In terms of archaeological digs, their discovery was the equivalent of hitting the jackpot. Three bodies. Drawings on the cave walls that told the story of who they were and how they’d come to rest in that cave. And even what appeared to be the hilt of a knife, adorned with turquoise and a shell mosaic, poking out from beneath the dirt. It was Chimalli, no doubt about it.
There was so much to take in that their hour or so in the cave only scratched the surface, and half that time was spent merely working out the logistics. They’d know more once they returned with better lighting and tools—and definitely some clothes and shoes—but waterproof gear was a must. And the space wasn’t big enough for more than a few people, so they’d have to plan accordingly. But they had found everything they’d hoped to find and then some. Corrie was right—it was the greatest Aztec discovery in a hundred years.
So why, now that they’d found Chimalli, didn’t she feel like she’d accomplished her goal? Why did it feel like a failure?
At least she wasn’t naked when it had happened.
At least Corrie garnered some relief finally having found Chimalli. At least now she could get on with her life, once this dig wrapped up, without it hanging over her head anymore. What that life looked like, however, was anyone’s guess.
The walk to camp was relatively quiet. The day had started out so perfectly, but then Ford had to go mess it up with his prodding questions and talking about their relationship.
Sigh. She couldn’t be mad at him for wanting to talk about where they were going with this whole thing. It’s not like she could avoid the topic and hope that on the last day they could go their separate ways without ever having to mention the future.
Or admitting to the fact that she’d grown feelings for him and didn’t want them to go their separate ways.
No, Ford hadn’t ruined the day. Chimalli had. Or, rather, based on what she’d gathered from the drawings on the cave wall, whatever affliction had overcome Yaretzi and their child had ruined the day. Hopefully she’d learn more with better lighting. So many people had told her that there was no way she was a descendant of an Aztec warrior. As it turned out, despite all her protests, they’d been right. Leaving her a gullible fool.
With her grandfather gone, she’d never get a chance to confront him. Thankfully, her father wasn’t one for I told you sos. He’d never believed her grandpa, anyway. And though she’d surely get a ribbing or two from her brother, eventually everyone would forget about her obsession with finding her ancestor.
Hopefully.
But her disappointment couldn’t be masked. She’d almost cried when she’d first seen the bones, and not from happiness. Ford must have sensed it, too—as excited as he should have been for their discovery, his subdued reaction told her that he understood her disappointment. They went from smiling, laughing, and making love to analytical, emotionless diagnostics.
God, why couldn’t they have just spent the day having sex without thinking about anything, like she’d planned? Today should have been a day to put all their troubles out of their minds for a bit. And now she was sulking around and avoiding having any more real conversations with Ford, which probably only added to his stress.
She was a self-centered piece of garbage. Here they were, having made a huge discovery, and she was having a private pity party in her head.
“Hannah Hollis,” she said, breaking the silence and looking straight ahead as they walked to camp.
“Huh?”
“You asked when I knew I wanted to be an archaeologist. It was after I read Hannah Hollis and the Search for the Jade Dragon.”
“Hannah Hollis,” he repeated, as if trying to place the name. “That was that series by Denise Phillips, right?”
“Mm-hmm. Ten books in total, and I devoured every single one, starting in seventh grade. One after another . . . Hannah Hollis was my escape.”
“Escape from what?”
Corrie looked at her muddy boots as they trekked through the jungle. This was the part she’d wanted to avoid when he’d asked her at the waterfall earlier.
She chewed on the inside of her mouth before finally answering. “Escape from the other girls in my school. They weren’t . . . they weren’t fond of me. It was a new school and, well, let’s just say that I drew a lot of unwanted attention from the boys because I was a little more . . . developed than the other girls that age.”
“Did they bully you?”
She laugh-cried. “Tormented me is more like it. When the boys weren’t snapping my bra, the girls were calling me ‘whore,’ and spreading rumors about me letting a whole slew of boys feel me up. I never even kissed a boy until the summer before my senior year of high school, yet by midyear in seventh grade, I’d earned the reputation as school slut.”
Ford stopped her, grabbing her by the shoulders to face him. “Corrie, that’s horrible. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No, it’s fine, Ford. I mean, I push you all the time to talk about things you don’t want to talk about. I suppose it’s only fair that you do the same to me.”
“When you push me, it’s because you’re trying to help me. This? This is me being nosy.”
“Well, maybe that’s what I need. Maybe it will be good to get it off my chest. No pun intended,” she said with a slight smile.
“Why do you do that? How do you make light of your body when it’s been a source of constant trouble for you?”
“I wasn’t always like this. I used to be insecure about my body. That twelve-year-old girl? She hated the attention it got. But the school librarian told me about Hannah Hollis, who led this double life, one as an outcast and the other as an adventurer. By the end of the series, Hannah had proved to everyone who’d ever doubted her that she was a force to be reckoned with. So, once I realized that those girls were likely jealous and insecure themselves, I determined that I was going to show them, show everyone, that Socorro Mejía was a force to be reckoned with. And that meant, among other things, taking control of my body. I can’t help the instant judgment it garners me. We all make snap judgments about people based on the way they look. Judgments about me just happen to be focused on my sexuality and often a presumed lack of intelligence. That’ll never go away. But I don’t hate my body anymore.
“I suppose it’s probably a defense mechanism, though. The jokes, I mean. If I make the jokes first, then others don’t have the opportunity to do so. It’s part of being in control of my own body. The same reason I didn’t want to talk about this earlier, because it wasn’t something I brought up.”
“You could have told me about Hannah Hollis without mentioning the rest of it.”
“But that wouldn’t be the whole story. I got into archaeology because I wanted an escape from my insecurities by desiring to emulate a badass female archaeologist.”
“Well, you’ve succeeded,” he said, smiling at her. But Corrie’s shoulders deflated and she looked away. “Corrie . . . I know you’re disappointed. I know you were convinced of your ancestry.” He tucked a loose, wavy hair behind her ear.