In 1940s New York, Florence Rogers loses everything. First, her longtime friend, Bucky Barnes and then her brother, Steve, as well. But when she wakes up and realises that she's travelled through time, she just might have the opportunity to see thos...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
━━━━━━━━✭━━━━━━━━
Brooklyn, 1940
SMOG FILLED STREETS and growling car engines are a staple of my everyday life. Routine isn't exactly my thing, but barely a day goes by when I don't walk down the roads of Brooklyn. Steve always says to be home before dark, so when I notice the burgeoning night sky on the horizon, I add a skip to my step.
Bucky'd have a heart attack if he knew I were out alone at night.
A brightly-lit candy store catches my eye and I stop in my tracks. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, I figure and bound across the street.
I have a few pennies left over from the money Steve gave me for new shoes. Against my better judgement, I take my time in the candy store, examining each colourful, sugary treat before picking out a lollipop and heading on my way. It's well and truly dark by the time I arrive home, sneaking through the door in the hopes that Steve won't notice.
"Flo, is that you?"
Dammit.
"Yeah, it's me!" I call out, dropping my new shoes onto the floor. They hit the floorboards with a dull thud.
Steve and Bucky emerge from the lounge room of our small apartment, wearing matching disapproving looks.
"The moon's barely out," I protest before they can even get a word in.
"We were worried," Steve says. He has the disappointed big brother voice down pat. It makes a knot of guilt twist my stomach.
"How many times do we gotta tell you to be home before dark?" Bucky questions, reaching out to pick up my new shoes. I snatch them back before he can. "What are those?" His blue eyes sharpen.
"They're my new shoes," I say proudly.
Steve's narrow face pales, his bony shoulders hunching into his small frame. "Flo, please tell me you didn't spend the money I gave you on a pair of unwearable heels."
"They're so pretty!" My voice goes high. "Look, they're all red and grown-up!"
"You're eleven, you can't wear those," Bucky is exasperated, as he often is with me. "You needed to get sensible shoes. We'll have to take them back in the morning."
I pull the shoes close to my chest, hugging them tightly. "No! No way! They're mine!"
Bucky reaches for them and I duck past him, vaulting over the couch. But he gets an arm around my waist, pulling me back toward him and plucking the shoes from my grip. I struggle against him, my elbow catching his firm chest.
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He is in a constant state of exasperation at our ongoing shenanigans.
"Stop!" I screech, trying to get the shoes back from Buck, who holds them high above his head, where I have no chance of reaching.
