Everything in my life was standard and regular. Well, almost everything. My parents were top notch scientists, and they had created a time machine. I didn’t know much about it. We tried to keep it quiet. Would you want piles of people storming into your house to use a time machine to fix their problems? My parents didn’t, so the only thing my sister and I knew about it was that it existed. Nothing more. I wouldn’t have told anyone but the problem was my sister. She was seven, and talked so much that I’m surprised her tongue didn’t fall off. The time machine just wasn’t a big part of my life.

“FRAN –CIE?” called my sister, Katie.
“Coming!” I yelled.
I ran down the stairs.
“You will not believe what I found!” she said ecstatically.
“What?”

Katie and I walked down to the basement, looking as it always did, until I turned and saw a secret room with a piano and sheet music. I didn’t recognize the title, but it was written in 1954. I sat down and started to play. Everything started to spin around me, and I didn’t know what was happening. I saw my sister’s face and she seemed to be saying “The time machine!”, but I couldn’t really tell. When everything stopped revolving, I ended up in a courtroom.

“Who’s that?” I asked the woman next to me in a whisper. She explained to me that it was Brown vs. Board of Education.  As I took in this astonishing fact, I listened to Thurgood Marshall. He truly was an excellent lawyer.
The trial was over for the day, so I left, wondering what on earth I would do next. I had no place to stay, nothing to eat, and no way to get back home, unless there was a time traveling machine sitting around somewhere. As that was unlikely, I had to find out some other way, and fast. What would happen back at home? Had my sister told my parents? Was someone trying to come get me?

With no other options, I walked back into the courthouse. Suddenly, Katie appeared, whirling in midair until she landed. She launched hundreds of questions at me in quick succession while I assured her everything would be fine, not believing my own words.

I found a map lying on the street and discovered where the library was. We walked towards it, for no other reason than the fact that those glorious buildings full of books gave us a sense of security.
We entered the library, and a manager walked over to us.

“Excuse me, but this is a white only library.” She said.
She sternly asked us to leave, while I was thinking, “Where we come from, libraries are not segregated, and public libraries are actually public.” I didn’t say this, considering she would think me actually crazy, so instead I left, pulling my sister along with me.
“You’ll learn about it in school.” I told Katie when she didn’t understand what had happened. I was done with all the questions, worn out from trying to figure out what to do next and adjusting to this different year. In the future, I was treated like a human being; here I was treated like worse than nothing.

Katie and I continued walking. We passed a large building, and I looked up and saw a performing arts center. We walked up the steps. Thankfully, the doors were open, so we could get inside. We ran into the first room and there was a piano! It looked strangely similar to our piano at home. I sat down and started playing a song. Katie jumped on to the piano bench just in time.

When Katie and I stopped spinning, we landed on a bus. I looked around, and saw little to no difference in the clothing or setting. Great, we were nowhere near 2020. A fancily dressed, rich looking white lady walked up to Katie and me. She stood there for a moment, clearly waiting.

“I need a seat.” She said, her voice dripping with disdain.
“And there is one in the back.” I responded.
Her jaw dropped.
“It is the law that you give me a seat.”
I knew there was no point in pushing it, I couldn’t change history and be Rosa Parks, so Katie and I got up and went to a seat in the back.
A few rows farther up, I saw the same exchange going on. A lady was refusing to give up her seat.
“Oh my goodness,” I said slowly to my sister. “We’re witnessing the start of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Rosa Parks is sitting a few rows in front of us!”
“What’s that?” she said. It felt to me like the hundredth time she’d asked that. Hadn’t they taught anything about the civil rights movement in her school?
We got off at the next stop and aimlessly wandered around, desperately hoping we could find a piano. I was so distracted I accidentally ran into someone.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“That’s alright.”
I looked up, and saw a girl about my age. She had springy, auburn curls and dazzlingly bright blue eyes.
“Excuse me, but do you know where my sister and I could find a place to stay?”
“Hmm…maybe you could come home with me for a little while.”
“Thank you,” I said and introduced us.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Rosalind. Now tell me, how’d you end up lost in Alabama? You don’t seem like you’re from her.”
“We’re from New York.” I said, thinking how much farther away than New York we actually originated.
The three of us continued walking. We reached Rosalind’s house. I happily noted there was a piano inside.
“Rosalind, is that you?”
“Yes, Mama,” She said, as she gestured for us to enter the living room and introduced us to her mother.
“We’ll have to see, but I’m sure they can.” said her mother with an obviously forced smile after Rosalind asked if we could stay. “Why don’t you girls head on upstairs?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rosalind led us upstairs to her room then went back downstairs to convince her mother to allow us to stay. Since Katie was thirsty, I went downstairs to ask Rosalind for some water. I heard voices coming from the living room. I stopped in my tracks, fleetingly thinking not to eavesdrop.
“Rosalind, those girls cannot stay with us.”
“Mama, they’re nice and polite. There’s no reason why they shouldn’t.” Rosalind protested.
“There is and you know it.”
“If that’s your reason, I’m disappointed, Mama.”
“You need to wake up to the world.”
I walked slowly into the living room. Rosalind’s mom didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
“Can Katie have some water?” I asked timidly.
“Yes, come with me.” Rosalind said with a pointed look at her mother.
Rosalind apologized for the situation, and Katie and I headed towards the door. Instead of leaving, we sat down at the piano and landed at an old fashioned lunch counter near four boys. We greeted each other, and were informed about the sit in and to just sit, whether we were refused service or not, as a form of peaceful protest. So Katie and I sat until the store closed. We left the restaurant, Woolworth’s, and passed someone reading a newspaper. I asked if I could have the part he was done with. He handed it to me, and I led Katie to the next park bench.
“It is February 1st, 1960. We are in Greensborough, North Carolina.” I read out loud. “Oh, no,” I said, once I realized what was happening. We just changed history by being part of the Greensborough four! Too late now.
The two of us changed our discussion to possible time travel theories, but came up with nothing definite. We started to walk, lost in thought. Did I really want Katie to come with me? Who knows what we could run into next. We could be arrested, or even beaten, if we ended up at a peaceful protest turned violent. We came across a music shop and entered it. I walked over to the piano. When we landed at a bus stop, a group of students were on the bus, and an angry mob was standing there waiting. Oh no, I thought yet again.
“Katie, why don’t you go inside and look around.” I said, trying to get her out of the way.  This is the most scared I’d ever been.
People threw rocks and slashed tires. I noticed two police officers and rushed over.
“Do something!” I pleaded desperately. “These people could get injured!”
The policemen gave no response. I almost cried in exasperation.
“Stop!” I cried, but it made no difference at all. I grabbed Katie and waited inside until it cleared up. We caught the next bus and went to Birmingham, Alabama.  I knew it was probably the worst place to be right now, but it was the closest city I knew of. We located a restaurant with a piano. The pair of us started spinning again, and landed on a sidewalk. I ran through all the places that could have a piano in my head, but I kept coming up with blanks. Finally, I thought of somewhere.
“Hello, where’s the school?” I asked a passing pedestrian.
“Turn left and walk to the end of the street. You’ll see it there.”
Katie and I followed the directions. We went inside and began playing a piano found in the chorus room, until we landed in a marching crowd of people. The march on Washington, I thought! I was actually there! We walked with the crowd. I was practically skipping from joy. We headed towards the white house and listened to many terrific speeches while waiting for “I Have a Dream”. Then Martin Luther King stepped up to the podium and began his history making speech. It was the most heartfelt, astounding performance I’d ever seen. True, I’d heard it on a recording at school, but it just wasn’t the same. It was like listening to a c.d. of your favorite singer or seeing the concert live in person, except this was even better.
As we changed direction, my eyes fell on a girl with distinctly red hair. I asked her if there was a piano, and she lead us to her college dorm.
“You remind me of two people I used to know. They were in Alabama and had gotten lost from their parents on the train. I only remember that because that day was the first fight my mother and I ever got in a fight.”
We reached the piano, and ended up on a road packed with marching people. A bridge could be seen in the distance.
“What bridge is that?”
“That’s the Edmund Pettus Bridge.” A marcher answered.
Bloody Sunday!

  “I heard that Sheriff Jim Clark deputized loads of people today and they’ll be waiting for marchers.”
“We must march on bravely to make a difference.” she declared.
I admired her sense of resolve, but I couldn’t bring myself to let it end at that. I continued trying to warn people, but to no avail. We got closer to the bridge, and they still marched on.
I went on to the nearest person I hadn’t warned yet. My efforts were futile. We were almost to the bridge. I had to at least try to save them. We came to the bridge at last. I saw the wall of police on horseback and foot, holding clubs and teargas. It was like being stuck in a slow motion nightmare, but I couldn’t move an inch.  The police attacked, riding their horses into the crowd. People fell down injured before my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, I was so shocked. It was the only time I’d experienced anything this awful. Tears were streaming down my face, and I was just thankful it wasn’t blood. Katie’s eyes were opened wide in horror. We sprinted away from the bridge, hoping to find a nearby building with a piano.

Katie and I reached a city hall, ran into the auditorium, and I began to play. A sign said “Memphis, Tennessee Hotel”. The place MLK died. Thoughts ran through my head: should I save him or not? I checked the calendar and found it was April fourth, 1968. The day King was assassinated. Except his fate was in my hands this time, and I had one day to decide whether to save the life of this amazing hero and alter the course of history forever, or stand by when I knew he was going to die. Should I save King or not? That question ran a marathon in my head.

All too soon, the time of death approached, and I still hadn’t made my decision. Seeing King, I followed him, but left Katie behind, not knowing what lengths the murderer would go to. I continued to follow King, but I saw no suspicious people or activity. It was now 6:00, and no sign of a criminal was anywhere. I stayed alert, but 6:01 came and went without event. I was so surprised I didn’t know what to think. I went back to the room, and explained to Katie what had happened. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was alive, and I hadn’t intentionally altered history. We found a ballroom with a piano, and I played a song. Would it be from 2020? Twirling through the air, I smiled when I recognized home. My parents were standing there, looking very stern, but once they saw us their faces melted into smiles of relief. After embracing them in a warm hug, we sat down on the couch.
“Martin Luther King wasn’t assassinated.” I said.
“Well of course he wasn’t, honey. He died of old age after being the greatest civil rights leader this country has known.” my mom said, as if talking to a little kid.
“The Greensborough four was the Greensborough six.” I tried again.
“Since when was there a Greensborough four?” my dad asked.
“Let me start at the beginning.”
I told them of our adventures, of how we had changed history, and they listened intently the whole time.
“Why didn’t he get assassinated?”
“Probably some seemingly, insignificant event happened in our time traveling expeditions that stopped the culprit.”

Epilogue:
My family published the truth about time travel and no one ever used out machine again. We met Rosalind and became friends with her grandchildren. Eventually, Katie was cured of her big mouth, and went on to get her PhD in genetics. She invented cloning; something I thought was amazing and scary at the same time. I went on to be one of the only non-scientists in our family and became a concert pianist. Katie and I always remembered our time traveling experience, and I wouldn’t undo it for the world.