How was this possible? Was this possible?
People started walking down the hallway, a man and a woman, and I perked up like a cat, but like a cat, I felt like running and hiding when there were strangers. The woman had on a light-blue pencil skirt and a white blouse on top. Not that strange. But the style of her blonde hair screamed 50s, along with the man's slicked-back brown hair.
They saw me, and I froze. The woman's brows creased, and she looked me up and down. Heat rushed into my cheeks in embarrassment. The two older men in that office were appalled at what I wore and the purple in my hair. This man and woman, according to their facial expressions, were experiencing the same reaction.
"What in the world...?" the woman enthused, and I walked on passed them briskly. The woman said, "Did you see what she was wearing, Adam?"
"Yeah, she had Elvis on her shirt. I didn't know they made those."
"I mean her pants and her hair. I haven't seen anyone..."
Her voice drowned out as I turned a corner. I had my black flats on. How did those get on my feet if I was in bed before?
This was a dream. I could wear whatever I wanted... but how come my clothes weren't magically changing into clothes girls wore in the 50s? That happens in dream - you can do whatever you want. How come it wasn't happening now?
Because this wasn't a dream.
I came to a door and opened it. My mouth dropped open as I saw people walking about and what looked like a set to a talk show... a familiar one. At least, I remembered the curtain backdrop, only it was in color - deep red. This was the Ed Sullivan Show! Back there, Elvis said this was the building for it.
Oh gosh, Elvis... I met the Elvis Presley.
"And enter the trio!" some man shouted, and the studio audience screamed, cheered and clapped. A group of three good-looking younger guys - maybe they all were around twenty years old - wearing loose gray suits came onto the set and stood next to a middle-aged man in a black suit. Yes, that was Ed Sullivan. I had seen enough of his shows on YouTube to know what he looked like. He announced the guys as the newest trio to hit the radio and called them "The Three Goons."
The three guys started singing chorus style, and not realizing that I was, I walked up closer to the set, trying to believe that this was all happening. One of the guys caught sight of me, and he didn't look away. He winked! One of the other guys noticed me as well and sang and stared. Soon, all three saw me, and Ed Sullivan looked to see what the boys were staring at. That in turn caused the people with the cameras to look over at me.
The guys stopped their song, and they still stared at me. "Looks like the Goons have their eyes on something pretty in our studio," said Ed.
I never had so many people look at me all in one second and at the same time. People in the studio audience had their eyes on me, too.
My whole body started tingling, and my face suddenly became very hot. I looked around, not knowing what to do.
"She has Elvis on her shirt!" some girl shouted from the audience, and several more screamed. "I want one!" shouted another, and they all went crazy. A camera suddenly turned to me, not six feet away, and I stared right at it, eyes wide.
"Sorry, folks, looks like there's quite the distraction," said Ed.
"The phone lines are flooding," said some woman behind me, but I didn't turn to see her. My body stayed where it was, stock-still. "They all are wondering who she is and how they can get that shirt."
Someone suddenly stood next to me, and I saw that it was Ed himself. I let out a gasp. "Hello, young miss," he said, the camera on us. "The nation is wondering who you are, so why don't you introduce yourself?"
The whole nation?! "Um... I'm Katelyn Brier."
"Miss Katelyn Brier!" he boomed. "So, you are a fan of Elvis Presley, huh?"
"Yes, very much so."
"As are millions of others. The nation wants to know, Miss Brier, where you got this shirt of yours, since we haven't seen any with Elvis Presley's face on it. Yet," he added, winking at the camera.
I got the shirt online through Amazon, but I couldn't say that. My heart pounded as I tried desperately to think of something. "I, um... I made it. I mean, I put his face on it."
"Ohhhh!" he enthused. "I see. Well, you're quite the talented artist. I bet a lot of young ladies would love to have a shirt like this one. As well as this hair! Ladies and gentlemen at home, you cannot see it through your grey screens, but Miss Brier has streaks of purple in her hair! What a sight! Tell us, Miss Brier, how did you get your hair that color?"
They didn't have purple hair dye in the 50s? "Hair dye. A mixture of different colors."
"I see." Someone came up to Ed, whispered something to him, and left. "The nations wants to know more about you, Miss Brier. How old are you? Where are you from?"
I eyed the camera. I had to pretend it wasn't there. "Um, I'm sixteen, and I'm from a small town in California. I'm on vacation here." People would buy that.
"To see Elvis?" Ed asked.
"Why else?"
"And have you been successful?"
I nodded. "Yes. I got the opportunity to meet him today."
The whole studio erupted in screams and cheers. Ed laughed. "Is that so? He must have been flattered by his face on your shirt."
"Yes, he was." I turned around so my back would face the camera, and I pulled my hair out of the way. "He signed the back of it."
More screams, and I winced at how loud it was. Ed said, "Wow, would you look at that, folks?! This lucky fan of Mr. Presley was able to get a signature on her back. Now, Miss Brier, can you tell us more about yourself?"
I put my hair back down and faced Ed again. I should just say it. "Well, you all may not believe it, but I'm from the future. I'm from the year 2021."
~ ~ ~
My mouth had a continuous smile all day. That girl with the purple hair actually had my face on her shirt. What was her name? Katelyn? What a pretty name for such a pretty girl.
"What are you grinning about, Elvis?" asked the Colonel as he came out of the kitchen nook area of my hotel room, a bottle of beer in hand. It was around ten at night.
I stared up at the white ceiling as I lay in my bed. "I'm thinkin' of that girl from this mornin'."
He sat in one of the chairs at the table just outside the kitchen nook. "You mean the girl with the purple hair?"
"Yeah. She's fascinatin'. And pretty."
He took a swig of the beer. It had been a busy day, and he liked to unwind with the yellow liquid. I choose not to partake. No sleep if I drank. Plus, I didn't like to do so. "Don't you start, Elvis. That girl is trouble."
"You say that after only meetin' 'er once?"
"She's just like all those other fans. Have you heard the radio? She snuck onto the set of the Ed Sullivan Show, I assume right after she met you, and now the nation is going crazy over her purple hair, that shirt of hers and that crazy story about her being from the future."
Hearing the radio and hearing what she said about me was one of the things that got me grinning all day, aside from meeting her. "Yeah, I know."
"She's starved for attention."
"Whether she is or not, she's interestin'. I wanna see 'er again. A star meetin' a star." I looked over at him, hope in my blue eyes. "Do ya think you can pull off a meetin' with 'er?"
"We're not taking time out of your busy schedule to go and see that lunatic," he said firmly. "That's that."
"Psht..." I let out and stared back at the ceiling. Maybe I could make a statement at my next interview with the press, saying I wanted to see that girl again. Never had I seen any one of my fans with my face on her shirt, and a face she put on there herself, according to what she said on the show.
Her sparkly blue-green eyes, how her hair shimmered as she let it down after I signed her shirt, and her cute, flushed face as she talked with me came to mind. She was adorable.
Yes, I would see her again. Somehow.