Private Skies

By Candace Segar and Karen M. Bryson

Step into the story… where our fiction is reality.

 

What if our fiction is reality in a parallel universe? When two sisters slip into a parallel universe, they soon discover that they've landed inside the world of a beloved comic book: Vic Starr Cosmic Spy. But Vic Starr is nothing like the superhero he portrays in the comics. And when he hands over his duties to the sibling rivals, the sisters must learn to work together to become the heroes of their own story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Short on Time Books
• Release date: Jun 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201228880

Book preview

Private Skies

Step into the story... where our fiction is reality.

What if our fiction is reality in a parallel universe? When two sisters slip into a parallel universe, they soon discover that they’ve landed inside the world of a beloved comic book: Vic Starr Cosmic Spy . But Vic Starr is nothing like the superhero he portrays in the comics. And when he hands over his duties to the sibling rivals, the sisters must learn to work together to become the heroes of their own story.

Chapter 1

Charlotte

Istare at the overdue notice from the bank. My sister, Ginny, and I took out a loan on our shop, Gin & Charlotte’s Web of Comics and Collectables, just so we could stay afloat. The place still isn’t making money, despite the infusion of cash, and we’re sinking fast. Our store is like the Titanic after it hit the iceberg. The only thing missing is the guys playing violins on the deck. And we don’t have a deck. Maybe the only thing we really have in common with the Titanic is that we’re going down fast.

I exit the backroom with the overdue notice in hand. Ginny is doing magic tricks for a few kids who are gathered around her at the front counter. Maybe if she spent more time selling comics and collectables and less time playing amateur magician, we wouldn’t be in danger of losing our store.

And now watch as I make a rabbit appear. Ginny removes the black top hat she always wears and waves a magic wand over it. Abracadabra. Presto changeo. Here we go!

The kids gasp when she pulls a white stuffed bunny with big, floppy ears from her hat.

Shouldn’t you be in school? I glare at the children. Three girls and a boy. They look like they’re ten or eleven years old. They’re at that awkward age where they’re not young enough to be cute anymore and not old enough to hold an intelligent conversation with yet. I much prefer interacting with human beings of the adult variety. 

The boy gives me the hairy eyeball. It’s summer break, stupid.

Who are you calling stupid?

Look in the mirror, fart face, he fires back.

He and his friends laugh as they exit the shop. Every time I encounter children it makes me glad that I don’t have any of my own.

I turn my attention to Ginny. Those kids spent over an hour in here and they didn’t buy anything.

So? What’s your point? She places her top hat back on her head.

I hand her the past due notice. We’re in danger of losing the store and you’re playing around with those kids.

She studies the letter for several moments then looks up at me. You didn’t have to spend so much money on Vic Starr merchandise. None of which we’ve sold by the way.

I glance over at our Vic Starr inventory. It’s possible I may have gone a little overboard. I ordered action figures. Posters. Keychains. Sportswear. Games. Lunch boxes. I even got spy gear sets and Vic Starr signature cologne.

He’s the best comic book character ever. I’m sure I’m not the only person who thinks so.

The Vic Starr fleece blankets are really flying off the shelf. Just what people want in the middle of the hottest summer on record.

Maybe my purchases for the store were a little too enthusiastic.

"A little? She rolls her eyes at me. Who do you think is going to buy that Vic Starr toaster?"

Ginny and I are close in age, only two years apart, but that’s where any similarity between us ends. To look at us you wouldn’t know we had the same parents. Ginny is tall, strong and athletic. A competitive swimmer. I’m short and petite. I have the strength of a newborn kitten and I’m about as coordinated as a cow on ice.

She has gorgeous light brown hair that can rival any shampoo model’s and beautiful ocean blue eyes. I’ve got dull brown hair that’s been referred to as mousy and chestnut eyes so big they’ve been called saucers.

I’ll admit that I like the idea of a cosmic spy, Ginny says. Vic Starr is an interesting character. But do you really think we’re going to be able to sell thirty mouse pads with his head plastered on them?

I hold up one of the Vic Starr coasters. Who wouldn’t want to look at his handsome face all day?

She heaves a sigh. My sister is in love with a comic book superhero.

You were in love with Superman.

When I was ten years old. And only the vintage comics of the 1960s.

Fine. I’ll take some responsibility for the financial mess we’re in with my overspending. But you have to admit that you haven’t been focused on the business.

She shakes her head. I’ll admit no such thing.

You don’t think you bear any responsibility for the store going bankrupt?

Technically we’re not bankrupt yet.

We will be if we don’t come up with some quick cash.

Ginny and I stare each other down. One thing we do have in common is that we’re both stubborn.

The bell rings, and a customer enters the shop. One of our regulars. Sadie Maddox. She’s a student at Bookman, an elite college that’s right across the street from our store.

What’s up, dudettes? She gives us a wave. "Do you have the new Skategirl?"

Just for you, I point to the latest issue.

Awesomesauce. She grins as she grabs the comic.

Sadie has been frequenting the shop for the last few years. She was one of our first customers. She started coming in when Ginny and I inherited the shop from our crazy aunt, Wanda, who founded it in the 1980s. Back then it was called Wanda’s Wonderland of Comics. In its heyday it was one of the most popular comic shops on the East Coast. Now it’s a sad shadow of its former self. Limping along gasping for its last breath. 

And Ginny and I are to blame.

What’s with all the Vic Starr stuff? Sadie wanders over to the product display. She’s changed a lot in the last year. Her hair wasn’t always cotton candy pink. And she’s recently started dressing in retro clothing. She’s always been into skateboarding though. Rumor has it that she’s a pretty good at it.

We thought we’d try something different, I reply. Do a feature wall for one popular character.

When Ginny glares at me, I do my best to maintain my composure. I don’t want to be unprofessional and fight with my sister in front of a customer.

I didn’t know they made Vic Starr umbrellas. Sadie pokes around looking at the merchandise.

I can feel my sister’s intense stare without even looking at her. The air between us is filled with tension. I wonder if Sadie can feel it.

I’ll take one of these. She grabs a Vic Starr coaster from the shelf. Then brings her comic book and the coaster up to the counter. My roommate loves Vic Starr.

Who doesn’t? I give Ginny a smug smile.

She returns the gesture with a cold stare. Is that all? She carefully places Sadie’s purchases into a paper bag.

I’m saving my funds for the North Jersey Comic Expo.

Smart, I tell her. It’s the event of the year.

I’m stoked. She hands Ginny a ten-dollar bill.

Ginny gives her change along with her items. Thanks for stopping in.

Have a super rad day! She says as she exits.

I told you the Vic Starr stuff would sell.

Ginny places her hands on her hips. When she does that, I know I’m in trouble. She bought one coaster. And I think it was a mercy purchase. We’re located in a town of ten thousand residents. Add another five thousand for the Bookman students. Do you really think that’s enough population to warrant the amount of Vic Starr stock we’re stuck with?

I gulp. I don’t know.

Exactly. You don’t know. That’s the problem. Rob and I moved here from Colorado, so I could run the store with you. We sold the house we loved. We left all our friends. And this is all I have to show for it.

I glance around the bleak shop. I used to love coming here when Wanda owned it. It was always filled with so much joy and laughter. Ginny and I haven’t been able to recapture that energy and excitement. I’m sure the customers can feel the difference.

Maybe we’ll be able to make some money at the North Jersey Comics Expo, I suggest.

We have to, Ginny says. We’re out of options. And you’d better sell every one of those Vic Starr collectables at the convention. I don’t care if you have to get down on your hands and knees and beg people to buy them.

A loud pounding noise startles us. We look at each other. Wide-eyed.

What was that? I ask.

Ginny shakes her head. I’m not sure.

Where did it come from?

We glance around.

Do you hear that? Ginny asks.

Hear what?

She steps out from behind the counter. A hissing sound.

I point to the backroom. From there?

I’m going to check it out.

I’m going with you. I quickly lock the front door and turn the sign to CLOSED.

As Ginny hurries towards the backroom, I follow on her heels.

The noise is getting louder, she says.

It sounds like a very large snake.

The backroom is little more than a cramped office where we do the bookkeeping and a small kitchenette for our lunch and dinner breaks.

I think the noise is coming from the basement.

I’ve only been down there once and that was enough for one lifetime. The basement is cold, dark and dank. The kind of place you’d expect to get killed in if you were a character in a horror movie. 

It’s getting louder. It sounds like a waterfall.

Oh, no. Ginny’s face turns pale. I hope a waterpipe didn’t burst.

She thrusts open the basement door. When she flips the light switch, nothing happens. You didn’t change the lightbulb, did you?

Do I look like Ms. Maintenance? Why didn’t you change it?

She rummages through the desk drawer until she finds a small flashlight. She flips it on then hurries down the stairs to the basement.

I follow. Reluctantly. I’m only thirty-four. I’m too young to die.

Oh, shit! Ginny yells right before she slips and falls into a pool of mucky water. Fortunately, she’s quick enough to hold the flashlight up so it doesn’t get wet.

I take it from her hand