Here Where the Sunbeams Are Green (25 page)

Right as I’m having that thought, I hear Mom’s voice snaking up to us through the open window. She’s down in the concrete courtyard, which is odd. Why is she back from Relaxation and Dumbation so early? Then she yells, “
Ru-by! Mad-e-line!
” which is bad, because when she calls us by our full names it pretty much means we’re in trouble.
Sometimes
it means she has something exciting to tell us, but not usually.

Kyle’s already on his feet. “You guys have to go,” he says, concern deepening his voice. “Right now.”

“Why?” Roo says, reaching up to stroke the bird on her head.

“We can’t have her getting suspicious. She can’t start wondering
if you two are up to something. And she
cannot
see the bird,” Kyle says. “Go now! Go to your mom. Just … lie low and do whatever it is she wants you to do. Pretend everything’s normal.”

Normal. Ha.

“But what about Miss Perfect?” Roo whines. “I can’t leave Miss Perfect.”

Kyle shakes his head. “Miss Perfect has to stay with me,” he says firmly.

“
Madeline Ruby!
” Mom keeps yelling, louder and louder.

“Please, tell her she needs to stay with me,” he says to Roo. “This is important. Come back here after you’re dressed for the party and we’ll tie her on, okay?”

Frowning, Roo clucks and whistles up at Miss Perfect, who gloomily leaves Roo’s head and lands gracelessly on Kyle’s shoulder. I’ve never seen a bird look peeved before. And, hello, my sister now speaks not only Spanish and tracking but also bird language?

“Go!” Kyle commands.

As I run, half tripping, down the spiral staircase with Roo following close behind, I seriously start to feel like we’re kids in a book, kids who have adventures and secrets and powers that their parents don’t know a thing about.

Downstairs, Mom runs across the courtyard toward us in her tulip dress, smiling, her cheeks very pink and her eyes very shiny. I can’t help being creeped out yet again by how happy she seems. How can she look so radiant when her husband is a prisoner of La Lava? It’s like she doesn’t even remember Dad, doesn’t think or wonder or worry about him. She grabs both of us up in a huge squeeze of a hug, which I wish she wouldn’t do when Kyle might see. I twist around in her arms and look up at Kyle’s bedroom window. I try to shrug at the window and roll my eyes, just in case he’s watching.

“Ohgirlsgirlsgirls! Hello, my girls!” Mom says. “Yoga was positively dreamy today, but I skipped out a bit early so we could have a little fun before heading over to the gala!”

Yoga was positively dreamy today
. My mom is
not
the kind of person who says that kind of thing. It sends a shiver through me.

“My
goodness
,” Mom says, “where did you get those beautiful green outfits?”

I look down at myself and over at Roo and realize that we’re still wearing our jungle uniforms. I’d totally forgotten about that in the excitement of everything.

“From Kyle’s grandma,” Roo explains.

“Well, I hope you’re planning on writing her world-class thank-you notes,” Mom replies.

Mom. She’s just so clueless. As if Señora V doesn’t already know how insanely grateful we are.

“Let’s order some
licuados
,” Mom says brightly, “and head to the pool, girlios!”

Girlios?
Seriously, Mom is not Mom right now, and it’s freaking me out all over again.

“I want us to have a nice, relaxing time before the gala,” Mom continues. “I want us to feel our hearts opening up so we’re really able to enjoy this special event.”

“Uh-huh, okay,” Roo says doubtfully, and I understand her tone, because I’m thinking the exact same thing—
Who
is
this lady?

But we let Mom lead us into the Selva Café to order
licuados
, and we pretend to be two jolly kids on vacation. We act as though everything is perfectly ordinary, not giving Mom even the least cause for suspicion.

“Boy, you girls are full of beans,” Mom says as we’re looking over the menu at the Selva Café and imagining new combinations of
licuado
we might order.

“Pineapple-mango-papaya-passionfruit-plus-piña-colada-and-bubble-gum-with-a-cherry-and-an-MandM-and-a-red-umbrella-on-top!” Roo announces. “And pink Skittles!” she adds.

“I’m glad you girls can still be silly like this,” Mom says. Little does she know we’re not being silly. We’re just trying to seem normal.

“So, yoga was inspiring today?” I ask Mom, to change the subject.

She looks pleased—pleased that her own daughter has asked such a thoughtful, adult question. “Mad, how sweet of you to ask.” Then she starts going on and on about Sun Mutation, and now I’m absolutely positive that all this yoga
has
done something to her, has put some kind of creepy spell on her. It suddenly occurs to me that Dad’s not the only parent who needs saving tonight. We need to get Mom away from La Lava and their world-class yoga as soon as possible. I glance over at Roo to see if she’s thinking the same thing, but she’s yawning and sighing with boredom, and I know she just wants to be upstairs with Miss Perfect rather than down here having to watch Mom act like not-Mom.

Anyway, we order simple mango
licuados
, which seems like the most normal thing to get, and then Mom sends us off to our room to put on our bathing suits. I stand there for a second, my trusty gray Speedo in one hand and the green-striped two-piece Mom got me in the other. But as it turns out it’s not such a difficult decision. For some reason I’m no longer scared about showing up at the pool in a two-piece. Maybe because I have much bigger things to be scared about at this particular moment.

A few minutes after we get ourselves settled at the pool with our
licuados
, sunbathing like the other tourists and pretending we’re just kids on vacation, Ken/Neth pulls into the parking lot in the golf
cart, talking on his smart phone. I’m actually enjoying fake-relaxing with Mom and Roo, and I’d really rather have the two of them to myself, but what can you do. When Ken/Neth spots us he lifts his arm to give a huge wave. He parks the golf cart and strides over to us on his skinny legs. He’s wearing a khaki safari hat and a mud-colored T-shirt and sunglasses on a thick teal band around his neck. He looks so dorky that I almost feel sorry for him. And he’s even perkier than usual, if you can believe it.

“Good afternoon, ladies!” he booms. “Let me just say, ladies, everything is coming together BEA-U-tifully for the Gold Circle Investors’ Gala! Now we just need you three to get all dressed up and impress everyone with your gorgeous selves.”

Two things: (1) The Gold Circle Investors’ Gala! Jeez. Are we seriously going to do what we’re planning to do? and (2) I don’t like it when he refers to us as “your gorgeous selves.” Ugh.

Roo slurps up the last of her
licuado
. “Hey, can we get in the pool, dudes? I am
done
,” she says, burping at Ken/Neth. I have to bite down on my grin.

“Gosh, she sure is a firecracker, isn’t she?” Ken/Neth says as Roo cannonballs into the pool, scaring all the other kids.

At least I can agree with him there—within five minutes, Roo has every kid in the pool involved in a huge round of Vol-Cano, a game she’s made up that’s exactly like Marco Polo except that instead of saying
Marco Polo
you say
Vol-Cano
. It’s easy to play no matter what language you speak. All I see of her now is a flash of wet arm or leg here and there as she somersaults and doggy paddles across the pool with her seven-minute best friends. The kids bounce around, screaming and laughing, Roo screaming and laughing the loudest. Everyone looks like they’re having such a great time that I decide to jump in and join the game, even though I’m way too old
for this kind of thing. The water feels nicely cool and it’s fun to be weightless and to not be worrying about anything except Vol-Cano. I’m screaming and laughing just like the little kids when I happen to glance at the fence and see Kyle standing there staring at me in this very serious, calm, adult way, mouthing my name and gesturing for me to come over, and my heart does a jumping jack. Man, why did he have to catch me acting like a baby?

I climb out of the pool, straighten my spine—thank goodness I’m wearing the new two-piece—and walk toward Kyle with beautiful adult posture, preparing to say something like,
Whew, it’s so tiring to keep little kids entertained, you know?
But when I get closer I realize Kyle couldn’t care less about my posture and my two-piece, about the pool and whatever it is I’m doing in it. He’s got something else on his mind, his eyes glistening strangely, looking over and through me but not at me. And you know what I realize right at that instant? Kyle thinks of me as a sidekick, nothing less but also nothing more, and my heart does this painful little twist inside me.

“What’s up?” I say, trying and failing to sound casual.

Before he can reply, Roo paddles over and pushes a huge spray of water onto me and Kyle. It’s
amazing
that such a small person can create such a big splash.

“
¿Dónde está mi pájaro?
” Roo demands, lifting herself out of the pool on her strong, skinny arms and scurrying up to us, dripping water everywhere. Her little friends immediately start to look lost and bored without her. “Did you leave her alone?” She sounds outraged.

“
No te preocupes,
” Kyle says, wiping pool water off his forehead. “
Está con mi abuela.
”

Oh my gosh. I understood that! I understood that
whole thing
! It just somehow clicked in my brain. Roo said “Where’s my bird?” and Kyle said “Don’t worry, she’s with my grandmother.”

“Hey!” I tell them. “I understood that!”

But Kyle has already moved on: “If your mom asks why I asked you to come over here, tell her I finally figured out how to explain the difference between the verbs
ser
and
estar
.”

“Huh?” I say. I’m proud of myself for knowing those two verbs
exist
—it’s never even crossed my mind to wonder about the difference between them.

“But,” he continues, glancing nervously at me, and in the pause between his words I get terrified that he’s about to tell us La Lava is coming for us and we need to run for it right this second, “the real reason is because I can’t find Mad’s letter anywhere.”

I laugh with relief. Kyle! More nervous than I’ve ever seen him, all because he thinks he lost my letter! Boy, he must think my letter is super-fantastic.

“It’s in my pocket, back in our room,” I tell him, blushing.

“Oh,” he says, “okay, great.”

But he still doesn’t sound right. Is it just me, or does he sound almost disappointed, as though he
wanted
me to have to follow him back up to his room and write the letter all over again?

Maybe, maybe not. I’ll never know, because before I can say anything, Kyle turns sharply away and marches across the concrete courtyard toward the kitchen.

I’m feeling a bit breathless and strange from our little chat with Kyle as Roo and I stroll back over to Mom. Ken/Neth has vanished. I notice a couple of sunbathing girls around my age looking at us with envy. I guess it does make us seem pretty cool to know an older guy like that. An older guy with golden eyes.

“Gosh,” Mom says, “what was that all about?”

“Verbs,” I say quickly. Hey, maybe I’m not so bad at lying when I have a little help.

“
Verbs?
” Mom echoes nosily.

“Kyle finally figured out how to explain the difference between the verbs
ser
and
estar
,” Roo says. It’s a good thing I have Roo around to remember the specifics.

“My goodness!” Mom says. “I’m impressed. What
is
the difference?”

After a half second of silence, I start with, “It’s hard to explai—”

“Feminine/masculine,” Roo, brilliantly, jumps in.

“My
good
ness,” Mom repeats, eyebrows raised. “Boy, you three sure are good friends. Aren’t we lucky that you get along so well with Kyle?”

Roo and I nod dutifully. I resist the urge to wink at Roo, who dives backward into the pool and within seconds has started another screeching round of Vol-Cano.

Mom is telling me that Ken/Neth will take us to La Lava in the golf cart and it’s probably time to start thinking about showers when she’s interrupted by the appearance of Kyle, who’s walking straight toward me across the concrete courtyard and through the pool gate. My eyes are stuck on him as he comes, right at me, me,
me
! Mom watches me watching Kyle.

“Hey again,” Kyle says when he reaches us.

“Hello there, Kyle,” Mom says.

I don’t say anything. I feel all warm and splendid. Kyle just used his muscles to walk toward me! He wasn’t walking toward anyone else … only me. I stand up.

“Something to show you,” Kyle explains.

“Okay,” Mom says with an amused grin, “you can borrow my daughter for a moment, but she better be in the shower fifteen minutes from now.”

Kyle nods solemnly.

“Bye,” I whisper to Mom as Kyle grabs my hand (!) and leads me back across the pool area. Holding my hand! In public! My heart is beating so fast that it feels like it’s tripping over itself.

We pass through the concrete courtyard and out the back gate, onto the jungle path. If it were anyone else I’d probably say, “Hey, can we maybe not go on a
hike
right now, considering all I’m wearing is a two-piece bathing suit and flip-flops?” But because it’s Kyle I don’t say anything. Kyle must have a plan—he always does.

About twenty yards up the trail, he stops in front of a tree trunk.

“What?” I say.

“Just look,” he whispers.

So I stare at the tree trunk. I squint and stare and look and gaze and stare some more. And I don’t see anything except just a regular old dark brown tree trunk.

“
What?
” I repeat.

“Use your eyes,” he commands softly.

I look and look and
look
.

Then! I see it. A creature so perfectly matched to the tree that it doesn’t look like a creature. I squeeze Kyle’s hand which, miraculously, is still holding mine.