Jungle Crossing (7 page)

But the girl wouldn't listen, and the next big wave knocked her into the sea. The other girls sat still, stunned. Muluc tried to pierce her lip again to make an offering to the thunder gods, but the canoe shook and listed so that she could barely hang on. Again the boat tipped, and another girl tumbled into the water.

"Untie their hands," Snake said. "Or the gods will take them all."

The boy stumbled between the baskets to reach the girls. With an obsidian knife he slit Muluc's vines; quickly, as the boat shuddered in the storm, she grasped the nearest rope, knowing that Snake would have fastened his cargo so that nothing could shake it loose.

Waves crashed over the canoe as it rolled through the swells. Soon rain poured down. Muluc held tight as the boat tilted upward and rain beat at her face like tears from the gods. Over and over she repeated her prayers.

The storm ceased as the morning light seeped into the sky, turning it the delicate hues of pink, ripe melon. When Muluc released her grip on the rope, her hand cramped like an eagle's claw. She rubbed her knuckles and eased her fingers apart: a rope burn slithered across her palm like a red snake.

Muluc looked around and noticed that several baskets had disappeared and clay pots had broken. Many more girls had been lost. Snake stood at the front of the canoe staring into the water.

"There," he said to the boy. "See it?"

The boy jabbed at the water with a long spear.

"Roll it first, then spear it," Snake said.

The boy stabbed the water with more force and pulled up a giant turtle.

"Aha!" Snake laughed. "This will make up for some of my losses." He took the turtle off the spear and rubbed his hand over its multicolored shell. Muluc had never seen such a massive turtle in the lakes of Cobá. Slitting the turtle with his knife, Snake poured the entrails into a clay jar before cutting a bit of meat off the carcass.

"Mmm." Snake licked his lips and noticed Muluc staring. "You want a taste, pretty girl?"

Muluc held out her hand; Snake walked over, looking down at her palm.

"You've got a strong spirit," he said. "You held on tight." He squeezed the meat so that juices ran along the red snake on her palm. "Turtle oil will take out the sting."

Snake dropped the meat onto Muluc's palm. Her stomach rumbled with so much hunger that she would eat almost anything, and she eagerly chewed the rubbery, wet glob.

The sun rose, drying Muluc's clothes and hair; salt crystals crusted her skin like scales. Not caring about proper manners, she licked her arm; the salt made the turtle meat taste better.

A flock of big white birds flew low near the canoe—one dipped into the water, scooping up a fish in its stretchy beak. Muluc looked out at the calm, sparkling sea. In the distance, she saw a shimmer of green.

Beach day! Glorious beach day. No tour activities. No Nando rolling his eyes at me. No teens ignoring me. No potential for embarrassment. Dad was still feeling a little weak, so he and Mom decided to hang out at the beach. I didn't care about jellyfish or even sharks, but I did get up early to reserve a spot under a thatched umbrella so I could avoid those cancer rays. I wrote a postcard:

***

T
ULUM
, Q
UINTANA
R
OO
, M
EXICO

Hi! Yesterday I went to this beautiful Mayan castle on the Caribbean—see front.

The guys are so sweet. Dante even rescued me from a big wave.

He's a 10++. Tonight we're going clubbing at the pier in Playa.

You won't recognize me with my tan.

Love 4ever, Kat

P.S. Remember, remember, remember!!!!

***

Five postcards in four days.

"What are you writing about?" Barb asked.

I hid the postcard in my journal.

"Nothing. Just about yesterday."

"About how we couldn't get up from that beach?"

"Sure," I said.

"You really should tell them about Nando's story." Barb tapped her travel journal. "I'm trying to write it all down."

"You're such a goon," I said.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Admit it," Barb said. "You like the story."

"It's okay. Not really my thing." I put my sunglasses on and laid back. Truth? I loved the story, even if I still thought Nando was a mean, and possibly dangerous, kidnapper. I kept thinking about Muluc. What would I do in her situation? I wondered if I could stay strong. Or would I be freaking out like the girls on the boat? I would've drowned in the ocean yesterday if someone hadn't rescued me. Was I good at anything? I made a list of my qualities: smart, funny sometimes, nice eyes, okay artist. Short, short, and short. Prepubescent. People took one look at me and treated me like a child. Fiona and the gang joked about my height too. I usually just laughed along with them, even when it really hurt.

Yesterday on the way back from Tulum, Talia made some dumb joke that I'd tried to sacrifice myself to the gods when I rescued Barb. Everyone laughed except the Bronze Sun Goddess and Dante, who were too busy cuddling. And Nando—he stared out the window in his usual tour bus mode.

"Are you sure you're really thirteen?" she asked. "You're so short and, you know—" She looked down at my flat chest. Then she asked Barb to come sit with her. The traitor agreed! I sat in the seat behind Nando, feeling like the world's biggest loser.

"You know, some of the best cheerleaders are short," Jessie said a few minutes later, as if she'd been contemplating my short stature the whole time.

"Totally," said C.C. "El Dorado, our major rival, has this Mexican girl who is sooo tiny, but can she fly."

"We need someone like that," Jessie said.

"You have a lot of Mexicans where you live?" Talia asked.

"I'm from Texas. What do you think?"

Josh leaned forward. "Are they all illegal?"

"Some, probably." C.C. shrugged.

"My dad says illegal immigrants are ruining the country," Josh said.

"People complain about that in Texas."

"California too," Jessie said.

"They come here not speaking English and expect us to pay for them."

What were they saying? Right in front of Nando and Alfredo. I mean it's not like I really care or anything, but it's rude. I'd never stand in front of the remedial kids and say they were ruining our school's test scores. Did Nando hear them? I watched him squeeze his eyes shut and roll his hands into fists.

I leaned over. "How come you don't say anything?"

He didn't look at me. "I'll get fired."

"But you don't even seem to like this job."

"My family needs the money." Nando looked down at his balled-up hands.

"I thought you grew everything you needed—that's what you said on the bus this morning. Fruits? Vegetables? Chickens?"

Nando had looked out the window at a hotel emerging from the jungle. "It's not enough anymore."

Everyone laughed at some joke Talia told about Mexicans changing a light bulb. When I glared at her, she stuck her tongue out at me. So mature. Barb bounced on the seat next to her. Oblivious. Who's the one trying too hard to fit in? That joke was
so
rude! Talia smirked at me.

"Why don't
you
say anything to her?" Nando said. Why did he have to turn around right at that moment?

I shrugged. I wasn't about to tell him that I never said anything to anyone who teased me. I just went along with it like it was my joke too. I wanted everyone to like me, even stupid Talia.

"You don't have anything to lose by standing up for yourself," Nando said. "But you can lose yourself by trying to please everyone."

I snorted and looked out the window. What did he know? He wasn't exactly standing up for himself, and he didn't know anything about clinging to a popular group of friends by the thinnest thread.

***

I perched on the edge of my beach chair, squishing my feet into the sand, and read my postcard again. Full of lies to make me look good—make them like me. So stupid! My parents would never let me go clubbing in a foreign country; I couldn't even go to the movies on a Friday night. Fiona and the Five would know it too. Why was I trying so hard? I imagined what they'd be doing at mini-camp. Talking about everyone. Talking about me: my clothes, my hair, my height, my grades, and my personality flaws. Just like we all slammed Grace Williams last summer. I felt nervous just thinking about it. And then I remembered how Fiona decided we should all switch out of choir and take the dance elective instead. She didn't tell Grace Williams until it was too late and the class was full. I felt all panicky. I jumped up and ran into the waves to wash the feeling off me.

The water felt so good, so warm. I floated with my eyes closed, bobbing with the swells. Just me and the blue-green Caribbean. I flipped over and swam underwater. When I stood up, I saw the Bronze Sun Goddess swimming with another blond. Maybe her brother?

She saw me and waved.

"
Bonjour,
Kat," she said with her fantastic accent.

"Hi, Monique."

"Nice water," she said. "Warm." She stood up.

I was looking at her breasts. Naked, topless breasts. Tan Naked Topless Breasts. Big Tan Naked Topless Breasts!

Omigosh, omigosh,
I screamed inside my head, but I couldn't say anything.

Monique laughed.

"You're so cute," she said. "See you later, crocodile."

Monique flipped, dunking under the water, and I headed back to the beach as if a shark were after me. I needed a cold drink. My face flamed. Can you really die from embarrassment? On the way in, I noticed all kinds of women splashing around topless—big and saggy, small and perky, old and wrinkly, but none so perfect as what the Bronze Sun Goddess sported. Why did my parents have to book a hotel with a nude beach? New reason, number 46: nude beach at hotel!

After getting my drink, I rubbed an ice cube on my cheeks.

When I got back to the umbrella, Dad laughed. "You shot out of there like a bullet."

"What?"

"You acted like you'd never seen breasts before," he said.

"She's never seen such big ones," Barb said.

"That's not funny." I dropped a piece of ice down her bathing suit. "What would you know anyway, you little traitor?"

"Oooooh," she squealed, wiggling to shake the ice out. "But your face got so red, it glowed." She laughed. "We could see it all the way over here."

"In Europe, women swim topless all the time," Mom said. "It's the custom."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the geography lesson, but we're not
in
Europe."

"I think it's a great idea." Dad laughed and raised his eyebrows at Mom. "I think you should go European," he said.

"I just might," she said. "I just might."

"Don't you even—" I gasped.

They laughed so hard that Mom choked and spit out her drink. Real classy, Mom.

"I'm glad I'm going on the tour tomorrow," I said.

The bus came early to drive us three hours through the jungle to the ruins at Chichén Itzá. Mom and Dad were taking it easy for one more day, and I don't even want to think about what that means. Really, their behavior had been disgusting—public kissing, snuggling, all kinds of jokes. If I came back and found my mom topless on the beach, I'd check into a different hotel.

Barb pestered Nando as soon as we picked him up. "What happens next? Tell me, tell me,
tell
me."

"I don't know if I should tell you now or wait until we get there. Or maybe on the way back." He smiled, actually smiled, a big, beautiful smile: a 10 all the way. He turned to me. "What do you think, Kat?"

I totally blushed. Of course Talia was looking right at me. She leaned forward and whispered something to Jessie and C.C. They all laughed, and I knew I was going to be in for it—all day long.

"I don't care," I said. "Whenever."

Nando looked at me like I should say something, but I slumped down in my seat. Someone had scratched a swearword into the vinyl that pretty much described how I felt.

"Say something." Nando peered down at me. "Be brave like the jaguar in your name."

"I will when you do." What did his name mean? He was probably named after some thorny plant that gave you a rash if you simply looked at it.

"Kat, your face is all red," Barb said.

"Thanks for noticing,
Babs.
" Oooh, she hated that nickname.

"You have to be nice to me. Dad said."

"Whatever." Maybe I could find a way to sacrifice her to the gods.

The bus had turned off the main highway and rattled along a narrow road that was thick with trees and bushes in every shade of green. Thinking of my huge box of pastels, I named the colors: cadmium, emerald, olive ... a patch of cinnabar green. Hot air blew through the windows. Every time I shifted my weight, my sweaty thighs stuck to the seat. And the smell of exhaust made me a little nauseous. The girls in back squealed every time a truck or bus passed, nearly knocking us off the road. I opened my journal to add a new reason, number 47: crazy bus drivers.

"He's driving like we're on the autobahn," Luc said.

Alfredo slammed on the brakes as a truck cut us off. I sat up and gripped Nando's seat in front of me. How many tourists get killed in car accidents? And we didn't even have seat belts. I tried to do some relaxing breathing while I searched out the window for vines like the ones in Muluc's story. I spotted some! Dark leaf green, winding up a pale tree trunk. But then the bus sped up again.

We finally slowed down a bit as we passed a small village of round stick huts with thatched roofs, built close to the road. None had doors, and in some you could see people swinging in hammocks. Sometimes they waved. The bus stopped in front of a small hut with a rock wall surrounding a lush garden with fruit trees.

"
Mi bonita,
" Alfredo called out. A woman in a white dress with red flowers embroidered at the neck and along the bottom walked out of the hut, smiled, and waved.

"Who's that?" Barb asked.

"Alfredo's girlfriend," Nando said. "You will meet her at my sister's
quinceañera.
"