Out of Time (Book 1)

Fightin', Friends, and Family

1930

Rain started to gently spatter against the windows of their Brooklyn apartment. Betty let out a sigh as she glanced out at the grey sky and then across at her brother's coat hanging by the door. At 12 years old, Steve's health was terrible. He had always been small for his age and seemed to catch every bug going. A bad bout of scarlet fever when he was younger had led to him suffering from rheumatic fever, heart palpitations, and high blood pressure, and the damp weather would do no favours for his asthma. She was constantly worried about him, but his can-do attitude was absolutely inspiring. He just wanted to be like every other kid.

Only a year older than her brother, Betty carried more than her fair share of responsibility for looking after Steve, but she didn't complain. Their mother, Sarah, worked tirelessly picking up extra shifts as a nurse at the local hospital to make sure that there would be enough money to at least let both children finish high school. Education was only free until the end of ninth grade and she knew how important schooling was to both of them. Joseph, Betty and Steve's father, had been killed during the war whilst their mom was pregnant with Steve and whilst Betty didn't remember him, there were pictures on the walls and her mom told them stories about him, about his bravery and his kind heart. Steve hung on to every word about his father, idolising a man he'd never met.

Checking the clock on the mantlepiece, Betty put down the sock that her mom had asked her to mend and headed over to the kitchen to make a start on dinner. The kitchen and sitting room actually occupied the same space, with a countertop forming a divider between the two areas, the outside door in the middle of them both. Betty was just tying her apron when the front door opened with a clatter and her brother stumbled in, supported by a taller boy she'd never seen before.

"Steve, what the..." Betty was cut off when she took in the sight of Steve's face. There was blood dripping from his nose, cuts on his lip and eyebrow, and a large bruise was already blooming on his left cheekbone. Betty froze in shock for a second before leaping into action.

"Oh my God! Come here!" she exclaimed, concern evident in her voice. Helping the unknown boy deposit Steve in one of the chairs around the dining table, she rushed to the cabinet housing the first aid kit and then collected a bowl, which she filled with water and salt to help clean him up, all the while firing questions at him.

"What happened? Who was it? Where? Are you hurt anywhere else? Does anythin' feel broken?"

"Only my pride." Steve mumbled, as she dabbed at the cuts on his face. He winced at the sting of the salty water.

"I wouldn't say that" interjected the stranger, laughing. "You put up a good fight. I bet you could have done that all day!"

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," admonished Betty. "What's Ma gonna say?"

"Can we not just say I fell down the stairs?" pleaded Steve.

"As opposed to taking on six goons on your own in an alley?" asked the boy.

"Six WHAT?!" Betty almost shrieked. "Who are you, anyway?" she queried, turning to the stranger. He smiled a lopsided grin and stuck out his hand.

"James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky."

Betty took in his ruffled brown hair, bright blue eyes, and easy demeanour and returned his handshake with a nod.

"Elizabeth Rogers, umm, Betty."

Bucky nodded. "I know, we're in the same grade."

Betty looked at him again and realised that he did look familiar. He was one of those people who was always at the centre of a group, usually laughing. Betty spent more time in the library than anywhere else, the silence and the musty smell of the books was a comfort to her, and she felt like she had to make the most of school because her Ma sacrificed so much for them to be able to go.