True Love, the Sphinx, and Other Unsolvable Riddles

by Tyne O'Connell

  Not that it mattered because a moment later Salah’s text alert sounded and he stood up and said, “I’m going to go check my e-mail.”

  “Good idea,” Sam agreed as he gathered up his camera equipment and followed.

  When I was certain they couldn’t hear, I slipped over to Rosie’s sofa. “They’d better bloody well be off to talk about us darling, or I shall have to do something drastic.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “I haven’t decided, but it’s a dreadful thing that boys force us girls to be so calculating, that’s all I can say.”

  “I don’t think they do,” she replied. “Force us to calculate, I mean. I don’t think my brothers think too hard about things really. If they fancy a girl, they just make a move, you know, call her up or just make it obvious. I don’t want to calculate.”

  “Well, I don’t see how you expect to pull Sam if you don’t brush up on your calculating skills.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to pull Sam,” she told me, looking me straight in they eye with a determination I’d never seen before.

  Chapter 11

  Salah

  Sometimes when I’m with my friends and they talk about girls and love, I have to wonder where their brains are.

  My mind was constantly on Rosie. Everything about her fascinated me. It was like everything I saw or experienced I wanted to see and experience through her eyes—and her music. It had been in my head since I’d first heard the piece she composed. I felt like her music really expressed how I felt about her. I wanted to talk to her about her music not as some sort of idle chat but because I wanted to find out what was behind it all. What was behind her mattered to me. But since the previous night I found myself tongue-tied around her.

  Sam seemed to be doing better with Octavia in that they had hung out at the Valley of the Kings and Queens, but Octavia was still throwing herself at me. Sam and I had agreed an emergency girl-summit was required. So that afternoon, Sam texted the guys and we gathered with Astin and Yo in the computer room.

  Yo and Astin were already on e-mail when we arrived.

  “So, what’s this problem with Octavia and Rosie?” Astin asked without looking up from the screen. “You dragged us away from our girls.”

  Sam and I admitted that we’d totally failed to figure out Octavia and Rosie.

  “I told you, Salah, you should have filled in the Hottie Chart while you had the chance,” Yo said. “Hey, do you think I can cut and paste the e-mail I’m sending to my mom and send it to my father as well? Do parents cross-check these things?”

  “No,” Astin assured him. “They barely talk. I always cut and paste.”

  “Yeah, so the Hottie Chart,” Yo explained, spinning around and looking at me. “When it comes to scoring hot girls on school trips, it’s all in the Hottie Chart. People who write stuff down make it happen.”

  As much as I loathed the whole thing, the truth was I was low on options.

  So when Yo produced his Hottie Chart, I read it through. It had gone through several amendments as people had begun pairing off. I’m not proud of it even now, but under pressure from Sam, Astin, and Yo I gave in. “Okay, hand me the pen,” I said, and then I gave a zero score to Octavia and all the other girls and put a ten plus next to Rosie’s name.

  “I hope you’re genuinely committed to that score,” Sam said when it was passed around. His voice had a weird tone to it even though he made it sound like he was joking around.

  “What’s your point?” I asked, but Astin ruffled my hair and sat me down for one of his dumb this-is-how-it-is talks. “Okay, Salah, so Rosie’s your target. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I have a plan,” I lied.

  Everyone laughed because I never plan my love life. It’s one of those things that just arranges itself. Girls pursue you and you either respond or not. But actually, I was kind of formulating a plan. Nothing concrete, but I figured the Nubian show on the itinerary for that night might be a good time to make a move.

  “Okay, here’s your plan. We’re all invited to watch Death on the Nile in Perdie and Artimis’s room,” Yo said. “Why don’t you guys join us there around eleven? Maybe our lovin’ will be infectious.”

  I swear to God I don’t know how he gets away with saying stuff like that.

  “Could,” Sam agreed, “but unlike Mr. Hopeful here,” he added, nudging me, “I’ve actually got a plan.”

  “What’s that?” Astin asked.

  “Remember all that loot I got away with at the Valley of the Kings? I was thinking of kind of taking Octavia aside and giving it to her. Mohammed helped me out at lunch with the Egyptian mythology surrounding the scarab, which is pretty cool. And then there’s the sphinx thing. You know half lion, half man?”

  “I know where you’re coming from.” Astin nodded sagely, rubbing his chin. “Seduction by mysticism.”

  “You think she’s that sort of girl?” Yo asked as he put on his visor. Sometimes I actually think he looks weird without his VR gear on.

  “Listen, all girls love the mystic stuff,” Astin insisted. “But you need more than just some junky story and a couple of souvenirs. What did Mohammed give you?”

  Sam pulled out some notes and scanned them. “Okay, so in a nutshell, the Sphinx is in Cairo and Octavia was right, the story goes that only if you solve the riddle of the Sphinx do you win the heart of the girl you love. Only I don’t know the answer.”

  “So make it up, man,” Astin told me. “Girls are like riddles. Who can figure them out?”

  “Yeah, cool. Anyway, so the scarab symbolizes life and—”

  “Let me jump in here,” Astin interrupted. “You’re not going to get anywhere with crap like that. I’m only helping because I’m your friend and I’m relying on you to do my physics homework for me when we get home. But I promise you, Octavia’s going to need a lot more than a beetle and a plaster sphinx.”

  “It’s stone.”

  “Plaster, stone, whatever. As tools of seduction, they’re just not happening.”

  “True. That girl is high maintenance,” Yo agreed before he suddenly leapt up and swiped the air. “Damn, he got away.”

  We all nodded.

  “So, this is what you do,” Astin continued. “Punch it up. Make it sound like you’re giving her special powers. Like, with the beetle, say it brings immortality. And as for the sphinx, say—”

  “No, no, no,” Yo interrupted, pulling off his visor. “The riddle. The riddle doesn’t have anything to do with love. I worked out the riddle on level five. It’s all about the progression from babyhood to becoming an old man. That’s not going to romance anyone.”

  Astin pressed the send button on his e-mail. “You don’t have to forget the riddle. You could work out a different riddle. Like, the one you love is closer than you think.”

  Sam threw a pencil at him.

  Astin slapped the desk. “Believe me, the smulchier the better. You can never go too far with the gooey stuff.”

  “And I bet that Octavia chick has heard a lot of gooey stuff. You definitely need to top anything she’s heard before,” Yo added.

  Sam was nodding and scribbling down Yo and Astin’s sage advice.

  “And make sure you mystify the whole experience too, dude,” Astin said. “Give it the works—candles, cushions, the whole nine yards.”

  “Yeah, girls totally love effort. I think coming up with a rocking riddle would seal the deal,” Yo insisted, slipping back to his virtual world.

  “Yeah, but what can the riddle be?” Sam asked.

  They all shrugged their shoulders.

  I shook my head. Sometimes when I’m with my friends and they talk like that about girls and love, I have to wonder where their brains are. Astin was bobbing his head away to some song he’d downloaded while he’d been sending his e-mails and seemed disinterested in taking the discussion further. I looked out the portal and watched life on the Nile. There was a felucca of fisherman pulling in their catch and I wished
I was sharing the sight with Rosie. Like the way we talked about the night sky and my history. See, that was the thing—Rosie got Egypt. Really got it, and being here again made Egypt feel that much more important to me than it had for a long time. Watching my friends, I felt weirdly detached from them and their view of the world. I stood up to go, but Sam stayed to get more info from Astin on his scene-setting theory.

  • • •

  Things eventually got going around ten that night when the DJ (also known as the front-desk guy) slid the disk effortlessly from an ancient Britney Spears number into the thumping drumbeats of Nubian music.

  The lights dimmed, the circular dance floor lit up, and eight of our young Egyptian waiters—not a Nubian among them—wandered into the disco in makeshift costumes and bare feet. They were followed by two of the guys I’d seen cleaning the rooms, now belting away furiously on Egyptian drums.

  The waiters formed a circle in the center of the room, held hands, and began to stomp in and out of the circle, raising their hands and clapping in beat to the drums while making a loud noise, which I think was supposed to sound like Nubian singing.

  Octavia said something to Sam that I didn’t catch, and the two of them slipped outside. The teachers were otherwise engaged, clapping in a vain attempt to keep time with the music. The dancers seemed to take encouragement from their clapping. They spread out and beckoned to the teachers to join them on the dance floor.

  Carol didn’t hesitate (of course) and swiftly pulled Nigel up to join her. He was wearing a cravat that evening, which Carol pulled off him, exposing an overabundance of gray chest hair. Mr. Bell and Ms. Doyle were cajoled by the waiters to dance. Soon the whole room was clapping and hooting as we watched our teachers clasp hands with the “Nubians.” Some of the other guys crowded around the dance floor with girls, calling out, “Way to go!” and catcalling. Carol was loving the attention. Mohammed was the only adult there with the dignity to refuse the offer.

  Yo and Astin saw this as their opportunity to start making out with their girls.

  Eventually the teachers had enough. That’s when the Nubians turned their attention to us.

  I don’t dance. I never have, and never plan to. But something shifted in me that night as the “Nubians” clustered around Rosie like a cult.

  She looked like she was about to refuse, and suddenly, I don’t know what came over me but I just knew I had to act. With Sam and Octavia out on the deck, this might be one of my few chances alone with Rosie. I jumped up, dragging her after me.

  The dancers flanked each one of us, probably so we could learn the dance moves as much as to prevent us escaping. Rosie looked reluctant but joined in. I saw my chance, took her hand, and pulled her into me. But as incredible as it was to be holding her, I couldn’t tell what her thoughts were. Had she forgiven me? What if I’d totally blown it, letting Octavia get away with that kiss? I racked my brain for anything that I should, or could, say.

  Sam and Octavia returned as the dance was ending, but I tried not to let go of Rosie’s hand.

  “So, are we going to join the guys in Artimis and Perdie’s room?” Sam asked.

  “I might go up on the deck,” I replied, “looking at Rosie. Look at the stars again.”

  “I’ll join you,” Octavia announced.

  But I was saved by Sam. “Come on, man. Yo and Astin are expecting us. Remember?”

  “That’s right,” I agreed. What the hell. Maybe a dark room would give me an opportunity to get close to Rosie.

  Once we’d agreed on Sam’s romantic plan that afternoon, he had gone alone to our room to set the scene for Octavia. Astin had offered to help him.

  The film had already started when Rosie, Octavia, and I arrived at the girls’ room. Inspector Poirot was looking out on the Nile in the garden of the Cataract Hotel in Aswan. Rosie sat at my feet, clutching her knees into her chest. She was soon as absorbed in the DVD as I was in the long strawberry-blond tangle of curls that was touching my knee. I was just about to reach out to touch her hair when Octavia stretched out on the bed and rested her head on my knee.

  I swear to God it was like I was in some sort of Shakespearean farce. Only not a funny one. Maybe a tragedy? I wanted to ask Octavia to move away but I just didn’t see how I could without drawing Rosie’s attention. I might not be a player, but I know the cardinal rule: never show interest in the best friend of the girl you’re after.

  But the major reason I didn’t want to disturb the moment was I’d finally gotten up the nerve to touch Rosie’s hair, and I wasn’t going to stop now for anything. I tried to dislodge Octavia by twitching my knee, but she only snuggled up closer. If anything, I’d managed to make things worse. My only chance was Sam. I kept willing him to return and save me. What kind of friend was he? In the meantime, I reached out my hand and began running it through the soft tendrils of Rosie’s hair. She remained perfectly still as I ran my fingers along the back of her neck. I could feel the goose bumps rising in both of us. And then my hand got stuck in a tangle of Rosie’s hair, and as I reached out with my other arm to free it, I caught Octavia’s chin in the crook of my elbow. Perfect, now I was practically glued to both of them.

  Just then the door opened, flooding the room with light from the corridor. Relief surged through me as Astin and Sam walked in.

  I looked up at Sam and smiled with relief. For one crazy moment I thought he might see the funny side of my predicament. But I suddenly saw how it must look to him and realized that he wasn’t going to save me at all. I was like a kid caught with both hands in the cookie jar. I pushed both of the girls away before I realized my mistake. I practically scalped Rosie.

  “Ouch!” she cried, turning around just in time to catch Octavia looking up at me with a sexy pout.

  Just great!

  Octavia suddenly grasped my other hand tightly to her chest.

  “Octavia,” I said, shaking her off realizing I needed to speak for Sam since he was either too stunned or too furious to speak for himself. “Sam’s got this awesome surprise for you in his room.”

  “Yeah, it’s awesome,” agreed Astin. Nestling on the bed with Artimis, he began to kiss her, totally oblivious to everything.

  “But we’re watching the movie just now,” Octavia explained, even though there was no way she could have seen the screen from her vantage point on my knee. “I’ll come and see your room another time, darling.” With that, she waved Sam away like a fan bearer she no longer required.

  If I was the sort of guy who cried, that would have been my moment.

  From the death glare on Rosie’s face, it was clear that she knew I’d been cozy with Octavia. I knew then I was totally screwed on every front. “I’ll have a look if you want, Sam,” she offered.

  “Don’t bother,” Sam replied, and turned on his heel.

  I followed him out of the room but he didn’t look back. He took the stairs two at a time. “Hey Sam, wait up,” I called out.

  He turned around and looked straight through me. “Salah, whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

  Wednesday, Day 3

  Nefertiti sails to Edfu

  Sunrise: 06:25 Sunset: 17:58

  Wake up at leisure

  08:00–09:00 Breakfast in the Nefertiti restaurant

  10:00 Visit the Temple of Edfu in horse carriages

  12:00 Nefertiti sails to Kom Ombo

  13:30 BBQ on pool deck

  17:00 Teatime on the pool deck

  19:00 Visit the Temple of Kom Ombo on foot

  20:30 Egyptian dinner in the Nefertiti restaurant

  22:00 Galabia party in the Ankh bar

  Overnight in Kom Ombo

  Chapter 12

  Rosie

  What makes American boys tick?

  “Bloody Sam! Why, darling? Why? Why are Americans so useless at amore? Why did he have to ruin everything last night? Just when Salah and I were finally connecting.” That was the last thing Octavia had said to me the night before. It was also the first thing s
he said to me the next morning as we lay in bed, enjoying the luxury of our first lie-in since arriving in Egypt. Well, by lie-in, I mean 7:30 a.m.

  I had been through these sorts of issues with Octavia and the boys I fancied since we’d first started pulling boys. But this was the first time the target boy had given an indication that he actually preferred me to my friend.

  Normally I would feel quite resigned about Octavia trumping me in love, but this was different. I really, really liked Salah in a way I hadn’t liked any other boy. In the past it had never been much of a sacrifice to let Octavia pull any boy she wanted. But now I could see I’d created a monster who just presumed she could have her pick of boys.

  I couldn’t stop thinking of how I’d felt as Salah touched my neck. A shiver of excitement went through me, followed closely by the realization that Octavia was clueless as to how I felt. To how Salah felt for that matter. And I had only my wimpish self to blame.

  “Salah was definitely about to deliver full frontal lip action, Rosie, I could tell. He could not have been any clearer! He had reached down, you see … If only Sam hadn’t … Agghhh!” She started flailing about on the bed and kicking her legs in the air. “I could strangle him!” Then she started making strangling gestures.

  I lay there wondering how I could tell her that when Salah reached down, it was to stroke my hair, and then wondering if I even really wanted to. Discovering that a guy she fancied, actually fancied someone else—her best friend at that—might very well kill Octavia. No. I had to sort this out on my own. I had to be the strong one for once.

  “I think we should snub them both,” I told her firmly as a plan began to form in my brain. One thing growing up with brothers teaches you, is the power of ignoring boys.

  “Are you mad?” she screeched.

  “Well, they’re clearly in this together,” I insisted, even though I don’t think Sam had a clue. As a composer, I’m quite used to making things up as I go along and I was really thinking on my feet that morning. “At least until we work out what we are doing. After all, Salah did chase after Sam, didn’t he, when he could have stayed with you?”