Free Ripped by Shelly Dickson Carr

iron grate surrounded it instead of wire mesh, and it was sticking out of a brick wall!
    Hand still firmly on the stone, Katie craned her neck and looked up. A church spire soared high into the sky. A church? Where was she?
    She shook her head. This multimedia stuff was so real! Must be another hologram. But the air smelled like outdoors. And the fast-moving clouds scudding overhead looked real . And what was that brick-dust smell?
    The gravestones in the courtyard were a nice touch, Katie thought. Just the sort of background scenery Madame Tussauds would go in for. She twisted and tugged her finger until she was able to wriggle it out of the pitted indentation, then slid her arm out of the metal grating and reached her hand up to her throat. Something was choking her. A satiny ribbon of some sort was tied under her chin. What the . . . ?
    She touched her head. A pinwheel of a hat sat balanced on her head. Katie took a giant step backward, and the heel of her boot caught in the velvety material swirling round her ankles.
    Really, this is too weird , Katie thought. Then the toe of her boot— her boot —caught in the hem of her dress . . . her dress ? What dress? She hadn’t been wearing a dress. The only long dress Katie owned was her mother’s old prom dress. And she definitely hadn’t been wearing the prom dress.
    â€œOkay,” she said aloud. “What’s going on?” She took another step, got tangled in the flounces of the skirt, and fell backward “ass over teakettle,” as the English liked to say. From the ground she looked up to see Collin looming over her. Relief surged through her at the sight of his flame-red hair and freckled cheeks, replaced instantly by a seething anger.
    â€œ What ’ s going on, Collin?! Is this some kind of a stupid joke?”
    â€œT’ain’t no rum ’n’ coke, Miss Katherine.” It was Toby peering down at her, sunlight splashing across his handsome features. But what was wrong with his nose? Had he broken it? It was crooked, and there was a slight bump in the middle, as if he’d been in a fight. Toby reached down and offered Katie his hand. He was wearing old-fashioned clothes.
    â€œHa ha. Very funny. How’d you do it?” Katie demanded. “How’d you pull it off?”
    â€œPull what off, miss?” Toby gently gripped her wrists and tugged her to her feet. But when his dark eyes met hers, they weren’t sparkling with amusement. No glimmer of a smile lurked at the corners of his mouth. Instead, his face was full of worried concern.
    â€œOkay, guys. Cut it out. Enough already. This isn’t funny anymore. It’s mean. A stupid, mean, dumb joke. And you gave yourself away, Toby, when you said ‘rum and coke.’ There was no such thing as Coca-Cola in the olden days. So cut it out. I assume you want me to believe we are actually back in Victorian England? Ha ha, double-ha.”
    â€œWhat’s co-ca-co-la?” Toby asked, a curious inflection in his voice. He threw Collin a quizzical look, then said to Katie, “Rum and coke, miss. Rum as in the stuff you drink, and coke as in a coal fire.” He turned to Collin. “Your cousin must have gotten a walloping crack on the noggin when she fell arse over teakettle. It’s addled her wits.”
    â€œWhere are we?” Katie demanded.
    Collin, his red hair parted with razor precision and slicked flat across his forehead, stared at her, mouth open. “The steps of St. Swithin’s church, where else? I think Toby’s right, Katherine. When you fell, you hit your head and—”
    â€œWhat year is this?” Katie glared at him.
    A splotch of color rose up Collin’s neck above his stiff winged collar. “Why, it’s the year of our lord eighteen-hundred and eighty-eight. God’s eyeballs, Katherine. What’s gotten into you?”
    â€œAnd we’re in London?” Katie asked.