Free The Mayan Priest by Sue Guillou

still unknown to him. Also present in each of the vibrant, sun-soaked pictures was the same man standing at the base of each of the buildings. Adam eventually concluded that his regal coloured garb and headpiece made him someone of importance, but who he was remained a mystery.
    Adam shook off his early morning reflections and proceeded to rummage sightless around the top of his bedside table, knocking off an unwashed coffee cup and a Reader’s Digest magazine before he located his semi-frameless glasses. He was short-sighted and would usually put his contact lenses on first thing in the morning, but it was still only 6 am and his eyes were grainy from the lack of sleep last night.
    Tomorrow was the 27th of June 2009 and in his home town of Melbourne, Australia, it was the final school day for term two. He had been required to spend many late nights finishing the midyear reports for his grade six students and thankfully he had only one remaining. He had planned to complete that this morning.
    Adam had been a teacher for twelve years and at the age of thirty-two, this was the first time he had taught anyone over the age of seven. In grade six, the average age was eleven and he found that he enjoyed the maturity that came with the older children. He no longer had to console crying kids, help them eat their lunches and combat temper tantrums. Even the fanatical parents who constantly invaded his office to criticise his teaching and ensure the wellbeing of their precious little ones had drastically reduced the frequency of their visits. It made for a pleasant change.
    Although teaching afforded him a reasonable wage, it was barely enough to cover those unexpected bills that life threw his way and last week was the bearer of a beauty. He was thrown a huge curve ball when he was pulled over by the police and his vehicle declared unroadworthy. The local mechanic gave him a hefty account of three thousand dollars to repair the 1997 Toyota Corolla, leaving him gasping for breath and feeling like he needed to rob the local bank. Not that he was the sort of person to commit a crime, but he had no idea where to find the finances. Although that wasn’t entirely true. He could approach his parents, but getting money from them was more painful than mowing the lawn.
    Ever since they had learnt of his desire to become a primary school teacher, they had rubbished the thought and when his wishes became a reality, he was often belittled. His father had been a successful tennis player and his mother a golf pro. After their careers had finished, they both taught up-and-coming youngsters and referred to their work as ‘an extension of their illustrious professions’. True to their characters, they both charged exorbitant rates for their ‘exclusive’ services and as such often jested at Adam‘s measly pay. Their ridicule at his expense hurt more than he cared to admit, but in the end he concluded that teaching children to read and write was far nobler than their endeavours. He simply learnt to avoid them where possible.
    Therefore, when Adam concluded that he could not ask his parents to foot the three thousand dollar bill and he had to find the funds himself, one particular hexagonal shaped disk came to mind. He did not want to sell the paintings because of the enjoyment they provided, but the disk was of no significance to him and the obvious choice. He had pulled it from its box the previous evening and noted the finely crafted hieroglyphs, the gold and jade inner and outer trim and the precision with which it was created. It had to be worth at least three thousand dollars if not more. He proceed to list it on eBay for three thousand five hundred dollars as a ’buy now’ price.
    Reaching into his built-in cupboard, Adam grabbed a pair of black slacks, a creased but clean casual green shirt (he hated ironing), a brown jacket and his favourite RM Williams boots before quickly dressing. He hurried to the kitchen, stopping via the spare room