By Haylee Walker

Gemma Green boarded her Moving Across Time machine and set the date to June 1, 1893. “Ready, MAT?” she asked, giving the dashboard of her circular vehicle a pat.

A robotic voice responded, “Ready. When. You Are.”

Gemma sat back in the captain’s chair and buckled herself in. MAT was her favorite invention so far, and traveling to the World’s Fair would be her demonstration to her teacher that MAT actually worked. Hopefully.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The machine whirled for a few seconds and then shuddered to a stop. Gemma opened the door to a sunny Midwestern day. Her eyes adjusted, and she took in the incredible sight in front of her. A large, manmade pool reflected the midday sun amid a bustling piazza, ringed by beautiful Victorian buildings on all sides. Off to the left, a replica Viking ship entertained patrons while a locomotive sat in the distance. Where to start?

As she meandered across the yard, Gemma slammed right into someone, and something clattered to the ground.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” In front of her stood a young boy about her age. He was dressed in a grungy white button down with a dirty apron and a flat cap.

“It’s all right,” he said shyly. He bent to pick up the fallen plates.

Gemma helped. “What do you sell?”

“Sausages,” he replied, stacking plates. “Although, I would use the word sell loosely. I haven’t sold much of anything today.” His shoulders slumped.

“Let me help you carry these back to your stand.” She followed him across the fairgrounds. “I’m Gemma, by the way.”

“Charles,” he replied.

Charles’s tent was draped in a large dingy canvas held up by a couple of wooden stakes. The word “SAUSAGES” was painted on a large piece of wood and propped up at the base of the table.

“Are you selling them plain?” Gemma asked, taking a look at the food. She followed his lead, placing the plates on the table.

“Yes.” He took a step back and wiped his brow with a dark towel. “This is how my family has sold them for generations.” The solitary sausages sat on small plates, sad and unappetizing. Despite their appearance, they smelled divine.

Their aroma reminded Gemma of warm, summer days in her own backyard and a meal on a paper plate—corn on the cob, pasta salad, chips, and a hot dog on a bun with the works. Of course. “Have you ever thought about serving the sausages with something?” Gemma asked, bending down to look closer.

“Like what?” Charles stepped behind the table.

Gemma surveyed the surrounding food stands. A few stalls down, she spotted a sign reading “Hot Steamed Buns, Five Cents.”

“I think I have an idea.” Gemma grabbed one of the plates and put a sausage on it. “Can I borrow five cents?”

Charles eyed her curiously, but gave her the nickel.

As she approached the steamed bun stand, Gemma saw an older man with a large white mustache. Sweat dripped off him as he steamed buns in a pan over a hot fire. “Hello, sir,” she greeted.

He eyed the sausage in her hand.

“I’m working at the sausage stand, and we’re having trouble selling.” Gemma pulled out the coin. “I’d like to buy one of your steamed buns.”

He smiled back at her. “You’re not the only one having trouble with sales.” He pulled out a bun and placed it on her plate next to the sausage. “Our profits have been meager so far.”

“What if I told you I could help?”

The man crossed his arms. “How so?”

“Watch this.” Gemma opened the steamed bun and placed the sausage inside. “Take a bite.”

The old man looked at her warily, but conceded. After a bite, a wide smile spread across his face. “They’re a perfect match.”

Gemma smiled back. “What do you say we form an alliance?” She gestured toward Charles’s stand. The young man was watching the exchange.

The old man looked between her and the sausage, and then nodded in agreement. As Gemma helped pack up the steamed bun stand, the old man introduced himself as Victor. Together, they moved it beside Charles and the sausages.

After a brief introduction, the trio made their first sale. And then their second. In just a couple of hours, they were out of sausages and buns, but their coin purses were full. As far as inventions went, the public agreed a tasty sausage in a perfectly steamed bun was on to something.

At noon, Gemma knew she needed to head back home. She shook hands with Charles and Victor, bid them goodbye, and returned to MAT on the far side of the fairgrounds. She stopped by one of the booths near the entrance that was selling souvenirs. She picked up a bright, multi-colored pamphlet that had all the information about the fair. Purchasing the pamphlet provided her proof that she had, indeed, traveled back in time.

***

After returning to 2026, Gemma made her way down a crowded Chicago street after leaving her demonstration. She had gotten an A on her project. To celebrate, she stopped by a hot dog stand and ordered a dog with the works—a steamed bun with onions, pickles, tomatoes, sweet pickle relish, and extra mustard. She took one bite and smiled. Delicious.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Haylee Walker is a teacher-turned-mom who likes writing stories for tweens about friendships, first loves, and of course, lots of tomfoolery. When not reading or writing, she loves to spend time with her family, go thrifting, and do crafts of any kind. Her non-fiction essays have previously been published in Her View From Home. Gemma Green and the Time Machine is her first published fiction work.

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