The Chaos of Stars
Page 19
“I’d love to.” I want to know more about Tyler, see what made her as awesome as she is. She’s the best part about working at the museum, and I greedily want to have her in more parts of my life here.
Tyler holds back a closed fist and it only takes me a few seconds to remember I’m supposed to bump it with my own. “Sweet,” she says. “This means we’ll actually have to make dinner for once, though.”
“We’ll do something Middle Eastern to make you feel at home,” Tyler’s mom says. I smile, but what they have feels nothing like my home. And it makes me sad.
When she drops us off, Tyler and I have to practically shove our way into the lobby. It’s the third Tuesday of the month, so the museum is free to San Diego residents. Michelle had mentioned this before, but I had no idea just how seriously San Diegans take Free Museum Day. It’s packed. Tyler and I are working the front desks together, checking IDs. I’m grateful I’m not upstairs—at least I don’t have to worry about watching this many people in the exhibit, or, heaven forbid, the Children’s Discovery Room.
I haven’t slept well since the break-in. I can’t get the smell out of my room, and it’s giving me constant headaches. This press of people isn’t helping the pain.
My headache reminds me of last night’s new email from my mother, whom I always associate with pain in my temples. She informed me there is a fifty-dollar-a-day withdrawal limit on my debit card. I hadn’t even taken any money out yet. I’d only started plotting to do it when I had somewhere to go, somewhere she couldn’t find me.
How did she know? How does she always know?
“Are you okay?” Tyler shouts from the other side of the lobby.
I wave a couple through after they show me their driver’s licenses. “I’m peachy,” I say over the crowd. “Why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem . . . tired.”
A tall guy, late teens, wearing aviator sunglasses and jeans that hang so low on his h*ps it’s a miracle of gravity they stay on, stands right in front of me. “Hey,” he says with a half grin that I assume is supposed to be sexy but really looks like he has poor facial-muscle control. “What’s your name?”
“San Diego County driver’s license or pay at the front desk,” I snap. Looking confused, he pulls out his wallet and drops it on the ground. He swears, picks it back up, and walks to a group of friends all snickering in the doorway.
Tyler laughs. “Okay, you don’t look tired. You look angry.”
“I look angry?”
“Only when guys try to hit on you. But you totally work it. You kind of rock angry. If I tried to be angry, I’d just look like I was constipated or something.”
I shake my head but can’t hold back a smile. “Well, good to know that if I’m unpleasant, at least I look good doing it.”
“Exactly! The rest of us are forced to be nice by our inferior looks.”
“Oh, shut up.” But now I’m really grinning. Tyler has that effect on people.
I feel someone’s eyes on me, and I turn, catching a fleeting glimpse of a very tall, dark figure as he turns the corner and goes up the stairs. Not the sunglasses idiot from before, but some familiarity nags at me even though I didn’t really see him.
A woman’s already waiting with an ID in front of me. I don’t have time to run down someone who may or may not have been creeping around. We probably just forgot to check his ID. Understandable in this crush of people.
When will I stop being so nervous and edgy? Last night when I was coming out of the bathroom, Sirus surprised me and I nearly tackled him before I realized he wasn’t some shadowy attacker.
I shake it off as a short, barrel-chested guy wearing a graphic T-shirt and khaki shorts walks in and folds his arms, glaring as groups of people move in and out around him. His black hair is deliberately messy, and he has chunky glasses. “What does a guy have to do to get some service?”
Tyler sees him and scowls. “Look, kid, the Children’s Discovery Room closed five minutes ago. You’re just gonna have to go to the park.”
“The only parking I do is with my girlfriend.” His face breaks into a goofy smile and Tyler laughs her horsey laugh, smacking him in the shoulder as he envelops her in a hug. His nose hits at her chin, and they are such a painfully awkward couple, I think it might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
The brutality of being temporary hits me like a sandstorm, leaving me raw. They love each other right now, but right now is all they’ll have. We aren’t made for forever, and neither are our relationships.
Scott (at least I’m assuming this is the elusive Scott; otherwise Tyler has some explaining to do) pretends to bite her neck and then kisses her cheek. “Late lunch/early dinner?”
“We’re off soon.” Tyler turns him around and points at me. “That’s Isadora.”
“Ah, the mystical Isadora.” Scott grins and waves at me. “She is tall and scary pretty. You were right. Coming to eat with us?”
I shrug. “I—”
“Of course she is.” Tyler shoves him to the side. “Now go play. Some of us are working.”
“Scary?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Scary pretty. Scary is the modifier, not the descriptor.”
After twenty minutes our relief finally comes, and Tyler and I stumble out into the brilliant sunshine, done for the day. I take a deep breath, glad to be free of that madhouse. Being around huge groups of people is still weird for me. We took the occasional trip to Cairo and other cities around Egypt, but for the most part my childhood was practically sequestered. It’s like they were grooming me to be a shut-in or something.
Tyler holds back a closed fist and it only takes me a few seconds to remember I’m supposed to bump it with my own. “Sweet,” she says. “This means we’ll actually have to make dinner for once, though.”
“We’ll do something Middle Eastern to make you feel at home,” Tyler’s mom says. I smile, but what they have feels nothing like my home. And it makes me sad.
When she drops us off, Tyler and I have to practically shove our way into the lobby. It’s the third Tuesday of the month, so the museum is free to San Diego residents. Michelle had mentioned this before, but I had no idea just how seriously San Diegans take Free Museum Day. It’s packed. Tyler and I are working the front desks together, checking IDs. I’m grateful I’m not upstairs—at least I don’t have to worry about watching this many people in the exhibit, or, heaven forbid, the Children’s Discovery Room.
I haven’t slept well since the break-in. I can’t get the smell out of my room, and it’s giving me constant headaches. This press of people isn’t helping the pain.
My headache reminds me of last night’s new email from my mother, whom I always associate with pain in my temples. She informed me there is a fifty-dollar-a-day withdrawal limit on my debit card. I hadn’t even taken any money out yet. I’d only started plotting to do it when I had somewhere to go, somewhere she couldn’t find me.
How did she know? How does she always know?
“Are you okay?” Tyler shouts from the other side of the lobby.
I wave a couple through after they show me their driver’s licenses. “I’m peachy,” I say over the crowd. “Why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem . . . tired.”
A tall guy, late teens, wearing aviator sunglasses and jeans that hang so low on his h*ps it’s a miracle of gravity they stay on, stands right in front of me. “Hey,” he says with a half grin that I assume is supposed to be sexy but really looks like he has poor facial-muscle control. “What’s your name?”
“San Diego County driver’s license or pay at the front desk,” I snap. Looking confused, he pulls out his wallet and drops it on the ground. He swears, picks it back up, and walks to a group of friends all snickering in the doorway.
Tyler laughs. “Okay, you don’t look tired. You look angry.”
“I look angry?”
“Only when guys try to hit on you. But you totally work it. You kind of rock angry. If I tried to be angry, I’d just look like I was constipated or something.”
I shake my head but can’t hold back a smile. “Well, good to know that if I’m unpleasant, at least I look good doing it.”
“Exactly! The rest of us are forced to be nice by our inferior looks.”
“Oh, shut up.” But now I’m really grinning. Tyler has that effect on people.
I feel someone’s eyes on me, and I turn, catching a fleeting glimpse of a very tall, dark figure as he turns the corner and goes up the stairs. Not the sunglasses idiot from before, but some familiarity nags at me even though I didn’t really see him.
A woman’s already waiting with an ID in front of me. I don’t have time to run down someone who may or may not have been creeping around. We probably just forgot to check his ID. Understandable in this crush of people.
When will I stop being so nervous and edgy? Last night when I was coming out of the bathroom, Sirus surprised me and I nearly tackled him before I realized he wasn’t some shadowy attacker.
I shake it off as a short, barrel-chested guy wearing a graphic T-shirt and khaki shorts walks in and folds his arms, glaring as groups of people move in and out around him. His black hair is deliberately messy, and he has chunky glasses. “What does a guy have to do to get some service?”
Tyler sees him and scowls. “Look, kid, the Children’s Discovery Room closed five minutes ago. You’re just gonna have to go to the park.”
“The only parking I do is with my girlfriend.” His face breaks into a goofy smile and Tyler laughs her horsey laugh, smacking him in the shoulder as he envelops her in a hug. His nose hits at her chin, and they are such a painfully awkward couple, I think it might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
The brutality of being temporary hits me like a sandstorm, leaving me raw. They love each other right now, but right now is all they’ll have. We aren’t made for forever, and neither are our relationships.
Scott (at least I’m assuming this is the elusive Scott; otherwise Tyler has some explaining to do) pretends to bite her neck and then kisses her cheek. “Late lunch/early dinner?”
“We’re off soon.” Tyler turns him around and points at me. “That’s Isadora.”
“Ah, the mystical Isadora.” Scott grins and waves at me. “She is tall and scary pretty. You were right. Coming to eat with us?”
I shrug. “I—”
“Of course she is.” Tyler shoves him to the side. “Now go play. Some of us are working.”
“Scary?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Scary pretty. Scary is the modifier, not the descriptor.”
After twenty minutes our relief finally comes, and Tyler and I stumble out into the brilliant sunshine, done for the day. I take a deep breath, glad to be free of that madhouse. Being around huge groups of people is still weird for me. We took the occasional trip to Cairo and other cities around Egypt, but for the most part my childhood was practically sequestered. It’s like they were grooming me to be a shut-in or something.
