astounded me at the detail. It was a masterpiece made from clay. The
symmetrical swirls, like tattoos, drifted across the waist and legs of the
small figure. It must have taken an artisan with very steady hands to craft
something so intricate thousands of years ago with primitive tools.
My heart leapt around in my chest. I
tried to calm myself and look around my room for the box it had arrived in. Mom
had packed it in packing peanuts and that was exactly where it was going. I
wouldn’t risk one more second with it just hanging around in my room.
A brown cardboard corner stuck out
underneath my bed. I kicked it out with my foot and it tumbled across the
threadbare carpet. Reaching down, I grabbed the box and dropped it on my bed. I
sat down next to it and carefully nestled the dogu in the peanuts. Before I closed
the flaps, I whispered a simple sayonara .
Now where to hide it? I couldn’t just
leave it sitting out. I headed over to the closet, pulled down the attic
ladder, and climbed up. I’d never been in there before. I’d always thought
ghosts hid up there, making the house groan and creek in the night. Even though
I was old enough to know better, I’d seen things with shamans in South America
that led me to believe there was far more out there than we could see. They
took hallucinogenic drugs, stupidly forbidden to females, and the shamans would
hold private meetings to impart their visions.
Even though we couldn’t participate,
I heard things and saw things outside the tents I couldn’t explain. It
reaffirmed my fears, but led me to be even more curious about what I couldn’t
see or touch.
Dust bunnies scattered across the
floor, hiding from destructive feet. Boxes were stacked three or four high,
containing treasures Mimi couldn’t bear to part with. A few steamer trunks,
probably worth thousands at auction, dotted the floor, filled with even more
treasures. When I was little, Mimi had tried to coax me to go through her private
memories, or so she called them. I’d always shaken my head vehemently, scared
of what was up there.
Out of respect for Mimi, I didn’t
open any of the boxes. Someday soon I’d join her, candles in hand, and go
through her treasures. Today I had to find a hiding place for the dogu, and
fast, before she realized I was up there.
I tiptoed over to the corner,
stepping on a floorboard that creaked so loud I thought I’d hear her calling me
right away. I waited a moment, holding my breath, until I was sure she hadn’t
heard me. I set the boxed dogu behind a huge blue steamer, studded with golden rivets.
I backed up a few steps. No one would
ever see it there, not unless they moved the steamer trunk. Without a proper
light, and even in the filtered sunlight from the filthy attic window, the box
remained hidden in the shadows.
And it would stay there until my mom
decided to grace us with her presence. I didn’t want anything to do with a
stolen artifact.
I climbed down the ladder, making
sure to keep my footing solid. The last thing I need was to fall and break my
ankle. It would bring up too many questions that I didn’t want to answer. Then
again, maybe it would help me turn Alex’s eye away from Kailey.
Chapter Eighteen
“So, have you started thinking about the
Harvest Dance yet?” Becky nibbled on a fingernail like a rabbit with a
cloverleaf. I’d just finished a second tutoring session with Alex, but Becky
stuck around because she said she wanted to talk to me about something. Alex
acted like the professional Mr. Fenton wanted him to be. He taught me math
without a hint of the closeness I thought we’d established – before Kailey
sucked him back in.
“Isn’t biting your nails bad for your
modeling?” I whispered to her, making sure no one else was around. I was also
trying to change the topic. I had a vague idea of what the Harvest Dance entailed
and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of it. It was Alex or no one. Not that
I’d interacted much with
symmetrical swirls, like tattoos, drifted across the waist and legs of the
small figure. It must have taken an artisan with very steady hands to craft
something so intricate thousands of years ago with primitive tools.
My heart leapt around in my chest. I
tried to calm myself and look around my room for the box it had arrived in. Mom
had packed it in packing peanuts and that was exactly where it was going. I
wouldn’t risk one more second with it just hanging around in my room.
A brown cardboard corner stuck out
underneath my bed. I kicked it out with my foot and it tumbled across the
threadbare carpet. Reaching down, I grabbed the box and dropped it on my bed. I
sat down next to it and carefully nestled the dogu in the peanuts. Before I closed
the flaps, I whispered a simple sayonara .
Now where to hide it? I couldn’t just
leave it sitting out. I headed over to the closet, pulled down the attic
ladder, and climbed up. I’d never been in there before. I’d always thought
ghosts hid up there, making the house groan and creek in the night. Even though
I was old enough to know better, I’d seen things with shamans in South America
that led me to believe there was far more out there than we could see. They
took hallucinogenic drugs, stupidly forbidden to females, and the shamans would
hold private meetings to impart their visions.
Even though we couldn’t participate,
I heard things and saw things outside the tents I couldn’t explain. It
reaffirmed my fears, but led me to be even more curious about what I couldn’t
see or touch.
Dust bunnies scattered across the
floor, hiding from destructive feet. Boxes were stacked three or four high,
containing treasures Mimi couldn’t bear to part with. A few steamer trunks,
probably worth thousands at auction, dotted the floor, filled with even more
treasures. When I was little, Mimi had tried to coax me to go through her private
memories, or so she called them. I’d always shaken my head vehemently, scared
of what was up there.
Out of respect for Mimi, I didn’t
open any of the boxes. Someday soon I’d join her, candles in hand, and go
through her treasures. Today I had to find a hiding place for the dogu, and
fast, before she realized I was up there.
I tiptoed over to the corner,
stepping on a floorboard that creaked so loud I thought I’d hear her calling me
right away. I waited a moment, holding my breath, until I was sure she hadn’t
heard me. I set the boxed dogu behind a huge blue steamer, studded with golden rivets.
I backed up a few steps. No one would
ever see it there, not unless they moved the steamer trunk. Without a proper
light, and even in the filtered sunlight from the filthy attic window, the box
remained hidden in the shadows.
And it would stay there until my mom
decided to grace us with her presence. I didn’t want anything to do with a
stolen artifact.
I climbed down the ladder, making
sure to keep my footing solid. The last thing I need was to fall and break my
ankle. It would bring up too many questions that I didn’t want to answer. Then
again, maybe it would help me turn Alex’s eye away from Kailey.
Chapter Eighteen
“So, have you started thinking about the
Harvest Dance yet?” Becky nibbled on a fingernail like a rabbit with a
cloverleaf. I’d just finished a second tutoring session with Alex, but Becky
stuck around because she said she wanted to talk to me about something. Alex
acted like the professional Mr. Fenton wanted him to be. He taught me math
without a hint of the closeness I thought we’d established – before Kailey
sucked him back in.
“Isn’t biting your nails bad for your
modeling?” I whispered to her, making sure no one else was around. I was also
trying to change the topic. I had a vague idea of what the Harvest Dance entailed
and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of it. It was Alex or no one. Not that
I’d interacted much with
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