Read Online Tesla's Time Travelers by Tim Black - Free Book Online
Authors: Tim Black
Tags: Young Adult
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Let’s meet there at noon in case I’m not back by then.”
“But, Mr. Greene…” Victor said.
“You can handle it. Bette can help you,” Mr. Greene said. “Can’t you, Bette?”
“Sure I can,” Bette beamed.
So what was she? Miss Stupid-Head? Minerva thought, peeved at being considered third in the pecking order among the three remaining students by Mr. Greene. Then she thought again. She was a “stupid-head,” she admitted to herself. She didn’t believe any of this was possible, she thought all of them were wacko and here she was in Philadelphia in 1776. She did not know history like Victor and Bette. This was totally surreal, but the idea of surreal wasn’t possible, Minerva thought, her academic mind taking over. Surrealism as a literary and artistic movement to express the workings of the subconscious didn’t begin until the 20 th century, she told herself. This was no dream, not with those smells from Dock Creek, she thought. A surrealist painter like Salvador Dali might paint a dripping clock, but how would he paint the odor of Dock Creek? Minerva’s dreams never smelled, she thought—only reality did.
“Good, Bette, I’m off to the Ross house at 239 Arch Street.” Mr. Greene took off on foot after the Anderson twins, leaving Bette, Victor and Minerva to fend for themselves in the 18 th century. Charles Beard floated ahead of Mr. Greene. Mary Beard stayed behind to assist the three students.
“Thank you for staying, Mrs. Beard,” Bette Kromer said.
“I think it’s terrible that the men went off and left you girls with only a boy for protection,” Mrs. Beard said.
Minerva was nervous. Bette’s conversation with a non-existent person was getting the attention of a number of the delegates to the Continental Congress.
“Bette,” Minerva warned. “People are watching you. Don’t look at Mrs. Beard directly. Let’s huddle up. Pretend that you are talking to me. Nothing personal, Mrs. Beard,” Minerva said.
“No offense taken, dear,” Mrs. Beard smiled.
“I suggest we take a walk around the town,” Victor ventured. “The delegates are returning inside anyway,” he added. Victor offered an arm to each of his classmates. The girls looked at each other and smiled.
“Victor, that is very gallant of you,” Minerva said.
“Yes, Victor,” Bette agreed, not raising her voice to sugar and spice level.
Minerva had noticed that Victor cringed when Bette Kromer used her high voice, and she had whispered such to Bette as friendly advice when they walked behind Victor and Mr. Greene. Minerva didn’t really know what Bette saw in Victor, although Victor was a bright boy, unlike his older brother.
“Let’s see the Delaware River,” Victor suggested. “The tall ships. The wharves where trade occurred.”
“Where Washington crossed the Delaware?” Minerva asked.
“That’s north of the city in New Hope, and it hasn’t happened yet. That’s December 1776, Minerva.”
“Oh,” Minerva said. Victor was such a history geek, she thought. She wanted to say, “Lighten up, Victor,” but that would have sounded funny coming from her mouth, as she was the most uptight girl at Cassadaga Area High School. She admitted to herself that she was totally surprised by the day—that she hadn’t ever thought such a thing was possible—but here she was with two classmates on the sidewalk of Philadelphia in the 18 th century, practicing Surrealism before it was even a movement.
“That was interesting stuff about the Pennsylvania Navy,” Bette said to Victor as she took a firm hold on his right arm with her left. “Minerva, I hope you weren’t too upset by Betsy Ross. It really floored me when I first heard the truth,” Bette said.
Minerva wasn’t concentrating. She was surprised by the size of Victor’s left bicep. He was muscular. She hadn’t realized that he was so strong.
“You know,” Bette Kromer began as they trundled eastward to the Delaware River docks, Victor in the
“But, Mr. Greene…” Victor said.
“You can handle it. Bette can help you,” Mr. Greene said. “Can’t you, Bette?”
“Sure I can,” Bette beamed.
So what was she? Miss Stupid-Head? Minerva thought, peeved at being considered third in the pecking order among the three remaining students by Mr. Greene. Then she thought again. She was a “stupid-head,” she admitted to herself. She didn’t believe any of this was possible, she thought all of them were wacko and here she was in Philadelphia in 1776. She did not know history like Victor and Bette. This was totally surreal, but the idea of surreal wasn’t possible, Minerva thought, her academic mind taking over. Surrealism as a literary and artistic movement to express the workings of the subconscious didn’t begin until the 20 th century, she told herself. This was no dream, not with those smells from Dock Creek, she thought. A surrealist painter like Salvador Dali might paint a dripping clock, but how would he paint the odor of Dock Creek? Minerva’s dreams never smelled, she thought—only reality did.
“Good, Bette, I’m off to the Ross house at 239 Arch Street.” Mr. Greene took off on foot after the Anderson twins, leaving Bette, Victor and Minerva to fend for themselves in the 18 th century. Charles Beard floated ahead of Mr. Greene. Mary Beard stayed behind to assist the three students.
“Thank you for staying, Mrs. Beard,” Bette Kromer said.
“I think it’s terrible that the men went off and left you girls with only a boy for protection,” Mrs. Beard said.
Minerva was nervous. Bette’s conversation with a non-existent person was getting the attention of a number of the delegates to the Continental Congress.
“Bette,” Minerva warned. “People are watching you. Don’t look at Mrs. Beard directly. Let’s huddle up. Pretend that you are talking to me. Nothing personal, Mrs. Beard,” Minerva said.
“No offense taken, dear,” Mrs. Beard smiled.
“I suggest we take a walk around the town,” Victor ventured. “The delegates are returning inside anyway,” he added. Victor offered an arm to each of his classmates. The girls looked at each other and smiled.
“Victor, that is very gallant of you,” Minerva said.
“Yes, Victor,” Bette agreed, not raising her voice to sugar and spice level.
Minerva had noticed that Victor cringed when Bette Kromer used her high voice, and she had whispered such to Bette as friendly advice when they walked behind Victor and Mr. Greene. Minerva didn’t really know what Bette saw in Victor, although Victor was a bright boy, unlike his older brother.
“Let’s see the Delaware River,” Victor suggested. “The tall ships. The wharves where trade occurred.”
“Where Washington crossed the Delaware?” Minerva asked.
“That’s north of the city in New Hope, and it hasn’t happened yet. That’s December 1776, Minerva.”
“Oh,” Minerva said. Victor was such a history geek, she thought. She wanted to say, “Lighten up, Victor,” but that would have sounded funny coming from her mouth, as she was the most uptight girl at Cassadaga Area High School. She admitted to herself that she was totally surprised by the day—that she hadn’t ever thought such a thing was possible—but here she was with two classmates on the sidewalk of Philadelphia in the 18 th century, practicing Surrealism before it was even a movement.
“That was interesting stuff about the Pennsylvania Navy,” Bette said to Victor as she took a firm hold on his right arm with her left. “Minerva, I hope you weren’t too upset by Betsy Ross. It really floored me when I first heard the truth,” Bette said.
Minerva wasn’t concentrating. She was surprised by the size of Victor’s left bicep. He was muscular. She hadn’t realized that he was so strong.
“You know,” Bette Kromer began as they trundled eastward to the Delaware River docks, Victor in the
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