Annabeth Neverending (8 page)

8

I
come back from my trip down memory lane, as the ankh has fallen from my hand of its own accord. I crawl under the covers of my bed, still wearing my costume, too dragged out to change. Mew Mew slips in next to me, and I hug her tiny body to mine, feeling at peace now that I have a warm
-
blooded bit of ancient Egypt in my arms.

“Gabriel was there! I loved Sethe more than I thought possible. And he was from a place called York
—
York! And my fiancé was my brother. Oh God, my fiancé was my brother…”

I try to finish my thoughts, mixed up and scary and strange as they may be, but I drift off, spent.

I awaken with a start, the alarm beeping. I know I shouldn’t, but I hit the snooze button. I’m too drowsy to remember, but I suspect that it isn’t the first time.

My black wig is still on my head, and my Egyptian makeup is probably smeared all over my face, but lethargy wins out, and I don’t attempt to remedy either situation. Instead, I roll over on my side, hoping that I can carve out a few more moments of slumber before my mother comes in to pull me, kicking and screaming, to full consciousness.

I hear heavy breathing and cautiously open my lids. Howie is seated right in front of me, watching me with his inquisitive brown eyes.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“You didn’t wake up on time, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t having another seizure,” says Howie in a forceful whisper.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I say, sliding by on a technicality, because I don’t know for certain myself. Though I probably did, if the spit dribbling down my chin is any indication.

“Good,” says my brother as he exhales with relief. I’m touched that he seems genuinely relieved.

“Aw, you love me! Do you want a hug? Do you want a kiss?” I ask, reaching out my arms to him, knowing full well that this’ll drive him away. And it works. He goes running, faster than I’ve seen him move before. My mom narrowly avoids getting steamrolled when she enters my room.

“Careful!” she yells to the sound of his slamming door.

My mother gives me a once
-
over. I must look pretty ridiculous.

“I take it that you had quite a night.”

“It was…interesting,” I say obliquely.

I wait in vain for an accusation, but none comes. I’m almost insulted that my mom doesn’t suspect me of being hungover, but I suppose I’m too much of a Goody Two
-
shoes for that. She yanks on the cord to open the horizontal wooden blinds. They part slowly and creakily. But the light doesn’t pour in between the slats like usual.

“Time for work!”

“Ugh. It’s so dark,” I comment, my mouth turned in a tired frown.

“No, it isn’t. Are you coming down with something?”

I blink furiously, trying to get my eyes to focus. It doesn’t seem to be helping matters. Great. This must be another side effect. The light is so bright in ancient Egypt that everything now seems dim by comparison. In the movie of my life, it’s as though we’re shooting night for day. I can’t panic, even though this is the most frightening side effect yet.

My mother pulls out a thermometer that’s handily located inside her pants pocket.

“My eyes needed to adjust, that’s all,” I insist.

My mother lets out a loud yelp. I practically jump out of my skin.

“What’s the matter?”

“Just when were you going to tell me about that?”

She points over to Mew Mew, who just slid out from underneath my bed and is now sitting in the corner, coolly licking her paws as though we’re the visitors in her home.

“I found her last night when I came home from Kerry’s party. Can’t I keep her? Please? She isn’t just any old stray,” I say.

“She’s not?” my mom asks.

“Well, uh, she has two different
-
colored eyes!”

“Your father and I will have to discuss it. Cats are hotbeds of germs, and I don’t want you catching anything…but maybe. She is beautiful.”

She’s wavering!

“But you have to put up signs first, to see if someone claims her.”

I agree, knowing that nobody will. At least, I hope they won’t. But I’ll cross that bridge if I must.

“Well, you better get moving, so you aren’t late. By the way, I’m sorry we’ll be missing your halftime performance tonight. Your dad and I both have a work function to attend.”

“I forgot too. Don’t worry. You won’t be missing anything. Really. Except for my complete and utter humiliation, that is.”

“Honey, you know you always bring it on.”

“Right,” I say with a little laugh. I never “bring it,” and I definitely never “bring it on.”

I got so caught up in the whole reincarnation/finding my soulmate thing that I blanked on the game. And I still haven’t mastered the toe touch…in this lifetime. Though conquering pompon choreography isn’t exactly at the top of my priority list right now.

My mother leaves, and I look down at my hands with difficulty. I’m concerned that parts of my own body
—
objects in close proximity
—
are hard for me to see. With every additional flashback, it becomes more obvious that I’m not equipped to endure them without experiencing an awful physical backlash.

I tell myself that this’ll dissipate. My vision will return. I just need some time. I will fully regain my sight…I have to. I mean, memory retrieval can’t bring me irreparable harm, can it? I refuse to accept the idea that I won’t be OK. Isn’t that an old joke, that “denial” is a river in Egypt? Surely it’s never been so appropriate.

It seems like there’s always some sort of trade
-
off that must be made. But it’ll be worth it in the end. I’ll make sure of it.

The fog envelops me as I walk outside. It’s one of those spooky coastal mornings when a thick white haze swallows up the surrounding landscape, adding a spectral dimension to the atmosphere. Unfortunately, this makes it even more of a challenge for me to see. And everything already seemed as though it was being put through a gray filter. I wish I could carry a flashlight, but that might raise eyebrows.

I turn inward, my thoughts churning. My old life was full of surprises, wanted and otherwise. Why is it that Sethe was so…amazing? And why did Gabriel have to be so…off
-
putting? But I can’t base my emotions on what was, only what is. And right now, Gabriel is the boy I care about.

I’m slowly learning more, but there’s so much that’s unknown. Do I have children, spread out across eternity? What’s it like to die? Does everyone get reincarnated? Is there something about me that’s unique? Or have I only been made unique as a result of my reincarnation? One thing is certain: even if everyone has lived multiple lifetimes, it’s unusual to have access to those memories. Otherwise history class would be way more interesting.

While I wish I could gain more information about myself, there are also memories I want to repress. I was Ana, so that means that I was married off to my evil brother. Unless Sethe helped me somehow escape first. If only I knew for sure. I suppose the whole incest thing is the one drawback to knowing my birth family. Sometimes, ignorance really is more blissful.

I stumble up to Mrs. Lansing’s door and knock just as the sun peeks through the fog, shining so brightly that everything looks crisper, more crystalline. I scan my surroundings, enjoying the newfound clarity, when Sethe jogs out of the haze, heading in my direction.

It’s as though he’s an angel from heaven. A form
-
fitting tank clings to his muscles, mesh shorts cut off at the right spot to highlight his hardened legs, and I can’t help but feel a bit…hot. A tad…bothered.

A jagged shard of memory juts into my brain. Sethe running toward me while training, looking much the same, wearing leather
-
strapped body armor.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask C. J. as he catches up to me. He continues to jog in place on the patio. I’m assuming he doesn’t want to mess with his heart rate, even though he’s messing with mine.

“Great. How are you doing, Annabeth?”

I’m about to respond when Mrs. Lansing opens the door, her forehead lined in surprise. Surely she didn’t expect to find both of us here. Together.

“Good morning, Annabeth. And hello, C. J. How are you enjoying the house?”

“It’s so New England. Way better than the cookie
-
cutter places I’m used to living in.”

“I’m glad it all worked out. Tell me, Annabeth; how was the party?”

“Funny story. That’s where we met. He was dressed as an Egyptian slave,” I say, drawing out those last words.

Mrs. Lansing looks at C. J., growing wide
-
eyed.

“How…nice…”

“I guess. It looked good, but it wasn’t that practical. I should’ve thought through the whole shirtless thing more.”

“Fascinating,” says Mrs. Lansing, though it’s clear to me that she’s exploring an entirely different line of thought.

“Well, I should, you know, run. Catch you two later!” cries C. J. as he bolts off.

Mrs. Lansing shakes her head, looking flabbergasted.

“C. J., Gabriel’s twin brother, is the reincarnated Sethe? What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Before, I was sure that Gabriel was the one I wanted to be with, but now I feel like fate is pushing me toward C. J. What do you know about him anyway?”

“Look, I like C. J. He’s a polite boy, good
-
natured, bright enough, but he pales in comparison to Gabriel. He’s…special. You can fight your destiny, Annabeth. You don’t have to bow down to it,” says Mrs. Lansing imploringly.

I know she’s right, but it isn’t that easy. Destiny is proving to be a powerful force. I feel like I’m nothing but a helpless follower, chasing after my own life and barely keeping up
—
certainly not leading it. But I have to take charge. Otherwise, I’ll be at the mercy of fate in the same way Ana was.

“So, a bit off the subject, do you happen to know if the ancient Egyptians practiced incest?”

Mrs. Lansing’s face twists in disgust, the hairline wrinkles in her lips now keenly visible.

“I don’t think it was common for the general population, but I do believe that the royal family engaged in incestuous marriages. They were probably trying to keep the line pure. And just why are you asking?”

“You don’t want to know,” I reply, my intestines tying into knots. Howie is no walk in the park, but he cares for me, whereas Amun seemed to be out for Ana’s destruction. It’s disturbing to think that he was selected to be her husband by Ana’s own
—
er…our own father.

Gabriel idles up, wearing a weathered brown bomber jacket that looks like it’s really from World War II. Only Gabriel could carry off this look. Sometimes I think he should be a male model instead of an antiques broker.

“Are you two ready for the estate sale? Because I’m raring to go!” announces my current crush, rubbing his hands together.

“I’m feeling a bit run down today,” Mrs. Lansing says with a fake
-
looking yawn.

“Will you be all right?” asks Gabriel, concerned.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just old. Why don’t you and Annabeth go alone? Grab whatever looks good. I trust your judgment.”

“Thanks. I guess I do have excellent taste,” replies Gabriel as he takes me in, perhaps a bit lustfully.