A perplexed looks steals across my face as I re-read my host sister’s enigmatic text message. “You go towards down,” she writes.

“Bat shi*t,” repeated Salima Ikram, the queen of Egyptology, in her posh British accent to her hyperventilating students.  

I wanted to be in her bed, but I ended up in her walls instead. 6-foot thick monstrosities built to withstand the most fortified...

“On my count, and…go.” Clad entirely in black, from her headband to her yoga pants, Karen scrabbled over the fence into her neighbors’...

All the chattering souls gathered at 5 Manderly Place to discuss the most pressing matters of the century. The address was an old one in...

I didn’t want to be a teacher. Not really.  But I’m not tall enough to be an actress, and my parents said I’d never make any money as a...