Read Online Lyon's Legacy: Catalyst Chronicles, Book One by Sandra Ulbrich Almazan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Ulbrich Almazan
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fru it. If he kept that up, he’d be wearing a banana. Would that change the timeline?
Frowning, Sean asked, “Don’t you like music?”
Focus, Jo. Don’t let yourself get distracted. Just play along for now. I shrugged. “I listen to all types of music.”
“Including rock and roll?”
“It’s...all right, I guess.”
He scowled, and I suppressed my delight at annoying him. “You’ve probably never heard anything good. Do you want to come hear me play tonight?”
Uncle Jack had specified I get live cells from Sean to make sure th e DNA wasn’t degraded. I wouldn’t be able to take a sample at the concert, but it would be a good place to use my audiorecorder. And I could piss Sean off even more afterward by insulting his playing—but I’d have to be careful not to make him give up.
“Su re.” I smiled, but then I remembered my suitcases. “But I haven’t found a place to live yet. I’ll have to go downtown anyway and book a hotel—”
“Nonsense.” Grandma Mary shook her head. “You can stay with us. Sean, she can have your room.” She batted him li ghtly with a wooden spoon. “And for Heaven’s sake, clean up in there. Pigs would be ashamed to call that mess a sty.”
“Yes, Grandma.” He pitched his voice into falsetto range. “Oh, please, not the spoon! Anything but the spoon!”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Sean had a sense of humor, but I didn’t want him to think I found him funny. One joke wasn’t going to make up for a lifetime of anger.
Sean looked at me, stuck his tongue out, then grabbed my suitcases and lef t while Grandma Mary told me every horror story she could think of about the neighborhood surrounding the university. I nodded earnestly, as if I meant to take her advice. When she finally let me go to Sean’s room, my suitcase lay in the center of the unmade bed. I kicked my way through dirty socks and shirts to stare at the Elvis posters and crate of record albums and 45s. In a few years, teenagers would surround this house, drooling at a chance to see this room, and Grandma Mary would learn to be less trusting of strange girls. But as I stood in Sean’s bedroom, not much bigger than my room on the Sagan , the thing that impressed me most was how ordinary it seemed. His clothes looked so different from modern ones, and the only personal electronics device he had was a tiny radio, but I could picture Sean in here, strumming away the dreary Chicago winters with his plans to make it big. I thought about myself back on Earth, reading journal articles and dreaming of a Ph.D. Some things, like dreams, transcended history.
Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, Jobanana, if you’re coming, let’s get going. I need to meet with the band before the show.”
“Just a minute,” I called back. I considered wearing my red dress, but it reminded me too much of George. Instead, I chang ed my sweater for a white blouse and ran a comb through my hair. After checking on the recorder, I left the room. Sean had a new shirt on under his jacket, but otherwise he hadn’t made any preparations that I could see. He grabbed his guitar case and waved at Grandma Mary, who stood at the kitchen sink, her hands covered in soap bubbles.
“One moment, you two.” She dried her hands on a towel. “We should get a picture for the family album while you’re all dressed up. Now, where did I put the camera?” She put tered over to the hall closet and peered at the inside. “No, not here. Must be in the bedroom....”
“Grandma, can’t it wait?” Sean yelled at her as she disappeared. “We’re gonna miss the bus!”
I was no more eager to get my picture taken with him than he was with me, but a couple of minutes later, when she returning brandishing some electronic device as big as my hands, beaming with pleasure, neither of us had the heart to deny her. She gestured at us to stand near the fireplace, then to put our arms over each other’s shoulders. I tried not to
Frowning, Sean asked, “Don’t you like music?”
Focus, Jo. Don’t let yourself get distracted. Just play along for now. I shrugged. “I listen to all types of music.”
“Including rock and roll?”
“It’s...all right, I guess.”
He scowled, and I suppressed my delight at annoying him. “You’ve probably never heard anything good. Do you want to come hear me play tonight?”
Uncle Jack had specified I get live cells from Sean to make sure th e DNA wasn’t degraded. I wouldn’t be able to take a sample at the concert, but it would be a good place to use my audiorecorder. And I could piss Sean off even more afterward by insulting his playing—but I’d have to be careful not to make him give up.
“Su re.” I smiled, but then I remembered my suitcases. “But I haven’t found a place to live yet. I’ll have to go downtown anyway and book a hotel—”
“Nonsense.” Grandma Mary shook her head. “You can stay with us. Sean, she can have your room.” She batted him li ghtly with a wooden spoon. “And for Heaven’s sake, clean up in there. Pigs would be ashamed to call that mess a sty.”
“Yes, Grandma.” He pitched his voice into falsetto range. “Oh, please, not the spoon! Anything but the spoon!”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Sean had a sense of humor, but I didn’t want him to think I found him funny. One joke wasn’t going to make up for a lifetime of anger.
Sean looked at me, stuck his tongue out, then grabbed my suitcases and lef t while Grandma Mary told me every horror story she could think of about the neighborhood surrounding the university. I nodded earnestly, as if I meant to take her advice. When she finally let me go to Sean’s room, my suitcase lay in the center of the unmade bed. I kicked my way through dirty socks and shirts to stare at the Elvis posters and crate of record albums and 45s. In a few years, teenagers would surround this house, drooling at a chance to see this room, and Grandma Mary would learn to be less trusting of strange girls. But as I stood in Sean’s bedroom, not much bigger than my room on the Sagan , the thing that impressed me most was how ordinary it seemed. His clothes looked so different from modern ones, and the only personal electronics device he had was a tiny radio, but I could picture Sean in here, strumming away the dreary Chicago winters with his plans to make it big. I thought about myself back on Earth, reading journal articles and dreaming of a Ph.D. Some things, like dreams, transcended history.
Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, Jobanana, if you’re coming, let’s get going. I need to meet with the band before the show.”
“Just a minute,” I called back. I considered wearing my red dress, but it reminded me too much of George. Instead, I chang ed my sweater for a white blouse and ran a comb through my hair. After checking on the recorder, I left the room. Sean had a new shirt on under his jacket, but otherwise he hadn’t made any preparations that I could see. He grabbed his guitar case and waved at Grandma Mary, who stood at the kitchen sink, her hands covered in soap bubbles.
“One moment, you two.” She dried her hands on a towel. “We should get a picture for the family album while you’re all dressed up. Now, where did I put the camera?” She put tered over to the hall closet and peered at the inside. “No, not here. Must be in the bedroom....”
“Grandma, can’t it wait?” Sean yelled at her as she disappeared. “We’re gonna miss the bus!”
I was no more eager to get my picture taken with him than he was with me, but a couple of minutes later, when she returning brandishing some electronic device as big as my hands, beaming with pleasure, neither of us had the heart to deny her. She gestured at us to stand near the fireplace, then to put our arms over each other’s shoulders. I tried not to
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