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March 8, 2005
An ostrich. Yes, that’s what she was. A downy, plump ostrich wearing a spotted auburn blouse and chocolate skirt in furred pumps. After all, what else could relate to Ms. Angelina “Dull” Crandel? Certainly not a penguin. And definitely not a flamingo. Not with her small, beady eyes that were, at the moment, gazing into the back of one girl’s head.
“Beatrice Lampton, wake up this very instant before Mr. Issacs hears about this!” the older woman yelped in a voice that could only mimic that of a chipmunk.
The mess of unkempt, russet hair arose and the pale face of a green-eyed, tight-lipped girl surfaced.
“Yes Mrs. Crandel.” she responded, her voice automatic and dry. She rolled her eyes to the girl next door who smirked in return.
“How long has this old bat taught at the school now?” the girl murmured to Beatrice once the teacher’s back was confronting them.
“Let’s see, twenty, no thirty years?” Beatrice (better known as Bee) said, counting her fingers mockingly.
“You wish. Probably fifty if the school’s lucky.” The girl sniggered.
Bee grinned and both girls fell into silent laughter.
Only fifteen more days Bee thought, her concentration gradually traveling back to the ostrich in clothes. Fifteen more days and look out Egyptian sun, cause I’m ready for your tan!
Bee pulled out the pamphlet and a smile escaped her lips, her eyes expanding with enthusiasm at the mummy on the front page. It had been her dream, no destiny, ok well dream to trek the sun-drenched lands of Egypt. Her life had orbited around the thought of the ancient pyramids and fragile pottery from the humbled peasants of the times. She could close her eyes and envision herself congested with unbound children sneaking food from the productive marketplace while dogs strayed about the streets. Or even better, the royal palace. To be merged within the royal counselors and advisors. To sit with the royal scribes or to neaten among the vast amount of servants was an adventure of its own kind. Or to be a part of the royal family itself! To have a father deemed as a god and a sizable amount of siblings to mess about with and not have to worry about the next day’s homework or the $3.50 an hour job after school. Yes, having been an ancient Egyptian certainly would have had its advantages. And now in only fifteen days, she’d walk in the very same sand people over 4,000 years ago did! What better way to spend a vacation?
“Detention Miss. Lampton. An hour after school today.” the shrill voice yapped, spearing through Bee’s satisfying daydream.
“Ah, but I can’t Ms. Crandel,” Bee smirked, glancing at her friend. “I have work to go to afterwards. Guess you’ll just have to be lucky enough next time.”
Ms. Crandel’s sharp, fiery eyes thinned.
“Make that two hours.” she said to conclude Bee’s deriding comment.
“Late again Miss Lampton.” he said, his fingers softly fondling the ends of his graying mustache.
“I know. I’ll try –“
“No try! Do!” Mr. Call abruptly snarled, his face fierce with enragement. “You always say you’ll try. Don’t try. Do it! For Pete’s sakes girl, you’re seventeen years old. Grow up a little!”
Mr. Call’s words hit home plate. Bee brushed the words off as she marched into the back, but they stayed pasted to her heart. And there they stayed for days afterwards.
Due to her previous rendezvous with Ms. Crandel, Bee remained two hours longer than regular to earn back Mr. Call’s regular delight with his favorite employee. Too bad it didn’t work.
Creeping back to the house (or rather, shed) that she had only lived in for the past thirteen and a half years, Bee could only tread through the house and plunge onto her mattress, not troubling to start into her homework.
Life hadn’t always happened this way. Of course, that had been back when her mother had been alive and Charlie still lived in the household. Her mother had been seven months pregnant and as jolly as ever. Bee could still recall the flush that frequently inched into her mother’s attractive face and the same russet hair that persistently curled whether she liked it or not. But then came the cancer. It had been hasty and sly. So sly that it wasn’t detected until it was too late. On that faithful, autumn morning, Bee’s eighth day of second grade, Jocelyn Lampton, seven months pregnant, died of colon cancer. The doctors had tried to save the baby, but either way, it would have died in the womb or in minutes after birth. So nine days later, Jocelyn and baby Lillian Shirley Lampton were lay to rest six feet under. Yet the worst had not expired just yet. Whatever life Bee still clung to crumbled when their black Labrador, Charlie, ran away, his black fur never to be seen again.
Of course, Bee had been distraught with confusion and misery. Where was Mommy? Where was her baby sister? Where did Charlie go? Why wouldn’t they be coming back? So many questions … yet no answers to any.
Dennis Lampton had been taken over with pure heartache. Jocelyn had been the love of his life and now there was nothing in the world worth his devotion. Yes, including his one and only daughter, Bee.
Through the years, Bee grew used to her mother’s absence. She had gone to family friends for help with her homework and came home every evening to take care of her father. Dennis had been so lovesick that he eventually had become a mute. Yes, he was still competent with his occupation, but that pretty much summed it up for him. Bee got herself a job at the local grocery and half the pay went to help with the bills while the other went to her fantasy trip to Egypt.
Fifteen Days. Fifteen more days until she was in the land of her daydreams. Bee’s heart lurched with unease at the thought of her father home alone but gratefully Mrs. Grindle, their neighbor, had gladly agreed to watch over Mr. Lampton while Bee was away.
Grabbing her notebook, she wandered into the kitchen, popping on the TV at the same time.
“And now in Asyūt Egypt,” the anchor announced, bringing Bee out of her depressing absorption. “We’re live with Dirk Angrove. Dirk?”
“Good evening Carol.” The commentator said. Bee caught a glimpse of a multitude of people clouding behind him. Wind streamed about them and Dirk had to cling to his hat from fleeing. “Some may believe it and some may not. But like you said earlier Carol, an unknown, ancient Egyptian burial place has been found not even a day yet. Archeologists however, continue to disclose any information to the public but the couple, who, on their evening stroll, discovered the hidden tomb by actually stumbling over it, has agreed to a late night interview with Egyptian telecasters. So, until archeologists reveal the latest news, well … nothing’s new here. Back to you Carol.”
“Thanks Dirk.” Carol said, turning back to the screen. “And now to our next subject. It turns out rats are actually responsible for the toxic water in downtown New York …”
But Bee wasn’t listening any longer. Just imagine! An unseen tomb, hidden away for thousands and thousands of years, just waiting to be discovered! If only it could have waited in about two more weeks!
Turning back to her homework, Bee attempted to thrust her thoughts back to her dreadful geometry, yet it was useless. Ancient Egypt had once again plagued her thoughts and daydreams.
Fifteen more days. Bee thought happily, her mind in a world all its own. Fifteen more days.
“Beatrice, you sure you’re all right?”
Bee groaned, her face blood-drained as she watched her previous lunch take flight down the toilet bowl. She knew there was some reason she didn’t like airplanes.
Unchaining the poor-excuse-for-a-lavatory door, Bee stepped out and fell face to face with Mrs. Linn, the science teacher who agreed to chaperone the trip to Egypt.
“Beatrice, maybe you should lie low for a little –“
“I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. You just threw –“
“Trust me, I’m fine.”
“I don’t think –“
“Listen to my lips. I. Am. Fine!”
“Well, ok then.” Mrs. Linn bit her lip, her face still shining with doubt.
Bee rested back into her cushioned seats. Outside, puffs of clouds peppered across the ocean of sky. Below rested blue, nothing more and nothing less.
Bee groaned. Snapping the screen shut, she closed her eyes, struggling greatly to overcome the upsurge of nausea swimming in her stomach. Hours felt like minutes when Bee recalled leaving her father in the care of Mrs. Grindle. It had grieved her heart that her father could only look on with misery etched in his eyes as his only daughter left for sixteen days across the globe. But he was in high-quality hands and that’s what mattered to Bee.
“Ding! Hello to all our travelers on here. This is your pilot speaking. As I speak, we are reaching our destination of Cairo International Airport. At this time I ask you to put all trays in an upright position and your seatbelts securely fastened. Once again, this is your pilot speaking and I’d like to thank you for traveling with us. Enjoy the rest of your trip!”
Bee glanced around her, startled that she had fallen asleep. People surrounding her were busying themselves, arranging for the flight down.
To Bee’s disappointment, day had died into night, so, naturally, nothing could be seen apart from the winking lights of the enormous city below.
Tomorrow, Bee thought, her eyes enlarging with anticipation. Tomorrow I’ll sit with the famed pyramids and mummies. Eat and drink Egyptian cuisine and float down the extraordinary Nile. All tomorrow.
But tomorrow was another day.
Bye! :o)