Time Is for E.V.E.R.

Steven Clark Waiters

Description

An adventure through time.
After discovering that a golden sphere hidden behind a secret door in their grandparents’ basement is a time machine, Stevie and his older sister, Amber, try to prevent an accident from ever happening. Things, however, don’t go as planned when another accident leaves them stranded in the past. They must now figure out a way of returning to their own time, or be lost in time, forever.

Sujets

• Science-Fiction
• Toute la Science-Fiction
• Imaginaire
• Amber
• Stevie
• Young Adult Fiction
• Science Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 10 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663245021
• Langue: English

Extrait

Time is For E.V.E.R.
 
 
 
 
Steven Clark Waiters
 
 
 

 
 
TIME IS FOR E.V.E.R.
 
 
Copyright © 2022 Steven Clark Waiters.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Bloomington, IN 47403
www.iuniverse.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4500-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4501-4 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4502-1 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022916380
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 01/30/2023
Contents
Chapter 1 Stevie
Chapter 2 Amber
Chapter 3 Stevie
Chapter 4 Amber
Chapter 5 Stevie
Chapter 6 Amber
Chapter 7 Stevie
Chapter 8 Amber
Chapter 9 Stevie
Chapter 10 Amber
Chapter 11 Stevie
Chapter 12 Amber
Chapter 13 Stevie
Chapter 14 Amber
Chapter 1

Stevie
“I don’t see anything,” Stevie said.
He was standing on the side of a dry, dusty road, looking at a roadcut that exposed many layers of different colored sediment. Some were light-brown, and others were much darker. It resembled a stack of peanut butter sandwiches all smashed together, and that made his stomach grumble.
He figured tractors and men had exposed the layers long ago when the road had been built, and it was now, according to Grandma, a great place for fossil hunting.
“Here’s one!” Amber called out. “Take a look at this!”
Stevie glanced over at his older sister standing just a few feet away. Her long, glistening hair looked more strawberry blonde than red in the sun as she reached up and tugged on something sticking out from one of the top layers of sediment.
“Right here!” She pointed. “Looks like a claw or an arrowhead … or something. But it’s really stuck. I can’t…I can’t pull it out.”
“Let me try,” Stevie said. About two inches of the pointed object was exposed, so he reached up and grabbed hold of it. He then tried wiggling it back and forth. “You’re right! It’s really stuck.”
He reached down and picked up a rock, thinking he could use it to hit the pointed object a few times and hopefully loosen it up.
“No!” Amber shouted just as he was about to slam the rock into the pointed object. “You’ll break it…Whatever it is.”
Stevie looked at the rock he was holding and sighed. Amber was probably right, so he dropped it and grabbed hold of the object again.
He kept trying to wiggle it, but at first, the hardened sediment surrounding it would not budge. Nevertheless, Stevie did not give up. He kept at it, and eventually, the object started to move…not much at first, but just enough for him to keep going.
When specks of sediment began to fall away, he wiggled it even harder. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the hardened sediment that had entombed the pointed object began to crumble, and with a little more vigorous wiggling, he was able to pull it free.
He sighed, then rubbed its corroded surface with a thumb. It was square on one end and tapered down to a point on the other. In the middle, a hole appeared to go all the way through but was now filled with hardened sediment. Stevie guessed it to be around 6 inches long from square end to point.
“Well, it’s definitely pointed,” he said, showing it to Amber. “But it’s not a claw or an arrowhead…It’s just an old chunk of rusted metal.” His stomach grumbled again. “We should probably start heading back to Grandma’s now. I’m getting kind of hungry.”
It was the beginning of summer vacation, and like usual, Stevie and Amber were spending it at Grandma’s. They lived four hours away, so Christmas and summer vacation were the only times they spent quality time with her. Christmas visits were always different in one way or another, but their summer routine was always the same. Their dad would drive them to Grandma’s, drop them off for a two-week visit, then drive back and join them for a third week.
This summer, however, was the first time they brought their bikes. They wanted to explore the area around Grandma’s house, and this was their first biking adventure.
“Yeah, I’m getting hungry, too,” Amber said. She raised the kickstand on her bike, then reached down and wiped something off the toe of her shoe.
Stevie pulled a dishcloth out of his pocket and used it to soak up the sweat trickling down from the top of his head. He kept his brown hair short, a buzz cut his dad called it, because it was quick and easy to mop up during basketball practices and games. He then wrapped the damp dishcloth around the chunk of rusted metal and stuffed it back into his pocket. After that, he picked up the basketball he’d brought, then raised the kickstand on his bike.
The two mountain bikes were recent birthday gifts…Stevie’s twelfth, which was in June, and Amber’s fourteenth, which was back in December. Their dad had special ordered them, and they were identical in every way except that Stevie’s was dark-green and Amber’s was light-blue, just like the Converse shoes she was wearing…and her eyes. And that made sense because Dad said he got them to match their eyes, although Stevie’s were not as dark-green as his bike.
As they left the wall of layered sediment behind, Stevie began dribbling his basketball as he pedaled alongside Amber. Dribbling while pedaling was something he had done since first learning to ride a bike. It was now second nature, and if he ever tried to ride without dribbling, he felt completely out of sorts.
The dry, dusty road they were on led to the business part of town…an area Grandma called Old Town. Old Town was a scattering of businesses such as a family dentist, a lawyer’s office, an old-fashioned drugstore that sold ice cream, an electrical shop with an old sign that read Turney’s Electric, and more.
After leaving Old Town, they entered a tree-lined neighborhood. Here, the homes were older looking but very well-cared for. They were all similar, with horizontal wood siding and large windows. However, some were bigger two-story houses with more than one chimney, while others, like Grandma’s, were single-story with one chimney. The front yards were all perfectly manicured with lush green lawns and colorful flowerbeds filled with a mixture of yellow buttercups, blue bellflowers, white daisies, red lilies, and many more that Grandma had not yet named.
After passing several homes, Amber shouted, “Look! There’s Grandma.”
“Bet she’s not wearing any shoes,” Stevie said.
As they got closer to Granma’s house, Stevie could clearly see he was right. Grandma was standing barefoot on the green grass, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt. She was pointing the end of a garden hose down toward a living bouquet of bright yellow buttercups and blue bellflowers, two of her favorites. There must have been an adjustable nozzle on the hose because the water fell in a light shower, and when a breeze lifted some mist into the air, the sun’s light created a mini rainbow.
After pulling into the driveway and squeezing the handbrakes, Stevie hopped off his bike and propped it up on its kickstand. Amber did the same, and the two walked over to Grandma.
“Hi, Grandma!” Stevie called out.
Grandma looked up from her watering and smiled. She turned the nozzle off and set the hose down.
“How did fossil hunting go?” she asked.
“Check out what we found!” Stevie said.
He let his basketball fall to the lawn, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the wrapped-up object.
Grandma cocked her head and asked, “You found my dishcloth?”
“Nope,” Stevie said, unfolding it. “We found this!”
Grandma’s jaw dropped. “Oh! Well …What is it?”
Stevie shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
“I’m the one who actually found it,” Amber interjected.
“And I’m the one who actually pulled it free,” Stevie stressed.
“Well, I’m proud of you both for working together and finding something…whatever it is,” Grandma said. She then pointed toward the front door. “You two should go inside and get some lemonade. I need to finish the watering. Then I’ll come join you.”
Stevie was even hungrier than before, but a cold glass of lemonade sounded especially good because his throat felt as dry and dusty as the old road they had been on.
“Okay, Grandma,” he said. “Sounds goo…” The rest of the word trailed off when he heard the front door slam shut. “Is…Is someone else here?”
Grandma shook her head. “Nope. It must not have been closed all the way…and the wind blew it shut.”
Stevie nodded. “I bet it was Amber.”
Amber let out a heavy sigh as she turned and walked toward the front door.
Stevie picked his basketball up and followed her. Once inside the house, he dropped it on the floor, then made a beeline for the kitchen. There he spread the dishcloth out on the counter and gently set the chunk of rusted meta