Then it hit me. The reason why I'd never heard this music before is because it was futuristic music—it probably wouldn't be around until I was much, much older. That certainly gives me an advantage, doesn't it?
And it wasn't just the music that was odd; it was the dancing style as well. It was so…vulgar. Let's just say that if Mother had caught me doing even ONE of those moves, I'd be punished for a month at least. But it did look kind of fun.
As I was absorbing my surroundings—I realized something. I wasn't wearing the same outfit as I had been before! My clothes must change so I wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. I was certainly glad, because I would have been terribly out of place in my frock, but this dress was an odd change. It was so…swishy. I gave a little spin and watched in delight as my skirt flew around me in a delicate circle.
Well, I was delighted until I bumped into someone.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—" I didn't get to finish my apology, because I found myself looking at Jack.
AGAIN. It wasn't him; that much was clear. Laurie hadn't been him, either. Which brings up the question…what year exactly was this? This boy seemed bruised, all black and blue, but that was a familiar experience with Jack as leader and all. I wasn't about to actually ASK this Jack what happened to his face.
I guess he caught me staring at him, because he waved his hand in front of my head as if to wake me up from my trance.
"Do I know you?" I began. I figured that would be a good leeway into interrogation. A confused look spread across his boyish features.
"Um. Not that I know of…?" I've seemed to puzzle a lot of people, haven't I?
"Are you related to a Francis Sullivan? Grandfather, perhaps?" Okay, I'm not sure that grandfather would be the relation Jack would be to this boy, but I was going out on a limb here. Needless to say, he shook his head.
"No, sorry, my grandfather's name was Thomas Berger. I was named after him." Thomas—I liked that name. Extending my hand, I said politely,
"Hi, Thomas. I'm Sarah." He nodded in acknowledgement but didn't let go of my hand; instead, a sparkle appeared in his eyes.
Before I knew it, I was pulled into the center of the large room—what I assumed to be the dance floor—and Thomas started to move, dragging me with him.
Okay, so the moving was really dancing. Which got me panicked. I don't dance. I've only danced a couple times with Jack at Medda's, and even that was brief and not orchestrated. I gaped in horror as the boy in the couple next to me swung the girl in the air, catching her safely. Was I expected to do that? Oh, no, not gonna happen…
That much must have appeared on my face, because Thomas stopped.
"What's the problem?" he asked. The problem? The problem is you were planning to throw me into the air and not catch me, and if I break my neck how am I supposed to go back and scream at David!
"Well. This is going to sound stupid because you have all of this…experience, but the truth is, I've never danced before. Well, like this." He gave me a look of amazement.
"So what, you just stopped in here to watch other people dance?" he asked incredulously. If only I knew why I was here exactly. I wondered how I was going to explain this without making a complete idiot out of myself.
"Uh…yeah," I said lamely, taking his excuse.
"Well that's not good!" he exclaimed. "I'll teach you."
Um. What?
"Pardon me?" There were a lot more things that I wanted to say instead of "Pardon me?", but that was all that came out.
"I said I'll teach you," he repeated.
"I heard you. It's just—well…" I really didn't have a viable excuse other than I was terrified.
"Come on!" he yelled over the loud music. "Do what I do!" He continued to demonstrate a bountiful amount of dance moves, to say the least. Oh great. How am I supposed to do that?
Well, I gave it my best, but in the end I just looked like those flapping ducks in Central Park. Even Thomas couldn't stop from wincing. Heck, I didn't blame him.
"Um." I think he was wondering how he could put my down nicely. I was too, actually. "Why don't I have my friend Peter come over here and teach you?" Did he mean actually associate with someone who does not look like my beloved? Unheard of!
Well, not so much if he can actually teach me how to dance properly. He left for a brief second to find that Peter guy, and in the meantime I decided to take advantage of my anonymity. I tapped some random guy on the shoulder lightly. Ooh, he was cute! He was certainly no Jack, but not a Snyder either. He stopped dancing and gave me a polite "what?" look.
"Hi, I know that you don't know me, and this question is really stupid, but where are we? In relation to the U.S., I mean?" The handsome lad raised his eyebrow (questioning my sanity, I presume), but nonetheless answered,
"Germany." Oh, right. Europe, huh? I've always wanted to go to Europe, and here I am! Pretty good deal, if you ask me.
"Thank you," I responded. I didn't want to look like a complete freak and ask the year. Not knowing the country I could understand if you were kidnapped and dropped accidentally in a city or something, but not knowing the year is pretty stupid—unless you were in jail or the Refuge. Yet even then if for some reason I lost track, it would be one of the first things I would ask when I got out. You know, after "Where's Jack?" of course.
But then I felt a tap on MY shoulder, and looked around to see Thomas—alone.
"Where's your friend?" I asked.
"I thought he was over there but I guess not…" Suddenly his face lit up and maneuvered around me and went up to the boy that I had asked about the country. Thomas pulled him in my direction.
"Peter, this is Sarah. She doesn't dance, and I thought that we could change that." Wait. So this Peter guy is the one who I'd embarrassed myself with that stupid question?
"Ah, Miss Germany would like to swing?" he replied, obviously amused. I resent that. But what did he mean by 'swing'?
"'Swing'?" I inquired. Peter laughed.
"You're really not from around here, are you?" Gee, you think?
"No, where I come from, dancing is more…toned down," I admitted sheepishly, embarrassed to be acting so stupid in front of these handsome young men.
"Oh, I see. Conservative, eh?" Thomas replied, winking at me. Trying not to faint, I nodded my head.
"Watch her," Peter instructed, pointing at a girl in a green dress. The floor had been completely cleared for her and her partner, and she was undoubtedly…moving. I wish I could swing dance! It could start a whole new trend at Medda's. I laughed, picturing Racetrack throwing some unsuspecting girl through the air.
"Wow," I uttered incredulously, seriously amazed at how well she danced. Both Thomas and Peter nodded, but I noticed Peter looked distracted. I followed his gaze to a blonde girl all the way across the room. Young love—how charming.
"So, ready to dance you hepcat, you?" asked Thomas jokingly. Okay, hepcat must be some slang word that I didn't know about…I hoped it wasn't bad.
"Well, actually Thomas, I—" Peter cut himself off by coughing pointedly and nodding his head in the direction of that blonde girl. Oh, how sweet. He should go dance with her.
Apparently he thought so, too. As soon as they reached each other they met in the center and started…well, swinging. I watched in amazement how effortless they pulled it off. It's not easy; believe me, I've tried once already.
Everybody stopped doing their own thing and congregated in a circle around the pair, watching them and cheering them on. I guess my dancing lessons were abandoned, but I wasted no time in tapping my feet and haphazardly whistling to the catchy beat. I stood next to Thomas, who must really support his friend considering the amount of screaming he was doing on his behalf.
"Go Peter!" he cried. I refrained from yelling anything; it might look a little odd screaming his name considering that I only met him about five seconds ago. Well, a little more than that. But you get the gist.
Wow, this rhythm was really infectious. I just couldn't stop tapping my foot and swaying a little. I was enjoying this place way more than I enjoyed the Marches'. Being in a crowd watching people have the time of their lives—it really does something to you.
But then I heard yelling coming from the back of the room.
"Quiet! Quiet! Stop!" I looked over to see all of these uniformed men entering through the door. I wonder what they were doing here? This place isn't…illegal or something, is it? Why else would they be yelling 'stop'? Huh, maybe it was just some futuristic tradition that I sadly didn't understand…I really hoped that I didn't have to go through this again in the future, though.
I had no time to ask Thomas why the officers were here, however, because I immediately felt myself being pulled by the crowd—the same crowd that I had loved being a part of just a minute before. It wasn't a good pull, either; it was more of a something-tells-me-to-get-out-of-here pull. I, for one, wanted to get out of here. Suddenly all the fun of this new experience lost its thrill as I saw the officers dive into the horde of people, grabbing innocent bystanders and twisting them in an effort to get them to cease dancing. Why did they just let them abuse them? Couldn't they fight back?
Apparently not, I gathered as the whole room erupted into screams and shrieks.
"We are closing this club! We are closing this club! You must leave immediately!" a man with a tube thingy that vibrated throughout the room yelled. But I was just having fun! I hadn't even learned how to swing yet! Now I wanted to be thrown in the air and caught by this Jack look-alike!
Too bad, a voice in my head reprimanded. From the looks of it, it's definitely too late for that sort of thing.
But I didn't stop to contemplate further as I felt Thomas grab my hand protectively. Oh, how sweet. Or maybe his hand was just cold…
"You must give your names at the door! Leave immediately!" the annoying voice rang out again. Leave my name at the door? I wondered what that was for. I certainly didn't want to leave my name and possibly get in trouble; but perhaps I could give a fake name. After all, it's not like I know anyone here. And it's not like I had anything to lose by giving my real name—I'm not exactly from this time period. I decided that I would just leave some chicken scratch that no one could decipher and run out of here.
Yet even after that, where would I go? I didn't exactly know my way around Germany. Hopefully Thomas would help me find something.
I snapped my fingers as I remembered the purple button. I reached into my pocket and sighed in relief to find it still there. At least I'll have a backup plan, however lame placing your faith in a button is.
It was then that the room really went crazy. The men in uniform quickly grabbed the nearest people and positively pushed them to the nearest door as they tried to get them out of there. Boy, was it working. The room was thinning out fast, and Thomas started pulling me towards the exit.
"Listen," he began. "You have to get out of here. Trust me—don't stay. As soon as you get out there, run to a safe place. Okay?"
"Aren't you coming?" I asked. Being by myself in a strange place was NOT my first choice. At home I always had Jack or David or Les or one of the newsies. What did I have here?
My pathetic purple button, that's what I had.
"No, Peter's still in there, I have to get back. You can't come with me." Well, why couldn't I?
He must have sensed my attitude, for he sighed and added,
"Trust me," he repeated Unfair. I was sent here mysteriously and met another Jack and now I had to leave them because stupid, ugly officers said to. One word—unfair.
"Fine," I grumbled, quickly evacuating the building as I watched Thomas's back disappear through the large throng of people. I ran down the stairs and pushed a door to find myself in an alley alone. Great. I noticed a bright sign that read "Trichter Café". Remembering what Thomas had said about running, I power-walked (I don't run) down the street at a fast pace. I got to the corner and sighed, wishing I knew which way to pick. Right, left, right, left. Hmm.
I was interrupted by a screaming voice, however. It was a man's voice, but it wasn't Thomas or Peter. It was a thick, heavily accented one. Turning as I heard his calls of "You, wait!" I saw that he couldn't have been much older than I was.
But he was an officer. Now something told me that that wasn't a good thing.
"Hey, so you think you can escape through the back door, huh?" he asked, looking as if he was ready to strike me. Okay, button, any day now…
"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to play innocent, partly because I really WAS innocent.
"Oh, so it's that way, is it?" he responded, glaring at me. "What's your name?"
"Sarah Jacobs!" I yelled without thinking. I didn't know what harm it would do until I saw his face turn even stonier than it was before.
"'Jacobs'?" he asked, the tone of his voicing rising considerably as he uttered my surname.
I didn't have a moment to run or ponder as to why my last name was such a big deal, because he grabbed my arm and twisted it, causing me to let out a squeal of intense pain. This was not the fun part of random traveling, not at all.
I saw him take out a wooden weapon that reminded me of Spot's cane, and I winced as he raised it over my head.
Okay Mr. Purple Button, I would REALLY love your help right now!
My wish was answered as I felt myself being torn away from the evil man and being swept away as I had been twice already. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then I took another cleansing breath to calm my frazzled nerves. Of course, as soon as I relaxed I was being thrown into another alley, alone once more.
I looked up in fear to see a dark, pitch-black figure looming over me, and that was the last thing I saw before I screamed and blacked out.