Chapter 1

“Amo, amas, amat, amatis, amamus, amatis, amant,” my sister, Alex’s voice drifted into the living room as she read aloud her Latin verb forms. I rolled my eyes and turned the television louder. In response to this, she only murmured louder: “Sum, es, est, sumus, estis, sunt.”

Sighing, I said “off” signaling the television to turn off as I entered the kitchen. Alex had a bunch of flash cards spread across the table, and her huge Latin book sitting in the center with a Roman aqueduct on the cover.

“Why are you bothering to learn a language that no one speaks?” I said to her as I began skinning the apple I was about to eat. The little barcode on it freaked me out. My mom once told me that they used to have stickers on them. My dad, however, remembered a time when you could just pull them out of a tree.

Alex’s aggravated sigh interrupted my apple thoughts. “You don’t understand. It’s such a beautiful language.” At my unconvinced look, she said, “Okay, maybe it isn’t that beautiful, but Mrs. Haplite is such an awesome teacher. If she continues teaching it, I’ll be fluent in no time!”

“But why do you want to be fluent in Latin? No one speaks it.”

“I love studying languages, even dead ones. We already speak English and Spanish, and after I learn Latin, Greek is next.”

She looked so excited with her green eyes glowing and her cheeks flushed. You would think she was talking about a cute boy, not thousands old languages. “Whatever you say, kid.” I said to her as I rumpled her soft, chestnut hair.

She scoffed and went back to repeating her verbs, this time, “Habeo, habes, habet, habemus, habetis, habent.”

As dinner neared, my mother scolded Alex for leaving the table a mess for so long and for neglecting her math homework. “But, Mom!” She whined, “I don’t need to learn how to do math; machines do it for me!”

At this excuse, my father would always mention that one should not depend on machines to do the thinking for oneself. My mom would agree, but I knew she could not do an algebra problem to save her life. Thus was the way life was in the Stevens house. My father was the voice of old-fashioned-ness, while my mother would agree with some of his principles, but that did not stop her from buying the latest technology. Everything in our house was voice-activated, we had several storage boxes that would immediately turn into the size of a pea with the control of a remote or a button. However, in most respects Alex was like Dad, being the Romantic that she was. In her room, there were Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and Monet’s Dusk; she also had landscape portraits of lighthouses (how she was obsessed with those) and forests from the Scottish highlands. My sister’s head was anywhere except in reality; you could often find her daydreaming. I think that was her one reason for wanting to learn Latin. Dad encouraged her too, for he had learned it in his childhood. My mother encouraged her too, but like me, she was confused as to why Alex would want to learn such a useless language.

“So, Olivia, are you doing anything with your friends, for your birthday?” My mother’s voice cut into my thoughts.

“I don’t know. I know we have our birthday dinners here first, but afterwards, I wasn’t sure. Hazel had some ideas but I don’t know.”

She nodded, “Your grandparents are coming up. They decided to put off their vacation a week.”

“That was nice of them,” I said, and as an afterthought, I said, “I wish for once I could meet Dad’s parents.”

My mom choked on the piece of bread she had been eating. “You know that’s quite impossible, since they have passed. Besides,” she shared a look with my father, “I doubt they would have come anyway. They did not approve of the relationship between your father and I.”

“I know, I was just saying.” The conversation slipped into an uneasy silence after that. Alex revived it, however, when she began talking with my father about Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. My mother and I both listened, but uncomprehendingly, for we both loathed Shakespeare. I was indeed my mother’s daughter while Alex was indeed my father’s daughter.

“What do you think I should read next, Dad? I was thinking about the Twelfth Night or maybe The Tempest; what do you think?”

My dad bit his lip, “Since you have just finished Julius Caesar, why not read Antony and Cleopatra, it will be like reading a sequel.”

She nodded, “Yes, it makes sense.”

My mother laughed, “Benji, you and your Shakespearean tragedies. Do you have some kind of prejudice towards his comedies?”

“Tragedies always have more of an impact on you.”

“Yes, but happy-endings leave you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.”

He gave her a look that I did not want to interpret for fear of disgust, while he said, “My dear, you do not need happy-endings for that.” Gross.

My mother blushed like a schoolgirl and glanced at both of us. Alex was too absorbed thinking about her Shakespeare while I pretended to be too absorbed in my food.

Later that evening, while Alex went to read in her bedroom and my parents went to do whatever is they do, I turned on my classical music (yes, I did have somewhat of an old-fashioned side myself) and reached under my bed to pull out my little mahogany trunk. I pressed my thumb print to the lock to open it and pulled out some old photos. They were of a family; the women were dressed in huge skirts, filled with ribbons and I imagined the colors were pastels of lavender and pale pink. The men were stony-faced and wearing knee-length pants and stockings with fancy waistcoats. The young man on the right looked exactly like my father, only younger. I knew of course that this was not my father, but rather his ancestors. Photos of his family. My mother had gotten them some years ago for my father and then hidden them in the attic. I had overheard them talking and did some sneaking around of my own. When I fold them, I took them. Every now and then I would take them out to look at them. I flipped over the photo, 1853, the date read.

I liked looking at these old photos, I guess for the same reason Alex loved reading Shakespeare and learning old languages. It was not something I could explain easily, but something I felt. Looking at photos of my father’s family made them seem real and made me somehow feel important. I was related to these people, these people with the same name, but almost two hundred years difference. Okay, so I was being a bit foolish, but no more foolish then Alex learning Latin. (I mean where is she gonna meet anyone who speaks Latin?)

That night, I feel asleep with images of hoop skirts and hot summer nights under the Virginian sky in my mind.

“Happy Birthday, Olivia!” Everyone greeted me the morning of my birthday. My mother made my favorite, pancakes and sausage, for breakfast. I loved my birthday.

At school, it was the same thing. All my friends greeted me with “happy birthday’s.” Hazel rushed up to me and hugged me.

“Happy Birthday, Liv!”

“Thanks, Hazel. So, have we gotten any better ideas for my birthday?”

“Well, there is this huge party at Damien’s house tonight. His parents are out of town. We should definitely go. Besides, I think Damien’s crazy over you and what better day for him to confess it, then your birthday?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning. Damien was one of the hottest guys at school and we always flirted. Once he even asked me out but I already had plans with Hazel. When she found out I had said no on account of her, she hit me and called me a fool. I knew it was a joke, but I did not want to be one of those girls that blew off their friends for a guy. However, since then Damien’s advances on me were few and far between.

“But I have that dinner thing with my family tonight. I can’t get out of that.”

Hazel bit her lip, “What about afterwards? I know your parents don’t care for parties but just tell them we’re going to the movies then having a sleepover at my house?”

“I don’t know, Hazel. You know I don’t like lying to them.”

Hazel gasped, “Liv, what kind of teenager are you! Not a proper one for sure. Didn’t you know we have to lie to our parents? It’s what we do!”

I laughed, “Okay, I always do what I have to, and if I have to, then it’s out of my hands.”

Hazel grinned and we walked to class together.

Gift time. My favorite time of my birthday. We had already had dinner, so everyone was gathered around me. Alex gave me the latest movie starring my favorite actor, James Bram. My brother Jake, who had just that afternoon came home from college at MIT, gave me a cute denim skirt, although I suspected he had a little help from my sister. My grandparents gave me a deep red sweater. My Aunt Janet, an unexpected guest, gave me three decorative picture frames. My parents saved their gift for last.

It was in a simply wrapped box, small enough for me to suspect jewelry. And it was. Jewelry, I mean. But nothing I had ever seen before; not your elegant diamond necklace. No, it was on a gold chain and the charm carried a sun dial design on the front with an Ankh on the back. I suspected the little symbols were hieroglyphics, but as to what it meant, I had no idea.

“Wow, Mom, this is beautiful. Thanks,” I said, admiring the way the charm seemed to glow in my hands.

I looked up at my mom to notice she was sharing one of the secretive smiles with my father. Then she looked at me and said, “That used to be mine when I was around your age. I have no use for it any longer, so maybe you can find something to do with it.”

Alex had moved to stand behind me to admire the necklace. She asked me if she could hold it, and I gave it to her. The charm did not cease to glow in her hands and my mother regarded us both with interest.

“I always wanted to learn Egyptian,” Alex said, as she squinted at the hieroglyphics. The usual glow that came to her eyes when she talked of languages, seemed almost ethereal with the charm in her hands.

“Maybe after you conquer Greek, Egyptian can be the next language.”

She smiled and handed the necklace back to me. I went to put it around my neck when my mother stopped me, “No, don’t put it on here. Wait ‘til you get in your room, by yourself.”

I thought that was a little weird, but I nodded and put the necklace back in the box.

Afterwards, we had cake and ice cream. Everyone took their turns teasing me for how old I was getting and the usual birthday stuff. I glanced at my watch knowing that Hazel would be waiting for me. I had already cleared the sleepover with my mom, and she did not seem the least bit suspicious. Aunt Janet noticed how I kept glancing at my watch and made a comment.

“Off somewhere?” She asked, with a slight smile on her face.

My mother answered her before I could. “Yes, she’s sleeping over Hazel’s house. Maybe you could watch that movie Alex just got you,” she suggested.

I nodded. I decided to stay another ten minutes before excusing myself to get ready. Alex left when I did, no doubt to either read or study more Latin. It took me some time to get ready, while I tried on outfit after outfit. I had to look amazing for Damien tonight. After the tenth million outfit, I had a keeper. It was my low rise jeans with butterfly stitched lightly at the bottoms and my hips, with my dark brown strapless top. I sprinkled some gold glitter onto my arms and neck. My makeup was light, accenting my deep blue eyes and I hoped the curls I had put in my long, dark brown hair would stay. After blotting my lips, I grabbed a jacket and my bag with sleepover essentials and walked downstairs. It was only my father and mother in the living room.

They were talking quietly, which immediately made me interested.

“Sandra, what made you give Olivia the necklace?”

“I don’t need it anymore and I figured she could have a use for it.”

“But you know what that means…” his statement just hung in the air.

“Yes, I know what it means. But look what it did for me, for us. I want Liv to have the same kind of happiness.”

“It might not mean the same kind of happiness. Besides, look what happened to you. I am so thankful that your back is not in the same condition it was.” I heard the concern, hurt in his voice.

“Oh, hush. You worry too much, Benji.”

He laughed then. “Remember when I said the same thing to you?”

“Yeah, well you were right. Now I am telling you.”

“Oh, really? Do I sense insubordination?”

“You bet.”

Next thing I heard was my mom giggling loudly as if she was just a schoolgirl. Cliché, I know.

“St-st-op! I-give-up!” She yelled in between giggles. Then the giggles ceased followed by silence. I could only imagine what they were doing now. Duly disgusted, I suddenly remembered the necklace which was upstairs. The glow it seemed to create when I held it would look amazing against my olive skin. Damien (and any other guy for that matter) would be unable to resist me.

I opened the box that the necklace was in and picked it up, my mind wondering back to what my parents were talking about. What kind of happiness? And what happened to my mom? To her back? There were so many secrets they were keeping. And I figured it had something to do with my father’s absent family.

I looked in the mirror, running my fingers through my dark brown hair. The glowing of the charm seemed to make my skin seem brighter. I could not deny the magical feel the charm had, nor the pull I seemed to have to it. I slipped the necklace over my head and looked once again to my reflection.

My vision blurred over and I suddenly felt light-headed. I managed to make it over to my bed and lie down. The last I can remember thinking is what my parents were talking about and that it had something to do with their mysterious past.

Author’s Note: I had to rewrite this chapter. I felt the other one was too short, too rushed. You didn’t get a feel for Liv’s life at home or anything. This chapter, shows her relationship to her sister more and I introduced a friend. (Also, the sister-thing is a forshadowing of a future sequel, hehe). I know her personality is a little different too with this chapter, she seems more rebellious and slightly more knowledgeable of her father’s family. So I will have to go back and change certain sentences in future chapters. I hope you have enjoyed the changes. Let me know what you think! :)
-Ashlita