Don't Know Where, Don't Know When (The Snipesville Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  When registration had ended, a large white man with a fat stomach crammed into a baseball uniform introduced himself as Coach Mike.

  “Okay, guys, we’re gonna start with a detailed assessment of your fundamentals.”

  “Sounds painful,” Brandon muttered to Alex, who burst into giggles.

  Coach Mike looked suspiciously at them. “Everything okay there, boys?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Brandon, while Alex nodded and tried to keep his face straight. Coach Mike didn’t look like he believed them.

  The assessment was a disaster. Alex had hardly ever played baseball before. His pitch dropped about three feet in front of him. When the ball was thrown to him at bat, he swung helplessly at it. He could see Brandon with the older boys on the other side of the field, doing no better.

  The coaches made unconvincingly encouraging comments to Alex, while the other boys smirked at each other. They also laughed at Brandon—he could hit the ball, but only when he was paying attention, which wasn’t most of the time. When Coach Mike told all the boys to run a lap around the field, Brandon was left behind as he stared into space, until one of younger coaches ran back to remind him to move.

  “What a dork!” said one boy, shaking his head. “Do you know that kid?”

  “Yeah,” puffed another, “He thinks he knows everythin’. They call him the Professor. He don’t know baseball, though.”

  By late morning, the assessment was done, and Coach Mike told the boys to follow the assistant coaches to the Union for lunch. Brandon and Alex trailed at the back, talking first about how much they hated baseball, then sports generally, and finally about things they did like, such as comic books with toilet jokes, and science of all kinds.

  One of the assistant coaches was walking behind them when his cell phone rang. He answered it, and shouted ahead to the other coaches that he would be gone for a few minutes. Then he turned back in the direction of the field house.

  “So, you’re not from round here, right?” Brandon asked Alex, who told him about the move from California, then asked Brandon if he was from Snipesville.

  “Yep, right here,” said Brandon with a heavy sigh. “And as soon as I get out of high school, I’m outta here. My parents want me to stay close and go to college at Snipesville State, or maybe University of Georgia. I want to go to Boston or New York. I know I can do it. I get all ‘A’s, but my mom’s always hassling me about my grades. Is your mom like that?”

  “No,” said Alex quietly. “My mom died in a car accident.”

  “Man, I’m sorry,” Brandon said. There was an awkward silence. Alex looked through the windows of the Union as they approached the building, and he suddenly pointed excitedly.

  “Hey, that’s my sister! What’s she doing there?”

  The boys slowed down and stopped at the doors to Starbucks, while the rest of the kids disappeared ahead of them around the corner to the building’s main entrance.

  Hannah definitely was not thrilled to see Alex. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be at baseball camp!”

  Alex slumped into the armchair next to her. “Yeah, well, you’re supposed to be at writing camp.”

  Hannah shrugged and sipped on her straw. “I couldn’t find it.”

  “You could have asked someone.”

  “I did, and she didn’t know. Anyway, who’s this?” She jerked her head at Brandon, who was awkwardly waiting to be introduced.

  “This is Brandon,” Alex said without explanation.

  Hannah raised her eyebrows, which was as close as she felt like saying hello to this dorky boy her brother had dragged in. Brandon nodded in reply, and sat in the third armchair.

  “So, sis, do you mind if we hide out here with you?” Alex asked.

  “Yes,” retorted Hannah.

  “Too bad,” her brother said.

  Hannah ordered a second Strawberries and Crème Frappuccino, while Alex and Brandon, with money borrowed from a reluctant Hannah, bought milks and a chocolate chip cookie to share.

  When they were done, Hannah decided they should find something to do for the afternoon. “Do you guys want to check out the library? We might be able to play on the computers.”

  “Are we allowed in the library?” Alex asked.

  “I guess,” Brandon said, and added as evidence, “Our class took a field trip there once.”

  “Okay, then,” said Hannah, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  But Alex looked worried. “What about camp?”

  Hannah pulled out her cell phone, and dialed. She waited for the voicemail.

  “Hi, Kimberly? It’s Hannah. We’re gonna be done a little early, so I’ll meet up with Alex, and we’ll meet you where you dropped me off this morning. Oh, and Kimberly? Thank you so much for dropping me at the wrong building. See ya.”

  She hung up.

  Alex looked at Brandon. “But what about you?”

  Brandon shrugged. “I’ll tell Dad that it was awful, and I quit early. He won’t mind—so long as my mom doesn’t know.”

  Alex was still worried. “But won’t the camps tell our parents?”

  Hannah tossed back her hair. “Chill, Alex. Just try to live a little, okay? Dad will understand. He’s too busy with his new job to worry about our stuff anyway.”

  The library was three stories of grim grey cement, surrounded on every floor with ugly, creepy breezeway balconies. As they approached the double doors, Hannah said, “Look serious, and like you know where you’re going, but don’t run.” When they entered the lobby, they were hit by the musty old-book smell that always put Hannah to sleep in libraries.

  She spotted a small group of computers ahead. However, they were right in front of the reference desk, which was staffed by a sour-looking, lanky, grey-haired man who wore his glasses on the end of his nose. He looked up from his computer and peered suspiciously at them. Hannah turned to the boys and nodded toward the elevator ahead of them. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said.

  They emerged on the third floor, and the first thing they saw was a wall of books. Alex and Hannah immediately set off in search of computers, but Brandon paused, catching sight of one of the titles on the shelf in front of him: World War II.

  “Hey, y’all, wait up!” he called, but Hannah and Alex were already out of earshot. Brandon figured he would catch up with them easily enough. He reached up on tiptoes, plucked the book off the shelf, and opened it up. Its spine creaked, as though it had never been opened before. Flipping through it, he was disappointed to find that there were no pictures. The print was tiny, and the first sentence Brandon tried to read made very little sense to him.

  If this is what college is like, he thought, I’ll give it a pass. He put the book back where he had found it, and looked farther upward. On the very top shelf, he spotted another promising book, one with a scarlet red cover on which was printed in gold type, Children in Wartime Britain, 1939-1945. But it was well out of reach. Looking around, Brandon spotted a round, mushroom-like stepstool nearby, and he dragged it over.

  Retrieving the book, he opened it up while still standing on the stool. He flipped to the middle, and found a black and white photo of white boys in old-fashioned caps and short pants. Each boy wore a label hanging from his jacket with string, and a small box, also threaded with string, hung from each boy’s shoulder. The boys looked back at the camera with serious faces. Brandon remembered seeing a TV documentary about children like these, sent out of British cities for safety’s sake when bombs started to fall during World War II.

  Suddenly, something fell from the book. Brandon tried to catch it, but he missed, and it spiraled to the floor. It was a grey and blue cardboard booklet, about the size of an ordinary photograph.

  Jumping down, he picked up the card, and flipped it over. It read, “NATIONAL REGISTRATION IDENTITY CARD.” Above the words was a drawing of a lion and a unicorn standing on their hind legs, supporting a crown.

  Brandon opened up the booklet. It belonged to someone
called George Braithwaite. Puzzled but curious, he shoved it in his pocket, before hurrying off to catch up with the others.

  The library floor was quiet, and much of it was taken up by rows of computers. Alex and Hannah quickly realized that they had it to themselves, and Alex suddenly threw the baseball he was carrying to Hannah, who pitched it back. Soon, all three of them were laughing and playing catch in the center of the third floor of the library.

  Brandon waved his arms at Alex, calling “Hey, over here!” Alex tossed the ball to him, he pitched it to Hannah, and Hannah returned it to Alex. Alex, getting faster with confidence, threw a high pitch. It went right over Brandon’s head, and rolled under the computers, disappearing out of sight.

  Brandon had taken only a few steps in pursuit, when suddenly a woman’s voice rang out loudly, calling “Over here.”

  All three kids froze, startled. There was a hand, held up from behind the computer stations. It reminded Brandon of King Arthur’s Lady of the Lake, only, instead a sword, she was holding the baseball. Cautiously, he followed Alex and Hannah, who were already making their way in the direction of the hand.

  Chapter 2

  The Professor

  The woman behind the hand was sitting patiently at the computer terminal.

  “Yours, I believe?” She smiled as she handed the ball to Hannah.

  Hannah guessed that she was in her fifties. She was small and slim, with a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, and grey hair. She was dressed in a flowing silk grey suit. Hannah was reminded of a cat. She didn’t like cats much.

  “We thought we were on our own,” Hannah said accusingly, as if the woman had been spying on them.

  “Not to worry. You’re not really disturbing me. In fact, you’re a pleasant distraction from this nonsense.” She nodded at the screen, but all Hannah could see on it was some densely-packed text. The woman’s accent was distinctly unusual for Georgia.

  “Are you from England?” Alex asked.

  “A lot of people think that,” laughed the woman. “Anyway, what are you guys doing inside on such a lovely day?”

  Hannah noticed that she hadn’t really answered Alex’s question, but she let it go. “It’s not a lovely day,” she said. “It’s gross out there.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” Brandon interrupted. The woman looked at him, and her piercing blue eyes unnerved him so much that he almost forgot his question. “Are you a professor?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m an historian.”

  “Awesome. Look, I found this.” Brandon fumbled in his pocket, and produced the card he had found in the library book. She took it and examined it carefully, running her finger across the cover. “It fell out of an old book,” Brandon explained. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Hmm,” she said, opening it up. “Indeed I do.”

  There was a silence, and Hannah grew impatient. “So what is it?”

  “Oh, it’s a national identity card, of course.”

  “You think?” said Hannah sarcastically, glancing pointedly at the title on the cover.

  The Professor gave her a tight smile. “It’s from England, during World War Two. The law said everyone had to carry one. It was supposed to make it easier to identify German spies.”

  Hannah stepped behind the Professor, and looked over her shoulder at the inside of the card.

  “No photo?” she asked, puzzled.

  “No,” the Professor shook her head. “Odd, isn’t it? That’s one reason I don’t suppose it was much use for its intended purpose.” She looked back at Hannah. “But, you see, the British didn’t want photo IDs. They didn’t want a tightly-controlled society. That reminded them too much of Hitler and the Nazis. I suppose this was an odd compromise: An identification card with no photo.”

  Alex piped up: “Why do you think it was in a library book?”

  She looked thoughtful. “I can’t imagine,” she said. Then she seemed struck by an idea. “Perhaps the owner emigrated after the war, and now lives in Snipesville? He may have used it as a bookmark, and then forgotten all about it. You kids could do some research and find out.” She gave them all a sunny smile, and handed back the card to Brandon.

  Brandon smiled happily, Alex smiled politely, and Hannah scowled, muttering “Whatever” under her breath. Like we don’t get enough busy work in school, she thought.

  The Professor wished them a good day, and returned to her work while the boys followed Hannah back to the elevator.

  “What now?” Brandon asked. “I thought we were going to play on the computers?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know. She gives me the creeps. Let’s get out of here.” Then she had a sudden inspiration. “Why don’t we go see if there’s a computer lab back in the Union?”

  As the elevator reached the first floor, the doors opened, and the three stepped out.

  Hannah immediately noticed a peculiar smell and a sharp, rapid tapping sound.

  “What is that?” she asked Brandon.

  He shrugged. “I dunno…” Then he snapped his fingers. “You know what? It sounds like my grandma’s old typewriter.” Hannah looked skeptically at him before glancing back at the reference desk.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed. “The computers have gone!”

  Brandon and Alex looked to where she was pointing, and she was right.

  Only one computer remained, sitting on the reference desk, but the librarian who was now stationed there, a thin woman in a dress who wore her hair in a tight bun, wasn’t using it. Instead, she was tapping on a noisy old-fashioned typewriter.

  That, Brandon thought, explains the smell. It was carbon paper, like his grandma used.

  “Weird,” Brandon said. “They must have removed all the computers while we were upstairs. Maybe they’re being replaced with state-of-the-art stuff?”

  “Wow, that was fast, though, huh?” said Alex.

  Hearing them, the librarian suddenly looked up and glared.

  “What are you children doing in here?” she called across the lobby. “And especially you?” She pointed to Brandon, to everyone’s confusion.

  Alarmed, the kids began to walk quickly to the door. “Just leaving, ma’am,” Brandon called back. As he fled, he distinctly heard her say, “You know your kind isn’t allowed in here.” In his confused retreat, he failed to notice that the computer on her desk had simply disappeared.

  “Our kind?” Hannah blustered, outside. “What does that mean? How totally rude. And why did she have it in for you? Have you gotten in trouble here before?” Bewildered, Brandon shook his head.

  Trotting down the steps, he spied a rack filled with copies of the campus newspaper. He grabbed one as he passed, and scanned the front page as he followed Alex and Hannah.

  Seconds later, Hannah realized that she and Alex were walking alone. She looked back to see Brandon rooted to the spot outside the library, and yelled to him, “Come on, let’s go! She might call campus security or something.” But Brandon did not move or answer. He was staring at the newspaper in shock.

  Alex ran to him, and Hannah reluctantly followed her brother. “Look at this,” Brandon said quietly, and he turned the front page so Alex and Hannah could see it. “Check out the date.”

  Hannah peered closer, and read: September 11, 1940.

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a joke. What, you think we just travelled back in time, or something?”

  Brandon said nothing.

  “Man, you are so weird. My brother can really pick ‘em. Look, I bet they didn’t have those in 1940. Happy?”

  Brandon’s eyes followed to where she was pointing, and he was relieved to see that it was a Hummer in the parking lot.

  “Hey,” said Hannah, “do you guys remember where the Union is?”

  The boys followed her along the path that led to the oldest part of the college. Had they turned and looked behind them, they would have seen the Hummer gradually fade, and vanish into nothingness. But they didn’t.

  They emerged onto the
great lawn that was surrounded by century-old brick buildings. Pecan trees and live oaks draped with Spanish moss lined the paths. Alex thought how odd it was that the trees seemed to have shrunk since he had seen them from Kimberly’s car that morning. Or was his imagination running away with him?

  Brandon gestured ahead to the corner of one of the buildings, and said, “I’m pretty sure we turn left there.”

  Following him, Alex and Hannah found themselves, not in front of the Union as they expected, but on a quiet country road on the edge of the campus. It was lined with trees and high hedgerows, which were spotted with tiny bright yellow and purple wildflowers. Some of the trees reached across the lane, formed an arch, and cast areas ahead into virtual darkness. It seemed to have been raining: A slippery mush of brown and golden leaves had formed a thin lacy layer on the road’s wet surface, and collected in dank-smelling heaps along its sides.

  “Cool!” Alex said, transfixed. Then suddenly, he took off running down the middle of the road, turning at a sharp left bend, and disappearing out of sight.