TOM SAWYER, TIME TRAVELER

It was about half a mile after we left Mr. H.G. Wells's Time Machine that we realized that we might've pressed the wrong dial, or somesuch. Tom Sawyer and I and big black Jim had hoped to go back in time to the days of the Knights of the Round Table

Or really, Tom did—he wanted to straighten out the misunderstanding between Lancelot, King Arthur, and the Queen they both loved. I'd have been happy with my corncob pipe and my fishing rod, and I still don't know why Jim had come along.

I warn't sure how the devil time travel worked, but Mr. Wells, who was visiting Missouri for his lumbago said "Huckleberry, you and your friends are perfect subjects for this invigorating experiment." And, of course I was a muggings who didn't listen when Jim said "Huck, le's run!"

Now we'd alighted from the Time Machine after it quit spinnin, and we were still in Cardiff Field, the big grassy meadow in our town of St. Petersburg. So Tom was mighty annoyed, he was damning Mr. Wells as some kind of confidence man, although we hadn't given the good doctor any money.

"I can't believe it, 'taint a knight or a squire in sight, or even a wizard, where's Merlin?" Tom was disgusted.

"Well, mebbe Merlin don't hang around in Cardiff's Meadow, Tom. Maybe he's in a tavern somewheres." I ventured.

"No, no…he should be here to greet me, I'd think." Tom insisted. "A wizard would know I was coming, 'specially to straighten things out between Arthur and Queen Guinevere, and perhaps I can also referee the jousting contests."

One thing about Tom Sawyer, he always thought well of himself.

"We might as well get home, Aunt Polly made biscuits, Huck." That'll get his mind off Sir Lancelot and those silly Sir Walter Scott novels, I thinks. But along as we leave the meadow, and there's this girl.

Tom and I try to look away politely, and Jim just gapes, because the young lady appears to have lost her dress! She's wearing a little white blouse and blue dungarees that have been cut-off at the hip level. What idiot would ruin a good pair of blue jeans that way, I think, and what on earth is a girl doing wearing them?

But the little lady giggles at us, and eventually Tom looks over at her. "Uh, Miss, can we be of any assistance?"

She laughs again, and I am sure she's insane. Suddenly we hear a noise—BEEP! A bit like a bluebird being strangled. The girl reaches in a little stitched bag she is carrying and pulls out a little rectangular thing—not exactly a rock—and fits it in her palm, and begins poking it, and the one side of it lights up.

"Huck, she de debbil" Jim whispers in my ear, and I'm not doubting it.

Then the devil-girl puts the rectangular not-a-rock up to the side of her head(I ducked, I thought she was going to throw it at me when she a-lifted it) and began talking.

"Cathy? Dude what's up?"

Tom, Jim and I looked up in the sky. Jim looked a bit to the left and screamed, throwing himself on the ground and hiding his eyes.

Tom and I looked over and a long metal bird with humongous wings was going by…up there in the air. Tom and I, our eyes met. Was this some creation of Merlin's?

Tom poked me. The girl had dropped the rectangular not-a-rock and gone to her knees, and was rubbing Jim's shoulder. A little white girl, that's right.

"Sir," she asked Jim. "Are you, like, having some kind of epileptic fit? Can I help?"

If the metal bird scared Jim, this completely unhinged him, and he rolled away from the girl as if she were on fire. Jim was now a free man, but he'd been property for quite a long time, and having a little white woman rubbing his shoulder was awful peculiar.

"I'se all right, ma'am." Jim got up and the girl rose too, picking up her little rectangular thing. And then she was talking with it at her ear.

"Cathy? Yeah. These guys with like, seriously ugly clothes and an African-American gentlemen just came out of John F. Kennedy Memorial Meadow? They might be developmentally disabled. Yeah. The black guy may be their teacher or counselor."

"Tom?" I said feebly, "If this is Sir Lancelot's time I don't want no part of it. Let's take our uh, teacher and high tail it back to the Time Machine."

But Tom was looking carefully at the girl. Tom Sawyer gets distracted by girls, like no fellow I've ever known. You'd think traveling in time away from Becky Thatcher, he'd have forgotten about all that love nonsense, but Tom was always one to be distracted by a pretty ankle.

The girl had taken the rectangular object away from the side of her head and gave Tom a nice smile. "Are you like, from the area, man? You seem like you've lost your shoes. What's the deal with farmer boy's hat there?"

My straw hat? Of course we ain't wearing shoes. It's July.

"We-uh, we've just been traveling from out of town, but I'm Tom Sawyer." Tom announces himself as if he's the King of Spain, but it means no nevermind to the young lady.

"Cool, I'm Shauna. Love meeting tourists. Like, are you looking for a place to stay? My mom's got a B & B in town." Shauna paused. "Mom would be like, totally stoked if you guys could improve her economy ke pasa?"

"Beenbee?" Tom's eyes were goggling, and I wondered if I'd need a foreign phrase book to communicate with this gal. Jim was back looking in the sky, and there was reason, too. A glass bubble thing with a spinning paddle on top of it was going by the sun, and another silver bird was pulling a sign along that said "LIVE IT UP AT PACO'S TACOS!"

"Yeah, B&B. Stands for Bed and Breakfast. My dad split last year, and Mom has sort of an impromptu boardinghouse to bring in some money."

"Money" Tom breathed. Finally a word we understood. Tom turned to me. "She—Miss Shauna's ma has a place we can sleep if we pay her."

"What about Jim?" I had to ask. Was there quarters for his kind?

"Yeah, he can share a room with you guys."

Huh.