Blue Bloods (Blue Bloods 1)

"Let's go, she's a freak," Bliss said, scowling at her sister, who was dressed all in white and looked like she was about to receive her first communion.

"I'm telling!" Jordan threatened.

"Go ahead! Tell everybody!" Bliss shot back.

Dylan smirked, and without another word, Bliss followed him through the back door, down the stairs, toward the first level of the mansion.

One of the school's housekeepers looked up from inside the copy room, which faced the back staircase. "Wha' you kids doing here?" she asked, putting a hand on her ample hips.

"Adriana, be cool." Dylan smiled.

The housekeeper shook her head, but she smiled back.

Bliss liked that Dylan was on friendly terms with the staff. Even though he was just being polite, it was still nice. Mimi treated the ground staff and the service workers with withering condescension.

Dylan led Bliss out the side door past the Dumpsters and out the service entrance. Soon they were free, and walking down Ninety-first Street.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

She shrugged. She inhaled the fresh autumn air. Now, that was something she was really starting to enjoy about New York. The crisp, clean fall weather - they didn't have weather like that down in Houston. It went from muggy to rainy. She put her hands in the pockets of her calf-skimming Chloe trench coat.

"It's New York, we could do anything," he teased. "The whole city is open to us. We could see a burlesque show, or a bad comedy act. Hear some Derrida lecture at NYU. Or we could go bowling at the Piers. I know, what about this bar in the East Village where the waiters are real Belgian monks? Or maybe we could go rowing in the Park?"

"Maybe we can just walk to a museum?" she asked.

"Oh, artsy girl." He smiled. "All right. Which one?"

"The Met," she decided. She'd only been there once, and only to the gift shop, where her stepmother had spent hours picking out floral prints for souvenirs.

They walked toward Fifth Avenue and arrived at the Metropolitan Museum in quick time. The front steps were filled with people scarfing down their lunches, taking pictures, or simply basking in the sun. It was a carnival atmosphere; someone was slapping bongos on one end, and a boom box blasted reggae music on the other. They walked up the steps and inside.

The lobby of the museum was bustling with activity and color - schoolchildren on field trips lined up behind their teachers, art students walked briskly with their sketchbooks tucked underneath their arms, a Babelian prattle of many different languages bubbled from the tourists.

Dylan slid a dime underneath the glass ticket counter. "Two, please," he said, an innocent smile on his face.

Bliss was a little appalled. She checked the sign. SUGGESTED DONATION: $15. Well, he had a point, it was suggested, not mandatory. The cashier handed them their round Met pins with no comment. Apparently, he'd seen it all before.

"Have you ever been to the Temple of Dendur?" Dylan asked, leading Bliss toward the northern end of the museum.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "What's that?"

"Stop," he said. He put his hands gently on her face. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" She giggled.

"Just do it," he said. "Trust me."

She closed her eyes, holding a hand against her face, and she felt him tug at her hand, leading her forward. She walked hesitantly, feeling ahead of her - they were inside some kind of maze, she thought - as he led her briskly through a series of sharp turns. Then they were outside of it. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense they were in a large, empty space.

"Open your eyes," Dylan whispered.

She blinked them open.

They were standing in front of the ruins of an Egyptian temple. The building was majestic and primitive at the same time - in direct contrast to the clean, modern lines of the museum. It was absolutely stunning. The hall was empty, and there was a long horizontal fountain in front of the temple. It was a breathtaking piece of art, and the history behind it - the fact that the museum had meticulously shipped and reconstructed it so that the temple looked perfectly at home in a Manhattan museum - made Bliss's head roll.

"Oh my God."

"I know," Dylan said, his eyes twinkling.