Samantha Smart by Maxwell Puggle

then quickly popped back down.
    “Yeah, he’s still there. It’s like he’s... waiting for something, or someone... ”
    “Oh, dear,” The Professor replied. “We can only conclude from this that we are not the only people capable of time travel. I fear, Samantha, that your man Jordan is there waiting for
me,
just as you are, and that in the grand scheme of things, there are forces working against us. Are you absolutely sure
it’s him?”
    Samantha poked her head up again and stared intently at the loitering man. She tried to visualize every Heatwavvve
poster in her now distant bedroom, remembering every line of the face she had been crushed-out on for years. There was no mistaking it. Somehow, this cute pop singer boy was far more than met the eye.
    “I’m positive, Professor,” she said as she slid back down the stairs. “What do I do?”
    “Stay put,” The Professor responded. Samantha could tell that his famous brain was calculating every possibility in this bizarre situation. “Keep waiting for me to show up. If Jordan begins to follow me, follow us both from a safe distance–but close enough to see if anything
happens. I fear we may have to keep this mission strictly one of observation, and plan another one once we know where–and when–something critical occurs.”
    “Roger that,” Samantha whispered. Her mind was spinning and she no longer felt the least bit sleepy. Polly was sniffing at her feet, her canine senses acutely aware of some change in her human’s state of being; a scent of fear or excitement must have begun to seep from her glands. She patted her little dog and waited, watching Jordan pace back and forth in front of the newsstand.
    She didn’t have to wait long. A minute or two later, Professor Smythe came ambling up Columbus Avenue and walked up to the newsstand. Samantha quickly stuffed Polly back into her pack and tried to keep an eye on the scene. Jordan had definitely noticed him as well, and was trying to look nonchalant, glancing at his watch, perhaps waiting for someone else or else trying to make it appear
as if he were waiting for someone else. The Professor said hello to the newsstand clerk, bought a newspaper and a cup of coffee, then tipped his hat and began walking on north up Columbus Ave. Jordan began walking almost right behind him, and Samantha felt adrenalin rush through her body. It was time to move.
    She sprang up and grabbed her dog-, chalk- and tuna fish sandwich-filled pack, trying to stay more towards the buildings and pulling her coat closer around her so as not to stand out. She stayed about twenty feet behind Jordan, who was only walking five or so feet behind the apparently oblivious Professor. Luckily old Smythe was setting a fairly leisurely pace, and Samantha could see him gazing around in wonder at the “historical” surroundings. They crossed Seventy-fourth Street and continued uptown, back along the route she had come hours earlier. As they strolled up the block, Samantha kept a sharp eye on everything around her, noting every person that walked by in the opposite direction or came near The Professor. They crossed Seventy-fifth Street and were halfway up the block when something caught her attention. Coming the opposite way was a man in a blueish-gray uniform, possibly Air Force but more likely a U.S. postal worker. That set off a trigger in Samantha’s memory and she tapped her talk button as discreetly as she could.
    “Professor, there’s a postman coming towards... you.” It was a strange thing to say knowing that she was talking to The Professor Smythe of another time and place.
    “Watch him, Samantha,” he replied in an urgent tone.
    She watched. She even sped up her pace a little so she could see more closely. Then, almost instantaneously, a number of things happened.
    Professor Smythe stepped to the right, presumably to get out of the path of the oncoming postal worker. At the same time, Jordan sped up, passing The Professor on his