by Mark Tiro
Then I remembered. I looked down at my hand and relaxed. There it was—the list. I was holding it in my hand.
Hmmpphhh, I thought. But I laughed at myself, and I wondered if that’s what it’s like for my grandparents. You can’t remember where something is, and it turns out you’re holding it in your hand.
I resolved to be more careful with the list and always keep track of where it was—just like he’d said. Then I looked over at my phone by the side of the bed.
The time on it said that it was time for me to get up for school. I felt out of it, though… out of sorts. I tried to clear my mind, to get my bearings. But my brain now was just mush. At least, that’s how it felt.
I remembered the list, the “magic”. And him.
I remembered him.
He’d explained it to me, and it was brilliant. The light, I mean. The place, the light—all of it. It was all just… brilliant. But as I sat there trying to get my bearings, all of this was fading quickly.
I was holding the pad of paper and the pen. I closed my eyes and repeated to myself, ‘the list is magic, the list is magic’, trying my best to etch the thought into my mind so I wouldn’t forget.
The dream, or whatever it had been, was faded now, mostly gone. But this list was magic, and I wasn’t going to forget it.
The rest was still a foggy haze. I couldn’t even remember having dinner last night, which was weird because with dad being sick now, and with mom being mom, dinner was the one thing we still tried to do as a family. I couldn’t remember any of it, and I know we didn’t miss it—because that I would remember.
Well, there was one thing. When I looked at the time on my phone, I knew if I didn’t get moving, I’d be late for school. After having Sean prod me every morning, that was one thing I could never forget.
And so I hurried up and put on my clothes. I usually take a shower at night, so that I won’t have to take one in the morning. But I couldn’t remember if I’d taken one last night. I must have though, right? I mean—I always do. After putting my hair back, I brushed my teeth. Then I ran downstairs to try and grab something to eat before Sean and I had to get out the door to make the bus.
As I passed the room Sean and Tom shared, I saw the door was already open. That’s weird, I thought. It’s always closed because Tom drives himself to school, and so he doesn’t ever wake up until after Sean and I have already left for the bus.
Also, all Tom’s posters were gone from the wall. They were these stupid bands I don’t know how he could even listen to. So maybe he just finally decided the music he liked was terrible, I told myself, and he’d decided to take them all down?
But I didn’t really have time to think of any of this because I was so late. I was already rummaging around the kitchen for food when I saw Sean come in from the living room, ready to go.
I had a Pop-Tart half way down my throat (s’mores flavor. Mmmmm…). I was sure Sean was about to give me some lecture on how I should really eat healthy like him and have some of his protein/kale/fish oil/blueberry juice concoction that he made himself every morning. But he didn’t say anything at all. He just came up to me with the most serious look, wrapped his arms around me, and gave me a big hug. Then he pulled back, looked at me (Seriously? Again?).
“Are you doing okay, Maya?”
That’s super weird, I thought. Sean never acts like this.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
As soon as I’d said the words, I remembered. Of course! Maybe he knows about it? I thought about this for a second, and then dismissed the thought. How could he know about it? How could he know about my magic list? It had been with me the whole time, so there’s no way he could have known about it. But, if he didn’t know about the magic list then why was he acting so weird? Oh well, everyone knows big brothers can be weird sometimes, but he was my brother, so what could you expect?
“You don’t remember?” he asked, hesitating. “Last night, Maya? You don’t remember? You don’t remember anything?”
Okay, I sighed, thinking back. Maybe Sean’s on to me. I racked my brain. How could he know, though? How could he know about the list? I mean, even if he does know, and he’s just testing me, asking me so I tell him about the list—why would he do that?
“What’s there to remember?” I answered, not letting on what I knew about the list. If he wanted me to give him info about it, he was just going to have to ask me directly.
“Uh, Maya,” he started but then hesitated. Then he got this really serious look on his face and gave me another hug again. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, looking at me closely.
“Of course I’m okay,” I said, trying to show him I was getting a little annoyed that he was being so weird. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You really don’t remember then? You don’t remember anything from yesterday after school?”
“Of course I remember!” I shot back, really annoyed now. “I’m like an elephant. I remember everything!” If he wanted to ask me about the list, why wouldn’t he just come right out and say it?
“But I don’t want to tell anyone,” I said. “I mean, I have to carry it around with me, all the time now, right? So I just thought it’d be better to not tell anyone about it. You know what I mean, right?” Then I waited for him to acknowledge the obvious.
He didn’t. He just stood there, his mouth half open, not saying anything. And so I went on.
“I mean, if I just keep it to myself, no one else will ever find out, right? So can you please just keep it between us?” I said.
“Okay, sure. Of course I will,” he gulped. “I would never tell anyone, Maya. I know it’s probably hard for you to trust anyone right now, but whatever you need, just ask me. Please, come to me if you ever have any, you know, thoughts. Like hurting yourself, or anyone. I’m always here for you.”
“Sure thing, Sean. Now, can we get moving already? I don’t want to miss the bus again.”
Almost instinctively, I reached down into my backpack to make sure the pad of paper and pen were still there, where I’d put them. They were, and I relaxed, pulling the drawstring tight and closing it back up.
No one else needed to know about this. Not that the list would change its power or anything like that, I don’t think. It’s just that I didn’t want anyone trying to ask me questions about it, or worse—trying to grab it out of my backpack at school when I’m not looking.
Owl Creek Bridge High School. That was the name of my school. It was probably the most boring name and the most boring school I could have ever ended up in. Nothing unusual every occurred there.
See—it’s almost an oxymoron, right? Most days, I’m pretty much bored out of my mind, which I guess is probably how I got into this mess with Steve and Angel in the first place.
It was my first day, and I knew things would be different, even before I went in to my third period class—the one I share with both Steve and Angel.
I kept my head down, walking in. Then I went straight to my seat and started getting my books out of my backpack, all without looking up at either of them. I acted like I really had to concentrate, like mine was the most interesting backpack in all the world. I was determined to completely avoid any eye contact with either one of them.
The teacher started droning on like he always did (the first ten minutes always seemed like he was just talking so he could hear himself talk and make sure his vocal chords were good and warmed up). Once he was finally in his own zone—meaning, generally oblivious to the students sitting bored out of our minds in front of him—I looked up, sneaking a glance over at Steve.
I’m sure he saw me, because I saw him look straight at the floor the second I looked over. He stayed slunk down like that, staring at the floor, not looking up for the rest of the class.
Guilty! Ha, that bastard. He knew I knew, and he felt guilty about it! Which he should. He can stare at the floor the rest of his life, for all I cared. This thought made me even angrier with him. Serves him right, for sle
eping with her.
With Angel.
My mind turned to her now, and I scanned the room, eventually finding her slunk down into a desk on the exact opposite side of where she normally sat.
Slunk down in her desk, looking down—just like him. She knew too. The both of them knew.
How could you, Angel? I raged silently in my head. But I wanted to scream it across the room. How could both of you? You were my best friend, Angel! You knew I liked him! And you too, Steve. You were mine. I mean—why did you do that with her and not with me? You don’t even know her! You… you… both of you betrayed me!
I wanted to scream, I wanted to accuse. But I never did. I never even said a word.
And halfway through class, after raging violently in my head, I slunk back down, exhausted, into my chair. I picked up the irony that it was just like they had both done. But I was too tired to beat myself up too much, and so I started down at the floor. Like my backpack, this was the most interesting floor in all the world. And so I kept staring at it the rest of class.
While I did, I thought a lot about what to do.
Just before the class period was over, the answer came to me. And when it finally did, it came really quickly. And it should have because of course—the answer was obvious.
I reached down to my backpack, opened it slightly, and felt around until my fingers landed on the pad. I smiled to myself, then closed my backpack back up.
You’ll see, I told myself quietly.
You’ll both see.
8
Eight
I left school and decided to take the long walk home instead of the bus like I usually did. I needed the time to think, anyway, even though I knew exactly what I was going to do when I got home.
I was going to show them.
Of course I was.
But the longer I walked, the more I thought. And the more I thought, the more ideas came to me. The walking, I think, was good in the end because by the time I got home, I had completely put aside all thoughts of revenge. By the time I got home, I’d decided that I needed to be a grown up about all this… to not be petty. To wish for positive things that would accomplish the same goal, and not just for revenge…. I decided I was almost 17 now, and I was going to be the bigger person.
And so I was.
I sat down on my bed and pulled out the list.
Positive, I thought. Be a grown up.
And so I opened the list ready to make my first entry. And then I saw there, scrawled in all-too-big handwriting, the first entry I’d already made, “Go back home,” staring back at me in stark letters.
Hmmpphhh, I shrugged. But this will be fun, I thought.
Then I moved down the page, opened the pen, and wrote a big #2. “I want to be a princess,” I wrote, then finished with, “and Steve can be my prince!”
There! What could be more mature than that!
The second I’d finished writing the last word, the room seemed to swirl. Or maybe I just got dizzy for a second. I felt that same popping sensation, like the pressure was equalizing or something.
And then—flash!
I thought it was a flash of light, until I realized it wasn’t.
It was the torch I was staring into. My eyes weren’t adjusted. It was dark, and the torch looked huge and bright…. And I was staring straight into it.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust, but when they did, I began to make out just where I was.
Or more accurately—who I was.
It was exactly what I’d written on my list. It was the best thing I could think of. I was trying to act like a grown up, but now I admit, maybe I was really just still a little mad when I’d made the entry on the list….
I didn’t want to do anything bad to Angel. After all, she’d still been my best friend since… or until, that is, at least until she, you know… until she slept with Steve.
Being a princess here with my magic list would be just a little harmless fun. And maybe I could have a little fun getting revenge on Angel while I was here, but it was all just magic, no? I mean, none of this was real.
I opened my eyes and could feel the heat in this place, even at night now. The hot night air all around me would probably have been way too hot to take—but for the slave who was fanning me with a fan of papyrus sheaves attached at the end to a long rod.
Angel.
The slave fanning me was Angel.
She was fanning me to keep me cool. But she looked different. She didn’t look like Angel. She looked totally different. But somehow, somewhere, I just knew—this slave girl who looked and sounded nothing like Angel—she was Angel.
Then it occurred to me that I might look totally different, too. And so I looked down at my clothes.
Wow! I wasn’t actually wearing that many clothes at all! I was half… naked! But with it being so hot outside, it just seemed normal. Still… just—wow! And this jewelry I was wearing, too! It didn’t even feel weird being half naked because the other half was covered in gold.
And Angel was my slave girl. I stood up, and suddenly the other slave girls all bowed down.
To me.
Angel bowed down to me, too—though she kept fanning me the entire time, even while she was on her knees bowing down to me.
I must be really important, I thought. I mean, like—really important.
I am a princess, and I have power over Angel—to make her do whatever I want. This is going to be awesome.
She is going to have to feel what I felt when I caught her together with Steve. And Steve. Steve—he’s going to be mine. She’ll have to live with that—just like she’d done to me when she slept with him at the brunch.
“Ankhesenamen, Your Royal Highness.”
I stood there a moment longer than was comfortable, not just for the slave girls, but for me too, before I realized that was my name. Ankhesenamen. It was me the slave girl was addressing as ‘Your Royal Highness.’
“Yes, girl?” I heard myself saying, just as I saw myself beckoning to Angel. Weird, I thought. It’s almost like the words just rolled off my tongue. I realized that I didn’t even feel bad about it. I could get used to this. I did feel guilty for a second, but then I realized I could tell Angel what to do—whatever I wanted her to do—and she would have to do it. This would teach her, I thought.
“Stand when you address me, girl,” I added, with more authority this time.
She jumped up right away, but kept on fanning me.
“What’s your name, girl?” I asked, doubling down on the air of authority in my voice. This feels good, I thought.
“Nesitetat,” the slave girl answered.
But I knew she was really Angel.
Ha! This’ll show you, I thought.
“Well, what is it, girl? Why do you interrupt me with your blather?”
“You don’t know, Your Royal Highness?”
I stood there, motionless, giving her the sternest look I could muster, in order to cover up the fact that I really didn’t know.
I really had no clue.
“Today is the big day, Your Royal Highness.”
“The big day,” I answered, slowly. “Yes. Yes, it is. But still—that is no excuse for insolence from a slave. I can pardon you, this one time. And tell me, pray, slave girl—please tell me what you expect will happen on this big day today.”
This would kill two birds with one stone, I thought. I’d figure out just what I’d gotten myself into, and I’d also get to rub in (again) the fact that I got to tell her what to do and boss her around after what she’d done to betray me with… with…
Steve, I thought. Then I turned around to look to the place she was motioning to.
“Nibhurrereya,” Angel blurted—er, I mean Nesitetat the slave girl—blurted out. “Your Royal Highness.” She had turned now, addressing him, but her eyes were still trained on me.
Steve! I thought.
“My prince,” I said, taking a chance, as I looked deep into his dark eyes. It was him—that much I
knew. But he looked totally different in this royal court than he did in real life, and I was kind of testing first to make sure.
“Yes, my Highest Priestess, and my Most Beloved, soon-to-be Concubine of the highest son on the living god on earth, Pharaoh, and soon to be my wife, and one day, Queen.”
Wow, I thought. That’s sure some way to address me. I must be a super important princess, I thought, deciding that even if I didn’t fully understand how this magic list worked—and it definitely worked—that I also definitely needed to relax and just go with it.
“I have longed for this day, to return from commanding the troops down beyond the Delta,” he went on, “to be here with you. To be here only with you, to lay with you under the canopy of the gods.”
“And me, you,” I stammered. I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next, but I saw Angel, or Nesitetat as she was called here, I suppose, draw back the linens to what was obviously the royal bed chamber.
As if it wasn’t already obvious enough, Steve’s attendants started to remove his clothes—mostly some gold-plated, ceremonial armor that I thought couldn’t have been much use for anything other than a photo shoot.
It’s not like any of us were wearing many clothes, in any event. And in the oppressive heat, this didn’t feel as weird to me as I thought it might.
I looked at Steve, but he looked stern as his attendants kept undressing him, one item at a time.
As they did, he took a step towards me, looked in my eyes with a look that didn’t seem to be scripted at all (unlike the rest of this ‘ceremony’ or whatever it was). Then he gave me a quick kiss.
A kiss! From Steve. I’d been waiting for this for so long…. I mean—not waiting as much as thinking, from time to time, how perfect it would be. Most of the time, I tried not to let myself even think about it, because thinking about Steve like that would get me all flustered. I could see his muscles rippling now, tensing, then relaxing, and glistening the whole time in the sweet-smelling oils his attendants were rubbing on.
