Recalled to Life
Evil of This Time
2025
"'I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out.'"
Book III; Chapter XV of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
—The Thought That Counts—
Too groggy to fully appreciate the implications, Mel was vaguely aware that she was skipping steps as she went from lying barely awake under her covers to standing in front of her full-length, oval mirror already dressed in clothes that definitely could not have come from her closet. The haze she'd woken up to diminished as she narrowed her eyes critically at her reflection. Improbable as it was, the four-inch stiletto knee-highs, absurdly short pleated skirt, and flimsy tit-sling top actually clung appealingly to her frame. She didn't even wobble as she tested out the heels. In fact, she looked completely confident.
Mel glanced around her room suspiciously. Something was very wrong here.
A perfunctory knock and her dad poked his head through the door. Mel tried in vain to cover up the embarrassing – and miraculous – amount of cleavage she was displaying by placing her hands in front of her chest.
Dad didn't seem to notice anything odd about her clothing, or lack thereof, however. He just smiled a good morning and told her, "Better get a move on, kiddo. Cole's already here to pick you up for school."
She blinked at him several times, finally replying, "Of course he is. Because that makes total sense."
Tongue to cheek, she followed the illusion of her father down the stairs, where the illusion of her mother stood in the foyer with Cole, ready to burst with joy at his presence. "Sweetie!" she exclaimed. "Look who it is! It's Cole!"
"I see that," Mel replied, eyeing him carefully in an attempt to discern whether or not he, too, was an illusion.
She was distracted when her mom clapped her hands together boisterously. "How about I bring you two a treat before you leave? I still remember your favorite." To Mel's horror, she began playfully poking Cole in the ribs. "Blueberry muffins, hot from the oven. Come on, Leo," she said, bustling him toward the kitchen and shooting Mel an exaggerated wink.
Eyebrow arched high, Mel turned to Cole, who was snickering under his breath. Not an illusion, she decided. "Well. This is elaborate. I take it you're not here for your usual wham-bam, thank you potions-provider. I actually get to see your smirking face for once. Such a treat." Valiantly trying not to get suckered in by his obvious amusement, she asked stonily, "What do you want?"
He flashed her his most charming grin. "I'm not here for me. This is all for you, Friday. Happy eighteenth," he congratulated magnanimously.
Her lip quirked against her will. "My birthday was technically yesterday, but it is the thought that counts."
"Muffins!" the annoying caricature of Mel's mom squealed, returning with two monstrosities wrapped in white linen. She handed one each to Mel and Cole. "Take a bite now, tell me what you think," she insisted.
Cole agreed readily, saying, "I have missed your cooking, Piper." There was delight in his expression as he chewed. "Oh, that's good," he said before swallowing. He took another bite, seeming to savor it. Mel wondered if this was part of his act or if his sense of taste actually worked here. Wherever here was. He wolfed down the rest of the giant muffin in three bites, leading Mel to believe that the latter was true. So, they were in her head, then.
Mom clapped her hands together, bouncing merrily. "I'm so glad you liked it."
"Uh-oh, you'd better watch the time, Cole." Dad, who hadn't lost his creepy, frozen smile, helped Mel with her backpack. "If you make my little girl late, I'll have to give you a stern talking to."
The three of them chortled with laughter. Mel felt like gagging.
"Okay. Have a super day at school," Mom enthused, and Dad pecked Mel on the cheek.
Cole reached out to open the front door for her. Mel stepped onto the porch willingly, her interest piqued by the cherry red Porsche Carrera GT parked against the curb. Now this was so much more like it.
"Ooh," Dad said in awe, starting out the door.
"No, no, no. You stay there." With her free hand, Mel pushed him back inside and pulled Cole out by the sleeve of his charcoal gray suit jacket. "We can't be late, remember?" She shut the door firmly on her parents' beaming faces. "Laying it on pretty thick, don't you think?" she asked, fixing Cole with an exasperated look.
From his breast pocket, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses, orange-tinted to match his dress shirt, and slipped them on. "I'm bringing your fantasies to life, honey. I thought you'd be pleased."
"My fantasies do not include schmaltzy, bizarreo-land Leave it to Beaver scenes, especially not ones featuring me dressed like this," she scoffed.
"More or less, they do. Besides." As his eyes slid from the swell of her cleavage to the hem of her skirt, she could feel herself flushing. "You look great."
Mel folded her arms across her stomach, not sure if she did it to appear stern or to give him an ever better view down her shirt. Maybe both. "You're obviously a man of refined taste, Cole. I look like a hooker."
He took a step closer. She hoped her indrawn breath wasn't audible. "You look how you've always wanted to feel. Comfortable with your body, daring." He lowered his neck so their lips were only an inch apart. "Sexy."
She backed away. Cole was playing her, obviously, and she wasn't sure how much she was willing to let herself enjoy the pretense. "Whatever. I'm driving."
Mel held up her still warm muffin for a trade. He took the key from his pocket less than casually, not quite able to hide the fact that he was clearly salivating for food he could actually taste.
She plucked the key from his fingers with a sardonic, "Thank you ever so much, darling," deposited the wrapped muffin in his hand, and headed down the walk.
As they both opened their car doors to get in, Mel ventured, "So let me guess what I'd find if I went to school today. Hm, my teachers falling all over themselves to tell me how brilliant I am." She put the key in the ignition and was rewarded with the engine's satisfying purr. "Wyatt and Chris'll orb in halfway through AP Government because, darn it, they just can't complete the vanquish without my expertise." Taking a look in her rearview mirror, she gently guided the Porsche onto the street. "What else? The cafeteria will serve edible food for once, calculus won't suck. Oh, and my peers, of course, will be fawning over me, begging me to run for class president. I even bet Penn will develop a sudden case of laryngitis, leaving little ol' me to replace her as Cosette in the musical, to rave reviews, despite the fact that I've never been onstage in my life."
Glancing up from the prized muffin in his lap, Cole gave her a wide smile. "I've always thought of you as an Eponine – " He leaned forward to press a button on the stereo. The character's galling, though not totally appropriate, solo "On My Own" trilled out of the speakers. "But, sure. All that and more."
"First off, when I wake up for real, it'll be Saturday, and there's no way I'm going to school in my sleep. Second: boring," she pronounced emphatically. "I might've daydreamed longingly for you to grant me this kind of shallow, me-obsessed alternate reality in moments of weakness, but I've matured. You obviously haven't noticed – I've managed to turn out remarkably well-adjusted."
"No thanks to me."
Mel waved off that dry observation, concentrating on making a sleek pair of sunglasses appear between her fingers. Cole's power hummed through her body, putting a fierce grin onto her face.
"Buckle up, Mr. Turner," she advised him, stopping the Porsche in the middle of the suddenly clear street. Mel flipped the track to the exact song she wanted to hear, "Queen of the Highway" by The Doors, and shifted the Carrera GT into gear. "You're in for a ride."
