The year was 606 BCE. I was the nine-year-old niece of Shadrach, Meshach, or Abednego, (I forget) and selected as the official Au pair of King Nebuchadnezzar’s kid, Bucky—age seven.


“Can your uncle really walk through Fire?”

“Heck, yeah.”

“Can you?”

“No. I’m gonna be a writer.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

“And you are?”

“Pffft! It’s true what they say about you Israelites…”

“Go play in the desert, Freak!”

“You’re not the boss o’ me! My dad…”

“… is a lunatic!”

Bucky threw a rock at me; I threw one back—

and so it is today.

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