The Watcher by Lisa Voisin Read Free Book Online

archaeologist when you grow up?” Bill asked.
    “When I grow up ? I’m not five!”
    “You know what I mean. You’re going to study this stuff next year, right?”
    “I hope so.”
    I stopped to admire a reproduction of a painting from the tomb of Menna, a man spear fishing in the Nile with his wife and family. The animals and marshes were captured in meticulous albeit stylistic detail, and the caption explained that the painting’s fertile environment symbolized the Egyptian belief in rejuvenation and eternal life.
    “Any idea where?” Bill persisted.
    “Not yet.” It depended on what Mom and I could afford, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Dad for the money. But I didn’t want to get into that with Bill. Dad had paid for his education. I seriously doubted he’d pay for mine.
    Near the end of the exhibit was a section on weaving. The caption outlined the evolution of fabric and Egypt’s history of working with linen and flax. When I saw it, some invisible string tugged at my insides, pulling me there.
    “Saw that already,” Bill said behind me. “I’ll meet you outside.”
    I nodded, my attention fixed on the display. Beside a case of fabric fragments, heddle jacks, and loom weights was a small replica of a loom that took up to four women to operate. I’d hoped something might click, but I’d seen these things in books before. They were nothing like what had come to me that day in the woods.
    After the museum, Bill and I decided to go for coffee in the nearby U District. We found a small bohemian-style café with comfortable-looking chairs and dark wood walls. The place was surprisingly crowded for such a nice day, so I pounced on some red velvet armchairs and saved us a spot while Bill stood in line.
    No sooner had Bill brought me a vanilla latté than something caught his attention; he did a double-take and almost spilled his cappuccino. A girl with honey-blond hair walked into the café. With her striking golden eyes and long legs, she belonged on a runway.
    She walked up to the counter and ordered herself a mocha. As she did, the lights in the café dimmed and then flared. I turned back to Bill, whose gaze flicked in her direction despite his attempts to keep them focused on his drink.
    “Did you see that?” I asked.
    “Hmm?”
    “The thing with the lights.”
    “What thing?” he asked. Usually guys could be pretty annoying when they checked out a girl, but Bill was careful with me around. I could tell he was trying not to look. Having sat in class with Michael for the past two weeks, I could relate.
    “Just flickering. It’s nothing.”
    Bill changed the subject. “Dad’s seeing someone new.”
    I nearly choked on my coffee. “Since this summer?”
    “Yeah, before you left. They met through an online dating site.”
    “Wow” was all I could think to say. I couldn’t imagine Dad meeting anyone online, but I wasn’t surprised he didn’t tell me, given how little we spoke. “How old is this one?”
    “Closer to his age.” Dad’s last girlfriend had been only a few years older than Bill. Talk about awkward. “It’s still new, so don’t tell Mom yet, okay?
    “Absolutely not. I’m not going to be the bearer of that news!” I remembered the first time Mom learned that Dad had been with another woman. I’d come home from school to find her crying on the sofa and Dad gone. It happened right after Bill went to Berkeley, so he didn’t know what we went through, how hurt she was. Even if Mom was over it now, she didn’t need to hear about Dad’s affairs.
    “Well, he says to say ‘hi.’”
    “Oh.” I bristled. I didn’t want to talk about dad or get any messages from him. Things were awkward enough—like he and I weren’t even family anymore. It would have bothered me that he and Bill got along, but Bill got along with everyone. His skills were wasted on computers. He should have joined the UN. Maybe he’d invent an app for world peace.
    Avoiding the awkward