Amelia Earhart: Lady Lindy (6 page)

Finally, they calmed down and pulled apart, both of them talking at once:

“Puff adder!”

“Silverback!”

“Paralyzed!”

“Paralyzed!”

“Slithering!”

“Gorillas!”

Maisie and Felix fell silent.

“Ziff twins,” Felix said.

“Uh-oh,” Maisie said.

Again, they fell silent. Around them, birds cawed and leaves rustled.

“If we say . . . you know . . . we'll get out of here,” Maisie said finally.

“Well, out of the jungle,” he reasoned. “But not out of Africa.”

“Right,” Maisie said, disappointed. All
lame demon
would do is move them forward in time, not in place.

“If only we had another object,” she said, thinking out loud. “Then we could go somewhere nice and safe. And cool,” she added, wiping the sweat off her forehead for about the millionth time.

Next time, she decided, they would take an object that would bring them to Alaska. Maisie imagined snow and ice and cute husky dogs.

“We can't leave them here,” Felix reminded Maisie.

“Well, we can't leave at all,” she said.

Felix looked at her guiltily.

“Wait,” Maisie said. “We can
leave
?”

Felix nodded solemnly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the airplane compass.

“What is that?” Maisie asked.

“It's part of an airplane,” Felix said. “An old-fashioned airplane. Like the
Spirit of St. Louis
.”

“The spirit of what?” Maisie asked, keeping her eye on the compass.

“Lucky Lindy's plane,” Felix explained.

When Maisie still looked confused, he added, “The plane Charles Lindbergh flew solo across the Atlantic.”

Finally, Maisie looked at her brother, her face washed with determination.

“You mean we can get out of here and go to—”

“Little Falls, Minnesota,” Felix said. “At least, that's what I'm guessing. He was born in Detroit, but his father was a congressman from Minnesota until 1917—”

“How do you know so much about this Lindbergh fellow?”

“I decided to do my aviation report on him,” Felix said sheepishly. “I took a few notes.”

Of course Felix already started that dumb report,
Maisie thought.

“The way I see it,” Felix continued, “if we say, you know”—he lowered his voice, as if Phinneas Pickworth himself might hear—“
lame demon
 . . . then we're just going to go somewhere else here in Africa. But if we use this, we'll get out of here and be nice and safe in Minnesota.”

Maisie nodded, considering this escape plan.

“Without the Ziff twins,” she said evenly.

“Without the Ziff twins.”

Maisie thought some more.

“I don't have the map for Dr. Livingstone,” she said finally. “Do you?”

Felix shook his head. “I only have this,” he said, holding up the compass.

“So, technically, we wouldn't be abandoning the Ziff twins,” Maisie said. “Because one of them must have the map.”

“Yes, but—”

“Amy Pickworth is their great-great-grandmother, right? They should be the ones to find her.”

“I don't know, Maisie. What if—”

“They'll find her and give Dr. Livingstone the map and have a great adventure,” Maisie said with a finality that concerned Felix.

“I really don't think we should leave them here. Snakes and gorillas and tsetse flies and hippos—”

Maisie held up her hand to shush him.

“No, Maisie,” Felix persisted. “We have to think this through—”

“Sssshhh!”

Felix followed her gaze to some distant point.

“Is it them?” he asked eagerly. “Do you see Hadley and Rayne?”

Maisie's eyes widened. Her mouth opened as if she might speak, but no words came out. Instead, she lifted one quivering finger and pointed.

At first, Felix didn't see anything. But even so, he'd quickly learned here in the jungle just how good camouflage was. That snake had blended right in with the path he'd been walking on. He knew that if he looked hard enough, something would emerge up ahead.

No sooner did Felix have that thought, then the foliage seemed to move.

He blinked.

Indeed, he could make out a shape now.

Felix gulped.

“Maisie?” he whispered. “Is that a—”

Maisie nodded.

When she spoke, her voice came out hoarse and raspy.

“A lion,” she managed.

Now Felix could clearly see the lion's tawny fur, its long, hard muscles.

And the lion could see him, too. It stopped and lifted its nose to the air.

Maisie and Felix held their breath.

The lion opened its mouth, revealing large yellow fangs, and let loose the loudest, scariest roar either of them could ever have imagined.

Maisie grabbed Felix's hand just as the lion lowered its head, set its golden eyes right at them, and pounced.

THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE EXPOSITION

F
elix squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for those fangs to rip into his flesh.

Instead, he felt himself being lifted off the ground, up, up, up. The wind blew as he somersaulted and the smells of all those now familiar things, like Christmas trees and cinnamon, surrounded him.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Maisie's grinning face tumble past him.

Then: nothing.

Until they dropped.

At first, Maisie saw nothing but smoke. She coughed and rubbed her eyes, wrinkling her nose at the smoke and other strange odors that filled the air. Instinctively, her hand went to the thread around her neck.

The shard was gone!

Panicked, Maisie's fingers fumbled with the thread. In the tumble it had come undone and the shard had slid off. Maisie looked all around. But the shard was nowhere to be found. How would they get back without it?

The smell of meat cooking filled Maisie's nose, distracting her. She had to squint through smoke to see anything at all. For a moment, she thought they had somehow landed back in Hawaii at the birth of Liliuokalani. She saw thatched huts and people who, with their black hair, bare chests, and loincloths, looked very much like the native Hawaiians she'd met then. They stood around a fire where a small animal was being cooked in a deep pit, talking in the strangest language she'd ever heard. Instead of the lilting syllables of Hawaiian, these people spoke in a series of rhythmic, rapid clicks.

One thing was for certain: This wasn't Minnesota. Or Hawaii, Maisie decided as she studied the faces of the people around the fire. The language was different, and their faces had a different shape than the native Hawaiians. No one noticed her. They were too eager for their dinner. To Maisie, that dinner looked very much like . . . She waved her hand to clear some of the pungent smoke clouding her vision. Her stomach rolled. That dinner seemed to be a dog, she realized. The smell of that meat and all of the smoke choked her and before she could stop herself, she threw up.

As soon as she did, everyone stopped clicking and turned toward Maisie, who had dropped to her knees and was now clutching her stomach and throwing up again. She gulped for air, trying to settle her stomach. Something caught her eye. Something white with a small blue flower on it.

The shard!

Phew!
Maisie thought as she scooped it up and carefully slid it back on the thread, making sure to triple-knot it this time.

From one of the huts, a woman ran out. She wore a white cotton blouse over a sarong and a heavy, intricately beaded necklace. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head. Maisie couldn't tell if the woman was angry or worried, but her face was creased with some emotion.

“How did you get inside?” the woman said in perfect English as she kneeled beside Maisie.

Still nauseated, Maisie just shrugged.

The woman offered Maisie cold water from a small cup made out of a coconut shell. Maisie sipped it gratefully.

“Are the people already lined up?” the woman asked her.

Maisie tried to make sense of what she was being asked, but couldn't.

“Where am I?” Maisie asked the woman.

The woman smiled. “Ah! You don't even know which exhibit this is, do you?”

Exhibit?
Maisie thought, but before she could say anything, the woman continued.

“This is the Philippine village,” she said as if that explained everything. “We are the Igorots.”

“Uh-huh,” Maisie said, struggling to make sense of this new information.

“Are your parents outside?”

“Yes,” Maisie said. After all, her parents
were
outside. Whatever “outside” meant.

The woman patted Maisie's arm. “It is easy to get lost, isn't it?”

“Oh yes,” Maisie agreed.

From the distance, Maisie heard Felix shout: “There she is!”

At the sound of her brother's voice, Maisie felt immediately better.

“This is my brother,” she told the woman, who had turned toward Felix's voice.

“What in the world . . . ,” Maisie began, for once again she could not believe what she saw.

Felix was walking toward her, flanked on each side by one of the Filipino natives. Except, the man and woman were only about two feet tall. And even more strange, they were dressed like a bride and groom.

“That is Juan de la Cruz and his sister, Miss Martina,” the woman explained. “They were born in the village of Tanlalgan in Capiz, a province of our country. Their parents, their three brothers and sisters, all of them are normal size. But these two are the smallest adults alive in the world.”

“Wow,” Maisie managed to say.

“These little people have everything we have. Every limb and muscle and bone and organ.” The woman smiled. “Although they may be more intelligent than some of us. They speak three of the dialects of the Philippine languages: Tagalog, Visayan, and Pampangan. And Spanish and English.”

As the trio approached, Maisie stood on her wobbly legs, towering over Miss Martina and Juan. Still, she reached out, shook their hands, and said, “Pleased to meet you.” Juan's hand was so small that it felt like a little boy's. He appeared to weigh no more than fifteen pounds. But when he spoke, his voice was as deep as a man's.

“We found your brother wandering the village,” he said, smiling.

Maisie glanced at Felix, who had a bewildered look on his face.

“Yes, Juan,” Maisie said. “Felix tends to wander.”

Felix looked even more bewildered.

“How do you know his name?” Felix asked Maisie.

“She told me,” Maisie said, cocking her head toward the woman. “And his sister is Miss Martina.”

Miss Martina chuckled. “People always think we're married to each other,” she said. “What a relief for someone to know our true relationship. In fact,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “his wife, Gregoria, is as tall as you.”

“Really!” Maisie said.

“Wait a minute,” Felix said. “Are you actually having a conversation with them? I don't get it.”

Maisie rolled her eyes. “Of course! Why wouldn't I? You're the one just standing there, being rude.”

“Rude?” Felix said, exasperated.

The woman who had helped Maisie smiled. “Would you like Miss Martina and Juan to lead you out of the exhibit?”

Maisie waited for Felix to answer.

“Well?” she said after he just stood there, staring stupidly.

“Well, what?” he demanded.

“What is wrong with you?” Maisie asked him. “Should Miss Martina and Juan get us out of here? Even though we don't know what's on the other side of that fence?”

Felix's gaze followed where she was pointing. A wooden fence lined the periphery beyond the thatched-roof huts.

“I mean,” Maisie continued in a lower voice, “I don't know why she keeps calling this an ‘exhibition.' Do you?”

“How do you know what she calls it?” Felix shrieked.

“Because I'm paying attention, unlike some people!”

“Wait,” Felix said more calmly. “Beyond that fence there's a big building with a white roof. Almost like a mansion or a museum or something. Look.”

Maisie stared harder.

“You're right,” she agreed.

“What did you say she calls this place?” Felix asked.

“An exhibit,” Maisie said. “You'd know that if you just listened to her.”

Again, bewilderment washed over Felix's face.

“It doesn't seem possible,” he said slowly. “But do you think these people are in a zoo?”

“
People
? In a
zoo
?” Maisie said dismissively. “No, I do not think they are in a zoo.”

“Would you like to eat with us before you leave?” the woman asked Maisie. “You must be hungry.”

Maisie was in fact very hungry.

“What . . . what is that you're cooking?” she asked.

The woman smiled again. “Dog,” she said as if that were the best possible answer.

Maisie's stomach lurched and for an instant she was afraid she was going to throw up again.

“No,” she said. Then she remembered to add, “Thank you.”

“Now what's wrong?” Felix asked her, seeing her face grow pale.

Maisie sighed. “I don't want to eat roasted dog. Do you?” she said, frustrated.

“Dog!” Felix repeated, his eyes wide.

“What is wrong with you?” Maisie asked him again. “Didn't you hear her? She invited us to eat that dog they're roasting over there.”

“How do you know that?” Felix said, equally as frustrated.

Maisie studied her brother's confused face.

“You really can't understand her?” she asked him.

“How could I understand a bunch of clicks?” he said, throwing his arms up. “And more important, how can you understand them?”

“I . . . I don't know,” Maisie said. “But they are all speaking in perfect English.”

“No they aren't,” Felix insisted.

The woman touched Maisie's arm. “The exhibition is opening soon. If you aren't staying, then it's best that Juan and Miss Martina escort you back out before the crowds arrive.”

“All right,” Maisie said.

The woman looked at Felix sadly.

“Such a shame your brother doesn't speak Tagalog like you do.”

“Tagalog? I don't speak Tagalog!” Maisie said, suddenly as confused as Felix.

Miss Martina waved her arm at Maisie and Felix.

“This way,” she said.

And a baffled Maisie and Felix followed Miss Martina and Juan through the Philippine village to a large gate.

“Good-bye!” Miss Martina and Juan said.

“Thank you,” Maisie said—in English.

They seemed to understand her because they answered, “You're welcome. Enjoy the Exposition!”

Maisie and Felix stood outside the gate, watching as it closed.

“Did you understand what she said?” Maisie asked her brother.

He shook his head. “Unlike you, I don't speak Tagalog.”

Before Maisie could puzzle over this new strange turn of events, a little girl eating an ice-cream cone walked by with her parents and little sister. She was about six and had strawberry blonde hair and a face sprinkled with freckles.

She looked right at Maisie and Felix, took a big lick of her ice cream, and grinned a gap-toothed grin.

“This is
ice cream
!” she said as if it was the most marvelous thing in the world.

“I know,” Maisie answered grumpily.

“You don't have to be so rude,” the girl's mother said. “Maybe you've been here long enough to taste it, but this is her first-ever ice-cream cone and she's excited.”

With that, the woman said to her daughters, “Come on Meelie, come on Pidge. Some people can try to ruin even the most perfect day.”

As the family walked away from them, the freckle-faced girl turned around and stuck her tongue out at Maisie. Then she broke into a fit of giggles and skipped to catch up with the rest of her family.

“Imagine never having ice cream until you're six years old?” Felix said.

Maisie brightened.

“You understood all of that?” she asked him.

Felix scowled at her. “Well, I do speak
English
,
you know.”

“I don't know where we've landed,” Maisie said with a sigh. “But it's definitely someplace very strange.”

Felix agreed. He took a moment to look around and try to figure out where this strange place might be. What he saw puzzled him even more.

In the distance, a very tall clock stood. Its face and even the numbers appeared to be made out of flowers.

Above everything loomed a Ferris wheel, maybe the biggest Ferris wheel Felix had ever seen.

But if they were at an amusement park, why were all those Philippine natives fenced in?

As if she read his mind, Maisie said, “Remember when we met Harry Houdini? The freak show?”

Felix nodded. “Do you think that's what that village is? People go in there to gawk at everyone?”

“Maybe,” Maisie said. “Let's walk around and try to find out.”

They headed off in the direction of the Ferris wheel. The crowds grew thicker as they walked. The women they passed wore dresses with lots of ruffles and flounces and oversized floppy hats. The men sported summer suits, bow ties, and straw hats. The clothes were different enough that Maisie decided it had to be later than the 1890s when they'd been to Coney Island and met Harry.

“Imagine!” Maisie overheard a woman say, “Iced tea! Who would have ever thought to drink tea over ice?”

“As for me,” her male companion said, “I found what they call a ‘club sandwich' to be perhaps the most delicious sandwich I've ever eaten. Toasted bread, turkey, more toast, lettuce and tomato, more toast, and bacon with mayonnaise!”

“Where did you get that?” the woman said as if he'd just described the most remarkable thing. “I ate a spread made out of ground peanuts that I didn't care for. So thick!”

“Ground peanuts?” the man repeated, surprised.

“Are you listening to these two?” Maisie asked Felix.

“Where are we that introduces food like this?” Felix wondered out loud.

“And
when
are we that iced tea and club sandwiches and peanut butter are new to people?”

“And ice-cream cones,” Felix said, remembering the little girl.

“Well,” Maisie said, “maybe we're in Minnesota, after all. Maybe Minnesota didn't get regular food until later than everybody else.”

“Maybe,” Felix said, even though he didn't believe that for a second. Why wouldn't Minnesota have ice-cream cones when every place else did?

“We should keep an eye out for Charles Lindbergh, right?” Maisie asked eagerly.

“Right,” Felix said, scanning the crowd as if Lindbergh might be somewhere nearby.