Page 2 of The Girl Out of Time
Emmeline cleared the tablet.
“The boys, huh?” Emily said.
“The boys,” Emmeline muttered. She replaced the tablet on the table as she undid her braid, trying to get rid of the rest of the sand lodged in her raven curls. Thank God she only needed to put up with her brothers for a few more weeks. She wasn’t looking forward to the finishing school—learning how to pick out correct cutlery sounded like torture from a twisted nightmare—but at least it had one perk: no Brendon and Tristan, and none of their antics.
“Hey, can you turn me so I can see the ocean?”
Emmeline did so while continuing to run a hand through her hair.
“Oh, yeah, mighty gray, mighty British-looking. Sylvia knows how to pick her vacation spots.”
“It’s only because Cousin Reggie’s house is here,” Emmeline said. “And I’m told it’s prettier in summer. The coast gets more interesting farther down. There are these dramatic cliffs …”
“Em-me-line!” a voice came from behind.
“Speak of the devil,” Emily said.
Mother walked up and put her hands on her hips. “Put your hair back up, darling. Just because we’re alone on the beach doesn’t mean you can afford such liberties.”
“But I wasn’t—it was Tristan!”
“Your brother unbraided your hair?”
“No—”
“Then don’t shift blame to others. It is very unladylike.”
Emmeline blew a strand of hair off her face. “Yes, Mother.” She turned the tablet back once Mother walked away.
“Yeesh,” Emily said. “I’d say Sylvia got up on the wrong foot today, but I think thatisher default foot.”
“She’s still upset over the maid disguise incident.”
“That was three weeks ago.”
“Six months,” Emmeline corrected her with a rueful smile. It wasn’t the first time her aunt had mistimed an event, but she supposed it was easy to lose track of time in her confinement.
“I told you to take the servants’ entrance,” Emily said.
“I tried! It’s not my fault they chose that exact day to make the year’s supply of jam.” Emmeline would never forget her shameful walk back into the foyer, covered in the very fresh, very hot plum conserve from head to toe. But she’d learned two valuable lessons that day: don’t put on maid’s clothes if you want to sneak out, and don’t try using the doors. “Anyway, for now, further arguing is useless.”
“I know how you feel, Blue. Have I told you about that time when your mother, father, and I went on a train—”
“Fourteen times, yes.”
“And she absolutely needed the front-facing seats …”
Emmeline gazed back at the ocean as she let her aunt recount the story for the fifteenth time. Aside from it being how Emily had met Uncle James and thus ended up marrying into the family, Emmeline knew most of the tale had to be dramatized and inflated beyond belief; her prim and proper parents would’ve never gone on an adventure.
And with such prim and proper parents,shewould never see an adventure, either.
Holding the tablet in one hand, she started drawing in the sand with the other; nothing specific, although the first few swirls vaguely resembled a stormy ocean. She bit her lip as she followed the idea, adding more and more swirls—
Her pointer finger colored blue, as if an ink stain had spread underneath her skin. Emmeline raised her hand, inspecting the finger, when a sharppain pierced her temples. She winced, swallowing a cry, then took a deep breath.
The waves she’d drawn in the sand swirled, as if transforming into the ocean.
“What the—”
