Amendment

{One} Mysterious Object

"Amendment",

by H. M. Verdon

Copyright 2012 H. M. Verdon

All Rights Reserved

"I can’t believe I let you drag me into this."

My eyes roamed the battlefield even as my booted feet remained rooted to the ground. It hardly seemed right that in only a few minutes the happily grazing horses, who were tethered to a rope line, would be galloping in action while their riders road into battle; Yankees and confederates alike.

I felt like a total poser in my borrowed southern belle dress. It was beautiful, sure, but already I was working up a sweat under all the layers. The blouse was an off white covered with a diamond shaped belt tied securely around my middle. The full skirt, supported by an annoying hoop, was a pretty lavender shade with dozens of multi-colored floral designs.

The dress and shoes were amazingly accurate—or so my crazy brother told me. But I was sure my dyed auburn hair and its shoulder length tresses weren’t. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing blush, mascara and eyeliner. I’d been previously told not to wear makeup; but what girl would do that?

Russ had been pestering me for months to dress up for one of his Civil War reenactments, and somewhere along the way I’d finally caved. He was really into history, specifically the Civil War. The guy really knew his stuff, too. He’d have to if he was going to be the amazing historian he boasted he would someday be.

It was kinda unfair that Russ could be that geeky and still cute. Even in his ratty and smelly uniform, he was a good looking twenty-two year old dude. His bronze hair stuck out of his brown hat and strayed in his hazel eyes. I’d yet to see anyone else wear that dopey hat as good as he did. He totally knew he looked good, too. It was annoying as hell.

Dad used to do this with him, too, but eventually he lost interest. He still came to watch him when the reenactments were still within state, but sleeping on the dank ground for the whole weekend just didn’t appeal to his aging bones anymore.

Beside me, Russ laughed obnoxiously. "Oh, you’re just pissed ‘cause you wish you woulda done this a long time ago!"

Actually, I didn’t, but I kept the comment to myself. "Don’t you have to get ready for your demonstration or something?" I asked him instead.

Russ shrugged. "Nah. It’s not for another hour."

Great. So I’d gotten here early for nothing.

"C’mon. They have some great venders here."

I looked around for Mom a split second before sighing and following my older brother. Even though my ten year old brother Zach decided to dress up with me, my mom decided to be the traitor and stay in civilian wear, as Russ would say. She did have to drive three hours to get here, in fairness. Normally, there weren’t many reenactments in Kentucky—at least none Russ’s crew was in. It was kind of a big deal to be here at all.

Dad, of course, wanted to be here but he was away in Atlanta on a business trip. I was wishing pretty bad he’d have been able to come right about now. He always had a way of making these dull and everlasting things fun.

"Wow, there’s a lot more venders here than anywhere else," I said aloud. The venders at the reenactments I went to were getting lamer and lamer; to me. This place, though, seemed pretty awesome.

Russ nodded, way too excited than any man his age should be. "I know, right? They have this amazing drink stand where they sell sarsaparilla and fresh lemonade."