Tombquest: Book of the Dead

For Later

Tuesday morning was bright and sunny, which Ren resented. She and her dad were finally on their way across town to visit Alex in the hospital. Their taxi was stuffed full of all the cards, flowers, and gifts the Met staff had given them for Alex.

The taxi was quiet and Ren searched her brain for something to say. She peered around a Get Well Soon! balloon to see her dad. "There was a really big line for the new exhibition," she offered.

Her dad nodded and went back to looking out the window on the other side. He had that same far-off look on his face, puzzling out some new problem.

That was dumb, she thought. It wasn't a question.

She tried again. "What are they all there to see?"

He glanced over. "The Lost Spells," he said. "They're big news."

"Oh, right, those," she said. "Yeah, those are pretty important."

As soon as he looked away again, she hid behind the balloon, slipped her phone from her pocket, and typed Lost Spells into its web browser.

The first page of results was all from sword and sorcery games and fantasy movies. She added Egypt and things improved. She picked an official-looking link — from the British Museum in London — and began to read. The first part, she already mostly knew: The Egyptian Book of the Dead has long been thought to consist of some two hundred known spells. Ancient priests used these texts to help the spirits of the dead transition smoothly into the afterlife.

The next part was more interesting: However, there were reputed to be nine additional spells. Though some scholars believe them to have been lost or destroyed long ago — and others insist they never existed in the first place — these so-called Lost Spells were said to be far more powerful. Some were even reputed to allow the spirits of the dead to return to their physical —

"What're you reading over there?" her dad interrupted.

She tilted the screen away from him. "I'm on the British Museum site."

Her dad smiled. "My little Einstein."

Ren looked away. She wished he wouldn't call her that. He was the Einstein. He was the one who grew up speaking only Spanish at home and put himself through the best engineering school in the US. She had it ten times easier, and it still wasn't enough.

He had no idea how much extra work — how many extra questions — it took her just to keep up. Plus Ten Ren ... she hated that, too. Alex was the only one who'd never called her that. He'd always understood, because he was trying to seem better than he really was, too.

The taxi pulled up at the hospital and they went inside. The waiting room looked a little different in the daylight, but it smelled the same. The scent of chemical cleaners tickled Ren's nostrils. Underneath the bright scent of fake lemons she could just make out the last stubborn traces of sweat, urine, and decay.

Almost immediately, a nurse came out to lead them up to Alex's unit. A sign read: PEDIATRIC INTENSIVE CARE. Sick kids, thought Ren. She couldn't believe how nervous she was. She wanted to see Alex, but she was dreading it, too, which made her feel like a jerk.

"This is his room," said the nurse, reaching down and pushing on the door handle. "I'll be right outside."

"Thank you," said Ren's dad before shouldering through with his armful of flowers.

Ren — who was holding the cards and gifts — didn't trust her voice, so she looked up at the nurse and nodded.

"Hi, Maggie!" called her dad in an exaggeratedly cheery voice. "Special delivery."

But Dr. Bauer wasn't there. They both looked around the room. Ren looked at everything except the bed.

"That's weird," said her dad.

"She's not back at the museum, is she?" said Ren.

"No, she's on leave. Dr. Todtman took over for her. She's probably just grabbing some food."

Ren found a table and unloaded all the gifts except the one from her. It was a book. She knew Alex couldn't read it now, but he had enough flowers and she knew he wouldn't want another stuffed animal.

The room was dimly lit and the blinds were closed. Ren looked at the sunlight slipping in around the edges until, finally, she was ready to look at Alex. She did it in one quick motion. Like tearing off a bandage, she thought, and then hated herself for it. And then there he was.

Alex had always seemed kind of large to Ren. Really, everyone seemed kind of large to Ren. But not now. Now he seemed small, swallowed up by the bed and shrink-wrapped by the sheets, except for his head, shoulders, and arms. His arms had to be outside the sheets, she saw, because they had so many things going into and out of them. And then there was the mask and the hose that led from it and the machine it led to. She had known it would be there. She'd recognized the Darth Vader sound of mechanical breathing from the hallway.

Alex's face looked the same but different, as if a thin, clear layer of wax had been brushed over his tan skin. Less animated — those were the words Ren settled on, because it was the nicest way to put it.

She watched him closely, looking for any signs of movement: a blink, the twitch of a finger.

Nothing.

"Hi," she said.

She thought of the thousands — maybe millions — of words they'd exchanged over the years. Sometimes talking over each other because they had so much to say. Now she couldn't think of anything else to say at all.

Fortunately, she had a few extra words already written down. She knew what everyone thought. She heard them talking about Alex as if he were already dead. Even his own mother wasn't there. Ren had no control over any of that. All she could do was make up her own mind.

As her dad bustled around the room, looking for flat surfaces and containers for the flowers, Ren slid the book across the crisp, flat sheet and under Alex's hand. It was a paperback copy of Watership Down. Her class had read it in school that spring, after he'd left. She hadn't liked it that much — rabbits don't talk! — but she thought he might. Inside there was a ten-dollar gift card to the bookstore. Her mom had bought the book, but Ren had bought the gift card on her own. It read, in whole:

TO: ALEX

FROM: REN

FOR LATER.

He was her best friend, and she would not give up on him.