I come down the stairs for dinner time, my hair still wet from my bath. My mood is still extremely jubilant, because it was six hours ago that I aced my history final.

School is over and its such a relief to not have any more things to stress about.

Okay, well there are a few things to worry about.

Like my psycho, gradually-falling-off-the-edge father.

Or my tendency to always make a mess of things.

And that little glitch in my personality that forbids me from ever being manageable.

Oh, and don't forget my skinny, starved looking body!

But at the moment, my biggest problem is that I think Indiana Jones is attractive.

That, my friend, is a HUGE problem.

Anyways, I walk down to the dining room to only see a mess of blonde hair attack me into a death grip hug.

"I knew you would do fine!" Carrie squeals into my ear.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving for London after school?" I ask as we separate. (You see, Carrie's dad is the museum curator and he's taking the family to London for a few weeks to get a piece of art and vacate).

"My boat was postponed to depart two weeks from now." She says engagingly, waving her hand around. "But your Dad called me to come over for the congratulations party!"

I then look around and realize that Indy, Abner and Carrie are all standing around a cake with icing lettering: Congratulations on Acing your Final!

A smile spreads across my face as I run over and give Abner a kiss on the cheek and Indy a well deserved hug. I have a feeling he suggested the cake (Indiana, I mean) and by the twinkle in his eye, I know I'm right.

How...surprising of him.

We sit, and Carrie cuts the cake into slices, though I notice she gives my piece and extra two inches of width.

Mmmmm...vanilla...my favorite.

We eat in pleasant silence for a minute or so, me trying to ignore Carrie's furtive glances across the table at Indy and I, who are coincidentally sitting together.

"Marion?" My father asks, putting his fork down.

"Yes Abner?" I ask back, feeling a small twinge of regret at using his real name.

"I've decided that you are growing up and becoming more responsible," He begins, as I feel a trickle of hope creeping into my stomach, "And you should be allowed some more privileges. So, next week, I am allowing you to attend the next conference with Indiana and I."

My stomach does several somersaults. Not the pleasant kind, mind you.

Allow me to explain the fascinating concept of Historic Conferences at Chicago University.

Boring. As. Hell.

All they consist of are nasally, old, stuffy, batty men like my father who care more about whether or not King Arthur's long lost underwear exist than current issues like poverty or starvation.

You'd think that as educated as they all are, the professors would care about current day stuff.

But why do that, when you can talk about King Arthur's knickers instead?

Obviously, a conference isn't my idea of fun because of the aforementioned reason above, plus the fact that it's formal (meaning Carie gets to primp me all up) and the fact that dresses are a must.

Crap.

I sit there in my seat, my cake supporting fork in mid-air between my mouth and the table.

"You see," My father continues, "We have a special guest coming to speak about the location of the Headpiece to the Staff of Ra."

"Who's the speaker?" I ask in monotone, knowing I've heard 'head piece of the staff of Ra' mentioned somewhere before. Did I hear it from my teacher? Indy?

"Don't you remember anything I write in my letters?" Yells a voice from the doorway.

My ears recognize the voice before I even see the face.

"OXLEY!" I scream, running into the awaiting arms of my almost-big-brother.

He smells like dirt and someone's french whorehouse perfume. There is a trace of lipstick on his collar.

"Been busy, Ox?" I ask teasingly, rubbing off the lipstick with a sly smile.

"You're too smart for your own good." He says with a brotherly kiss to my cheek.

Who cares about my forgotten birthday? I aced my final, hugged Indiana Jones, ate vanilla cake with my best friend and got to see one of my closest friends that is practically related to me.

I think that life just might be starting to look up.

...

Ha, who am I kidding?