The Chaos of Stars
Page 13
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“If you’ll familiarize yourself with the room, I’m going to give you some extra reading to do so you can answer any questions that people might have, but I’m guessing that, with your parents, you’re already something of an expert.” She pauses, looking at me with a cocked head. “You know, put on a headdress and a white tunic, and I’d swear you walked straight out of one of these exhibits!”
“Which is why I make a policy of never wearing headdresses.”
Michelle laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll stay here with you for most of the morning, and then you can take over. Really your job until we get your mom’s shipment and fit out the special exhibits room is to be accessible and help people have the best possible experience here you can. We have security on-site, so if there are ever any problems, you just call it in right away.”
“Got it.”
She fits me with a temporary name badge and a radio, and I hang out and try not to show how incredibly bored I am with the few dozen patrons who visit in the next two hours. I’m relieved when her radio buzzes and she leaves me with a smile and thumbs-up. It was starting to feel really pointless, standing in the corner.
But now I’m alone in a room with artifacts from my parents’ heyday and a dead body that my father probably ushered into the afterlife. In the middle of San Diego, in America, where I was supposed to escape my history.
This is just phenomenally weird. I’m glad it’s slow and no one has come through since Michelle left. I still can’t stop smirking about kid-friendly Anubis. If they only knew.
“Hey!”
I about jump out of my skin and turn to see a lanky blonde grinning at me. She’s nearly as tall as I am, with rectangle glasses and hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her white button-down shirt and pin-striped black pants fit her awkwardly, pulled too tight across her shoulders and hips, like they weren’t meant for her body. What if she has questions? I’m not going to pretend like Anubis is awesome, or try to get excited over the amazing stone-knife display. My mom’s requirement is that I show up. I’ve done that.
“You’re the new girl! Isadora, right? Michelle wasn’t kidding—you look like you stepped out of one of the murals! Wow. That’s so cool that you’re actually Egyptian.”
I paste a smile on my face. “Cool is one word for it.”
“I’d kill for some sort of actual ethnic heritage. I’m a glorified mutt, really.”
I frown. “Belonging to a specific race isn’t the only way to have a culture. And being Egyptian doesn’t make me an Egyptian.”
She laughs, a sharp, barking laugh that explodes out of her stomach. I have never heard a laugh like it before. It’s both alarming and disarming. “Yeah, gosh, you’re right. Sorry, I’m Tyler.” She sticks out a hand that’s narrow and bony. I shake it awkwardly because I know I’m supposed to. I still don’t understand shaking hands.
“I’m working here over the summer for my aunt,” she says.
“Who is your aunt?”
“Michelle.”
I compare Tyler—pale, blond, lanky, tall Tyler—with tiny brunette Michelle. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what my parents tell me. So, you wanna go get some lunch? I know an awesome taco stand a few blocks away. We may die of food poisoning, but it’ll be a happy death.”
“Are we allowed to leave?”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, no worries. I told Auntie Michelle.”
I follow her out into the blinding sunlight. She has a long, loping walk, her shoulders thrust forward and down, with her hands shoved into her pockets. Everything about her seems just off, just this side of awkward.
I officially give myself permission to like Tyler. She’s been pressed into working for the museum, too. Liking her isn’t giving my mother a victory. Besides, I can already tell it’s going to be impossible not to like Tyler.
We walk under the arch and onto the bridge. I plan on spending future lunch breaks wandering around the park, getting to know the trees. There is a wealth of foliage, and I’m shocked that everyone here doesn’t have a permanent neck injury from craning to look at the trees at every possible chance. It boggles my mind how so much can grow. I thought this area was a desert, but it’s nothing like the one I grew up in.
“This is great,” I say, pausing to look over the side of the bridge and down into a shallow but steep-sided canyon. I’m nervous—I’ve never had to buy anything here, and though Sirus assures me that my plastic debit card is the same as money, I have no idea if it’ll actually work. What if it doesn’t? Then again, I need to figure the system out. The beginnings of a plot to drain my account of cash have been stirring in my head. If I have all of the money out of the bank, Isis can’t deny me access to it.
“Oh, sure. Nature is awesome.” Tyler waves dismissively, leaning next to me to look down. Her face lights up. “Hey! HEY!”
I turn to stare at her, wondering why she’s screaming. She waves her arms over her head. “HEY! RY! UP HERE!”
I follow her line of sight to a guy sitting in the curved hollow where two tree trunks meet, furiously scribbling in a black notebook. His hair is one shade away from midnight, worn a little long so that it curls just above his eyes. He’s wearing khaki pants and a pale blue button-up short-sleeved shirt, showing off some seriously beautiful olive-toned arms. Wires dangle from earbuds and he hasn’t looked up to see us yet.
“Which is why I make a policy of never wearing headdresses.”
Michelle laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll stay here with you for most of the morning, and then you can take over. Really your job until we get your mom’s shipment and fit out the special exhibits room is to be accessible and help people have the best possible experience here you can. We have security on-site, so if there are ever any problems, you just call it in right away.”
“Got it.”
She fits me with a temporary name badge and a radio, and I hang out and try not to show how incredibly bored I am with the few dozen patrons who visit in the next two hours. I’m relieved when her radio buzzes and she leaves me with a smile and thumbs-up. It was starting to feel really pointless, standing in the corner.
But now I’m alone in a room with artifacts from my parents’ heyday and a dead body that my father probably ushered into the afterlife. In the middle of San Diego, in America, where I was supposed to escape my history.
This is just phenomenally weird. I’m glad it’s slow and no one has come through since Michelle left. I still can’t stop smirking about kid-friendly Anubis. If they only knew.
“Hey!”
I about jump out of my skin and turn to see a lanky blonde grinning at me. She’s nearly as tall as I am, with rectangle glasses and hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her white button-down shirt and pin-striped black pants fit her awkwardly, pulled too tight across her shoulders and hips, like they weren’t meant for her body. What if she has questions? I’m not going to pretend like Anubis is awesome, or try to get excited over the amazing stone-knife display. My mom’s requirement is that I show up. I’ve done that.
“You’re the new girl! Isadora, right? Michelle wasn’t kidding—you look like you stepped out of one of the murals! Wow. That’s so cool that you’re actually Egyptian.”
I paste a smile on my face. “Cool is one word for it.”
“I’d kill for some sort of actual ethnic heritage. I’m a glorified mutt, really.”
I frown. “Belonging to a specific race isn’t the only way to have a culture. And being Egyptian doesn’t make me an Egyptian.”
She laughs, a sharp, barking laugh that explodes out of her stomach. I have never heard a laugh like it before. It’s both alarming and disarming. “Yeah, gosh, you’re right. Sorry, I’m Tyler.” She sticks out a hand that’s narrow and bony. I shake it awkwardly because I know I’m supposed to. I still don’t understand shaking hands.
“I’m working here over the summer for my aunt,” she says.
“Who is your aunt?”
“Michelle.”
I compare Tyler—pale, blond, lanky, tall Tyler—with tiny brunette Michelle. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what my parents tell me. So, you wanna go get some lunch? I know an awesome taco stand a few blocks away. We may die of food poisoning, but it’ll be a happy death.”
“Are we allowed to leave?”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, no worries. I told Auntie Michelle.”
I follow her out into the blinding sunlight. She has a long, loping walk, her shoulders thrust forward and down, with her hands shoved into her pockets. Everything about her seems just off, just this side of awkward.
I officially give myself permission to like Tyler. She’s been pressed into working for the museum, too. Liking her isn’t giving my mother a victory. Besides, I can already tell it’s going to be impossible not to like Tyler.
We walk under the arch and onto the bridge. I plan on spending future lunch breaks wandering around the park, getting to know the trees. There is a wealth of foliage, and I’m shocked that everyone here doesn’t have a permanent neck injury from craning to look at the trees at every possible chance. It boggles my mind how so much can grow. I thought this area was a desert, but it’s nothing like the one I grew up in.
“This is great,” I say, pausing to look over the side of the bridge and down into a shallow but steep-sided canyon. I’m nervous—I’ve never had to buy anything here, and though Sirus assures me that my plastic debit card is the same as money, I have no idea if it’ll actually work. What if it doesn’t? Then again, I need to figure the system out. The beginnings of a plot to drain my account of cash have been stirring in my head. If I have all of the money out of the bank, Isis can’t deny me access to it.
“Oh, sure. Nature is awesome.” Tyler waves dismissively, leaning next to me to look down. Her face lights up. “Hey! HEY!”
I turn to stare at her, wondering why she’s screaming. She waves her arms over her head. “HEY! RY! UP HERE!”
I follow her line of sight to a guy sitting in the curved hollow where two tree trunks meet, furiously scribbling in a black notebook. His hair is one shade away from midnight, worn a little long so that it curls just above his eyes. He’s wearing khaki pants and a pale blue button-up short-sleeved shirt, showing off some seriously beautiful olive-toned arms. Wires dangle from earbuds and he hasn’t looked up to see us yet.
