Free Annabeth Neverending by Leyla Kader Dahm Page A

Though I probably did, if the spit dribbling down my chin is any indication.
    “Good,” says my brother as he exhales with relief. I’m touched that he seems genuinely relieved.
    “Aw, you love me! Do you want a hug? Do you want a kiss?” I ask, reaching out my arms to him, knowing full well that this’ll drive him away. And it works. He goes running, faster than I’ve seen him move before. My mom narrowly avoids getting steamrolled when she enters my room.
    “Careful!” she yells to the sound of his slamming door.
    My mother gives me a once - over. I must look pretty ridiculous.
    “I take it that you had quite a night.”
    “It was…interesting,” I say obliquely.
    I wait in vain for an accusation, but none comes. I’m almost insulted that my mom doesn’t suspect me of being hungover, but I suppose I’m too much of a Goody Two - shoes for that. She yanks on the cord to open the horizontal wooden blinds. They part slowly and creakily. But the light doesn’t pour in between the slats like usual.
    “Time for work!”
    “Ugh. It’s so dark,” I comment, my mouth turned in a tired frown.
    “No, it isn’t. Are you coming down with something?”
    I blink furiously, trying to get my eyes to focus. It doesn’t seem to be helping matters. Great. This must be another side effect. The light is so bright in ancient Egypt that everything now seems dim by comparison. In the movie of my life, it’s as though we’re shooting night for day. I can’t panic, even though this is the most frightening side effect yet.
    My mother pulls out a thermometer that’s handily located inside her pants pocket.
    “My eyes needed to adjust, that’s all,” I insist.
    My mother lets out a loud yelp. I practically jump out of my skin.
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Just when were you going to tell me about that?”
    She points over to Mew Mew, who just slid out from underneath my bed and is now sitting in the corner, coolly licking her paws as though we’re the visitors in her home.
    “I found her last night when I came home from Kerry’s party. Can’t I keep her? Please? She isn’t just any old stray,” I say.
    “She’s not?” my mom asks.
    “Well, uh, she has two different - colored eyes!”
    “Your father and I will have to discuss it. Cats are hotbeds of germs, and I don’t want you catching anything…but maybe. She is beautiful.”
    She’s wavering!
    “But you have to put up signs first, to see if someone claims her.”
    I agree, knowing that nobody will. At least, I hope they won’t. But I’ll cross that bridge if I must.
    “Well, you better get moving, so you aren’t late. By the way, I’m sorry we’ll be missing your halftime performance tonight. Your dad and I both have a work function to attend.”
    “I forgot too. Don’t worry. You won’t be missing anything. Really. Except for my complete and utter humiliation, that is.”
    “Honey, you know you always bring it on.”
    “Right,” I say with a little laugh. I never “bring it,” and I definitely never “bring it on.”
    I got so caught up in the whole reincarnation/finding my soulmate thing that I blanked on the game. And I still haven’t mastered the toe touch…in this lifetime. Though conquering pompon choreography isn’t exactly at the top of my priority list right now.
    My mother leaves, and I look down at my hands with difficulty. I’m concerned that parts of my own body — objects in close proximity — are hard for me to see. With every additional flashback, it becomes more obvious that I’m not equipped to endure them without experiencing an awful physical backlash.
    I tell myself that this’ll dissipate. My vision will return. I just need some time. I will fully regain my sight…I have to. I mean, memory retrieval can’t bring me irreparable harm, can it? I refuse to accept the idea that I won’t be OK. Isn’t that an old joke, that “denial” is a river in Egypt? Surely it’s never been so appropriate.
    It seems like