Snap (20 page)

“You think we make any money working at an amusement park?” the duke grunted from the ground.

Just then a gray sedan pulled into the parking lot, and before it could even park, the passenger-side door flew open and Violet climbed out. She looked a little more rumpled than she had before, with a beanie pulled over her unwashed hair and a cardboard cup of takeout coffee in one hand.

“You let go of her!” she shouted at the duke, kicking up pebbles with her sneakers as she raced across the parking lot. She popped the lid off her coffee and threw the steaming liquid in the duke's direction, drenching his head. The duke screamed and dropped Danya's arms. Danya quickly wriggled away.

“What are you doing?” the duchess yelled, whirling around. “These are the missing girls! They've been on the news every day. We're trying to help them.”

“You're scaring them!” Violet shouted.

Pia slipped out of the parking lot, motioning for Danya and Sancho to follow her.

“It's time to run,” she said. Nodding, Danya climbed on Sancho's back and tugged on his ear. They darted forward as Pia sprinted next to them.

“Danya, you're making a mistake!” Violet called as the three of them ran away. “You have to turn yourself in! You don't know, but—!”

Before Violet could finish her sentence, the duchess swung at her with her parasol. Violet ducked out of the way, falling to the ground with an
oof
!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Learning to Forgive

D
anya froze. She
couldn't let Violet take the fall for her. The duchess could hurt her! But before she could race back, Violet pushed herself to her feet and spit her wad of gum into her hand. When the duchess made another grab for her, Violet mashed the gum into the duchess's hair.

“Take that!” she yelled.

The duchess shrieked and grabbed for the gum as the police station doors flew open and several officers raced into the parking lot.

“We've gotta go, Snap,” Pia said, tugging on Danya's arm. “The duke will tell.”

“Yeah,” Danya said, and started to run. But as they made their escape, she couldn't help turning everything that had just happened over in her head. Violet just saved them from the duke and duchess. But that didn't make any sense. . . . She'd been planning to turn them in for the reward money before! She'd only helped them in the first place to get a story.

Pia skidded to a stop in front of a gas station and grabbed hold of Sancho's reins, pulling him to a stop as well. “I think we lost them,” she said, huffing as she caught her breath.

Danya frowned, chewing on her lower lip. “Did you hear what Violet said?”

“I'm confused, too,” Pia admitted. “But at least we got away.”

Danya nodded. “I guess we should figure out how to get to the real Palace now.”

“Smart move. I'll go inside and see if they can give us directions. You should stay out here with Sancho, but maybe you should hide or something in case Violet comes past. They could still catch us.”

Danya climbed down from Sancho's back and pulled him around to the side of the gas station, which was hidden from the street by a couple of dumpsters. As Pia pushed open the door and disappeared inside, she patted Sancho's neck.

“Thanks for the warnings, buddy,” she said. “Sorry I didn't listen.”

Sancho huffed and pushed his nose into her curls, tickling her neck.

Still, there was one thing that Danya couldn't get out of her head.
Why
had Violet helped them? It didn't make sense. And that thing she'd called after them—turn yourself in, there's something you don't know. What had that meant?

Pursing her lips, Danya pulled Sancho back around to the front of the gas station, where there was an old pay phone next to the sliding glass doors. She pulled a few quarters out of her pockets and stuck them in the slots, then quickly dialed her parents' number.

She held her breath as the phone rang and rang and rang. Then there was a click.

“Hi, you've reached the Ruiz residence,” said her mother's recorded voice. “We're not home right now, but if you'd like to leave your name and number . . .”

With a heavy heart, Danya hung up the phone. Sancho licked her cheek.

“Where are they?” she asked him, sniffling. She'd so wanted to hear her mother's
real
voice, to say she was okay and she'd be coming home soon. And what about her dad? Had the bald man already come looking for Sancho? Danya wanted to promise him she'd pay him back—that he wouldn't have to worry about the bald man's money after all.

Sancho shook out his mane and pawed at the parking lot. Danya buried her face into his mane, wondering where her parents could possibly be and what on earth Violet knew that she didn't.

Danya had started to wipe her eyes on her sleeve when the gas station door swung open and Pia stepped onto the sidewalk, carrying two hot dogs and balancing a bright blue Slurpee in the crook of her arm.

“What's the matter?” Pia said, seeing Danya's tearstained face. “Didn't I make it the way you like? Double mustard and relish, no ketchup.”

“It's not that.” Danya's voice cracked, and another tear formed in the corner of her eye. She'd made a mistake by running off with Sancho—a really big one, she could see that now. She would still do anything and everything to save Sancho, but in trying to protect him, she'd hurt everyone else. She'd hurt her parents by running away, and she'd hurt Pia by being so focused on her own problems that she hadn't seen what was going on with her best friend.

And Sancho . . . Danya looked down at her pony. He sat in the middle of the sidewalk, swishing his tail like a happy puppy and staring up at her with those big brown eyes. Sancho trusted her, and what if, after all of this, she wasn't able to save him? What if she'd made so many people unhappy and it was all for nothing?

The thought tugged on her heart, making her feel painful and raw. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to push the bad feelings away. But as the darkness closed around her, all she saw was black smoke against the blue sky. She heard fire crackling in the distance and Jupiña's terrified whinny.

“Danya, you're trembling!” Pia grabbed Danya by the shoulders. Danya's eyes flew open, but the smell and feel of the fire stayed with her. Why couldn't she shake that memory? Was it because she felt just as lost and helpless now as she did then?

“What is it? What's wrong?” Pia demanded, her eyes wide with concern.

“There's something I've never told you,” Danya answered in a quiet voice.

Pia narrowed her eyes, waiting.

“Remember . . . remember when Sancho's mom died?”

Pia frowned. “Of course. It was just last summer when it was so hot, right? There was a wildfire. Danya, what's wrong?”

“It was my fault.” Danya stared down at her sneakers, unable to meet Pia's eyes. “I'd been playing with this magnifying glass in the backyard. Sancho and I were looking for tiny villages, you know, like in
Gulliver's Travels
? When I held the magnifying glass up to the sun, it burned a hole in the grass, so I stopped. But then I left it there, and Sancho and I ran off into the woods to play.

“I didn't realize anything was wrong until . . . until I smelled the smoke.” Danya's eyes watered, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. “Sancho and I tried to make it back in time, but when we reached the pen, the fire had spread and it was . . . it was burning.”

Danya sniffled, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't see the disappointment in Pia's face. “It was my fault that Sancho's mom died. If I hadn't left my magnifying glass, nothing would have happened to her. I tried to get back to the stable in time to get her out. But I couldn't.”

Sancho made a sniffling noise, flattening his ears against the back of his head. He leaned against her leg, but Danya just stared at her sneakers. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

Pia reached for Danya's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Danya, you don't know the magnifying glass started that fire. It was so hot that summer that fires started all the time. My mom said one started near the highway because it was so hot the grass burst into flames. And if you'd been by the stable, you probably would have been hurt, too,” Pia said.

Danya looked up. She hadn't thought of that before. “You don't think it was my fault? But the magnifying glass . . .” Pia shook her head before she could continue.

“Your fault? It was a horrible accident. It was nobody's
fault
.”

In order to get the fortune you seek, you must forgive yourself. . . .
Danya still wasn't sure the fortune-teller was right about that. She didn't know if she could
ever
forgive herself for what she'd done to Jupiña. But after revealing her big secret to Pia, Danya felt light in a way she hadn't since before Sancho's mom died. Maybe she could try telling her parents what happened, too? If Pia didn't think it was her fault, they might not, either. Danya turned the idea over in her head, but even the thought made her feel anxious. Pia could just be trying to act nice, after all.

Danya sighed and scratched Sancho behind his ears. He licked her wrist with his long, scratchy tongue. Maybe she had
reconciled a past harm
.
She might start believing in this hero's list after all.

“Maybe,” she said. Pia gave her a one-armed hug, handing over the hot dog covered in mustard and relish.

“Well, the evil duke and duchess were right about one thing,” she said. “Apparently the Palace
is
right around the corner. The clerk gave me directions.” Pia motioned to a napkin poking out of her pocket.

Danya nodded and stared down at her hot dog. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “Did you spend the last of our money on these?”

Pia shrugged, taking a big bite of her hot dog, which she'd covered in mayonnaise and rainbow sprinkles.
Gross
, Danya thought. “We have to keep our strength up. And anyway, we're almost there.”

Danya took a bite of her hot dog, then tore off a chunk of the bun to feed to Sancho. Pia was right—the money didn't matter right now. Danya no longer had to worry about how much they spent or what they were going to eat next or where they were going to sleep. They'd come all this way, and now they were almost there. Her grandmother's house was right around the corner. Now all she had to worry about was Sancho.

The mustard-covered hot dog turned in Danya's stomach, making her feel sick. What if this was all a mistake? What if her grandmother didn't want to help after all? What if she didn't even want to meet Danya?

Pia noisily sucked Slurpee up through her straw. “Snap?” she asked, her lips and tongue dyed bright blue. Her mouth split into a wide smile, and she hopped in place. “We're going, right?”

Sancho pushed against her arm with his nose, and Danya shook her head, forcing herself to take a deep breath. They'd come all this way. Mistake or not, they had to see the rest of the adventure through. She shoved the hot dog in her mouth and plucked the napkin from Pia's pocket.

“Of course we're going,” she said, studying the napkin. “Now where is this place?”

Pia leaned over her shoulder, motioning to a wiggly black line stretching across the napkin. “All we gotta do is follow that road there for half a mile. You think there'll be a drawbridge? Or those, like, pointy things on top of the towers?”

“Turrets?” Danya asked. “No, Pia, it's not a real palace. It's just a condo. It'll probably look like an apartment building.” She stared down at the hastily drawn map covering the napkin. It showed a path that cut past the main street and curved onto a tiny road a few blocks over. Danya studied the scribbles, then glanced up to take in her surroundings.

“We need to head that way,” she said, pointing to a road lined with manicured bushes and trees that cut through the main street. “According to this, the Palace is two blocks down, on the left.”

Pia popped off the lid of her Slurpee and took another gulp. “Onward!” she shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Problems at the Palace

T
he girls headed
for the Palace with Sancho at their side. Danya insisted she didn't want any Slurpee (her stomach was already fluttery with nerves), so Pia gave the rest to Sancho. It dyed his pony lips and tongue electric blue, and all the sugar made him so hyper he trotted circles around Danya and Pia and chased tiny lizards off the sidewalks into the bushes and up palm trees.

Sooner than Danya expected, they came upon a sign:
THE PALACE RETIREMENT COMMUNITY
. Taking a deep breath, she focused on moving her feet forward, one in front of the other, until she was standing in front of her grandmother's building.

Danya blinked once, then twice, not sure she could trust her own eyes. The Palace was a pink brick building covered in huge, arched windows. It towered over the houses and apartment complexes around it, overlooking the sparkling lights of downtown Orlando. Lush greenery lined the front steps, and vines and moss spilled over a rocky shore, separating the Palace from a real moat filled with blue water and tiny koi fish.

The only way to reach the front door was by crossing a drawbridge—just like something out of a Ferdinand and Dapple book.

Danya's chest twisted and tightened. Pia grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“Told you so,” she said, sticking out her tongue. Danya shoved her playfully, and Pia started to giggle. “What, I
did
tell you. Real life is just like the fairy tales. Anyway, we're right beside you, Snap. You ready for this?”

Danya nodded. “Come here, buddy,” she said to Sancho. Sancho trotted up to her side, and Danya pulled herself onto his back. If she was crossing a drawbridge and riding up to a freaking palace, she was doing it in
style
.

Pia grabbed Sancho's reins and led them forward, humming the theme song to some adventure movie under her breath as they approached. The automatic doors whooshed aside, Danya tugged on Sancho's ear, and together they trotted into the lobby, his hooves clomping loudly on the black-and-white-tiled floor. The air conditioning turned the sweat on the back of her neck cold, making her shiver.

Plush leather couches were scattered across the lobby, and a bank of glass elevators lined the far wall, blocked by the largest security guard Danya had ever seen. The sleeves of the guard's uniform were stretched so tight over his muscled arms they look painted on, and his head was shiny, smooth, and roughly the size and shape of a bowling ball. His plastic name tag read
_RALPHIO
.

Gathering all her courage, Danya led Sancho up to the front desk. “Hi, Mr. Ralphio. We're here to visit Angie Ruiz,” she said.

“Ms. Ruiz doesn't accept visitors.” Ralphio didn't look up from the paperback romance novel he was reading. The words
LOVE
and
HATE
were tattooed to his knuckles—one letter for each finger.

Danya glanced at Pia, her confidence fading. “Um, can't you make an exception? I'm her granddaughter, and we came a really long way.”

“The Palace Retirement Community doesn't make exceptions,” the guard said, flipping a page. “That's why we're the best.”

“Oh.” Danya glanced down at the desk. A framed photograph of a little girl with curly blond hair and big blue eyes sat next to a jar of pens. Sancho nudged the bag where she kept the Ferdinand and Dapple book, and suddenly Danya had an idea. . . .

“Is that your daughter?” she asked. For the first time, the guard looked up from his book.

“Yeah.” He glanced at the photograph and the hard lines of his face softened. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was close. “Amy. She's nine.”

Danya brightened and turned to Pia, winking. Her way of saying, “Follow my lead.” Pia's eyes widened, and the corner of her lip twitched into a proud smile.

“Does Amy like to read?” Danya asked.

Ralphio snorted—it almost sounded like a laugh. “Yeah, she does. She reads so many books I have a hard time keeping up.”

“Has she read this one?” Pia pulled the Ferdinand and Dapple book out of her bag and slid it over Ralphio's desk.

Ralphio set his own novel down on the desk and picked up the Ferdinand and Dapple book, opening to the first page. “I don't think so.”

“It's really good,” Danya said. As she watched Ralphio hold her favorite book, she felt a pang of sadness in her chest. Still, she forced herself to continue. “There's this one scene where Ferdinand gets into a sword fight with a conquistador, and when he loses his sword, he pulls off his leather boot and uses it to fight the conquistador away.” Danya made a slashing move with her arm, like she was holding an invisible sword. “And there's this scene where Dapple gets locked away in a cave, and Ferdinand thinks she's a goner, but she digs her way out and finds Ferdinand at the last second.” Danya stopped and looked down at Sancho. “See, Ferdinand and Dapple are the very best of friends,” she said, scratching Sancho behind the ear. “Almost like soul mates.”

Ralphio started flipping through the pages. “That actually sounds pretty good. Amy loves all that adventure stuff.”

“You can take it if you want.” Danya shrugged, trying to act like this wasn't a big deal even though handing over the book made her heart hurt.

“Really?” Ralphio raised an eyebrow.

“
If
you let me up to see my grandmother,” Danya added. “She wrote it, you know. Maybe I could even get an autograph. For Amy.”

“Angie Ruiz is some big-time author, eh? Well, isn't that something.” Ralphio shook his head, a smile playing on his lips as he turned the book over in his hand. Finally, he set it back down on the desk. Danya was sure he was going to slide it back over to her and tell her to leave, but instead he reached beneath the desk and pushed a button she couldn't see. One of the elevator doors behind him slid open.

“She's on the twenty-first floor. Tell her you snuck past me, okay?” Ralphio said with a wink. “And the pony has to stay down here.”

“Wait, Sancho can't—” Danya started, but before she could argue, Pia took Sancho's reins, ruffling the pony's mane.

“Danya, I think this is something you need to do on your own,” Pia said. “I can watch Sancho.”

Sancho swooshed his tail in agreement.

Danya swallowed and slid down from Sancho's back. Pia was right. She was about to meet her
abuelita
, her favorite author, her
hero
for the very first time. She needed to go by herself.

“And hey,” Pia added, nodding at the book on Ralphio's desk. “You gave up your favorite book. I think that means you just
made the ultimate sacrifice
. That's number fourteen on the list of hero's tasks.”

Danya laughed. “Well, maybe I'll become a hero after all. Hold tight, buddy,” she said, tickling Sancho under his chin. “I'll be back soon.”

Sancho licked her wrist, and Pia took his reins. Danya crossed the lobby to the elevator waiting at the end of the room. The elevator was made entirely of thick panes of glass, and it glided up so smoothly it took Danya a moment to realize she was moving. She was nervous at first, watching the ground disappear below her, but she quickly forgot her fear as she rose higher.

There was a courtyard below that looked like a grotto, with a small waterfall pouring into a beautiful blue swimming pool. Seniors sunbathed under palm trees and played water polo in the shallow end of the pool. Danya pressed her face against the glass, leaving behind fingerprints and clouds of breath. Everything here was so fancy, so
expensive
. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before. For a long moment she forgot her nerves, too enthralled by the beauty of the Palace.

Then the elevator stopped, and the door behind Danya pinged open. Danya turned. There was only one door on the twenty-first floor—a suite. She stepped off the elevator and rang the bell.

The woman who opened the front door was barely a foot taller than Danya herself. She wore a drapey tunic, scarves, and long beaded necklaces, and gray streaks peppered the dark hair piled on top of her head in a neat bun. Danya gaped at her, amazed. Even though she'd practically memorized her grandmother's photograph in the back of the Ferdinand and Dapple books, she'd never noticed that Angie had her father's kind brown eyes and Danya's upturned nose.

Angie blinked.
“Danya?”
she said.

Danya took a deep breath. “Hello,
abuelita
.”

“I saw your photo on the news, but I never really thought you'd . . . I can't believe you're . . .” Angie trailed off, and for a long moment she just stood there, clutching the door frame like she might collapse. She lifted her arm, and for a second Danya was certain her grandmother was going to give her a hug. But then an emotion Danya didn't quite understand flickered over Angie's face. Embarrassment, maybe? Or fear? She dropped her arm awkwardly. As though remembering her manners, Angie hurriedly stepped aside and swung her apartment door open.

“Well, come in, come in,” she said with a shy smile. “Family doesn't hover on the doorstep like a stray dog.”

Danya followed her grandmother into a narrow hallway. Lining the walls were photographs—some so old they were black and white, and some that looked like they were taken just a few days ago. Angie walked down the hallway without glancing at them, but Danya couldn't help peeking at a few as she trailed behind.

There was her grandmother hang-gliding over a crystal-blue sea, and there was her grandmother standing on top of a rocky red mountain, and there was her grandmother underwater, petting a spotted shark with a lethal-looking fin.

Danya smiled, unable to keep a grin from taking over her face. Everything her father told her about her
abuelita
had been true after all. She really
was
an adventurer. Danya reached out and ran her fingers over a framed photograph of her grandma sitting on top of a stallion that was so big he made Sancho look like a tiny toy pony. A little boy sat in front of Angie, and his wide, deep brown eyes made Danya feel happy and lonely all at the same time.

“Hi, Dad,” she whispered to the photograph before following the real Angie around the corner.

The living room was an explosion of color. Brightly painted African masks hung from the walls, and thick Peruvian blankets were piled on worn leather couches. One entire wall was taken up by a Japanese watercolor of a geisha crouching next to a still pond filled with lilies. While Danya turned in place, taking it all in, Angie swept into a small kitchen with blue tile floors and nervously put a kettle on the stove top, switching on a burner. She paused for just a moment and, weaving her fingers together, glanced up, like she needed to make sure Danya really was there. Another emotion flitted across her face, but this one Danya recognized. It was the look her mom got when she watched Danya's school play last year or the look her dad got that time Danya got an A on the math test she studied for all night. It was pride.

“Do you drink tea?” Angie asked. Then, shaking her head, “Well, whether you do or whether you don't, I'm making tea. That's what you do in situations like this. You make tea.”

“I drink tea,” Danya said. Her mom sometimes let her have sips of her Diet Snapple Peach Tea, and even though she was pretty sure that wasn't what Angie was talking about, Danya told herself she'd drink whatever was placed in front of her to be polite. She scooted onto a bar stool next to a marble island that separated the kitchen from the living room. She sat up tall and made sure to keep her elbows off the counter, remembering how her mother taught her to behave when she was a guest in someone else's home.

As soon as she thought the word
guest
, though, Danya felt a little funny. Did it count as being a guest if the person you were visiting was your own grandmother? Danya wasn't entirely sure.

She watched her grandmother flutter around, pulling teacups and saucers and tiny pots of sugar from her cupboards. Sitting next to the stove was a tiny black-and-white television set with the sound switched off. The words
R
UIZ RUNAWAY WATCH
flashed across the screen, along with Danya's and Pia's photographs.

“Hey!” Danya exclaimed, forgetting her manners as she pointed at the television. “You've been watching the news! You knew I ran away.”

Angie stopped fussing with her tea bags and turned around. “Of course I knew! I've had the television on nonstop for the past week, I've been so worried. And then when that tipster told the police you were in Florida . . .” Angie shook her head, wringing her hands. “Well, I just knew you were coming to see me.”

She slumped against the counter, like a suddenly deflated balloon. “I've been practicing what to say to you ever since.”

Confused, Danya sat up taller on her stool. Tipster? Had Violet told the police they were in Florida? “You know why I'm here?”