Chapter 2: Return to the Mad House
We burst out the doors. I ran to my bike and got on.
"What am I supposed to do?" EC asked. She had taken the bus to school, so her bike wasn't there. I thought for a second. That second was all I had, because our vice principal burst out the doors after us.
"Take that one!" I hollered, gesturing to a bike that had no bike lock on it. I felt bad stealing someone's bike, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
She got on it and we pedaled away towards my house, leaving the vice principal to eat our dust. I heard him holler something after us and laughed, earning myself a concerned look from EC.
"You ok?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled. "You realize we're skipping class and we stole a bike, right?" I asked, still grinning, "I didn't know it felt so good to be free!"
"Well, we won't be free for long," she said. Logic ruined everything. "They'll find out where we live and drag us off to some loony bin."
"Nah, they won't. We'll just get detention or suspension or something."
She gave me a look that told me how idiotic she thought I was. "You just told a class, under hypnosis, that you were in love with John Lennon. You're going to a loony bin. And as for me, well, I did scream some things at you that suggested I thought the same thing happened. They'd never believe us. Just lock us up in a padded white room."
I grimaced at that. "Alright, what do you suggest we do?"
EC thought for a moment as we neared my house. Then she brightened up. "I say we go hide out at Marden Richard's house."
We turned into my driveway, and I opened the garage door, considering her idea. I sighed, not really wanting to go back to that mad house. Then I agreed. "Fine, we'll go, but I'm grabbing a few things first."
"Alright," she said, following me into the house. I went straight to my room where I grabbed a spare backpack I had lying around. I shoved a pair of jeans and a t-shirt into it. I hesitated, then grabbed a pair of shorts, too.
"Hey," I said, directing my voice towards EC, "Did you want to borrow some clothes? There's no way we can make it your house before they get there."
"Sure," she said. I handed her another discarded backpack that was my school bag from years ago.
"Grab anything," I told her as I threw in all of my glasses and contact supplies in my bag. I even grabbed all of my spare contacts, enough to last me a few months. I wasn't sure when I'd be back, wasn't really planning that far ahead. Then I grabbed a notebook that was half-filled with my drawings and writings. I found an empty notebook and threw it at EC, who grinned and put it in her bag. I walked around my room, adding random things that I may or not need. I even grabbed my only pair of dress shoes, simple black flats.
"Ready?" EC asked.
I looked around and stared mournfully at my guitar. I was attached to that thing.
"How would you carry that and your backpack?" EC asked, noting my gaze, "Best to leave it here."
I bit my lip, then made up my mind. I shoved the acoustic guitar into its case, along with its tuner and all my music. I put my backpack on my back and grabbed the case.
EC looked as if she wanted to argue, but shook her head and walked out of my room. I followed her out the front door and we hopped back on our bikes and started out towards Mr. Richards' house. I was a little leery about going back, because of how he ruined our lives the last time we were there, but I knew nobody would think of looking for us in his huge house.
Carrying a guitar while biking was a lot harder than I thought it would be. The shoulder strap was broken on this case, so I was forced to use the handle and carry it by my side. Its added weight made balancing, a very important skill while riding a bike, very difficult. But I was determined, and stubborn, so I kept going.
Somehow, we made it to Mr. Richards' house without any incidents. I didn't fall off my bike, and neither of us was caught by anyone out there looking for two teenage girls who they thought belonged in an asylum.
We walked up to the door, hiding our bikes behind a couple bushes in case someone did come looking for us.
"Hope he's home," I said before knocking on the door. There was a sharp bark from inside, then pawing at the door handle. The door clicked open a crack. A wet black nose was shoved through the crack as it shoved the door open.
"Hey Arnold," I said happily, bending down to pet the Airedale Terrier. I wondered if he was as special as Lewis, the psycho cat that lived with Marden Richards.
"Hello?" EC called as she took a step inside. The lights were off, so the overwhelming checkerboard pattern didn't hurt the eyes so much.
Her voice echoed in the silent house.
"I don't think he's home," I said, "But he'll just have to deal with us staying here."
I walked in the door and set my guitar next to the checkered couch. I let my backpack slide off my back and onto the floor. EC did the same. Arnold shut the door with his nose.
"Think he'll mind?" EC asked.
I was still mad at him for making John leave, so I said angrily, "I don't give a crap whether he'll mind or not."
I spotted a flash of orange out of the corner of my eye. I turned towards it and saw Lewis, who I also didn't like very much, running up to us from behind.
"Lewis?" I asked, backing up as the cat showed no signs of slowing down.
"Meow!"
I groaned as I realized I could still understand what his meows meant. I was starting to become convinced that I did belong in an asylum.
"Your eyes flashed green again," EC commented calmly. My eyes turned the same color as Lewis's when he started talking to me. "What did he say?"
"He told us we're welcome here," I replied. I then turned towards Lewis, who had leaped up to sit on the back of the couch. "Where's Mr. Richards?"
He flicked his tail, but was silent. Just because the cat could talk to me didn't mean he was going to actually explain anything.
"Whatever," I said, flopping down on the couch.
EC sat next to me, turning to scratch Lewis's ears. He began to purr loudly, a noise that I didn't need a connection with him to understand. "Think the boys were happy?" she asked me, referring to the Beatles after they went back to their own time period.
"I suppose they made it through all right, just like we're doing," I replied. I had made a vow not to see how what we'd been through had changed how the Beatles did things. I didn't think I should know. Or at least, I didn't want to know if John ever married someone else. So, I stayed away from Beatles information and contented myself with listening to their music and remembering them as they were. I could only assume EC had done the same.
"I wish we could see them again…" she said sadly. Then, she stiffened in her seat. "We're bloody morons, you know that?"
"Oh, I knew that," I said, then gave her a confused look, "What made you bring it up?"
She smiled. "Old Esther."
I stared at her, wide-eyed, as a grin spread across my face. Old Esther was a sort of time machine that was in Mr. Richard's house. It was what the Beatles had used to get back to the '60s.
"Old Esther," I repeated, happily.
It took less than a second for EC and me to jump off the couch with our bags in hand. We raced up the stairs and ran down a hallway to the very last room. I flung open the door and stopped in surprise.
"Hello," Mr. Richards, who was sitting calmly in a chair facing us, "I was wondering when you two would be back."
I gave him a glare, then walked into the room with false confidence.
"Yes, I've been expecting the two of you," he repeated, nodding.
"Oh, yeah? And why is that?" I snarled, "Are we just that predictable?"
Mr. Richards seemed taken aback by my anger. A few months ago, I had been a lot calmer in front of him. It was John that he always had to look out for, not me. I was usually the one telling John not to attack him.
"Come on," EC said, pulling on my arm. She headed toward the wall where we knew a secret door led to a secret room. I gave Marden Richards one last sour look, then began groping along the wall for the crack that was part of the secret door.
"She's not in there," Mr. Richards said. I spun around.
"What do you mean?" I asked, acid filling my voice. I held a serious grudge against this guy, and I think it was a justified grudge.
"I mean what I say. Esther's not in there."
I stared at him, my eyes searching his face. I then decided he was bluffing. "Sure, its not," I agreed sarcastically, "We just wanted to go in there and relive happy memories, anyway."
EC let out a squeak. I turned towards her and found her digging her fingernails into a crack in the wall. She had found the door! I dug my own nails into the crack and together we pulled it open, revealing a dark hole in the wall.
"Let's go!" I said excitedly, groping along the walls in the dark room for a light switch.
"You'll not find what you seek," Mr. Richards commented.
I snorted. "Thanks for the fortune cookie advice," I told him sarcastically. My hand found a bump on the wall: a light switch. I flicked it on and blinked as the overpowering bright light filled the pristine white room. I squinted, not being able to see much in the sudden light.
"NOOOO!" EC hollered, right into my ear. Her hazel eyes must have adjusted to the changing light faster than my blue ones, but I saw the room soon enough.
"What…" I trailed off, my mind spinning. The room was completely empty. Where I was expecting a giant hamster wheel, a huge computer, and a slot machine-type thing, there was nothing. Only clean, white tile and plain walls.
"I warned you," Mr. Richards said in a very annoying I-told-you-so voice.
"Where is it!?" I demanded.
"Gone," he replied.
I clenched my fists. "Where?" I repeated.
He waved his hand in the air. "Gone for good. I suppose I don't really know where. Lewis might."
I was ready to race back downstairs and shake that cat until he told me where it was, but then Mr. Richards got an amused look on his face. "She's not the only thing that can help you, you know."
EC widened her eyes and excitedly asked, "She's not? What else is there?!"
Mr. Richards grinned and stood up out of his seat. He walked out of the room, not bothering to tell us to follow. We were one step behind him anyways.
"As you well know, I can't let you go back and change the past," Marden Richards explained, leading us slowly down the hallway. I was about to interrupt, but he talked over me, continuing his explanation, "But, time is an odd thing. You see, whenever you make a decision between two choices, you not only create your future, but you create an alternative one, too. Do you understand so far?"
I side-glanced at EC. She looked as confused as I was. "Not really," she told him.
"Hm, well let me use an example," he said, "Say you have the choice of turning left or right on a road. You choose left, and so your future is molded accordingly. But, because the other choice is there, another dimension is created, in which you chose the right instead of the left. Both are equally 'real', but you, or at least this version of you, live only in the world of the left path."
I gave him a blank look. Although I was beginning to comprehend what he was trying to explain, it wasn't quite clicking in my mind.
"Now, Old Esther only worked in one dimension, the world as we know it. But there's a different dimension for each individual choice every person makes! Can you imagine all of them?"
"Wait," EC said slowly, "So, every time we make a choice, we split in two?"
Mr. Richards considered this. "I suppose, symbolically, you do."
"What does this have to do with us now?" I asked, trying to wrap my mind around this information.
He grinned. "Well, you want to go see your friends again, don't you? Yup, thought so. And if I were to send you back in time in this dimension, you would be missing from it, upsetting the balance of time and the future. But," he said, emphasizing the word, "If I were to create a new dimension for you where you could go back safely, then you could make the choice to go, effectively 'splitting yourself in two', as EC said, and having one of your splits stay here and go on to the future here."
"While the other one," I said slowly, grasping the concept, "Would go back with the Beatles in the new dimension."
"Quite right!" Mr. Richards said.
"But…" I said, troubled, "What about our splits that have to make the choice to stay here?"
He gave me a confused look. "Well, they'll continue to live the life meant for them here. Although, that's none of your concern, so long as you take the choice of leaving the present for the past."
I thought about the whole dimension concept, then gave up. I supposed it was just one of those things I'd have to accept without fully understanding.
We stopped in front of a door on the opposite end of the hallway.
"Ah, here we are," Marden said cheerily, opening the door. EC and I eagerly stepped into the room. I was disappointed by what I saw.
"You brought us to see your walk-in closet?" I asked grumpily. We were in the room that contained clothes, hats, and shoes from what seemed like every year since the beginning of time. John and I had made fun of some of the clothes when we found the room while cleaning Mr. Richard's house.
"This is very nice and all," EC said, "But I'd rather go see Paul and the others than look at clothes right now."
Mr. Richards shook his head. "No, you don't just look. You get to wear some of them. You can't go to the sixties in clothes from 2011!"
"Oh!" EC said, suddenly excited. She immediately went to a rack with dresses. "These are from the sixties."
"That they are," Mr. Richards agreed.
I walked over to the same rack and began searching for something suitable to wear. I was determined not to wear a dress. I hated dresses with a vengeance, would rather wear jeans and a t-shirt.
"Oh, look! This would look great on you!" EC said, holding up a dress. It was a maroon colored dress with sleeves that would go just past the elbows. There was what looked like a turtleneck. The skirt was about knee-high, which meant it would show off a little more on me.
I stared at it in dismay. "Erm, I don't think so." I went back to looking for pants.
EC shrugged and continued digging in the rack. She pulled out another one and held it up against herself. It was a red trench dress with a slight V-neck and short sleeves. It came down to barely above her knees.
"What do you think?" she asked. I looked at it and pulled my face into a grin.
"Looks nice," I said encouragingly, "You should try it on and see if you like it."
She grinned mischievously. "Not until we find one for you."
I gave her a dry laugh. "Me? In a dress? Ha! Don't think so," I told her.
Mr. Richards jumped in the conversation, not on my side, of course. "Every woman wore a dress in that era. You'll have to do the same. It may be a different dimension, but you shouldn't meddle with it too much. At least try to blend."
Glaring at him, I replied, "All the same, I'm wearing pants. Thanks for the history lesson, though."
Shaking her head, EC argued against me, too. "You're going to have to wear a dress. Come on, it'll be fun! Do it for Johnnie?"
"Never will you get me into a dress. Never."
Of course, twenty minutes later, I was standing with my arms crossed in front of a mirror. EC was standing next to me, looking beautiful in her red dress, smirking at me. I was wearing a pastel blue dress with thin spaghetti straps. It flowed down to a couple inches above my knees, only because the dress was made for someone with a slightly shorter frame.
"You'd look absolutely gorgeous if you would only stop scowling!" EC told me. I stuck my tongue out at her, feeling way too vulnerable in the dress.
"You both look fantastic, almost straight out of the '60s!" Mr. Richards complimented. I gave him another sour look that he ignored. He was apparently getting used to them.
"Ta," EC replied with a little curtsy. She walked over to a large display of shoes and grabbed a pair. They were black kitten pumps. She tried them on and grinned when they fit perfectly.
I had taken off my tennis shoes, because even I knew that you couldn't wear tennis shoes with a dress. But there was no way I was going to wear any of the shoes on the rack. So, glad that I had last-minute packed them, I pulled my black flats out of my backpack. I happened to glance at the pair of shorts I had packed, and got an idea. I took them out and put them on under the dress. Looking in the mirror, I saw that they were completely hidden. I felt much better with a pair of shorts on. Less vulnerable. I put on my flats and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"Ready?" I called to EC, swinging my backpack onto my back.
She grinned. "Let's do this." She put her own backpack strap on her shoulder.
Mr. Richards, who had left the room while we changed, knocked on the door. "Everyone decent?" he asked.
I responded by flinging the door open, half-hoping to hit him in the face. I had no such luck.
"Ah, you're ready then? Good, good. We really should fix your hair, too, but that can be skipped. Follow me into the kitchen, then," Marden told us, leading the way.
"The kitchen?" I mouthed at EC. She shrugged.
Lewis joined us as we walked down the stairs. He sized EC and I up, then seemed to nod in approval. He padded by Mr. Richards' side.
As we reached the kitchen doors, Arnold joined us, followed by Chancey, the Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Arnold wagged his little stub of a tail in excitement as he padded up to EC and me. I reached down to pet him, but Chancey stepped in the way, herding Arnold away from us. Arnold gave me a sad look, but let Chancey herd him away. They walked in front of Mr. Richards, with Lewis a step in front of the dogs.
"Here we are," Marden said as Arnold nosed the kitchen door open. Lewis entered first, with Mr. Richards after him. Arnold held the door open while Chancey stood guard on the other side of the door.
"Nice of him to point out the obvious," I commented to EC as we walked through the door, "I don't think I ever could have figured out where we were without him."
EC gave a little chuckle, but said nothing.
Lewis hopped onto a green kitchen counter. He surveyed the room calmly as the door behind his closed. I noticed that the dogs had not come in the spacious kitchen with us.
"Umm," I began, looking around expectantly. With growing doubt, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. No unexplainable machines, no huge boxes, nothing. "Why are we here?"
Grabbing a small cube of cheese from the fridge, Mr. Richards smiled. "I was hungry. Lewis will show you the rest of the way."
I closed my eyes and fought back my annoyance. Opening them again, I looked at Lewis. "Fine, lead the way, then," I said.
He gave me a haughty look, as if he didn't like being told what to do. But he stood up and neatly hopped down from the counter.
"Where are we going?" EC asked.
Mr. Richards, his mouth full of cheese, pointed at Lewis. Lewis strolled toward a door that I assumed led to the pantry. Although, knowing this house, I shouldn't have expected it to be what a normal house would have.
