When I woke up, at first I hoped I'd dreamed all of it, like my dad had suggested. Then I walked into my living room and found Rosalyn still captivated by the TV. I glanced at the clock - I'd slept for half the day. I switched off the TV, still in my sweats and an undershirt. "Your eyeballs are going to fall out," I told her.
"You received a message," said Rosalyn, pointing to my iPhone. I glanced at it. "The strange box said so, after ringing several times."
I sighed - it was probably Dad, asking whether I was going to the dig site today. Instead my fingers froze on the call button. I hadn't seen this number in years, and I hated calling it.
It was my stepsister's number. She was great, sure, but I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to see my mom, and I definitely didn't want to see my stepdad, who according to my stepsister "isn't all that bad".
But nevertheless, she was two years younger than me and I felt sort of responsible for her.
"Hey, um, Jack?" my stepsister's voice said tentatively. "So, there was a fire and Mom and Dad were both in it and - they're both dead, Jack. Mom and Dad."
You don't get to call her Mom. My fingers clenched around the phone, but I kept listening.
"They wanted to send me and Teddy to Social Services, but I knew they were going to separate us and I'd heard Mom say that you were in England, someplace called Evershire, so I flew out and I - just, please call me back, okay? I didn't know who else to call." There was a beep as the message ended.
"Come on, Rosalyn," I said. "We're going shopping, and then we're going to find my stepsiblings."
"Your stepsister? Why?" asked Rosalyn. "Is it because of the magic box?"
"Just - just be quiet, okay?" I told her angrily, grabbing my wallet. Dad had given me a credit card awhile back, since I'd become pretty responsible, and I hardly ever used it (although Dad did constantly scold me about the state of my clothes). "Look, if you're going to go out in public, you need to look like a 21st-century girl. And 21st-century girls don't look like they've just come from the Renaissance Fair."
"What is a Renaissance Fair?" asked Rosalyn, following me outside. I led her to a Macy's and I picked her out some skirts and a few shirts, guessing her size (hey, I'm a guy plus they don't really have tailors in the 21st-century).
"I am ready for you to dress me now," called Rosalyn from the dressing room. I gaped.
"Seriously? You can dress yourself. No way in hell am I coming in there."
I could practically see her frown. "That is what servants do."
"I am not your servant!" The dressing room lady looked at me strangely, and I ignored her. "Look, I'll walk you through it. See that one, with the three holes? The biggest hole goes through your head, other two for your arms, and the tag goes in the back. Let me know when you're done." A few minutes later, Rosalyn called to let me know she was done.
"All right, now put the skirt on, all right?"
When she walked out, she was actually pretty hot for a 21st-century girl. She looked at her shirt. "Where is my corset?"
"Once we get my stepsister, we'll find you a bra. It's like a 21st-century corset. But I'm not going down that road. I have boundaries. All I know is, she and my stepbrother are somewhere in England, and even though they're not my favorite people in the world, I've got to help them."
They were waiting outside the airport, looking anxious, when I arrived via taxi. My stepsister, Lexi, looked at Rosalyn. "Is she your girlfriend?"
YOU ARE READING
Sleeping Beauty-ish
FantasyJack is so done with this archaeology thing. For the past six years, he's followed his dad around the world on his digs; but the minute he turns eighteen, he's going back to America. Unfortunately, until then he's stuck with his dad, who is currentl...
