intended) gorgeous mummy come to life, and spent an extended spring break in Egypt. The fact that I’d actually made it through to the end of the school year without my grades falling was a major accomplishment.
They didn’t know about my experience with Amon in Egypt and how much it had transformed me. I myself didn’t know how much I’d changed until I got home. I thought it would show on my face, all the emotion, all the trauma, all the…death, but my parents only noticed my hair. My brown, no-nonsense straight hair was now riddled with random sun-kissed highlights of different shades. They didn’t like it.
The first thing my mother said was, “What were you thinking?” Immediately she picked up the phone and lectured our hairstylist, who didn’t have anything to do with it but who cleared his schedule instantly to repair the “damage.” I told her quietly but sternly that I was rather fond of it and that my intention was to keep it. To say they were shocked at my little act of rebellion was an understatement.
As much as they protested my decision to keep my new highlights, they outright refused my request that they call me Lily instead of Lilliana. As a result, I began to feel like a stranger in my own home. To keep the peace, I told them I’d go to the college they wanted as long as I was allowed to spend the summer at my nana’s farm in Spring Lake, Iowa. I figured it didn’t matter anymore where I went, and the compromise went a long way toward assuaging the fears my new hairdo ignited.
Once I got the acceptance letter, they backed off and left me to my own devices, which meant I could mourn the loss of Amon without anyone taking notice. One month after another went by, and then graduation was upon me.
As I gazed in the mirror the morning of graduation, I was dismayed to see that my golden highlights, the last tangible proof I had of Amon’s touch, were fading. At this rate, they’d be gone by Christmas. I indulged in a good cry before showering and dressing for my graduation ceremony.
If my mother noticed my too-bright eyes, she probably chalked it up to my being emotional about leaving high school. The truth was, I didn’t care about high school. I didn’t care about college or boys. I didn’t care about much of anything anymore.
The time soon came for me to depart for the summer, and I was surprised that my parents wanted to drop me off at the airport. Maybe they noticed more than I thought they did, or perhaps they were just feeling nostalgic about me growing up and leaving the nest. Either way, the drive felt a bit awkward.
I stared at my reflection in the window.
My eyes were large and dull; my hair was wound in a perfect, tight bun at the nape of my neck; and my lips were stretched in a thin, unforgiving line, as rigid as a ruler. In fact, that was what I looked like: a schoolmarm. A smirk lifted the corner of my mouth as I imagined how much Amon would hate my hair like this. He preferred it wild and unbound.
After a few quiet goodbyes and some stiff hugs, my parents relinquished me to the chaos of the airport. Inside, a range of emotions hit me all at once. I remembered being there with Amon a few short months earlier, and how with the wave of his hand and a charming smile, he could wrap anyone around his finger.
I boarded the plane and strapped in, remembering how even the most mundane actions like buckling a seat belt were completely new and foreign for Amon. Though I actually did try not to think of him, it seemed that was all I could do, and when I shut my eyes, rocked to sleep by the plane, I found myself in Amon’s world once again.
He wasn’t fighting a monster, which was a relief, but he had a wicked wound on his thigh that was seeping blood onto his leggings. Sucking in a breath, he tore away the fabric around it and wrapped it in the bandages he’d created from the sand. Some kind of armor lay discarded next to him, and Amon shrugged out of a tunic before dipping it in a small, natural basin of water and scrubbing his arms and neck. I hoped the precious drops trickling down the