Millicent (9): Time travel (6)

Sock Hop Fever

The fifties had always been one of my favorite eras, but I never expected to wake up there. One minute, everything is perfectly fine. The next, I'm in a house straight from Grease wearing a giant poodle skirt. The only thing bigger than my petticoat was my hair. It was like waking up in the middle of Bye Bye Birdie and not knowing any of the lines.

"Milly! Phone!" a woman called. She sounded like my mother, but I couldn't quite tell. I picked up the giant phone on my bedside table, surprised at its weight.

"Hello?"

"HI!"

The girl on the other end had the perfect Valley Girl accent complete with all the lingo. I didn't even try to keep up, just uh-huhing my way through until she finally got to her point:

"There's going to, like, be a, like SOCK HOP TONIGHT!" she cheered shrilly, causing me to force the phone away from my ear. I heard everything as she went on and on about who would be there in their hotrods. Apparently a guy nicknamed Duckie was going to pick me up, and I was supposed to be ready at six.

"Well what time is it now?" I asked.

"Oh my god, it's almost time!" she cried, ending the call with a slam. I looked up to find an old kuku clock in my room. It was almost six now, so I found a mirror, surprised to see a young version of myself all done up in 1950's style. I studied my hair, shocked at how it looked. How did it even get that way? I hadn't the faintest clue.

A car horn sounded outside, which got a man yelling downstairs. It sounded like my father, but I wasn't sure until I went downstairs. Sure enough, my mother was cleaning the kitchen while my father was watching television, some old show I didn't recognize. He was now at the door glaring out at the hotrod parked in our driveway.

"Do boys these days have no respect?" he grumbled, looking out before turning back to me, "And what are you wearing? You look like a harlot!"

"Oh let her go. It's the biggest dance of the year," my mother called back, which started The Argument. While Dad was turned to talk to her, I skipped outside and quickly got into the car. I looked for a seatbelt but didn't find one. I was slung to the back of the seat as Duckie backed out of the driveway.

"Looking hot, Milly," Duckie grinned. I looked up to see Ed with greaser hair and a black leather jacket. It was almost dark out, but he had shades on. He refused to take them off as we raced into town.

He tried making small talk, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't know this language, and I didn't know how I'd ended up here. The 1950's were a long time ago, so what was I doing here?

We arrived at a diner at the edge of town. I'd been inside reproductions before, but this was the real deal. The jukebox blasted out rock'n'roll while the proprietor shot us all dirty looks. Duckie ordered us a plate of fries, two milkshakes, and got himself a piece of cake for under five dollars. It was then that I realized I had no money in my purse outside of a wrinkled dollar bill. I took a seat away from the raucus only to have Duckie try to lure me in. Apparently these townie greasers were my friends, and they all knew me when we walked over.

"Why'd you sit over there when you came in? We gotta talk," a girl said as she chomped a big wad of pink bubblegum.

"My legs are tired or whatever," I lied, accepting my milkshake and the fries from Duckie before he returned to leaning on the jukebox with the guys.

It was a giant group date so far, and I decided it was better not to ask about this so-called sock hop. I was already looking suspicious, and I didn't want to alert anyone to how out of place I felt. I didn't recognize any of these people other than Ed/Duckie. I thought that maybe some of them were from my high school days, but they weren't.

And that's when it hit me: If I was sent here on my own, the people I did recognize probably weren't who they seemed. Suddenly I was studying Duckie closely, and sure enough, there was a slight birthmark on the back of his neck. It wasn't Ed—Duckie was Ed's father! That meant that my parents were really my grandparents.

I was my mother. I never knew she did anything like this, yet I seemed to be popular. Everyone rotated around me so they could tell me the latest gossip. I learned more than I ever needed to know about people I hoped I'd never meet. While it was sort of fun to do all these stereotypically fifties things, I wanted to get back to wherever I belonged.

"Alright, track's open. Let's head out—"

"Track?" I asked.

Duckie laughed, "Time for the race."

"What about the—?"

"There is no sock hop," Duckie said, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the parking lot. I wanted to fight him. This wasn't safe at all—fast cars without seatbelts. It went against everything I believed in, but I had to follow along.

When we got to the track, which was really a stretch of dirt track illuminated by car headlights, I felt sick. I wanted out of the car, but Duckie didn't seem bothered. In fact, all the girls were standing on a wooden platform made from old pallets at the side of the track away from all the exhaust and action.

"Oh I can't watch," a girl grinned, but she was peeking out her fingers as the cars lined up.

When no one was watching, I ducked into the shadows. I wanted to run away, but I didn't know where to go. I had no one to call, and I had no clue which direction town was in. We were surrounded by wilderness, so who knows where the nearest property was?

"ON YOUR MARKS! GET SET!"

The "go" was drowned out by a roaring of motors so loud I thought my ears would shatter. I covered them, but girls' squeals and the roaring of engines still got through. I sat on the ground, feeling the tears come. This wasn't what I wanted. I don't know how I ended up here or why, but this was not what I needed. I found myself sobbing as the engines got further away before turning back.

Then there was a huge crash. I felt the ground shake, and I looked up to see a huge ball of fire. Girls screamed but were forced to stay on the platform by the few guys that weren't racing. A few morons kept going, winning the race despite the tragedy unfolding on the other side of the track.

The fire helped me see the guys trying to get to the other car, but a sudden rush of flames sent everyone back. I could hear the screams then—someone was trapped inside the wreck and burning alive, but there wasn't anyone qualified to go in. No one had fire-proof suits or the right tools. The guy inside was stuck with his fate.

As the screaming stop and the fire raged, the men began to react the way men do. They were kicking their own cars and screaming. A few guys got into a fight as the girls cried. I remained in the shadows before finally deciding I had to leave. I started walking, finding the gravel road we followed into the place. I kept walking along it, barely finding my way in the dark.

I felt the change. I looked up and saw lights, modern lights, reflecting off the low cloud deck. I walked until I reached the edges of a parking lot, then I stepped inside the building at the other end. It was a Best Buy, but it had been closed for a while. I didn't know why the place was even open, but then I saw him. He was a taller guy in a while lab coat. He smiled when he saw me, and I vaguely recognized him.

"Mrs. Crosswire, you're back," he said, shaking my hand before leading me to a chair, "How was your trip?"

"What just happened?" I asked.

He sighed, "Typical side effect of the experiment, nothing to worry about. You used a time travel serum to go wherever you wanted. You picked the 1950's. I suspect by your outfit that it worked?" he asked.

I looked down and still found myself dressed in a long poodle skirt. My hair was still as big as it was when I touched it, and I wondered if I would ever be able to free it from whatever got it there in the first place.

The guy smiled, "I'm Dr. Powers, and you'll regain your functions slowly as the serum wears off. Your memories of the time you left will fade. What do you remember?"

"I was my mother—"

"Very common. Continue," he interrupted, clicking open a pen and looking down to a clipboard.

"My boyfriend was my husband's father. He had the same birthmark. We all went to a sock hop at first, but it was a ploy. They went to a dirt track to race. A guy didn't make it," I whispered. He asked if I knew who it was, but I shook my head, "No, I wanted no part of it. I hid in the shadows and left after that. It was too much."

"I want to thank you for your input. I'm going to give you a sedative and allow you to rest here, alright? Is that okay?"

"Fine, sure, whatever," I said, accepting the pills and some water. I lay down a moment later, and everything went black.

~End

A/N: Piece 26 of 100 for my 10x10 Challenge, which I'm doing for NaNo2018. I think this is the first time I used the time travel theme in the way it was intended. I'm finding this theme hard, so bear with my responses. If you would like to do your own, the list is on my profile. Just PM me when you post so I can read them.