Jungle Crossing (15 page)

"Oh, that reminds me," Mom said. "We're having dinner with one of the girls on your tour."

"What?" I asked.

"Who?" Barb asked.

"I think her name is Tanya. She's from Omaha. Mother just got divorced," Mom said. "Sad situation. Tanya's had a lot of trouble this past year."

"Wrong tour," I said. "That figures. You go hook up with someone on the wrong tour." I shook my head and sighed a gigantic sigh.

"We don't have a Tanya on our tour," Barb said.

"Well, we're having dinner with Tanya and her mother." Mom walked out of the room. "Our reservation is in fifteen minutes, so step on it," she called back to us.

I frantically searched through my suitcase for something else to wear, but Barb's dumb swimsuit had oozed on everything decent. I was stuck with little red watermelons. New reason number—Oh, never mind. I slipped the dress over my head and whacked Barb in the arm for laughing at me.

An old wooden fishing boat decorated the restaurant entrance, and fishing nets hung from the ceiling. In the far corner I saw Talia's blue-blond hair hanging over the back of a wooden chair.

"Please don't let us sit by them," I said.

"What was that?" Dad asked.

"Nothing."

"Cheer up," he said. "That dress looks great on you."

"I look like a two-year-old who needs to wear training pants."

Ignored.

"There they are." Mom waved at Talia's table, and a woman with short blond hair waved back.

"Mom probably got her name wrong," Barb said.

"But Omaha? Talia goes on and on about New York."

"Talia told me about Omaha," Barb said.

"Yeah, she's your great buddy. Whatever. I'd rather have room service."

We sat down at the table, and Talia glanced at my watermelon dress, then read her menu like it was the last chapter of an incredible novel, even though Barb asked her a million questions.

Mom transformed into cheery hostess mode. "Julie," she announced, "these are my daughters, Barbara and Katherine." Mom smiled at Julie. "We met that first day waiting for your bus to return."

"And that's when the fun really started!" Julie and Mom giggled like they had their own inside joke. Whatever. Then Julie leaned toward Barb. "Tanya told me she wishes she had a little sister just like you." Julie sighed. "Wasn't meant to be."

Talia glanced at me for just a second. Was she actually jealous of me? Because I had an annoying little sister? No way. Not possible. Right?

Barb started rambling. "She's been so nice to me. Once, she helped me find shells. Another time—"

Julie smiled at Barb, and even Talia-Tanya seemed to smile.

Julie turned to me. "Have you been enjoying the tour?"

"It's okay," I said.

"I love it!" Barb exclaimed. "We've seen—"

Mom gave Barb the hush sign with her finger. Does she even know what I've been going through for the last few days?

"I feel like I'm in another world here," Julie said. "The sun, the beach, the beautiful blue water." She smiled. "I sure have needed the relaxation."

"I bet it's nothing like New York," I said.

"You must mean Omaha, dear," Julie said.

"I thought Talia—Tanya—was from New York," I said.

Julie glanced at Tanya, sighing and shaking her head. Do all mothers do that?

"Tanya's father recently moved to upstate New York, but she hasn't visited him yet."

Tanya put down her menu and looked at me with wide eyes. Waiting. I didn't say a word. I wasn't going to be that kind of person. That would be beneath
me.

"Can I still call you Talia?" Barb whispered. "I love that name, and I've already changed my stuffed dolphin's name from Aqua to Talia."

Tanya nodded.

Our parents chatted like best friends for the rest of the dinner—like, seriously, they'd known each other for what, four days? Dad went on and on about going deep-sea fishing, and Mom invited Julie to go snorkeling. Tanya only pushed her shrimp linguine around her plate, but I enjoyed every bite of my tuna steak so much that I even stopped feeling stupid in my watermelon dress. I remembered what Nando said about Tanya's teasing: "You don't have anything to lose by standing up for yourself, but you can lose yourself by trying to please everyone." Calling Tanya on her lies felt good, and kind of bad. Anyway, I didn't need to have her like me. Let her and Barb have their little fake sister club. She could hate me all she wants. It wasn't like Fiona and everyone at home. Was it?

After dinner Dad and Mom stopped by the concierge to make "romantic" dinner reservations for the next night. Turns out Barb and I
were
still invited to the big fifteenth-birthday party. Dad had apparently gotten all the details from Alfredo when the bus dropped us off.

While Mom and Dad debated beachfront dining versus gourmet Mayan food in town, I watched one of the maids, down on her hands and knees, polishing the marble floor. I couldn't help but think about Muluc—she'd gone from living in a palace with marble floors to a hut with dirt floors. What kind of house did the maid live in? I looked at the lobby clock. It was almost ten o'clock at night. Did she have children at home? Nando had talked about how they couldn't grow everything they needed anymore, but I hadn't thought about how the people working at the resorts were probably Mayan. The maid wiped her forehead. Did she hate tourists too? I suddenly felt guilty for leaving my wet towels on the floor "for the maid to pick up."

I was feeling a confusion of emotions as we walked back to our room. The resort looked so perfect compared with the little villages we passed through on the way to Chichén Itzá. So I wasn't in the mood for Barb's "superduper" excitement about Nando's sister's party. "What should I wear? Should I bring my swimsuit? My stuffed dolphin? Oh, and I can't forget—"

I wanted to forget about everything. "I don't know," I said. "Staying all night in some strange jungle village?" I pulled at a loose thread in my dress. "It's not like we really know these people."

Barb danced around the room, unable to contain herself. Super.

"Honey, I've trusted them to drive you all over the jungle this whole past week," Mom said, kicking off her shoes. "I hardly think this is the time to worry, and this was always part of the plan."

"But this could be part of their plan—they could be thieving, kidnapping bandits, like I wrote on my list. Numbers—" My list of reasons sounded so stupid all of a sudden.

"Kat, really," Mom said.

"Besides, no one would want to kidnap you, Kat," Barb said. "Trust me."

"Oh yeah? And you're such a prize," I said.

"I don't think you need to worry," Dad said. "Paul considers the Eks family."

"So we're like cousins?" Barb asked.

"Hardly," I said. Sure, Nando seemed to kind of forgive me for climbing that pyramid, but what if he was just waiting to seek revenge? New reason number—Oh, never mind.

"Mom, don't listen to Kat. I want to see Nando's village," Barb said.

"Then you go. I'll stay here." I thought about all the dangerous things on my list, even if it was a stupid list: jaguars, poisonous plants, monkeys with Ebola virus, dengue fever...

"It's going to be very educational," Dad said. "I'd love to spend time in a real Mayan village."

"So, why don't
you
go?"

"We've got plans." Dad walked behind Mom and kissed her neck. "A romantic candlelight dinner to start."

"Remember, tomorrow's our actual anniversary." Mom kissed Dad again.

"Not in front of the children," I said.

Squealing and clapping, Barb jumped up and down on the bed until Mom made her stop. Oh, how these people make me suffer. Maybe I
would
rather brave a night in a strange village. Couldn't be too much worse than spending time with my own family. But would I have to sleep on a dirt floor?

Tour buses zoomed past us like rockets as Dad merged onto the highway that led to Nando's mysterious dirt road. The car hiccupped and coughed as Dad pressed down on the accelerator.

"Dad, you're driving like a little old lady," I said.

He shuddered and gripped the steering wheel. "This isn't exactly a Ferrari."

"Well, you need to keep up, or we'll get squashed like bugs." A truck blasted its horn before passing us on the dirt shoulder. I'd survived a week on these roads, and now I was going to die.

"I think I'm getting too old for this." Dad slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, and the car rumbled down the road, shaking. "I'm beginning to remember why we traded in that old yellow Bug."

"You should see how fast the tour bus goes," Barb said.

I hung on to the little handle on the dashboard as if it were some kind of safety bar. A simple seat belt would make me feel much better about this situation. I tried not to crush the little wrapped package in my hand; Mom had picked out some silver-and-turquoise earrings shaped like turtles for Nando's sister. What if she hates turtles?

"We're getting close." I pointed down the road. "It's the next road after that grass-roofed hut thing."

Nando was waiting for us when we pulled over. I stepped out of the car and looked past him at the narrow road disappearing into the thick trees—just the kind of road where Muluc got kidnapped. But I'd made a decision; I would forget my list of fears and be brave. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Yup, brave. Tugging our backpacks, Barb climbed out of the back seat.

"Here we go, I guess." I gave Dad a small wave.

"Wait," Dad said. "I want to drive you to the village and meet Señor Ek."

"You can't, Dad," said Barb. "Cars can't go on Nando's road."

"You're kidding me," Dad said.

"The road is really rocky," Barb said.

"Limestone," I said, using Dad's own encyclopedia voice.

"I seem to remember that we did walk to several cenotes when I came here with Paul." Dad looked down the path that led into the jungle. "You have to promise me—"

"We'll be safe." I hope. "You'll remember how to get back here, Dad?"

Nando walked over to the car, and Dad got out.

"So nice to meet you, Señor." Nando shook Dad's hand. "Don't worry. My family will take good care of Kat and Barb."

Dad looked a little more relaxed. Nando's great smile. They talked for a few minutes while I scanned the jungle, looking for any signs of danger.

"Bye, Daddy." Barb hugged Dad. "Thanks a bunch."

We started to walk down the bumpy road to Nando's house as Dad got back in the car and watched us. I stumbled in a rocky place and heard Dad honk three times, so I waved my hand over my head without turning around. Maybe this was a big mistake.

"Your father is very nice," Nando said.

"He's the greatest," Barb gushed, and gave far too many examples of Dad's so-called greatness. The kid doesn't know when to shut up.

I didn't contribute a word to Barb's little Dad-fest. Ahead, the road curved, so we could no longer see the highway, and a few moments later we heard the old car rumble to a start. Hidden in all those trees, I felt like we were a million miles away from civilization. Even in the shade the air felt hot and thick and smelled heavy with damp leaves; birds called to each other in the canopy of trees. The muddy path narrowed, and we walked single file.

I stopped, taking a deep breath, resting my hand on the trunk of a tree. Crisscross marks had been slashed into the bark all the way up. "Who had it in for this tree?"

"That's the chewing gum tree, the zapote," he said.

I looked at all the marks. "You don't chew the tree, do you?"

Nando smirked. "No, you chew the sap. And you cut the tree to get the sap."

His look said it all: I'd scored another zero in intelligence.

"How did they get all the way up there?" I asked.

"Ropes," Nando said. "It was very dangerous and slippery work. The sap flows best when it rains."

"So the sap runs out of the slash marks?" Barb asked.

"
Sí.
They collected it in big heavy sacks. Many of my great uncles worked as
chicleros,
" he said. "The stories they told..."

"Stories?" Barb asked. Seriously, the kid needs help. Professional help.

"About the
banditos
who hid in the
chiclero
camps," Nando said. "No one used to come to this part of the Yucatán—until they built Cancún."

"Bet you would have loved it back then," I said.

Nando frowned. "Life was hard."

"But there weren't any tourists." I started walking again, adding a little sway to my hips.

"Bandits were worse—but just a little bit," Nando teased.

"Yeah, I bet they climbed all over your precious pyramids with their dirty feet."

"Kat." Nando shook his head. "You are like a jaguar cub, always hissing and snarling for a fight."

What? That's totally not true. I couldn't help it if people—like Talia—always picked on me. He should see me with Fiona: I was an obedient dog. Ooh. That sounds bad. I mean I was a loyal friend, like a dog. Whatever.

"Forget about her," Barb said. "What did the bandits do?"

"Bad things," Nando said. "Sometimes honest men would work all season collecting the sticky sap, boiling it, and forming it into blocks for the big chewing gum factories in the United States, only to be robbed or killed on their way out of the jungle."

"That's so mean," Barb said.

We walked in silence for several minutes. Leaves rustled on the side of the path, so I turned quickly to look. An iguana scurried up a tree trunk, but my heart raced as I imagined being stalked by some outlaw who would hold me and Barb for ransom. I took a deep breath, trying to enjoy the quiet. Trying not to think. Again Nando stopped. He pointed to bouncing branches in the trees high above.

"Howler monkeys," he said.

"Are they your pets?" Barb asked.

"No," Nando said. "They are wild." The monkeys looked down at us.

"They're watching us," I said. Like trained spies.

"A whole family of howler monkeys lives near my village," Nando said. "Spider monkeys too."

"They're so cute," Barb said as the monkeys hopped to another tree.