Tournament of Time

By Elaine Alphin

Jessica Cooper and her two brothers aren't happy about leaving their friends behind for a year when their father accepts a lectureship at the University of York in England. Their worst fears are realized when their new English classmates resent the American Invasion.
Homesick and outraged, Jess feels herself drawn to a tiny church in York where she discovers the spirits of the murdered "Princes in the Tower," imprisoned in stained glass windows. The two Princes and their cousin Neddy are desperate to escape - so desperate that they reach out to Jess and her brothers, first in friendship, then in demand.
Frightened, the only way Jess can think of to escape the spirits is to solve the murder mystery. But their killer has kept his secret for over five hundred years, and is not about to be found out. Accidents happen to Jess and her brothers, dangerously paralleling the deaths of the spirits in the windows. The danger builds to a climax where Jess must confront the spirits of the murder suspects to determine the truth.

A ghostly history mystery by Mystery Writers of America Edgar Award winning writer, Elaine Marie Alphin, author of Ghost Cadet and Ghost Soldier.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaine Alphin
• Release date: Mar 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781610612609

Elaine Alphin

Elaine Marie Alphin is the author of more than 20 fiction and nonfiction print and ebooks books for teens and children, plus one book for adults about writing for children. She has won numerous awards, including the Mystery Writers Edgar Allan Poe Award for Best Young Adult mystery for Counterfeit Son (shown in photo), the ForeWard Gold Medal for Young Adult Fiction for The Perfect Shot, the Society of Midland Authors Award for Children's Fiction and the Young Hoosiers Book Award for Ghost Soldier, the Virginia State Reading Association Award for Ghost Cadet, and the Carter G. Woodson Award for An Unspeakable Crime.Elaine and her husband split their time between Bozeman, Montana, Glenrock, Wyoming and Chamberlain, South Dakota. Elaine loves to visit schools and author conferences all over the country and meet her readers in person.

Book preview

TOURNAMENT OF TIME

A Ghostly History Mystery

by

Mystery Writers of America Edgar Award winning author

Elaine Marie Alphin

What others have said about Tournament of Time:

When her father accepts a one-year position at the University of York, homesick Jess endures the misery of hearing herself labeled the "stuck-up American in her new school. From this realistic opening, the novel soon plunges into the realm of fantasy. Jess seeks to solve one of the most famous murders in history with help from the victims, whose spirits speak to her from the stained glass windows that hold them captive.... Readers will find the characterizations subtle and satisfying overall. As in her first novel, The Ghost Cadet, Alphin weaves elements of history and fantasy into an entertaining, modern-day adventure story. —Booklist

Castle ruins, spirits of the murdered Princes in the Tower, and a trip to Westminster Abbey are some of the components of this fast paced story. —Faces

Watson Foundation Fellowship Winner

Mesa Historical Fiction Reading List Selection: Middle Ages Through 15th century

Published by:

Bluegrass Books

Copyright 1994, 2011 by Elaine Marie Alphin

http://www.elainemariealphin.com

Cover Design and Photograph

Copyright 1994, Arthur B. Alphin

This book is also available in a print edition at most online retailers.

ISBN: 978-1-61061-260-9

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

For Art

whose support

has never wavered

Chapter One

Stuck Up Americans!

I won't stay in this blasted place one second longer, Jess Cooper swore to herself. Next bell, I'm gone.

Just wait until you start school, Jessie, her mother had promised after their family had moved to York during the summer. You'll find it much easier to make friends when everyone's in school together. Then you'll be glad we came here, you'll see.

Jess had only been going to the English all-girls school for two weeks, but that was long enough to know her mother had been utterly wrong. From day one, the girls had ignored her when she spoke to them, tripped her when she struggled to play their wretched field hockey, and smirked at her hopeless blunders in class. By now, Jess was angrier than ever that her parents had dragged her to York.

I don't know and I don't care, she muttered under her breath while the history mistress asked the class questions about which King George had done what when. I don't belong here.

What was that, Cooper? Miss Winslow asked sharply.

Nothing, Jess said. Why couldn't the teachers here call kids by their real names, instead of only using last names?

Now, Cooper, the history mistress said, you have been with us quite long enough to know how to behave in the classroom.

Jess felt the heat pounding in her face as she got to her feet and stood awkwardly beside her desk in her hateful school uniform. Why couldn't they just wear regular clothes to school like the kids at home did? Nothing, Miss Winslow, she said. Behind her, she could hear the other girls giggling. Jess thought she recognized one of the sharper laughs—she'd heard it just yesterday afternoon when a hockey stick had smashed her shin. Hard luck, the sly English voice had said when the games mistress investigated. but when the girls were alone on the field again, Jess had heard that laugh.

Everything she did seemed hilarious to them. Just the sound of her voice with its American accent made them giggle at her. They looked neat and comfortable in their grey skirts and white blouses and gold striped school ties, but the sight of her in the same hideous uniform made them roll their eyes and whisper and laugh. And Jess didn't think she could stand another hour of it.

Perhaps you wanted to answer the question, Cooper? Miss Winslow asked.

Jess took a deep breath. What was the question, please, Miss Winslow?

The history mistress shook her head and made a note in her marking book. You are supposed to be paying attention in class, Cooper, not daydreaming. The question was, why did King Edward VI abdicate?

Jess frantically counted kings in her head. Which century was Edward VI, anyway? Who cared?

He couldn't bear to stay here one minute longer? she heard herself say.

Oh no—she almost groaned aloud. I'm sorry, Miss Winslow," she said quickly. Why couldn't she have kept her mouth shut? It was her great curse—a thought would come into her head and, before she could stop to ask herself if it was a smart thing to say, she'd blurted it out. She wanted to sink into the polished wood floor.

Be quiet! Miss Winslow ordered the roomful of laughing girls. That is quite enough, Cooper. I have been more than patient with you, but I will not put up with your American flippancy any longer! I want an essay from you next Monday about King Edward VI and the reason for his abdication, and I expect it to be very detailed.

That's not fair! Jess burst out. I bet I know a lot more about American history than anybody in this class, and that's all I care about! Why can't everybody just leave me alone?

All right, Cooper, Miss Winslow said slowly. If you feel your own country's history is more important than the country in which you are presently living, then I will alter your assignment. Next Monday, bring me an essay on the reasons behind President Nixon's resignation. And I do not expect to hear any excuses!

Outraged, Jess dropped into her seat. The girl sitting next to her looked shyly up from under a mass of black curls. She smiled sympathetically at Jess. Hard luck, she whispered.

Jess couldn't remember the girl's name. Wasn't it something plain and English like Anne? It was hard to tell the girls apart. In those horrible uniforms, everybody looked the same. Anyway, Jess wasn't dumb enough to believe the girl was trying to be friendly. That other girl had said the same thing on the hockey field and certainly hadn't meant it. Not one girl in this school had made a single friendly gesture since she had started. Jess glared at the girl, and she hurriedly ducked behind her hair again in response. From behind her, Jess heard an English voice whisper, Stuck up American!

As soon as the bell sounded for the end of history, Jess grabbed her bookbag and shoved all her loose papers into it. She slung it over her shoulder and hurried into the hall with the other girls. But she didn't go on to her math class. Instead, Jess pushed her way through the crowded hallway to the main door, and headed into the York city center as fast as she could run.

Her stiff, new clunky shoes rubbed her heels and pinched her toes until sore feet finally forced her to stop running, and she limped aimlessly through the tangled maze of narrow, twisting streets. After a while, problems at school seemed less important than trying not to trip on the uneven cobblestones. Jess sat on a bench to rest her feet and stared resentfully up at the ancient limestone cathedral rising above the squat medieval shops and restaurants. She wished she didn't ever have to go back to that school again. She ripped out the wretched blue school-issue hair ribbon and shook her thick chestnut hair loose. If only she could go back home to Austin and stay with her best friend, Sara Jane!

Sara Jane would have buried her head in her hands and shaken with laughter at what had happened in history class today. She was all too familiar with her friend's curse.

Your tongue got in the way of your eyeteeth and you couldn't see what you were saying, Sara Jane always said sympathetically when Jess blurted something out to a teacher the way she had today.

Jess kicked her boxy shoes against the legs of the bench and wished Sara Jane were sitting beside her. She wished her father had never been offered this year's lectureship in Tudor history at the University of York. She wished even more that he had never decided to bring the whole family with him to England.

Jess knew she wasn't the only member of her family who felt that way. Her older brother, Trent, had argued loudly that he just had to stay in Austin to play on the middle school varsity football team, but their mother and father had already made up their minds that the family was moving to York.

Jess sighed. She wished Trent was at least going to school with her, instead of being stuck in the all-boys school closer to the cathedral. It might make things more bearable if she could at least eat lunch with her brother, instead of sitting at the far corner of a table with all the other girls ignoring her or laughing at her. Trent always tuck up for her.

Once, in second grade, a group wouldn't let her join their club. Jess hadn't even liked the other girls much, but all the club members skated everywhere after school on their inline skates and Jess thought that would be fun. But the overweight leader of the club had laughed at Jess because her father was a university professor.

You're a square, she had told Jess. We don't let squares join her club.

Jess had sputtered with rage and let her mouth take over. If I'm a square, she'd shouted at the overweight girl, you're a round! I wouldn't want to be caught dead in a club with a bunch of stupid rounds!

It had ended in a fight, and when Jess had limped home Trent had lost it at the sight of her bloody nose and black eye. He'd dragged the garden hose across the yard and hidden it in the front bushes. When the club members had made their regular afternoon skating trip past the Coopers' house to laugh at Jess, Trent had turned on the hose to full power and sprinted into the bushes to grab the nozzle and spray the girls. The club members had all ended up drenched, and the leader had tripped on her skate wheels trying to get away and fallen into the mud.

Jess grinned at the memory. She and Trent had rolled on the dry lawn and laughed and laughed. Maybe Trent would have some good ideas about what they could do to the girls in her school.

Then her smile faded. Trent had problems of his own here in York. The boys at his school were as bad in their own way as the girls were at hers. And he couldn't stand the green school sweater and the green and yellow striped tie he had to wear every day—puke green, he called it. He practically ripped off the tie as soon as he got off the school grounds.

But at least he had Evan in the school with him. Jess would have been so thankful to