a boy who cares about you. Why risk hurting yourself while searching for more? For something that isn’t a sure thing, when you have certainty in your hands? Odds are that Sethe is nothing more than a relic from the past.”
She’s right, even if I hate hearing it.
“Fine. I’ll do what you ask. But I’m keeping it. I can’t lose it! It’s too important. But I’ll put it away and never touch it. I swear!”
I wipe away tears as I look at Mrs. Lansing with all the sorrow I can muster. She has to buy this. She has to believe that I’ll never hold the ankh again, even though it’s the thing I crave at this very moment.
“I believe you.”
Mrs. Lansing trusts me to avoid it. But can I trust myself?
5
“Y ou’re all set!” gushes Mrs. Lansing while she smooths out my bodice. Of course, she’s in part congratulating herself (and rightfully so!) because she sewed my entire Halloween costume with her own two hands, basing it closely on sketches pulled straight from my memories.
I gaze into the mirror, taking in the modern gold - and - silver - lamé twist on my Ana dress. It has an empire waist, with a flowing skirt made of accordion - pleated material. Wearing this outfit…Well, it makes me feel as though I’m again the princess I once was, and maybe to some extent still am.
“It’s lovely,” I say in dazed admiration.
I touch up my dramatic makeup, complete with swooping eyeliner, bright blue lids, and ruby - red lipstick.
“Well, I had to give you something special for your sixteenth birthday.”
I already celebrated with my family, but for me, it’s an event tinged with sadness. I’m sure that my birthday is hard on them too. It’s a loaded day, a brutal reminder of the fact that I’m adopted.
Did my biological mother choose to give me up, or were tragic circumstances to blame? In two years I can access my birth records, sealed because mine was a closed adoption. But until then, the events surrounding my beginnings in this lifetime are cloaked in secrecy.
I snap a skullcap over my hair and pull on a big black braided wig tipped in gold as the doorbell rings. Mrs. Lansing heads over and lets Gabriel in. They exchange pleasantries, and Mrs. Lansing clasps her hands together in glee.
“I’m so happy you two hit it off.”
“You’re good,” I admit.
Gabriel makes a beeline for me. He’s wearing a well - tailored gray suit and a pinstriped tie. One look at his wardrobe makes me think he’s the flea market’s best customer. Yet somehow he makes all his old clothes seem like they were made just for him.
Gabriel gives me a once - over and whistles, which causes me to blush under my thick makeup. Hopefully he can’t tell.
“And here I was expecting Little Orphan Annie or Pippi Longstocking,” says my date.
My date!
“Just to be clear, cracks like that will get you nowhere,” I reply, my eyebrows drawn together in feigned anger.
“Come on. I love your flaming hair, the way it brings out the green in your eyes. But ancient Egypt becomes you.”
I beam, my whole being aglow.
“So, who are you exactly? Ancient Egypt isn’t my area of expertise.”
“A daughter of Ramses the Great: Ana.”
“I should’ve known. I think that’s a pretty popular choice this year,” he says with a wry smile.
“I’ve got my finger on the pulse.”
“What’s your costume?” I ask as Gabriel pulls a microphone out of his pocket and holds it next to his mouth.
“I’m Mark L. Walberg,” he announces.
“Seriously? The host of Antiques Roadshow ?”
“Yep. It’s my favorite. Too bad it’s caused the misconception that you can pick up some priceless treasure at a rummage sale or flea market for nothing. I mean, I guess it’s happened. But that’s like a one - in - a - billion occurrence.”
I figured as much.
“So, do you have anything you want to wish me?”
“Oh, that’s right! It’s your birthday. I was so focused on Halloween that it slipped my mind,” he says, looking
Learning to Kill: Stories