Read Online Lyon's Legacy: Catalyst Chronicles, Book One by Sandra Ulbrich Almazan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
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Grandma Mary—she insisted I call her that—gave me a cup of strong tea and a plateful of greasy meat and overcooked potatoes. With the food, the pollution, and the second-hand smoke, this trip was going to cut at least ten years off my life. Still, I was so hungry even the grease tasted good. I ate as best as I could while answering Grandma Mary’s questions about “the family out West.”
“And what does your father do?” she asked as I finished my meal.
How do you explain two mediocre albums, a handful of holo appearances, and a share in a celeb PR firm to a TwenCen person? “He’s an entertainer,” I started to answer. At Grandma Mary’s frown, words came to me. “But he’s given that up; he never was much good at it. These days he’s part owner of a business.” Not that he needed to work, with his own share of Great-Granddad’s money.
“Well, at least he’s respectable, then.” Grandma Mary examined my appearance as if she still wasn’t sure about me. “Where are you going to school?”
Our heads both turned as something dark flashed by the window, followed by a man at the back door. I clenched my fork as if it were a weapon. Was it Sean, or his grandfather? Judging by the black hair, it had to be Sean. My great-grandfather, as large as life and twice as intimidating. Why had I ever thought meeting him was a good idea?
Grandma Mary pursed her lips as he stepped through the door. I couldn’t tell if she disapproved of his outfit—not just a leather jacket, but black leather pants as well—or the cigarette smoke that clung to him. I’d never smelled it before, but it was so foul it couldn’t be anything else. How could he tolerate, let alone enjoy, such a filthy habit?
“I just got word of a gig downtown tonight, Grandma.” He unzipped his jacket. “It’ll run late, so don’t wait up.”
He didn’t even look in my direction as he threw the jacket at my face. I caught it, but the stench made me sneeze. Grandma Mary gasped. “Sean Franklin Lyon, haven’t I taught you any decent manners? You don’t treat your cousin like that, esp ecially when she’s come such a long way!”
“Cousin?” He turned toward me and raised his eyebrows. Frowning, he leaned forward. I knew he was very nearsighted—and too vain to cover his dark blue eyes with thick-framed glasses. “Who are you?”
I let him come a little closer before whipping his jacket at him. Even with his poor vision, he still raised his hands in time to protect his face. Too bad. “Call me Jo,” I said.
“Jo What?”
“Lyon.”
He stood very still. “I hope you’re lying about that.”
I had to phrase this carefully, or else he’d sense my falsehood. I tilted my face to meet his. “My name really is Lyon, and I share one-eighth of your genes.”
Sean and Grandma Mary stared at me with curious faces. I wanted to slap my forehead; how much did the average person of this era know about genetics? Sure, Watson and Crick had figured out the structure of DNA by now, but that didn’t mean everyone knew it.
“She’s your Uncle Will’s daughter, Sean. She’s here for school.” Grandma Mary reached past Sean to take my plate. “You still didn’t say where you were studying, or what. Teaching, maybe, or nursing?”
“Thanks. And I’m not interested in nursing or teaching. I’m going to study genetics at the University of Chicago.”
Now the stare of horror from Grandma Mary made me wonder if I’d sprouted another head. “You can’t go there, Joanna! That’s a bad neighborhood!”
Oops. In my time the university still existed, but it was surrounded by vertical farms, research labs, and housing. Some of the areas were off limits, but it wasn’t any more dangerous than anywhere else in the city. “I didn’t know that. But I’m sure I can take care of myself.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, but I wasn’t sure if he was impressed or scornful. “What kind of music do you like, Jobanana?”
Great; he thought I was
“And what does your father do?” she asked as I finished my meal.
How do you explain two mediocre albums, a handful of holo appearances, and a share in a celeb PR firm to a TwenCen person? “He’s an entertainer,” I started to answer. At Grandma Mary’s frown, words came to me. “But he’s given that up; he never was much good at it. These days he’s part owner of a business.” Not that he needed to work, with his own share of Great-Granddad’s money.
“Well, at least he’s respectable, then.” Grandma Mary examined my appearance as if she still wasn’t sure about me. “Where are you going to school?”
Our heads both turned as something dark flashed by the window, followed by a man at the back door. I clenched my fork as if it were a weapon. Was it Sean, or his grandfather? Judging by the black hair, it had to be Sean. My great-grandfather, as large as life and twice as intimidating. Why had I ever thought meeting him was a good idea?
Grandma Mary pursed her lips as he stepped through the door. I couldn’t tell if she disapproved of his outfit—not just a leather jacket, but black leather pants as well—or the cigarette smoke that clung to him. I’d never smelled it before, but it was so foul it couldn’t be anything else. How could he tolerate, let alone enjoy, such a filthy habit?
“I just got word of a gig downtown tonight, Grandma.” He unzipped his jacket. “It’ll run late, so don’t wait up.”
He didn’t even look in my direction as he threw the jacket at my face. I caught it, but the stench made me sneeze. Grandma Mary gasped. “Sean Franklin Lyon, haven’t I taught you any decent manners? You don’t treat your cousin like that, esp ecially when she’s come such a long way!”
“Cousin?” He turned toward me and raised his eyebrows. Frowning, he leaned forward. I knew he was very nearsighted—and too vain to cover his dark blue eyes with thick-framed glasses. “Who are you?”
I let him come a little closer before whipping his jacket at him. Even with his poor vision, he still raised his hands in time to protect his face. Too bad. “Call me Jo,” I said.
“Jo What?”
“Lyon.”
He stood very still. “I hope you’re lying about that.”
I had to phrase this carefully, or else he’d sense my falsehood. I tilted my face to meet his. “My name really is Lyon, and I share one-eighth of your genes.”
Sean and Grandma Mary stared at me with curious faces. I wanted to slap my forehead; how much did the average person of this era know about genetics? Sure, Watson and Crick had figured out the structure of DNA by now, but that didn’t mean everyone knew it.
“She’s your Uncle Will’s daughter, Sean. She’s here for school.” Grandma Mary reached past Sean to take my plate. “You still didn’t say where you were studying, or what. Teaching, maybe, or nursing?”
“Thanks. And I’m not interested in nursing or teaching. I’m going to study genetics at the University of Chicago.”
Now the stare of horror from Grandma Mary made me wonder if I’d sprouted another head. “You can’t go there, Joanna! That’s a bad neighborhood!”
Oops. In my time the university still existed, but it was surrounded by vertical farms, research labs, and housing. Some of the areas were off limits, but it wasn’t any more dangerous than anywhere else in the city. “I didn’t know that. But I’m sure I can take care of myself.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, but I wasn’t sure if he was impressed or scornful. “What kind of music do you like, Jobanana?”
Great; he thought I was
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