Snap (13 page)

“They're going to give us a
soda
,” she said. “And I'm thirsty.”

Juggs, it turned out, was a bar and casino that had been built in a renovated church. Danya hesitated near the door as Pia bounded up the steps. Then, with a sigh, she tied Sancho up outside and, with a kiss on his forehead, hurried after Pia, Tina, and Molly.

The church still had stained glass windows and pews, but now there were slot machines lining the aisles. Little blue-haired old ladies sat in front of the machines, diligently slipping in quarter after quarter. A huge, fluorescent green angel hung from the rafters above them, and a stone bust of Abraham Lincoln stood next to the door, a curly blond wig perched on his head.

“I'll grab the cell from my purse,” Molly said, handing Pia a soda before tying an apron over her short skirt. “Y'all wait right here, okay? Children aren't supposed to be back here.”

Danya and Pia nodded. Tina patted them on their heads and grabbed a tray of drinks, then she and Molly teetered across the bar on their sky-high heels.

“What are we doing here? Why are we waiting?” Danya hissed as soon as the women were out of sight.

“We're not actually waiting for them,” Pia explained, finishing half the soda in one gulp before handing the rest to Danya.

“Then what are we doing here?” Danya said, taking a drink of soda. The bubbles tickled the back of her throat, making her cough. Her parents didn't usually let her drink soda. “We should
go
.”

“Go? Are you
kidding
? This place is amazing. I just meant we needed to do a little exploring.”

“But Pia, we . . .”

“I know, I know, we're on a schedule and someone might recognize us. Just hold on one minute, okay? I have an idea.”

Before Danya could argue, Pia darted across the casino. She snatched the blond wig off the Abraham Lincoln bust, grabbed a handful of sparkly beads from a basket near one of the slot machines, and pulled an abandoned shawl off the back of an empty chair.

“What are you doing?” Danya demanded as Pia raced back over to her. “That's
stealing
.”

“I'll give it all back, promise. Now climb on my shoulders. If kids aren't allowed in here, we need to become a grown-up, fast.”

In response, Danya crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. If Pia thought there was any way she was climbing onto her shoulders and wearing a wig when they should be finding a ride to Florida, she must've bumped her head on Circe's windmill.

“Come on, Snap,” Pia pleaded, shaking the beads in her hand. When Danya still wouldn't budge, Pia stomped her foot, much like Sancho sometimes did when he was annoyed about something. “Look, I have a plan to get us some money. Doesn't that sound nice? Money could buy bus tickets, you know. And maybe even some real food. Besides, everyone's on the lookout for two kids and a pony, not a grown-up blond woman.”

Slowly, Danya lowered her arms. Pia
did
have a point there. “Fine,” she muttered. Then, with a smile, “You know, this is your worst plan yet. No one's going to believe we're a grown-up.”

Pia took this as agreement. In a flash, she hoisted Danya onto her shoulders and tossed up the wig. Danya flapped her arms around to steady herself, a little surprised when the curly hair landed on her outstretched fingers. She pulled the wig over her own dark hair, then wrapped the shawl Pia handed up to her over her shoulders. It was so long it covered Danya's legs and Pia's head and shoulders.

“Don't forget your beads,” Pia whispered, passing her the brightly colored necklaces. Danya strung them around her neck, swaying back and forth as Pia walked over to a mirrored wall.

Looking at her reflection, Danya had to smile. Almost all of her hair was hidden beneath the curly wig (though one long, frizzy strand of brown twisted down around her shoulders). Plus the beads gave her a little added something that made her feel beautiful, like Molly and Tina. As long as no one saw her stubby little arms, she and Pia would definitely pass as a grown-up.

“We look good,” Pia said from beneath the shawl, letting out a low whistle.

“Hey, torsos don't talk,” Danya whispered, adjusting her wig. “How, exactly, is this going to make us any money?”

Pia dug into her pocket for their last quarter. She blew on it for good luck. “According to the hero's list, we need to taste the forbidden fruit,” she said, sliding into a seat in front of a slot machine. Danya wobbled on her shoulders and Pia grabbed her legs to hold her steady. “Gambling is forbidden, and look—this slot machine has little pictures of fruit on it.”

“Wait, you want to
gamble
our last quarter away? Pia, no!” Danya tried to grab the quarter from Pia's hand but started losing her balance again and had to steady herself by holding onto the back of their chair.

“According to the list, after doing the fruit thing we, apparently,
receive supernatural aid
. So maybe an angel will help us win some money. Here goes nothing!” Pia slid the quarter into the slot machine and pulled the lever. Three pictures popped up: one strawberry and two cherries.

Danya watched, amazed, as the machine pinged and five quarters dropped into a tray just below it, clinking against the metal. That was . . . surprisingly easy.

Pia whooped. “How much do you think we need for lunch?” she asked, digging the coins out of the tray. “Now what were you saying about gambling away our last quarter?” she asked, holding up the coins.

“Fine,” Danya said. “Let's keep going.”

Pia slid coins into the slots again and again. Every few minutes, more quarters spilled into the tray, clinking happily. Pia handed them up to Danya, who collected them in her shawl and counted. They had three dollars . . . then four.

“Maybe we should stop now,” she whispered to Pia. They had enough to get some hot dogs for dinner from a street cart, and she didn't want to press her luck. Danya tugged her wig farther down over her forehead and glanced around. Luckily no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

“Just one more,” Pia said, sliding a coin into the slot. Then she slid another coin in and another . . .

“Pia!” Danya warned, just as her friend was sticking another quarter into the machine. A light went off at the top of the slot machine, and three strawberries lined up in a row:
Jackpot!
Coins poured out into the tray, faster than Danya could count them. Pia began stuffing them into their pockets.

“I
told
you this would be the forbidden fruit!” Pia hollered.

“Pia, hold still,” Danya muttered. She tried to grab onto Pia's shoulder, but at that second, Pia jerked forward to catch a quarter spilling from the tray, and Danya lost her balance, toppling backward. She fell to the floor with a grunt, scattering her curly blond wig, sparkly beads, and stolen shawl across the floor.

“Danya, I'm so sorry!” Pia said, her arms filled with quarters.

“Hey—what's going on here?” someone shouted. Danya and Pia glanced up. A security guard was standing at the end of the pew. He looked . . . well, not so happy.

“Time to go!” Pia said. Shoving the coins in her pockets, she grabbed Danya's arm and the two scrambled over the pews, dodging little old ladies with blue hair as they ran.

The guard tried to follow them, but he was too tall, and he knocked his head on the fluorescent angel hanging from the ceiling. The angel wobbled, then came crashing down, blocking his way to the door.

“And that's receiving supernatural aid!” Pia yelled. Groaning, Danya pulled her toward the door.

Sancho was rolling around on his back in the grass, his belly facing the sun when Danya and Pia raced outside, dropping quarters they had no time to pick up. When he saw them, Sancho rolled back over and stumbled to his feet, looking a little sheepish.

“Sancho, there's no time for this!” Pia shouted.

“You're as bad as me,” Danya muttered, climbing onto the pony's back. Sancho snorted at her and pawed at the dirt with his hoof.

Together the three of them raced around the corner until they were certain the guard was no longer chasing them.

“That was awesome!” Pia exclaimed. She pumped the air with her fist. “How much did we get?”

Danya slowed Sancho to a stop and counted their winnings on his back. Pia handed over the extra quarters from her pockets. All together, they had nearly fifty dollars!

“Woo-hoo!” Danya said. “Florida, here we come!”

“This is the life!” Pia ran up and down the street and jumped in the air. “I don't ever want to leave. I don't ever want to go home!”

Danya watched her cousin whoop and run. She tried to feel as excited as Pia looked, but she felt bad about running away from Dulce and so much more anxious than she had a few minutes ago—they'd almost been caught again!

But then Sancho nudged her on the shoulder and horrible sparks of anxiety went off in her gut. This was exciting, sure. But it didn't make any sense at all if they didn't get to their destination, if they didn't find her grandmother and get enough money to keep Sancho from being sold.

She slid off Sancho's back and put her forehead to his nose, closing her eyes.

Sancho
was
her home. She couldn't lose him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Pirate's Booty and the Dark Mermaid

T
he girls traveled
over the bumpy road and through the trees, and before long they were heading up the wharf toward a restaurant called the Pirate's Booty. As she bounced along on Sancho's back, the scent of onion rings drifted toward them, and Danya's stomach rumbled. Pia had been holding Sancho's reins and jogging along next to them, but at the sound of Danya's grumbling belly, she pulled Sancho to a stop.

“You hungry?” she asked.

Danya shrugged. She was hungry, but they'd been making such good time and she didn't want to take a break while they were ahead. “I'll be fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “I can go for another hour or . . .” Just then her stomach grumbled again.

Pia giggled and Sancho shook his head, whickering.

Danya slapped his neck playfully. “It's not funny,” she muttered.

“Look, Snap, if we don't eat, we'll just move slower,” Pia pointed out. “Let's get some lunch, then I promise it's back on the road. Deal?”

“Fine, deal,” Danya agreed. Pia was right—if they didn't take care of themselves, they wouldn't move as quickly as they could. She steered Sancho over to the Pirate's Booty, closing her eyes to breathe in the smell of greasy onion rings and hamburgers.

The wooden building was shaped like the front of a ship. A mermaid held out an apple at the stern, and a black skull-and-crossbones flag hung from the roof. Now the smell of french fries wafted heavily through the air.

“Look—it's close to the marina. I bet they have really good . . . arrrtichoke dip!” Pia scrunched up her face like a pirate when she said “arrr,” and Danya giggled. Sancho snorted behind them, then trotted up to the mermaid and started gnawing on her apple.

“He looks hungry,” Pia said. Danya nodded.

“Okay. Let's get him a real apple.”

They tied Sancho up next to the mermaid and headed toward the front door. Without Sancho by their side, Danya was a little less nervous that someone would recognize her and Pia—everyone was on the lookout for two girls and a pony, after all. But she still hunched her shoulders, trying not to meet anyone's eyes as they made their way to a table.

Inside, the restaurant looked even more like a pirate ship, with drawbridges leading to different levels and tables shaped like ship's wheels. Photographs of customers papered the walls, and Danya couldn't help studying them as she walked past, wondering about the stories behind the pictures. Once they were seated, they ordered a burger apiece (along with a couple of tomatoes for Sancho). While they waited for their food, Pia told joke after joke:

What kind of socks does a pirate wear?
Arrrgyle.

What are pirates afraid of? The
darrrrrk
!

How much does it cost a pirate to get his ears pierced? A buccaneer!

“Get it?” Pia asked after the last joke. “A buck an ear? It's funny!”

Danya laughed so hard soda shot out of her nose, soaking her skirt and spraying down half the table. Pia was so good at distracting her from her worries.

“Gross,” she said, trying to wipe it up with her napkins. “I'm going to find some paper towels in the bathroom.”

Danya skipped down the steps and headed to the bathroom, feeling giddy and light after all the pirate jokes. She was glad they'd decided to stop and take a break—she and Pia had needed some time to rest. Her dad always used to say, “You cut more trees with a sharper ax,” whenever Danya got too singularly focused on completing a goal. Danya had never really gotten what that old saying meant, but now she thought she had an idea. Still, she made herself a promise that as soon as she cleaned up the soda at the table, she'd pull out the map and sketch out a plan with Pia—then hit the road again.

A waiter pushed open the double kitchen doors at the end of the hall, carrying a tray of fajitas. Chicken and peppers crackled in a cast-iron skillet next to a plate piled high with fresh veggies and tortillas. Danya watched the waiter rush past, and suddenly, without any warning, she was overcome by how much she missed her parents. She counted back the days in her head, realizing it was already Tuesday—fajita day! Every Tuesday her mom made tortillas from scratch and her dad cooked up peppers and onions and chicken on the grill outside. Even Sancho helped by nibbling up all the food that fell on the ground.

Danya's throat felt dry, and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She wanted to go home, she realized. But not without Sancho. She reached forward to pull open the door to the ladies' room, then hesitated. There was an ancient-looking pay phone next to the door, and she had a pocket full of quarters. Maybe she could give her parents a call . . . just to hear the sounds of their voices?

Sliding a quarter into the pay phone, she dialed her phone number and waited while it rang.

Her mom answered. “Hello?”

Danya inhaled sharply. Her mom sounded tired and . . . sad. Was that because of her? Danya opened her mouth, but a noise on the other end of the line cut her off—shuffling and banging of some sort and unfamiliar voices shouting instruction. The words got stuck in Danya's throat.

“Danya?” her mom said into the phone. In the background another phone started ringing. Someone barked an order to pick it up. Another voice cut in, this one louder.

“Keep her talking,” the voice commanded. Danya gripped the phone tightly. The cops!

“Danya,” her mother said in a shaky voice. “Baby, is that you?”

There was more arguing and shouting behind her. It sounded like someone said, “We're zeroing in on her location!” Danya heard her father's voice rising above the commotion.

“Maritza, is that her? Give me the phone.” Then, “Danya, sweetie, where are you? Danya?” Her father's voice was scratchy and weak—like he'd been crying. “
Mija
, tell us where you are. . . .”

There were more voices now—loud shouting voices Danya didn't recognize. She hung up the phone and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes to keep from crying. Her parents sounded so stressed! So scared! What was she doing?

“Sancho,” she said out loud, her voice a croak. “I'm doing this to save Sancho. . . .”

Even though she knew it was the right thing to do, Danya couldn't help the pang of guilt deep in her chest.
She
did this. She was the one who'd made her parents stressed and sad.

By the time she made it back to the table, a teenage girl Danya didn't recognize was sitting with Pia. Danya stared at her, wishing she'd found Pia on her own. Hearing that her parents were so worried, so upset—it really got to her. She needed her best friend right now.

Pia giggled at something the teenage girl said, and Danya cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I forgot the paper towels.”

“No worries . . .” the girl said, dabbing at Danya's spilled soda with her sleeve. She was short, with broad shoulders and black hair tied back in a ribbon. She wore thick-rimmed red glasses, and Danya could see a tattoo of a mermaid just above her wrist as the pulled back her damp sleeve.

When the girl saw Danya eyeing the tattoo, she stopped cleaning. “I got it because I write the weekly newsletter for the cruise ship outside. Well, it's my parents' ship—or they manage it, I mean. They let me do a newsletter as long as I help them out with some of the cleaning stuff. Anyway, I have all sorts of nautical tattoos—there's an anchor on my ankle and a couple of fish swimming across my back.”

She flexed her arm, making the mermaid wiggle, like she was swimming. Pia giggled, and Danya even managed a smile. The girl seemed pretty nice, but Danya still searched her face to see if there was any sign she recognized them. It didn't seem like she knew who they were. Besides, if she'd been living on a cruise ship for a while, maybe she hadn't heard about the Amber Alert or seen any of the missing kids posters that Circe had mentioned.

“My name's Violet,” the girl said, pulling up a chair. “And that's the
Sailing Swan Cruise Ship
. You can see it through the window.”

Danya leaned toward the window and pushed aside the curtain. Sure enough, there was a huge, white ship docked in the water just outside. It even looked like a swan. The sides stretched out into huge wings, and the top floor was shaped like a swan's curved neck and head, ending in a black balcony that looked just like a beak.

“Wow . . .” she breathed. “That's so cool. Do you get to travel everywhere?”

“It
is
pretty cool,” Violet agreed. “I travel to a ton of different places, but I
really
want to be a reporter and write about all the big news events. I have a blog and everything—it's called the
Mermag Rag
. You should check it out!”

Pia stuck another onion ring into her mouth. “Where are you going next?” she asked.

“Our final destination is Puerto Rico,” Violet said. “But we're docking in Pensacola first. It's been an easy trip, too. The entire East Wing is closed because some lady accidentally flushed her swimsuit bottom down the toilet, and it stopped up all the plumbing, so there are all these empty rooms on one end of the ship.” She grinned, and the smile took up her entire face. “All the mini-fridges are still fully stocked and everything. Some days I just hang out back there watching TV and working on my blog. It's great as long as you remember not to flush the toilets.”

Danya's chest seized up when Violet mentioned she'd been watching TV, and she tried to catch Pia's eye. But then Violet pushed her chair back and stood up.

“Anyway, I should get back. We're disembarking as soon as all the luggage is loaded up.”

Pia and Danya shared a look as Violet headed to the
Sailing Swan
.
Close one
, Danya thought.

“You're thinking the same thing I am, right?” Pia said, shoving the last onion ring in her mouth. “We
have
to get onto that ship.”

“Wait, what?” Danya said. She hadn't been thinking about that at all—she'd been too worried that Violet would guess who they were. But now that Pia mentioned it, she couldn't help turning the idea over in her head.
Pensacola
 . . . that's in
Florida
. And Violet said there was an entire empty wing no one was using.

“I don't know.” Danya pushed back the curtain again, staring out at the
Sailing Swan
. It looked safe enough floating there at the dock. But how were they supposed to get on board?

With a shiver Danya leaned back in her seat. The curtain still hung back from the window, and now she had a good view of the stacks and stacks of luggage piled by the dock. No one seemed to be watching it. Frowning, Danya pressed her face up against the glass. There, at the very edge of the luggage pile, were two huge trunks. An idea began to form in Danya's head. A very Pia-like idea.

“Pia,” Danya said, smiling. “I might have a plan.”

A few minutes later the girls and Sancho crept up to the luggage. The men who were supposed to be loading were crowded at the end of the dock eating their dinner. Danya crouched on the dock and peered over one of the oversized trunks, watching them carefully. Sancho crawled forward on his front hooves, his tail trailing behind him.

“We have to be cautious,” Danya whispered to Pia. “If those men see us . . .”

“Those men aren't paying any attention,” Pia said, pushing open a trunk. “Now get in.”

The first trunk was filled with clothes and makeup. Sancho crawled inside easily and curled up on a silk robe.

“Are you sure you'll be okay, buddy?” Danya asked. In response Sancho licked her upside the face.

“I think that's a yes,” Pia said, closing the trunk on his head. “Now come
on
.”

Danya reluctantly patted the trunk, sending happy thoughts to Sancho through the lid. She and Pia hurried over to the other trunk, which was so large they were both able to squeeze inside.

“Just don't poke me in the eye with your big ole feet,” Danya joked as Pia pulled the lid closed. Everything around them got dark, with only a few pinpricks of light streaming in from the cracks.

“You're worried about me?” Pia shifted around on her side of the trunk, accidentally elbowing Danya in the leg. “That hair of yours is already going up my nose.”

“Shh!” Danya hissed. “I think someone's coming.”

Footsteps headed down the dock, stopping just outside the trunk. Someone grunted, and suddenly the trunk lurched into the air. Danya covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out. The trunk wobbled and swayed and shook. By the time the men lowered them back to the ground, Danya felt seasick. Across the trunk, Pia shuffled around. Danya groped through the darkness until her hand enclosed Pia's foot.

“Wait,” she hissed. They couldn't climb out of the trunk yet—not until they were sure the men weren't coming back. Pia groaned but kept still. Time ticked slowly by. Danya didn't get bothered by small spaces, but with Pia tapping her foot anxiously against Danya's palm, she was losing her patience. She was also beginning to realize that they hadn't showered in a few days. . . .