Author`s Note: Hey guys! I`m so happy that I have a couple more reviews so I`d like to thank pinkxjellybean, FloatingPizza, Hawk`s-Gal4077 (love the name n love M*A*S*H btw ;) MamaLita n TTCyclone! Now, I have to warn you that this chapter may get a bit borin n i just took any historical facts from my own knowledge so sorry if i got anythin wrong, but it took 4 days to complete it so dont kill me here. Also, I am havin a slight spell of writers block n if you would really like to see somthin happen let me know. This doesnt mean ill for sure use your idea but if I dont have an writing epiphany in a couple days ill definitely consider it. Well, Here. We. Go!

Here, Here, and Here

Chapter 4

Something You Should See

Mr. Daley leads me out of the Tomb of Ahkmenrah and into the rest of the bright museum. I keep my eyes angled down towards my scuffed shoes, only looking up to make sure I was not falling behind the night guard`s long strides. We turn down a curved hallway, passing the Huns again and other a few early Native American tribe displays. The hallway eventually empties into the center of the museum where swarms of late afternoon tourists are snapping photos and purchasing gifts. I am still a little unnerved by the enormous dinosaur skeleton, menacingly posing on its pedestal. I can`t help but wonder what it was like when it still had skin on it. When it was alive...

I shake myself out of my thoughts and avert my eyes from the fossil, setting my gaze on the building`s front door. Outside, the rain had ceased and a warm setting sun replaced it. I frown and check my watch, confused. It`s almost sunset, I think. Did I really spend over an hour taking that tour? Mom will be wanting me home soon, won`t she? Oh, wait, no she won`t. She doesn`t care anymore, I remember, and wrap one arm around my stomach, where I can feel the despair forming. I shove the emotion back down deeper, for fear of letting it show in public.

"Hey, um Mister Daley," I say, getting his attention, and return my eyes to the shiny floor.

"Call me Larry," he responds cheerfully.

"Ok, Larry," I start again. "Where are you takin` me an` how much longer is it gonna be `cause I gots ta` get home sometime."

"Don`t worry!" He smiles and pats me gently on the shoulder. "It won`t be much longer now and you`ll find everything you need for your paper." I notice Larry shoots a quick glace past me, to the door and the outside world like I did a few moments ago. After nodding once, he continues to move ahead and we turn down another corridor and come to a stop before another hallway.

Above the opening to the hall, a wooden plaque is drilled into the wall with the words "American History" engraved on it with brass lettering. I suddenly remember why I came to the museum in the first place and sigh. Research is the last thing on Earth that I want to do right now but I go after Larry into the hall regardless. Looking down the hall, I can see a detailed timeline explaining the U. S.`s past running along the length of the crimson walls. Enormous rippling American flags are painted behind the timeline, acting as a colorful backdrop. Larry motions for me to follow him further to where I`m guessing the Prohibition area lies. I jog across the linoleum and catch up with the night guard around the Civil War section and we continue to walk beside the timeline.

I run my hand along various events in history and it almost gives me the feeling of moving forward in time. I keep doing this until Mr. Daley finally stops sometime after World War I. He points to a number of years on the wall, all of which are under a section labeled "The Roaring Twenties".

"This," Larry says placing his finger on the year 1920, "Is when Prohibition started." I nod, still uninterested. He begins to give me what I assume is a rundown of helpful facts. But, as usual, I find my mind wandering to other subjects, like my dad. I remember getting caught sneaking out to see him for the third time this week, or was it the fourth? I honestly couldn`t keep track of the times I had tried to slip away and visit my father. Even when I did get to see him, the hospital almost always sends me home.

I am only able to catch a few of the words that Larry used in his ramble. Things like "Volstead Act", "Organized Crime," and "Bootleggers" stand out to me for some reason.

"Hang on here," I interrupt him, "What the flyin` flip is a bootlegger?" The word sounds oddly humorous to me. Larry sighs like he`s repeating this for the upteenth time.

"It`s a person who makes or sells various illegal goods. During Prohibition, it was a popular business. They mostly made alcohol then."

"Ah," I rock back on my heals, and a quick moment of silence follows before Mr. Daley says,

"You should probably write a few of these things down. Ya know, for your paper." Nodding, I reach into my backpack and pull out a graffiti-covered note book and a teeth mark-ridden pen. Larry and I start to take another stroll, now walking away from the timeline, and he goes into a bit more depth on this "bootlegging". While he spits out important facts, I keep walking and scribble down quick notes, making a mental note to decode my writing later.

We weave around corners and take different turns; I can only assume he is leading me to another part of the museum. I continue to tag along side him until he abruptly stops again, this time infront of an exhibit.

"This," Larry gestures towards the exhibit, "is also someone you might wanna look into learning about." I put a period on the last sentence I was scrawling out and turn my head upwards. I see that Mr. Daley is referring to a photo. Well, more than a photo really, a monochromatic picture pasted onto a life-sized cardboard cut-out. The photo itself is of a fairly young man, who looks as if he has been plucked right out of an old 20`s detective movie, complete with pin-striped garb and a grey fedora covering neat, dark hair. I stare for another moment before asking,

"Great. Who is he?"

"That would be a bootlegger. One of the most well-known, actually." Larry shoots me a side glance, "I mean, you`ve heard of Al Capone right?

I chew the name over in my mind, scanning my brain for any connections it brought about. Suddenly, I recall Mrs. Celeste`s mentioning it a couple times in class this year (always accompanied by grey scale photos), and once today. This must have been the exhibit she was talking about, I think and snap my fingers as I come to the conclusion.

"Yeah, it does ring a bell. I`ve heard it a few times in history this year, an` my teacher also recommend I check out an exhibit on him here. I`m guessin` this what she meant." I say.

"And she was definitely putting you on the right track. Capone was a very important figure during Prohibition. I would give you a few facts but it looks like it`s a bit late." Mr. Daley finishes and flicks his wrist to take a glance at his watch while I look back up at Al.

Much like my experience with the T-Rex at the front of the museum, I wonder what Capone was like when he was alive and walking. What was his attitude? Was he headstrong or tractable? Was he stubborn and persistent or did he give up easily? How did he treat the women and men he came in contact with? How did he handle a sticky situation? I felt slightly stupid for letting my mind ask questions or even care about someone that had lived nearly ninety years ago, but I almost had a desire to know the answers.

"Well, I think it would probably be best to get going." Larry decides, shaking me from my thoughts... again. "Your parents are probably gonna be wondering where you are!" I scoff quietly at the idea, not loud enough for him to hear. The night guard smiles again, placing a hand on my shoulder, and leads us both out of the American History section.

Once we have entered the nearly empty front of the museum, I stop, remembering my manners.

"Thank you Mister Daley for helpin` me with the research!" I call and turn to leave.

"Of course! Do you think you got enough for a while?" He asks.

"I think so. You`re quite the Encyclopedia there chief." Mr. Daley laughs whole-heartedly.

"Well, working here, it`s best you read up on your history." A strange tone is set in his voice, similar to the one he used earlier while talking about the miniatures. Almost like he knows something I don`t, and is waving the secret in my face.

"Yeah, I still dunno if I gonna do well on this paper though. Maybe the "Tablet of Ahkmenrah" will give me the help I need," I say over-dramatically and laugh, but I notice that Larry doesn`t seem to think it`s humorous at all.

"You never know." He almost whispers and swallows hard.

"What? You don`t really believe in those stories you where tellin` do ya? I mean, it`s all just for show right?" I put on my honest face and hope that Larry will be frank with me.

He sighs and looks at his shoes apparently contemplating something. "Come back in a few days." Mr. Daley turns his face back to meet mine. "I think I might just have an idea. So you go home, live your normal life, tell me if anything...changes, and come back to the museum say, Tuesday." he pats my shoulder and, waving to me calls, "Good night!" I shake my head and push through the revolving glass doors.

As soon as I`m back in the outside world, I suck in deep breath of late afternoon air to clear my mind. I start to head for home and while I`m running have time to think. "Changes?" What the hell did he mean by "if anything...changes"? Im pretty much stuck in a rut with my life here. No museum, "magic tablet", or person is going to change that. He can`t seriously believe in that children`s story, can he? Unless it`s true...No there`s no way. There`s no magic. That stuff belongs in fairy tales and nursery rhymes, not in museums. Museums are for facts and that`s all that`s there. Facts. If some people can`t see that, too bad.

By the time my rant is finished I`m nearly home and pretty damn glad. I was exhausted from the day and didn`t want to squander my energy supply with these crazy thoughts. Changes, I scoff. Yeah right.