Lori must’ve snuck back into the tent sometime after I fell asleep. But in the morning, she wouldn’t admit she was out late, despite my teasing. Jet-lagged and parched, Lori, Minh, and I eventually dragged ourselves out of the tent and made a beeline for the bathrooms. We were hauling along our travel toiletries bags stuffed with toothbrushes, shampoo bottles, and sunblock tubes. Between the three of us it was quite an endeavor to get ready for the day ahead.
In the clear early-morning light I got to see more of the camp. It spread out farther into the desert than I’d imagined. The tight groups of tents surrounded the dig’s three main subsites, which formed the camp’s dug-up heart. A lone excavator stood idly to the side. The area must have been too artifact-stuffed to use heavy machinery. Khaki-clad volunteers were already gathering by their stations, instruments at the ready, hands eager to get dirty.
As I kept looking around me, I recalled Mom’s words that had burned themselves into my earliest childhood memories: Archaeology is all about the past. Archaeologists look backward. Whenever I remembered her saying that, child-me would imagine this middle-aged bearded white dude wearing knee-length shorts and a safari hat with eyes inexplicably at the back of his head (so he could look backward!). As I grew older, this picture changed into one of a woman—thanks to watching Mom work in the field in her beloved multipocket khaki pants, gray singlet, and baseball cap. Not even once in her entire life had she ever worn a sun hat, and her dreamy but eagle-sharp eyes were trained on the horizon ahead or at the ground at her feet, not backward.
Just like my parents, everyone on this dig lived and breathed archaeology. I envied their unilateral focus in life. I had yet to find mine, but I hoped I was getting closer each day. As a child of not one but two archaeologists, it was always assumed I’d follow in my parents’ footsteps, but deep down I wasn’t so sure. I loved many aspects of the discipline, like the fascinating discoveries and all the theory testing preceding those, but I was also realistic. It was a tough field to break into. Maybe being out here, on an active dig, would help me gain the focus I needed in life.
Back in our tent, I unfolded my dig-issued khakis and white long-sleeved shirt, both wrinkled and half a size too big. With a sigh, I put the khakis on, hoping the folds would stretch out on their own. I personalized my attire by donning a London Grammar tee instead of the generic dig shirt. I might end up with sunburns on my arms, but at least I’d look stylish. There were no mirrors in the tent though, so no matter how much I stared down at my body in hopes of getting some idea of how the ensemble really looked, I was left hanging.
Another mandatory item of clothing I couldn’t bring myself to wear was the baseball cap. The mere thought of it sitting tight on my head all day and the sweaty-itchy mess it’d create made me shudder. I knew I was being childish, but still, defiantly, I stuffed the cap into my pants’ back pocket. It didn’t come to me as a surprise that Lori was equally rebellious in her clothing choices: She had just enough conformity in her bones to wear the khakis, but that didn’t extend as far as the headgear. Only Minh wore the whole outfit, cap and all. Before leaving the tent, the three of us, Australian to the core, slathered our faces and necks with SPF 50 sunblock. We were all scarred for life by those brutal skin-cancer-awareness ads the government used to run, so sunblock was our daily staple no matter what.
As we were getting ready, I kept watching Minh’s interactions with Lori, expecting to see some hostility or at least weirdness between them, but all seemed civil and friendly. Maybe my observation of Minh giving Rowen and Lori the stink eye yesterday was just my being tired and misreading the situation. Or maybe it was just Rowen who Minh was upset with? I guess, after my own strange adventures with Luke yesterday, followed by the awkward moment with Tommy, I wasn’t the best judge of human intentions. As a side note, in the unforgiving light of a new day I was ready to die of embarrassment just thinking about what had happened between me and Luke and Tommy.
We swung by the boys’ tent to find Luke and Rowen practically asleep on their feet. It reeked of alcohol inside their tent. The drinks must’ve been supplied by their older roommates. We spared the boys the ridicule, and soon the five of us were headed for the volunteer information booth to meet Tommy.
I eyed Tommy from afar and put on a bored expression as we approached him. My pride was going to be my undoing. Tommy didn’t look too excited about his assigned role of babysitting us either. Still, with enviable patience, he answered all our questions and even had the decency not to mention anything about my misfortunes last night, despite Luke staring daggers at him. Tommy told us that ever since he and my father made their way to the site ten days ago, groups of volunteers had been arriving to the camp every day. Most of these volunteers were students, here to partake in the dig for a university credit or to gather data for their graduate research projects. Aside from Rufus, son of Dr. Archer Palombo, my father’s second-in-command, I was the only other camp brat. And tourists like my friends were even a bigger rarity out here. But tourist or not, everyone had to pull their share.
After watching a safety instruction video, we followed Tommy to the cafeteria for breakfast. Our group was a late arrival, with most people already leaving. Stomachs rumbling, we took our seats, and I realized, much to my surprise, that Tommy was going to eat breakfast with us. At our table. That was totally cool. I was cool with that. Totally.
Nearby, there was another late-arriving group of student volunteers, big and loud and, based on the volume and velocity of their chatter, superhyped on the dig’s atmosphere of discovery. Looking at them made me happy, even hopeful, for the future of humanity. They were so different, with accents from all over the place and complexions ranging from lighter to darker tones. But they were all here, united by a common goal, ready to spend their days covered in dust from head to toe and diligently brushing dirt from rocks. Education was not a given, and I knew how privileged we all were to even be here, but still it warmed my heart that this was possible for so many people.
My unexpected state of balance with the world made my raisin-laden porridge taste better than it was. I washed it down with tar-like black tea. But my brief moment of contentment was already fading. My jet lag was back and getting worse, and, judging from their frowning mouths, my friends weren’t any better off. Our group, even Tommy, was growing more and more quiet, subdued. Despite the caffeine in my tea, my eyelids were being pulled down with the weight of my eyelashes. I rubbed at my eyes, hoping to invigorate them. I wore no makeup today—it was all going to melt away in this heat anyway—but being in close proximity to Tommy I kept thinking about how stubby my lashes must’ve looked, especially compared to his ridiculously long and curly ones. He met my eyes but quickly looked away.
Lori and Rowen were holding hands under the table, and I kept catching Luke’s attention as his inquiring eyes roamed all over my face. I did my best to ignore his looks while also treating him the way I always have—as a friend who is also a guy. Minh was acting slightly cold with me, probably still pissed at me for blowing her off last night, but, as I’d noticed earlier, she was nice and perfectly sweet with Lori. And, as usual, aside from one fleeting look, Tommy was indifferent toward me. Everything was rather normal.
I still hadn’t seen Dad, and he hadn’t called me either. When I swallowed my vanity and asked Tommy about my father’s whereabouts, he said in a reverent tone that Dad had been in and out of the camp negotiating with the local bedouin community leaders in hopes of hiring a local workforce for the dig. Apparently a big chunk of volunteers from local universities pulled out from the excavation due to “safety concerns,” leaving it understaffed. Dad was expected to return sometime midday today. That was all I could get out of Tommy. He avoided my questions around the “safety concerns.” It was as if he’d exhausted his ration of words for the morning. Yet he still stuck around our table to eat his porridge, ignoring the calls of his fellow Dunstan students for him to join them as they headed out of the cafeteria.
“What’s the plan for today?” Rowen’s question snapped Tommy out of his quiet.
“You’ve gotten the full overview of the camp, so now you can decide what you want to do for the rest of your stay.” Tommy’s sharp eyes were on me when he said that. Unsettling. Why was he always so serious, so intense? I tried to recall the last time I’d seen Tommy smile and couldn’t.
Tommy continued. “In terms of options—there’s the dig itself, but you’d have to be prepped on what to do, and how not to damage the samples, and also how to label them properly. So, I’m afraid, your choice is between kitchen duty and post-dig labeling.”
“You can’t be serious,” Luke scoffed. “Do you think I came here to wash dirty pots and catalog old bones?”
Tommy’s face grew stone-cold, or more stone-cold, to be precise, since he wasn’t a ray of sunshine to begin with. I wished Luke would just stop with his macho posturing or whatever this was. Alarmed, I watched a little crease form on Tommy’s forehead. When his eyes slid over my face again, I mentally flinched. He must’ve been super unhappy with me for bringing my friends here.
To Luke Tommy said, “Sure, I’m going to let you join the excavation crew. Do you know how to use the tools to get stuff out of the ground without breaking it? Can you tell a trowel from a plumb bob? And are you aware of the procedures we must follow in case we do come across human remains, or, as you call them, ‘old bones’? Or does your entire knowledge of archaeology come from watching Indiana Jones movies?”
Stunned into belligerent silence by Tommy’s outburst, Luke seethed for the rest of breakfast. I couldn’t be seen publicly taking Tommy’s side over my friend’s, but secretly Tommy’s putting Luke in his place pleased me.
By the time I finished with my porridge, I made my decision about my work assignment. I wanted to be on labeling duty. Minh and Luke joined me, and Lori and Rowen, surprisingly, chose to help out in the kitchen.
We all tagged along while Tommy took Lori and Rowen deeper into the cafeteria tent, around the serving counter, and into the fiery heart of the field kitchen. There, he introduced my friends to Riley Hassan, the camp’s head cook. Born in Hobart to Lebanese Australian parents, Riley first met my father when young Riley was an apprentice chef straight out of cooking school. Years later, when Dad had the first project of his own to manage, he sought out Riley and invited him to join the dig. Ever since, the two of them frequently worked together. On rare occasions when Riley was not available, it was a real struggle to find a good replacement.
Riley and I greeted each other like old friends before he and Tommy led Lori and Rowen away to get them started, leaving me, Minh, and Luke to our own devices. I wanted to chat with Riley some more but didn’t get a chance, though he winked at me and said something embarrassing about me growing up so fast. This was the thing about being a camp brat: Everyone still saw me as some little rascal running around in her shorty shorts. Luke snorted at Riley’s words, and despite my amazing self-control, I reddened in the face.
Tommy had told us to wait for his return, but I was familiar with the camp’s layout by now and had a solid idea where the labeling tent was. I told my friends I was going, and, having nothing better to do, Minh and Luke followed me out into the suffocating heat.