Chapter 3
My shout must've distracted both Eacker and Philip, because Eacker loses focus and drops his gun. It clatters to the ground. Philip whirls around, stumbling over his own feet and falling flat into the street. The bullet misses him by a mile.
For a moment, there's just stunned silence.
Miranda and I slowly emerge from behind the tree and awkwardly stand in the road. Philip picks himself off the ground.
"Who are you?" he asks finally.
Miranda just shakes her head, speechless.
"My name's Kay," I answer shakily. "Kay Arrowdale. This is my friend, Miranda Greenwood."
Philip and Eacker just stare at us.
"My name's Philip," Philip says slowly. "Philip Hamilton."
"We know!" Miranda blurts.
I elbow her in the ribs.
"Sorry," Miranda whispers. She bites her bottom lip to keep from talking.
"I'm George Eacker," says Eacker. Then he frowns. "You just interrupted our duel!"
Suddenly, I'm annoyed. "You were going to kill him!"
"Yeah," Philip realizes, turning to Eacker. "I could've died just then."
"That's what happens in a duel, son," Eacker says coldly. "People could get hurt. They could die."
"Don't call me 'son,'" Philip growls. "I wasn't going to shoot you, you know. Dad told me to aim my gun at the sky."
"Fool," spits Eacker.
"No," Philip says, shaking his head fiercely. "I'm more honorable than you, Eacker. I will always have more honor than you."
He lets his gun fall to the cobblestones. Then he turns and glances over at us.
"Thank you," he says solemnly. "For saving my life."
"No problem," Miranda squeaks. Her gaze is darting back and forth between Philip and Eacker.
"Come on," Philip says to us. "Let's take a walk."
All three of us stalk away from George Eacker, leaving him standing alone in the street.
"So," Philip says. "Where are you from?"
Miranda and I exchange swift glances.
"We're from the West," I say vaguely. If Philip was supposed to die today, it meant the year was 1801. California became a state in 1850. I couldn't tell him we were from California- he would think we were crazy.
"Interesting," Philip comments. "What are you doing all the way in New Jersey?"
"Our parents passed away recently," Miranda lies. "So we left home and came here, hoping to start a new life."
Philip's gaze softens. "My condolences."
I feel bad lying to him, but I know that it's necessary. After all, we can't exactly tell him we come from the future!
"How old are you, anyway?" Philip questions.
"I'm fifteen," I say. "Miranda's fourteen."
Miranda rolls her eyes. She hates being reminded that she's younger than me, even if it's only by a few months.
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Philip asks, sounding concerned.
"Um… no, we don't," I admit.
He grins. "Why don't you stay at my house? My parents won't mind. Neither will my siblings."
"How many siblings do you have?" Miranda asks.
"Seven."
"Oh my," Miranda breathes. She puts a hand to her mouth. "Sorry. That was rude."
Philip chuckles. "That's all right. So, would you like to stay with us?"
"We'd love to," I say gratefully.
"Wonderful!" Philip exclaims. We turn a street corner, walking down a nicely paved path surrounded by wildflowers. At the end of the path is a pretty little house, with painted white shutters, a sturdy-looking roof, and an oak door.
"Welcome home!" Philip announces. He leads us to the doorway and opens the door into his house.
I stare into the front room of the house. The floor is made from glossy wood. A small, knitted green rug decorates the center of the room, and, to the right, there's a leather sofa. In the back of the room is a doorway leading to a separate room, and to the right is a staircase.
"Philip!" a female voice chimes. "You're home!"
I notice a woman standing near the corner of the room, holding a broomstick. She's small, wearing an apron over her lavender dress. Her cinnamon-colored hair is pulled up into a bun, and she has crinkles around her blue eyes from smiling too much.
"Mother," Philip says with a grin. He enters the house and gives the woman a hug. When they pull apart, the woman notices us.
"Oh!" she exclaims. She glances at her son scoldingly. "You didn't tell me we were having visitors."
"Right," Philip says. He clears his throat. "Mom, this is Kay and Miranda." He nods in our direction. "Girls, meet my mother."
The woman walks over to us and extends her hand. "Eliza Schuyler. Pleasure to meet you."
I shake her hand and smile. "It's great to meet you, Mrs. Schuyler."
She winks at me. "Call me Eliza, please, dear."
Philip slips behind me and shuts the door. "Where are the kids?"
Eliza shrugs. "They're all off with their friends. It's just going to be you and me in the house tonight, Philip. Oh, and your new friends, if they're staying." She looks at us. "Would you like to stay the night?"
"Yes please," Miranda says gratefully.
"Now," Eliza continues. "I've been attempting to bake a pie for the last hour, and it hasn't been turning out so well, but I have some fruit if you're hungry." She guides Philip, Miranda, and me to the couch. "Tell me about yourselves, girls. How did you meet my son?"
"Well, Mom," Philip says hesitantly. "They- er- they saved my life."
"What?" Eliza demands. She glares at her son. "What did you do? Why would your life require saving?"
"I- um-" Philip coughed awkwardly. He mumbles something.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Eliza says.
"I challenged George Eacker to a duel," Philip repeats, a bit louder this time.
"You what?" Eliza sounds furious. "When was this?"
"I challenged him a few days ago. The duel was about an hour ago."
Eliza stands. Philip, who is sitting, is now eye-level with her. "How could you not tell me?" she asks him. "Why would you challenge him?"
"He was insulting Dad, Mom!" Philip responds. "I was defending him!"
"You could have gotten killed in the name of honor," Eliza mutters. She freezes. "Wait. Did your father know about this?"
Philip glances down sheepishly.
"He knew?" Eliza's voice climbs up an octave. "He was in on this too? Philip, you could have died!"
"But I didn't," Philip is quick to remind her. "Thanks to them." He gestures towards me and Miranda.
Eliza seems to remember that we're there.
"Thank you, girls," she breathes, her tone gentle. She envelopes us in a hug. "Thank you. For saving my son."
"You're welcome, Mrs. Sch- Eliza," I correct myself quickly.
Eliza furrows her brow, thinking. "Is Eacker dead?" she asks us. She turns to Philip. "Did you kill him?"
"No," Philip says. "I was never going to. I was aiming my gun at the sky, just like Dad told me to."
Eliza shakes her head sadly, just once. "Of course he did," she says. She straightens. "Now. Girls, run upstairs and pick out your rooms. Feel free to sleep wherever you'd like. Philip, follow me into the kitchen. I'm going to need your help in baking a pie."