A Tale of Two Centuries msssc-2 Read online

  Austin spins us in circles, and then we fly forward, free as the winged creatures overhead. He bounces us over a swell, and a spray of water splashes my face, tickling the skin left exposed by my wetsuit. I squeal, and under my clasped hands, I feel his taut stomach muscles shake with laughter. Then he takes off again in another sharp turn, racing in the opposite direction of which we came.

  Excitement has me screaming, asking him to go faster. I close my eyes against the sting of the salty air and the lash of my hair and tilt my head back, feeling more uninhibited than I ever have before.

  More free, more alive…just more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As our car glides down the tree-lined street for my first full week of school, my thoughts are not where they should be. I should be reciting Cat’s list of lingo along with the new references I searched and added myself last night—it turns out Scooby-Doo is an amusing program. I ended up watching (and enjoying) several episodes and laughing at the gang’s comical high jinks. My cousin, equally amused by my merriment, was impressed with how quickly I acclimated to using her laptop, and I must admit, so was I. It is amazing how much information is available at one’s fingertips in this world. But in all honesty, right now I couldn’t care less about talking dogs, the World Wide Web, or any of those things, for my thoughts are turned to Austin and the mysterious transformation he appears to have undergone three years ago.

  Yesterday I learned that asking him directly about his past does nothing but make things worse. On our way out of the beach house, I made the mistake of stopping before one of the pictures of his family and inquiring why there weren’t any recent additions. The temporary truce we struck out on the water vanished, the scales fell back over his eyes, and he walked outside without a word.

  Obviously if I want to discover the truth, I must do so on my own.

  “Cat,” I say, turning away from the parade of homes outside my window. Beside me, my cousin lifts her head and opens her sleep-dazed eyes. A happy early riser she is not. “Do you know anything about Mr. Michaels, Austin’s father?”

  I know as I ask that a much easier way to uncover the truth would be to mention the family photos I found yesterday at his beach house; however, Cat still believes we were at the library all day. I’m unaccustomed to the pressing weight that the guilt of lying causes. If it were a perfect world, I could stop with the deceit altogether, but I can’t, especially not after experiencing the rush of the wind and water on the back of Austin’s Jet Ski. If I tell her the truth, she will likely ask me to stop the challenges.

  And nothing is keeping me from whatever task he has planned for us next.

  Cat scrunches her mouth. “You know, it’s weird. In middle school, Austin was, like, king, totally set to follow his dad’s footsteps to the White House. He was a year older than me, but I still knew who he was—everyone did. He led the soccer team, won all the assembly awards, was student council president… Then, when I was in the sixth grade, his dad won the senate election, and I remember him coming to school a couple of times. The man was a complete and utter tool, but you could see that Austin worshipped him.”

  Out of everything Cat just said, this surprises me the most. Abhorred seems a much more apt choice of verb, at least based on Austin’s reactions around me whenever the subject of his dad came up.

  “When Austin graduated,” she continues, “I totally expected to find him on top of everything at the high school, even as a sophomore. But instead, I found him in my class because he failed an entire year.” She shrugs. “I don’t know how that happened. Even weirder is that when his dad campaigned for reelection a couple months ago, the news coverage just kinda skimmed over Austin. It was like he didn’t exist. His sister Jamie was at all the events, at least according to the pictures, anyway, but Austin…well, if I were to guess, he was off surfing.”

  At the onslaught of information, I massage my temples, hoping that maybe that will help me process it all. Our car stops, and I glance out the window. We are at a light, a block away from the white stone building of the high school. Only a few minutes left to ask two more nagging questions. I tuck my leg under me and decide to go with the easier one first. “What about Austin’s and Jamie’s mother? I notice you didn’t mention her.”

  Cat winces. “She died.”

  Horrified, I slap my hand over my mouth. Austin’s mother had looked frail in the more recent photographs, but it never occurred to me that she could have been sick. Hurting for the young boy who lost his mother, I whisper, “How long ago?”

  Cat tilts her head and stares at the ceiling, thinking. “I want to say two or three years ago. At the time, it was a big deal. She’d been battling breast cancer, and for a while, people wore pink ribbons and organized walks, and our health classes focused on prevention. But then, I guess people moved on to other causes.” She frowns, and the car rolls again as the light turns green.

  Austin’s loss reminds me of how very much I miss my own mother, miss hearing her words of wisdom, and how devastated I would be if I ever lost her. As the high school comes into view, I take a breath and ask the final question I had been holding, wondering if in the light of everything else, it still even matters. “And Kendal?”

  Cat narrows her eyes at me, suspicion rolling off her in waves, but she answers as we come to a stop in front of the school. “They were together when his mom died, but the cheating scandal broke not too long after that.”

  With a heart torn between wanting to run and hide and needing to find Austin and throw my arms around him, I step out from the car, up the front stone stairs, and into the frantic hallway. It would appear that fate has made the choice for me. Austin meets my gaze over the shuffle of students from where he stands, waiting beside my locker. He shoulders a bag that looks suspiciously stuffed—beside the one notebook I saw on Friday, I’m under the distinct impression he doesn’t own any other supplies—and bestows an even more suspicious grin upon my cousin.

  She, I notice, seems to be just as wary. “Good morning, Austin. You’re here shockingly early. Did someone remember to take his good-student pills today?”

  Austin’s lips twitch with amusement, and he shifts his eyes to mine. “Just had a question to ask Less about our project.”

  I widen my eyes in silent annoyance but luckily, Cat doesn’t catch his double meaning.

  Out on the water yesterday, I told Austin about my need to keep his challenge a secret. Also, in a moment of adrenaline-filled weakness, I somehow divulged my peculiar nickname. From the look Cat gives me, she finds this very telling.

  Austin smirks, apparently catching the same look. “I’ll make sure she gets to class on time.”

  She chokes on a laugh. “That’s interesting because I wasn’t totally sure you knew how to get there yourself.” Then she leans close and whispers, “Do you want me to leave?”

  Not wanting her to see my excitement at Austin’s proposal and what it could potentially mean, I lower my lashes and nod.

  Cat smacks her lips. “O-kay then,” she says, not sounding at all convinced. “I guess I’ll just see you at lunch…Alessandra.”

  At her overt attempt at provocation—my cousin never uses my given name—I lift my eyes. “Yes. See you then, Caterina.”

  Her head jerks back—probably as much at the name she shares with her mother as at the surprising confidence in my tone. A small smile of admiration springs to her lips. “All right, kiddos, try not to kill each other when I’m gone.” Cat takes a step away and elbows Austin in the ribs. “Take care of my girl, Michaels.”

  She walks down the hall toward her own locker and I watch until she disappears into the crowd. “Thank you for maintaining my ruse,” I tell Austin. “Much like you, she seems to think I am sheltered and in need of protection.”

  He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that for some reason makes me uncomfortable. Turning away, I grab the dial of the lock with shaky hands and try to remember the combination Cat taught me. Austin closes his hand over mine. “Y
ou’re not gonna need any books today.”

  Confused, I twist to look at him with a frown. “I’m not?”

  He shakes his head. “Not where we’re going.”

  It takes me what feels like a full minute to realize his intention. Then I gasp. “But you promised Cat you would get me to class.” He nods, not at all looking guilty for his blatant deceit—he must practice it far more frequently than I do—and I shake my head. “You lied!”

  “Yeah, sweetheart,” he says in a slow drawl. “I did.” Austin pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and hands it to me. With a devilish grin he says, “Challenge two presented.”

  A glance at the paper reveals the words Lethal Xperience: Rush Theme Park written above a steel contraption built with impossible twists and turns, looming at even more impossible heights. A group of unfortunate people strapped to the death-defying object peer up from the page, strangely enough with joy on their faces.

  My gaze shoots back to his. He laughs at what I can only assume is my panic-stricken expression and reaches out to nudge my open jaw closed with his knuckle. “It’s a roller coaster, Princess. It’s fun. Are you allergic to fun?”

  Fun I can handle, I want to tell him. Death, not so much.

  “B-but class,” I say, weakly waving my hand at the rooms around us. “Isn’t leaving school grounds during the day against the rules?”

  He huffs in exasperation. “Alessandra, you only live once, and to be honest, you’re not living at all. You promised you’d give me a week to loosen you up. Are you backing out already?”

  I loathe the truth in his words.

  Needing to concentrate—and to not be distracted by Austin’s temptingly sinful grin—I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Does it really matter if I break a few modern-day rules?

  My time here is finite. Four days have passed since I arrived in the twenty-first century, and I have already passed my first marker. Shouldn’t I spend the remainder of my time embracing every moment, not bored behind a disagreeable desk, listening to concepts I cannot fully comprehend?

  I bite my lip, unsure if I am more excited or shocked at my own thoughts—or if they are even truth or merely an excuse to be alone again with Austin. I glance at the emptying hallway.

  With a teasing wiggle of my eyebrows and an eager smile at my tempter, I take off running.

  …

  Austin gets out of the truck and stretches, the hem of his faded blue T-shirt lifting. A strip of bare flesh—the same flesh I openly gawked at yesterday—peeks from underneath, but even though my eyes got their fill then, I steal another quick, swoon-worthy glance. Then, with a mouth gone dry, I turn away from the enticing sight and gaze upon my death instead.

  Across the crowded parking lot sits Rush, an outdoor wonder otherwise known as an amusement park, evidently home to much more than just the Lethal Xperience. As I gaze out…and up…from the relative safety of my seat at the wide array of supposed enjoyment, I come to the decision that people of the twenty-first century have entirely too much free time on their hands.

  Where I come from, in the rare moment when we are without duty, we create art or sing songs or even talk. We do not search for creative ways to defy nature and call it fun.

  Austin opens my door and chuckles. “Let me explain how this works. In order to ride the roller coaster, one must get out of the vehicle. It doesn’t come to you.”

  I suck my teeth and wonder again how I can find such arrogant behavior appealing. It must be a sickness.

  “Hi-larious,” I mumble, a sarcastic expression I overheard Cat tell her father last night. I did not quite get it then, but it sure feels as though it fits now. Austin smirks. Heaving a sigh of resignation at my fate, I step onto the cracked asphalt.

  He grabs my hand, most likely to ensure I don’t wander off or make an escape. But the heat of his skin centers me, bringing all my attention away from my frazzled nerves and onto my pounding, frantic pulse.

  The towering structures grow in size with each additional step we take toward the gate. When we reach the front, Austin behaves like a gentleman for once and purchases our tickets, and I crane my neck up.

  My, that is high.

  I imagine my cousin asking, What have you gotten yourself into now, girlfriend? And the truly horrible part is that I don’t even know how to answer.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  I still firmly believe that Austin will never let anything happen to me, but it is quite clear we view danger very differently.

  A hand touches the small of my back, and suddenly he is ushering me inside.

  Without stopping or even slowing his stride, he grabs a map from a vendor and flips it open. “So Lethal Xperience is at the back of the park. We’ll hit that first and then make our way up to the front.”

  He seems unaware that the length of his legs far exceeds my own. As I frantically attempt to match his stride, I must pant or wheeze because he finally looks down at me, no doubt pink-faced and wide-eyed both from the sensory overload surrounding us and my huffing at a near jog to stay beside him. He grins. “Try to keep up, Short Stuff.”

  I grit my teeth with determination and somehow keep myself from muttering, Yes, Master. But the thought still makes me smile. Cat must be rubbing off.

  We pass a circular ride filled with fake horses going up and down. Giggling and drooling children clap their adorable hands from their belted saddles while a spirited tune blares overhead. Just past that is a miniature roller coaster made to look like a giant, happy centipede. The child in the front seat waves to his mother as the cart dips, and his squeal of joy tails behind him. It’s too bad that not all roller coasters can be five feet tall.

  Then I get a wicked idea.

  Austin believes I am a child, naïve and boring, and, it would seem, without any humor. This second challenge is supposed to be about fun, and nothing—not even the lead role in a prestigious play with a crowd of a thousand—will give me more joy than turning the tables on him, even if only for a moment.

  Looking back at the children’s ride, I grab Austin’s elbow and say innocently, “Is this not the roller coaster you are looking for?”

  He stops rather abruptly and peers at me through squinted eyes. “You know, it’s like you look normal…” He trails off, points a long, tan finger at the centipede ride, and in a tone dripping with condescension explains, “Less, Arthropod Picnic is a kiddie ride. It’s made for pint-sized ankle-biters ages three and under.”

  I try my best to look disappointed. I do everything I can to contain my mounting delight. But after no more than a few brief moments, I let forth a victorious giggle.

  Realization dawns on his face. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

  When I nod, he chuckles. He leans back on his heels and lets his gaze travel over my body. Humor dissipates as my skin prickles to life. On Austin’s slow ascent back up, he pauses to look me in the eye, and an emotion crosses his face. It’s so fleeting—gone and there in an instant—that I cannot catch it.

  “So, you think you’re ready to play at the big girl table now.” The left side of his mouth kicks up in a grin. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

  The apparent taunt and Austin’s added wink spur me on.

  This is my chance to prove to him that I’m not the timid girl I once was. To prove to myself that I’m no longer the child of my youth but a woman ready for the future.

  I sashay toward a person dressed as a shiny nugget of gold posing for pictures with children, feeling Austin watching me, his gaze on my every step like a physical touch. My legs feel wobbly under my skirt, but an energizing spark ignites in my blood. I glance over my shoulder, confirming I have his complete attention, and then with an outward shrug (and an inner dance), I reply with every ounce of confidence I can muster, “Yes. We will.”

  Austin’s smile widens. The sounds and patrons of the park fade away, and it is as if we are the only two around. I don’t know what is happening…I scarcely even r
ecognize myself in this moment. Being with Austin does that. It turns me into someone else.

  And I like who I become.

  I watch his slow saunter, my body poised with tension. I don’t know what is going to happen next, but I wouldn’t trade the delicious expectation for anything. Austin doesn’t stop until he is right in front of me, close enough that I have to look up to meet his demanding blue gaze, and so close that warmth fans across my face as he says in a low voice, “Careful, girl. You’re playing with fire.”

  “I’ve been careful my whole life,” I tell him, surprising myself with the resentment ringing in my tone. But it’s the truth. “And you know, I think it’s about time for me to be a little…” I bite the corner of my bottom lip, searching for exactly the right word to describe the emotions and thoughts that have surfaced the last few days. When I find it, I smile and wiggle my eyebrows suggestively “Wild.”

  Austin sucks in a breath. He searches my eyes, and I boldly stare back, praying that he cannot see my knees shaking. Then, obviously concluding that I meant every word, he flashes his devilish grin. “I can work with that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The coaster chugs up the steel tracks inch by inch. Anticipation, fear, and unbridled excitement roil in my gut. Without thinking, I reach out and latch onto Austin’s arm. He gently threads his fingers through mine, and I chance a look over.

  His eyes are focused on me.

  “Here it comes,” he says. His words and the gentle squeeze of his hand make my stomach dip.

  I don’t turn back to watch the end of our slow ascent. Instead, I lock my gaze onto the enigmatic boy responsible for bringing me here, for unleashing this other person that’s been trapped inside me for so long…

  And we fall.