I had bigger things at stake now. Like cars and boyfriends.
She shrugged, her gaze skittering away. “Just something for the club.”
“Like what?”
Rolling her eyes, she plucked the gift out my hand and used her fingernail to rip open the side. She handed it back. “Nothing, all right? Club business, which means not your business. Just open your stupid gift already.”
“You’re so sweet,” I muttered, ripping off the paper. It was a shiny red box. I opened it. Nestled inside was a slender, delicate-looking bottle with the ankh, the symbol of life and the soul, emblazoned on it.
“It’s perfume,” she said. “I ordered it special from this necro website. It’s called Soul, Baby.” She looked at me. “Dumb name. But it smells good. And you like that kind of stuff.”
“Ally...it’s wonderful.”
“Dad helped me buy it for you.”
I didn’t know what to say. Ally could be annoying, cranky and generally a jerk...but sometimes she got things right. Really right. I had to admit I felt a bad case of the warm fuzzies.
“Oh, and BTW, you’re welcome for bringing home your purse and cell phone. After you left me to deal with that hag from hell, I should’ve tossed it all into traffic.”
“I already said thank you,” I said. “You want it written in blood or what?”
Ally grinned at me. “Well, I did get to see Dem and Nonna take her down. But not before she ate her way through a plate of cookies. I saw her stick a bunch in her tote, too.”
“Meh. Parting gift,” I said. “Good riddance.” I closed the box with a snap. I rubbed the top of the lid and chewed my lip. “I had a dream...um, about Anubis.”
Ally peered up at me. “You had an Anubis dream on your sixteenth birthday?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know, right?”
She was quiet for a moment. “You remember what Dem told us? About how Anubis would visit some necromancers in their dreams?”
“Sure.”
“On their sixteenth birthdays?”
Something inside me went cold and still. “That kind of stuff doesn’t really happen anymore.”
“Are you brain-damaged? It just happened to you. You really don’t like school, do you? We’re talking about this in my eighth-grade Necro 101.”
“I remember that class. Sorta,” I said, feeling defensive.
“In the sixteenth year of a necromancer’s life, parents used to take their kids to the Oracle and ask to know their paths. If the child had an Anubis dream, it meant they were chosen to do something important.”
I stared at her. “Hello, have you met me?” I vaguely recalled Dem telling us that during one of our necro lessons. Ally had a brain like a computer. She remembered everything in excruciating detail. Suddenly the gift in my hand felt like a huge weight. My heart felt heavy, too, as if too burdened to keep beating. I took a deep breath. “Do you really think I had an Anubis dream?”
Ally shrugged. “Well. Maybe it’s psychological. I mean, people don’t consult oracles anymore, right?”
I eyed her because she sounded almost soothing. And Ally trying to comfort was so not her style. “Aw, man. They do, don’t they?”
She stared at me, obviously debating, and then, like always, her honesty won out. “Yeah. Some necros still consult oracles. They’re built into the temples, Molly. Lots of necros honor the old ways.”
Foreboding crawled through me. We both sat on the bed, the silence thick.
Ally said, “You think Mom misses us?”
It killed me to hear the longing in her voice. She’d had the least amount of time with Mom; she was barely eight when Cynthia Bartolucci hit the bricks.
“Sure she does,” I lied.
Ally didn’t seem to take comfort from my words. “I used to remember what she looked like. Her scent. Her laugh. It gets harder to think about her.” She sighed. “She’s never coming back.”
“I know,” I said softly.
She swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She took a couple steps and then looked over her shoulder. “I bet the dream means nothing. Why would Anubis pick you to do anything?”
Since genuine curiosity laced her voice and not the scoffing tone she used when she thought others beneath her intellect, I didn’t throw a pillow at her head. Her gaze looked worried, too. And that kinda freaked me out. Ally wasn’t a worrier. A plotter, a planner, a pain in the butt, yes, but definitely not a worrier.
“True,” I said, waving my hand as if it could push aside both our doubts. “Besides I don’t want to do anything that will ruin my manicure.”
Ally snickered. Then she bounced off, going through our adjoining bathroom into her own room.
I fell back against my pillow, clutching the perfume box in my hand. It took me a long time to go back to sleep.
MOLLY’S REAPER DIARY
A Short History of My Life and the First Lesson of Reaperhood
So, I already wrote about the history of reapers. And I figured maybe I should write about the history of me. Well, not in a Lifetime movie kind of way. The first sixteen years of my life aren’t exactly riveting. Here are the highlights:
* * *
I was born.
Then Ally was born.
Having a sister two years younger than me is annoying...except when it’s not.
Uncle Vinnie died when I was three.
Mom left us when I was ten.
Nonna moved in and taught us about cooking and fear. (Hello, rolling pin.)
I started zombie-making training.
I survived my freshman year of high school.
I am currently enduring my sophomore year of high school.
I got my driver’s permit.
I turned sixteen.
I had an Anubis dream.
* * *
Like I said, riiiiiiiiiiveting. I hope that my future holds more exciting adventures, even beyond driving and dating. I did just accept Anubis’s offer of extra gifts, but I had brain fail in the dream.
So here’s the first lesson of being a reaper in training.
Ask
