The Year of the Great Seventh (7 page)

“Where was your family’s residence then?” Shreyashi paced up and down the stand.

“In Brooklyn, but I spent most of my time in the Bronx…” Megan spoke so quietly I could barely hear the words.

Shreyashi cut Megan off. “Please refrain from answering anything other than my question.” She came to a halt in front of Megan. “Was your family residing in South Bronx when you said you started feeling effects from the gas leakage from Bangnen Chemicals?”

Megan began to sob. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, seemingly getting back her composure. In between sobs, she mumbled, “No, we moved a month after I started feeling sick, but I was spending most of my time in my aunt’s house in the South…”

“Objection, your honor, she can’t prove that,” Shreyashi said, turning to face the judge.

I suspected Shreyashi was enjoying bullying Megan, even if it was required by the script.

“Please proceed,” the judge instructed. His hands hid under the sleeves of his black robe.

“Isn’t it true that during that month, your aunt was in North Carolina visiting some relatives?” Shreyashi said, smashing her fist on Megan’s stand and producing a loud thud.

Megan was blubbering inconsolably. She covered her face with her hands while she murmured something to herself.

“Cut!” the director shouted, and all the actors rushed off the set to get breakfast from a table that had been set up on the side.

Megan was all smiles. She dried her tears with a tissue that her mom handed her. I had to admit I was surprised by Megan’s performance. She was undoubtedly a terrific actress. For a moment I’d forgotten that this wasn’t actually a courtroom.

“We’ll do the next scene in five minutes!” the director announced.

Shreyashi stormed to the director’s side. She didn’t seem pleased with his decision. I realized why Megan had placed my chair next to this camera. I was right behind the director and the producers.

“She was rushing through the script,” Shreyashi said quietly but firmly to the director.

“I think it came across quite naturally. I’m pleased with the take.” The director looked away.

“We need to do this again. She was trying to steal the spotlight by rushing me through my lines. You know the studio won’t be happy if I’m not happy,” Shreyashi threatened, her finger pointing at the director.

The director rolled his eyes at Shreyashi and called out, “Change of plans. We’ll do a couple more takes just for safety!”

Megan was by the food table. Her mom hadn’t left her side for a second.

Shreyashi vanished through the corridor, and since my mission was accomplished for now, I went over to grab myself some breakfast.

“If you mess up again, the studio’s going to think you’re not good enough for this. You need to focus. Why did you bring Sophie? She’s a distraction to…”

Megan’s Mom’s words petered out as she saw me coming over.

“Megan, you were terrific. You actually made me believe this was happening for real.” I grinned.

“Thanks, but I don’t think the director was too impressed. He wants another take.” Megan groaned, disappointed. She poured herself some orange juice, which she gulped down in seconds.

“He was satisfied with the take. It’s you-know-who who wanted another take,” I whispered into her ear.

A light crease appeared in Megan’s forehead. “I knew it!”

Megan’s Mom was getting coffee, but I could feel she was watching me. She was worried I was going to distract Megan.

I wasn’t sure what to think about her mom. Megan had confessed that her mom wanted to get her sister’s acting career started, even though she was only six years old. Megan was especially protective of her sister and wanted her to have a normal childhood. She always told her she could try acting when she was old enough to be sure that’s what she wanted to do.

“Please take your places!” the director shouted.

All the actors went back to the set and I went back to my chair.

Thanks to Shreyashi, the same scene was repeated nine times. The director seemed absolutely frustrated with her behavior, but she seemed to have enough authority to get away with it.

Shreyashi’s strategy was to wear Megan down by repeating the same scene over and over. The lines for Megan’s character were quite dramatic and you would expect, after repeating the same scene a few times, the intensity of her performance would diminish.

I was utterly impressed by Megan’s maturity and professionalism. After I warned her during the breakfast break, Megan knew what Shreyashi was after, and she was going to give her none of that. The more Megan repeated the scene, the better she transmitted the character’s emotions. Some of the other actors on the set looked astonished by her acting.

Shreyashi was trying to get her fired, but what she didn’t realize was that she was really giving Megan the opportunity to show the director that she was worth her weight in gold.

They worked for almost ten hours. They lost me after the first six. Megan was great, but I didn’t understand what the big deal was about acting. Repeating the same lines all day long was anything but enjoyable to me. Probably Megan thought the same about studying what happened to human civilizations thousands of years ago. Most actors seemed to do it for the attention and for the shot at fame, and that was obvious. That was not Megan.

My gaze fixed blankly on the set. Megan’s sobbing echoed in the distance. My mind filled again with questions about Nate’s cruelty. I knew he was popular and that he had no interest in changing his social status by being associated with me. But still I was having trouble coping with his premeditated harsh words. He’d deliberately intended to humiliate me.

I felt angry with myself for falling into such an obvious trap. Why had I been so naïve? Why did I have this stupid idea that Nate was different from the other popular students? He was as heartless as the rest. He had some unsettled business with Ethan and had decided to sort it out that night. He didn’t care whether I got caught in the middle, and to make matters worse, he didn’t even want to be seen with me after what he put me through.

I didn’t want to be angry with him. No, that was a waste of energy. He was another victim of high school absurdity. We were told fairy tales about high school kings and queens and the privileges of popularity, but everyone forgot to mention that this will mean nothing the day we’re thrown out into the real world. Why waste any time with it, then?

I wanted to feel indifferent toward Nate, but I couldn’t control my anger. He’d shown no mercy and meticulously chosen his words to inflict as much harm as possible.

I couldn’t wait for my high school years to be over. I wished for the day this would seem a distant memory. I was ready for my life to start, and sadly I knew, until I got to New York, this wasn’t going to happen.

“Sophie, I got you a taxi to go home. It’s waiting outside. We might not finish until midnight, and it’s getting late,” Megan’s mom whispered into my ear.

She was right. It was 8:30 p.m., and I had to go home. I promised Mom I would catch up with all my schoolwork for the following day.

I nodded and silently grabbed my jacket from behind the chair. I tiptoed out of the studio. Megan was in the middle of a scene and I didn’t want to interrupt her. A black SUV was waiting for me at the studio gate, and I climbed into the backseat.

*

When I arrived home, Mom was watching TV in the living room. As soon as I opened the door, she fired off her questions. “How was it? Did you like it?”

She was lying on the sofa, barefoot. The lights were half-dimmed.

“It was fun, but I don’t really see myself doing it. I’m afraid you’re stuck with your history freak daughter.” I grinned, planting a kiss on Mom’s cheek.

I dropped my jacket on the armrest and sat next to Mom to watch TV with her. I was exhausted just from spending the day at the set doing nothing. I couldn’t even imagine how tired Megan must’ve been right now.

“Long day, huh?” Mom said, bringing her feet onto the sofa and crossing her legs.

I nodded, thinking of Megan. Mom playfully tucked a lock of hair that was falling over my face behind my ear.

“That girl shouldn’t be working so many hours. No acting for you, then?” Mom said, slightly disappointed.

“Nope, I’m not such a hard worker. I’m more of the lazy kind.” I laughed.

Mom was wearing a Moroccan silk dress—another of Dad’s souvenirs from his African trips. She looked beautiful. I hoped I’d inherited her genes. It was as if Mom was aging in reverse. The more years went by, the younger she looked. Her petite silhouette and her long hair were more characteristic of an adolescent than a middle-aged woman. Last week in the supermarket, the cashier referred to her as my sister. That comment lightened Mom’s day.

Mom was watching the news, and as soon as the commercial break was over, the TV screen caught her gaze. She raised the volume with the remote control.

The news anchor presented the block.

“Preston Gorringe announced at a rally in San Diego today that he’ll be running for the California senate.”

An image of Preston Gorringe addressing a crowd appeared on TV.

“I have served this country for six years. While fighting our war on terror, I came to realize that the battle to preserve the American dream starts here on the streets of California. From Berkeley to Fresno, the middle class of this state deserves better from its politicians.”

The crowd broke into applause.

“This nation has led the world for the last century, and despite the current economic predicament, we are not going to let China or anyone else take our place. We have always been at the top, and we will use whatever resources we need to make sure we stay there.”

The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

Preston then changed his tone.

“In the Middle Ages, Nostradamus predicted the end of the world for the beginning of this century. However, I think he meant the end of an era and the beginning of the next. In the era I envisage, America will truly lead the world, and this time we will prevail, whatever it takes. This…”

“This guy gives me the creeps.” Mom switched off the TV and grabbed a book from the coffee table.

“What are you reading?” I asked, getting comfortable on the sofa.

That question made Mom react instantly. “That doesn’t matter because you have to do your homework. Do you remember our little deal about missing school today?”

“All right, I get it,” I mumbled, getting my backpack that I’d left by the stairs. “Is Dad in his office? Maybe he can help.”

Mom nodded, pointing at Dad’s office without moving her gaze from the book. The light was on and the door half open.

Dragging my overweight backpack along the living room, I headed to Dad’s office. I stood next to the door, observing him. He scrutinized the page of an old book with a magnifying glass, unaware of my presence. He moved the glass closer to the page.

The office was dim, only lit by a desk lamp. It was an unusually quiet night, and bright moonlight shone through the window. Dad’s office resembled a deserted library after closing hours.

“Hey, Dad, can I interrupt?” I said, making Dad jump in the chair.

“I didn’t realize you were standing there. Come in.” He swirled in his chair to face me.

“Dad, could you quickly run me through the main aspects of Ancient Egypt? I missed class today.” I sat on the sofa across from his desk and brought a notebook and pen out of my backpack.

I’d heard many times about Dad’s trips to Egypt, and I was more or less familiar with ancient Egypt, but it had been quite a long time. I needed him to refresh my memory.

“Not sure if I can run you ‘quickly’ through 3,000 years of history.” Dad half-grinned.

I rolled my eyes at him. Dad loved to tease me. He knew exactly what I was asking him.

“Your teacher probably focused on mythology. I guess that’ll do.” Dad closed the old book he’d been inspecting.

I shrugged and Dad began his story. “Egyptians believed the sun was the creator of all, as it gave them life, health, and existence. They worshiped the rising sun ‘Ra,’ symbolized by an obelisk, and the setting sun ‘Tum,’ symbolized by a pyramid.”

I vigorously wrote the highlights of his lecture in my notebook. I needed to review it before the test.

Dad passionately transmitted his knowledge. “Egyptians were superstitious and feared the night. The sun god was absent, leaving them at the mercy of the night spirits. The obelisks were erected, representing the rising sun, and were supposed to protect them at night.”

Dad’s deep voice echoed off the office walls. He was a great lecturer. He had a special way of explaining history. He made it sound as if he was telling a story.

“The obelisks were carved in the quarries of Syenite, located in Aswan, Egypt. This wasn’t a random choice. In these quarries, you can find a reddish stone called Syenite, unique to this area. The quarries are positioned exactly on the Tropic of Cancer. There is a well in front of the quarries where the sun reflects perfectly in vertical position at noon in the summer solstice, creating a perfect connection between God, the sun, and Earth.”

The full moon shining through Dad’s window caught my attention. It was an intense bright yellow, making it seem as if it were on fire.

“Egyptians thought that the Syenite stone had divine powers. They said the Syenite was created by the well reflection in the summer solstice and claimed this stone was a gift from God to protect them from the night spirits, and this is why they carved their obelisks from it.” Dad stood up and grabbed a small wooden box with Egyptian engravings from a shelf. He delicately placed the box on the coffee table in front of me, and after opening it, he picked up a small silver necklace with five round stones.

“The middle stone is Syenite. I bought it for Mom from a souvenir shop in Aswan. You can keep it; she hasn’t worn it in eighteen years.” He put the necklace around my neck.

The necklace was beautiful, but it seemed delicate. The silver thread that held the stones together was as thin as a needle. I’d never owned a piece of real jewelry before and was afraid of the responsibility of having to look after it.