The Eye Of The Ankh #Wattys2016

Chapter Fourteen

I hate asking for rides from people. It's horrible. Anna said that I couldn't get a ride from Ethan, and Jude and Quincy leave really early for school, so I was left to ask one other friend:

Hugo.

I stood on the curb waiting for Hugo to pick me up. It was a windy January day, cold, and I didn't have a coat. Snowflakes started falling as Hugo's SUV pulled up.

I opened the passenger door and sat down. Hugo looked at me, mouth agape.

"What?"

He smiled. "Nothing."

I angled all the vents to me, blasting hot air on my cold skin. I was shivering, trying to keep my teeth from clacking.

At the school I got out and thanked Hugo for the ride and hustled to the doors. He jogged behind me and tossed his jacket onto my shoulder. The arms were that waterproof material, the body of the jacket jean. It was warm, and smelled like Hugo.

He smiled at me. "You're cold."

I smiled.

"I'm grounded." I told Ethan during lunch. "I can't go to any of your games until Anna says."

"That sucks. I had fun last night, if that helps anything." He smiled. "Wish you stayed longer, though."

"I tried not to wake you."

He smiled. "I never slept."

Jude sat down at the table. "Want to hang out after school? I need help on the bio test." She said, pulling out a sandwich from her lunch bag.

"I'd love to, but I can't. Grounded."

Jude laughed. "You don't seem like the type of person to get grounded." She looked at Ethan, then back at me. "So... are you guys a thing now, or...?"

I looked at Ethan. "Yeah. We are. I got grounded by sneaking over to his place."

Jude gave me a look: what all did you do? She would've winked, I think, if it wouldn't be so obvious.

I rolled my eyes. "We didn't even do anything. It was just past curfew, that's all. Plus I didn't tell Anna where I went, so there's that..."

Quincy sat down. "Uh, Alice, I need to ask you a question later. Okay?"

"Okay." My phone buzzed on the table. A text. I grabbed my phone and read it. How's the mission going, Amenta?

I glanced around. How'd they get my number?

Who is this? I texted quickly, making sure no one was looking over my shoulder. Quincy was retelling a story with Jude. Ethan was fully emerged.

Amenta, are you avoiding the question?

I bit my lip. Got to go to class. I turned my phone to silent and put it face down on the table.

"Tell me about my mom... when she was younger." I was sitting in front of the fireplace, my toes warming up from the flames. I was leaning with my back against the ottoman, my shoulders wrapped in a throw blanket.

Anna was sitting in her chair, diagonal to me. "What do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "What did she like to do?"

"She was a dancer. Loved to dance. She really loved ballet. She danced everywhere. Down the street, around the house, in gym class. Mom—your grandma—said her feet were blessed. She danced all the up until she had you."

"She stopped dancing because of me?"

"She loved you so much, she didn't need to dance to feel happy anymore. She had you." Anna laughed, taking a sip of wine. "I don't know why, though, you were one ugly baby."

I laughed, too. "I know!"

There was a moment of silence, the kind where we started to think back on the good times, and wished that they lasted longer.

"What did you do?"

"I acted. I loved acting. Hated Hollywood, loved Broadway. It was the crowd that really drove me. Their applause. The adrenaline. I think we were both like that—your mom and I—we lived for the audience." Anna paused.

"I remember when you were born. Your father called me. He said, get your ass down here to see your niece. Didn't even mention my sister. He was joking of course. But you know what I did? I got my ass down there and saw you. My one and only niece."

I smiled. "Didn't think I was that special."

Anna nodded. She stood up and sat down beside me, leaving her wine. "You stopped painting. Your mom used to go on and on about how great of an artist you were. There's a room in the attic with this big half-circle window. It looks out over the whole city. I thought for sure you'd paint up there. There's an easel and brushes and anything you might need. But you haven't touched them. None of it. Why?"

"The night it happened my mother destroyed all my art work. Tore the canvases. Years of my life, all my hard work and awards, gone in a matter of minutes. And now I have no motivation to ever paint again."

Anna nodded. "Ever is a long time. Maybe someday you'll pick it up again."

I nodded.

Probably not.