Past Perfect (5 page)

But instead they just kept running with me until, after some time—maybe five minutes, or maybe twenty—I was thrown down on top of something. A chair? My arms and legs were bound before I had the chance to figure it out, or to make a run for it.

Once they had ensured that I was firmly tied to whatever I was sitting on, my captors removed my blindfold.

It took my eyes a moment to adjust. When they did, I could see that I was in a grove of trees, not that different from the grove of trees where I’d been kidnapped. There were no lights other than the stars and the moon. And I was encircled by two girls and four guys around my age, all of them strangers to me.

“Who the
hell
are you?” I demanded.

“We’re reenactors,” said the shorter of the girls with a wicked smile. “And this is War.”

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PAST PERFECT

I twisted in my chair, trying to loosen my hands. “Oh,
come on
! Are you kidding me? Work doesn’t even start until Monday.”

“Well, War starts today,” replied a sandy-haired guy in Birkenstocks and cargo shorts.

“We were listening to you all,” added the other girl. “With your ‘we will overrun their territory’ and your ‘farbs.’ That hurts, by the way.” The rest of the Civil Warriors murmured their agreement. “That hurts. We earned our Barnes Prize fair and square. I’ll have you know we are
extremely
conscien-tious about historical authenticity.”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow at their flip-flops and T-shirts.

“You don’t look it.”

“Work doesn’t start until Monday, remember, dumbass?” The shorter girl cuffed me on the arm. “Plus, you don’t look it either, Miss Elizabeth Connelly.”

I jerked my head toward her. “How do you know my name?”

“I visited Essex as a moderner last summer, to scope it out,” the tallest of the boys volunteered. “You told me your name then. Congratulations on being selected as the Colonials’

Lieutenant, by the way. What an honor. I hope that’s living up to your expectations so far.”

I glared at him. “You came all the way to Essex just to
spy
on us?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “I crossed the street. It was really rough.”

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LEILA SALES

“That’s creepy,” I said.

“War’s creepy, darlin’,” the short girl told me. Then, all business, she turned to her compatriots. “Okay, we have to go guard the entry points. Those Essex bitches are going to be swarming the place soon, trying to free the hostages, so we need all men at the front lines. Not you, Dan. Stay here and guard Elizabeth Connelly. Call my cell if there’s any trouble.” The guy who had admitted to spying on me rolled his eyes.

“I can’t imagine what trouble
she
could cause.”

“Just in case, don’t let her out of your sight.” The girl turned on her heel and disappeared into the trees, with the others following her, leaving only my guard and me.

He sat down on a tree stump and pulled a paperback book out of his back pocket, but he didn’t open it. Instead he just watched in silence as I tried to wrestle free of my bonds. No luck. That’s the thing about reenactors—they’re into skills that no one learns anymore, like calligraphy and knots. Whoever had tied me up had probably been practicing these knots on his little brother ever since first reading a picture book on pirates.

And having this guy staring at me wasn’t making my escape attempts any easier. He had this fascinated look on his face, and it was making me self-conscious. Also, he was kind of cute. Not
really
, of course, since he was the enemy, and the enemy cannot possibly be cute. He was only cute enough to make me wish I could free my hands so that I could fix my
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PAST PERFECT

hair. I mean, fix my hair, then punch him in the face, and then run.

“You’re not going to be able to get out of those,” he said after I’d struggled for a few minutes.

“Wow, thanks for letting me know,” I said. All that twist-ing around was making the rope cut into my skin. “I kind of figured that one out on my own.”

“I’m just saying, you’re not going to get out of here, so you might as well relax. Enjoy our quality time together. I’m Dan Malkin.” He stretched out his hand as if to shake mine, then said, “Whoops, I forgot. You don’t have any free hands right now.” He pursed his lips. “Awk-ward.”

“For some reason, Dan Malkin, I’m finding you incredibly annoying.”

He looked offended. “You don’t even know me, and you’ve already decided that I’m annoying?”

“I know you.” I took in his cutoff jeans, threadbare Sex Pistols T-shirt, messy hair, and unopened copy of
The Sun Also
Rises
. “You’re a music and book snob. Which means you’re probably no good at basketball, which further means that your height is a complete waste. You’re important enough in the War to go on a kidnapping mission, but still unimportant enough that you’re stuck guarding a hostage while everyone else is out fighting. You’re annoying and you’re a dumb Southern hick.”

Dan didn’t argue with my analysis. He just laughed. “Right
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LEILA SALES

on. I couldn’t have said that better myself. Only what makes you think that I’m a dumb Southern hick, my dear, cultured daughter of the silversmith?”

I shrugged. To be honest, I didn’t really believe that he was. But I replied, “Your accent.
Ah’m a-fixin’ to go catch me
some Colonials.
”

“For sure.” Dan nodded. “That is for sure what I sound like. Don’t I feel put in my place now.”

“Well,” I said defensively. “You know what I mean. You have an accent.”

“I did live in Georgia until I was ten,” he said. “So I am, by definition, a slave-owning, Confederate flag-flying, coverall-wearing bumpkin.”

“Hey,” I said, “not my fault. If you don’t like the stereo-types, you might want to get out of the Civil War reenacting business.”

“Ah, but if I did that, I would miss out on scintillating conversations like this one.” He flashed me a grin.

“Well, you’d better watch it this year. We’re going to kick your ass.”

“I like that spunk of yours, but, so far, it seems like
we
are the ones doing all the ass-kicking.”

“Just wait. We have our own plans.” This sounded like the sort of threatening, mysterious thing a Lieutenant would say, even though the only plans I’d heard referenced so far involved the phrase “uterine lining.” Presumably, Tawny had
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some non-uterine plans, and I’d find out what they were. Just as soon as I wasn’t kidnapped anymore.

“Really. What exactly are these ‘plans’ of yours, Elizabeth Connelly?” Dan asked. “Or, sorry, do you prefer to go by Chelsea?”

I caught my breath. It was one thing for this guy to know my Colonial name. That was part of the game. But my real name was different. “You
can’t
know that from visiting Essex last summer,” I said.

“We have superior War intelligence.” Dan arched his eyebrows, seeming to enjoy my surprise. “We know everything.”

“Oh, really? What else do you know?” I challenged him.

He ticked off on his fingers, “One, that you come from a family of reenactors; two, that you’ve worked at Essex for a million years; three, that you’re sick of it; and four, that you don’t know how to get out. So, is any of my intel wrong?” I didn’t say anything. That was more than pretty much anyone knew about me, except Fiona.

“It’s cool,” he said, “you’re not the only one. My mom and both my sisters live and breathe the Civil War. So I know how these things go.”

“I guess you’re just the expert on me, then.”

“I guess I am. Just like you already know that my basketball game sucks. So tell me.” He leaned forward on the tree stump, resting his elbows on his knees. “Tell me one thing I don’t already know about you, Chelsea.”
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LEILA SALES

I opened my mouth, but the only reply that occurred to me was
You don’t already know that I think you’re cute
. And that wasn’t something I could say. That wasn’t even something I should be
thinking
. He was a Civil War reenactor. He was the
enemy
.

“Really?” he teased after I’d been silent for a moment.

“You’re that two-dimensional?”

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. Now that the phrase
you’re cute
was on the tip of my tongue, I was having trouble thinking of anything else to say. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. For example, I’m allergic to rope.”

“Seriously?” Dan leapt to his feet, looking with concern at my bound arms. “What kind of allergic?” I couldn’t help it, I cracked up. “I’m kidding, Dan. But would you have let me go, if I’d been telling the truth?” Dan shrugged and kicked at a stick, all apathy now. “Dunno.

Probably not. It’s war, baby. Allergic reactions are part of our game plan.” He stared at me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure me out. “You Colonials,” he said. “You’re not how I thought you’d be.”

I could feel my heart beat a little faster. “How did you think we’d be?”

“Huh.” Dan half-grinned. “Good question. I guess I thought you’d all be . . . bratty. Stuck-up. Superior. Boring.”

“Oh, then you were totally right, since I’m all of those things.”

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PAST PERFECT

He rolled his eyes. “At least I know I was right about the bratty part.”

I gave him my best angelic expression, all pouty lips and wide eyes. He just raised his eyebrows at me, one side of his mouth still curled up in a smile. There was a pause as we gazed into each other’s eyes, me tied to the chair, him standing above me. A little too long of a pause. I cleared my throat. “So how
did
you know my real name’s Chelsea? And don’t give me any of that ‘war intel’ crap.”

“Oh, that.” Dan waved his hand. “We overheard all the Colonials chanting your name as we came through the woods.

It didn’t take any intel at all. Anyone in a two-mile radius would have heard you guys.”

“Speaking of,” I said. “Was I screaming, like, really loudly when you guys carried me over here?”

“It was almost unbelievable,” he said, “how loud you were screaming.”

“I figured. My throat hurts now.”

“It was cute.” Even in the moonlight, I could see Dan blush suddenly, like he hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean cute like a wild animal is cute. That sort of thing. Like a lion cub, if you think that’s cute.”

“I
do
think lion cubs are cute.”

“Okay, fine, maybe, but they can still tear you to pieces.”

“
I
can’t tear you to pieces. My hands are tied behind my back.”

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LEILA SALES

“Good point. Like a trussed lion cub, then.” He gently punched my arm. “Hey. You have goose bumps.” I looked down at my arm. He was right. It was late, after all. It had gotten late and chilly. “Well, I
had
a sweater, but it’s back at Essex. Along with the rest of my life.” Dan started to take off his hoodie.

“But then you’ll just be cold,” I objected.

“I don’t mind. After all, you’re the hostage.”

“Right, but I think the hostage is supposed to suffer
more
than her captors.”

“I’m not suffering,” he told me. He leaned over me to drape the hoodie over my shoulders. It was sort of awkward, because of course I couldn’t stick my arms through the sleeves, so I wound up wearing it more like a shawl.

I held still and watched him concentrate on arranging the hoodie, and I inhaled the night air and his boy smell. “Don’t take this as a compliment, but you actually don’t smell that bad.”

Dan let out a burst of surprised laughter. “What did you expect me to smell like?”

“Well . . .” I wrinkled my nose. “I heard you guys soak your uniforms in urine.”

“So you assumed I’d smell like pee.”

“Yes,” I said. “But you don’t,” I added kindly.

“Well, I’m wearing modern clothes right now. I’m wearing a T-shirt. I don’t soak my T-shirts in pee.”
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“Of course not. Good point.” Pause. “Wait, so you
do
soak your uniform in pee?”

“Not the
whole
uniform,” Dan sounded offended. “Just the buttons.”

“
Just
the buttons.”

“Right.”

“There is a garment which you wear on your body, after first bathing it in bodily fluids.”

“Just the buttons! To give them an authentic patina.”

“What the hell is an ‘authentic patina’? Is that a thing?” He started to laugh then. I did, too, and suddenly I felt something that I hadn’t felt in months, something that I thought had disappeared with Ezra forever: I felt
into
this guy. I wanted to spend more time with him, I wanted to get to know him, I even maybe wanted to kiss him. And in that moment, I didn’t care that he came from the wrong time and place.

Dan paused for a moment with his hands on either side of my shoulders, still holding on to the hoodie, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, and I thought maybe he would kiss me. Maybe it could be so easy.

Except then someone knocked him to the ground, and suddenly two other people were untying the ropes around my body, and I realized that this was it, I was being rescued.

“You goddamn cheating farb!” shouted Lenny, the Colonial who was pinning Dan to the ground.

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LEILA SALES

My arms and legs were free, finally, and then I was being lifted off my feet again, because apparently that was the theme of tonight.

But it was different this time, because my rescuer was Ezra, and I just wrapped my arms around his neck. “We got her!” he shouted. “Let’s go, let’s go!” So Lenny jumped off of Dan, and the girl who was with them kicked the chair over, and Ezra tightened his hold on me, and we ran through the trees, out of Reenactmentland, and on to the street.

“Ezra,” I said, once we were out of there, “I can walk. Put me down, for God’s sake.” So he did. He looked sweaty and flushed, but his eyes had a spark in them. If there’s one thing Ezra likes more than competition, it’s winning.

“What did they do to you?” Ezra demanded. “Are you okay?” And I loved that he cared, but I also wanted to slap him.