrinkling my nose, I take a look and indeed see a track of metal trailing down the front of my trousers. At the top is a little latch. As I grab it, I feel it sink lower. The pressure around my hips eases. I tug it back up and then down again. “A zipper, you say? Cat, I must tell you, the future is filled with interesting things.”

She laughs.

After my zipper fun, I peel the trousers down my legs and step out of them, seizing the gown before I can catch another glimpse of my bare flesh in the mirrors. I slide my arms through the soft fabric and instantly feel at home.

When I open the door, Cat is where I left her, sitting tall on her mammoth bed. “I think I got it.” With a victorious grin, she holds up a leather tome, the words Roosevelt Academy written on the cover. “Reyna said an adventure full of possibilities, right? That means options, choices, potential. Things you can’t experience in the sixteenth century. And at our age, in the twenty-first, there’s no better way for you to get all that than by enrolling in school.”

I jerk my head back. “School? Do you mean to send me to a convent?”

Cat scrunches her nose and blinks in succession. “No, not a convent, you beautiful weirdo. High school! With me. And it just so happens that the spring semester starts tomorrow, so it’s perfect timing.” She laughs. “Actually, that’s probably not a coincidence, huh?”

My cousin appears positively giddy with her discovery, but apprehension begins to squirm and knot in my stomach. If today’s jaunt to the theater was any indication, crowds from this time and I do not mix well. So I clear my throat and ask, “What precisely does one do at a high school? You should know that I have already learned my letters, music, and art, as well as how to dance and be festive. Truly, what else is there?”

“You mean besides boys?” She gifts me with a cheeky grin, and my jaw drops. It is not possible that boys and girls attend to their schooling together. Cat’s grin grows wider as if she can read my thoughts. “Oh, my time-traveling chica, I have so much to teach you. And your first lesson, darling ancestor of mine, starts now. We need to work on how you talk.”

My jaw hangs agape. If she had suggested I prance around naked, I think I would be less shocked.

“The way I talk ?” I ask. My cousin certainly never conformed the way she spoke when she was in my time. “Cat, are you implying it is I who needs to learn to speak properly? You—you who speak with half words and improper grammar? I will have you know—”