Jungle Crossing (16 page)

About a half-hour later we arrived at a cluster of thatched-roof huts in Nando's village. I felt strange, like I'd stepped into Muluc's story: the houses were made of thin tree trunks tied together with twine, leaving gaps in the walls, and they had short rock walls surrounding them. A couple of huts had been painted bright turquoise blue, but the rest looked like they hadn't made it past the dead-trees-strapped-together phase. In the distance I saw a lake shimmering in the sunlight.

"You live near a lake?" I asked.

"It's a cenote."

"It doesn't look like that other cenote we swam in," Barb said.

"This one is on the surface," he said. "But we have another one in our village too. I'll show it to you later."

Nando stopped in front of a large oval hut. "Here is my home." A sleeping dog raised his head to greet us. Through two open doorways, I could see the lake.

"You live right on the water," Barb said.

Fiona's patio umbrellas looked sturdier than Nando's so-called house.

"It's our air conditioner," Nando said. "We build our homes with two doors so the breeze flows through. That is also why we leave gaps in our walls. Plus, you can see out, and no one can see in."

Barb waved to the outside wall.

"
Hola,
" someone said.

Barb put her hand down really fast, and I laughed.

"Come in and meet my mama," Nando said.

We entered the cool, dark hut. A young girl swung in a hammock, and other hammocks hung on small wooden hooks. In one corner stood a low wooden table, an old-fashioned grinding stone, a place for a fire on the floor, and some jars. I had no idea that Nando's family was so poor. The floor
was
made of dirt!

"This is
mi prima,
Maria." Nando tilted his head toward his cousin. "Maria, this is Kat and Barb."

"Señor Paul's
amigas! ¡Hola!
"

Barb set her backpack right down, but I held on to mine. Nando watched me.

He shrugged, blushing. "It's not like your American houses, but—"

"It's really cozy, though," Barb said.

We
would
have to sleep in the dirt with the bugs and who knows what other creepy crawlies. Why didn't Mom let me have a cell phone? I can't believe she made us do this! We were trapped out here! I reluctantly set my backpack next to Barb's, knowing I'd have to check it later.

"Is this your kitchen?" Barb asked. "Oh, is this where your mom made those tortillas? Will she make some for us?"

I didn't see a sink. How did they wash anything? Everything looked clean. But still. I didn't plan to eat anything. Not until we got back to civilization.

"Just wait until you see the feast for Isabel's
quinceañera,
" Nando said. "I hope you are hungry."

No way would I be hungry. Not until tomorrow. At the hotel buffet.

Nando spoke to Maria in Mayan.

"
Mi mamá
is helping Isabel get ready," he said. "We could go for a canoe ride?"

"That sounds great," Barb said.

"I don't know," I said. "Me and paddling..."

"Come on," Nando said. "We only have crocodiles in the water here."

Only crocodiles. Weren't they one of the reasons on my list? Whatever. I know I'd read something terrible about them anyway. Something involving lost limbs, death...

"Crocodiles!" Barb squealed. "I've never seen a real crocodile before. We only have alligators at our zoo. Are they your pets?"

"Americans!" Nando shook his head, but this time he smiled.

The canoe wobbled as I stepped into it, and I was sure I was going to fall in and become a crocodile snack.

Nando pointed to a spot where the water rippled across the lake. "Crocodile."

"Hurry!" Barb started to paddle.

"You want to paddle too?" Nando asked me.

"I don't think so." I looked down into the murky water. Reminded me of the sacrifice cenote—definitely not for drinking. Would Nando toss us to the crocodile god or something?

"He disappeared." Barb sounded so disappointed.

"I can find one." Nando paddled over to the tall reeds growing at the edge of the lake. Sure enough, there was a crocodile lounging in the shallow water, still as a log. One eye watched us.

"Do people in your village ever get attacked by crocodiles?" Barb asked.

"Just when we sacrifice foreign captives," Nando said.

I took a deep breath. "What kind of ceremony are we attending tonight?"

"Don't look so worried," Nando said. "Mayans don't do that kind of sacrifice anymore. Now we make offerings like liquor, food, incense—that kind of thing."

I wasn't so sure. Maybe trying to be brave was a stupid idea. Back to the list: crocodiles were reason number 10. And reason number 7 was sacrifice.

"Tell us about your sister's party," Barb said.

"When girls turn fifteen, it's an ancient tradition to have a special ceremony and a feast to celebrate that they are now women, not girls," Nando said. "Girls used to get married at fifteen, but now most finish school first." Nando handed me the paddle. "You paddle us back."

I shook my head.

"Come on, you can do it," he said. "It's easier than climbing El Castillo."

I smirked at him and shook my head. "No thanks." Then again, the paddle might make a good weapon if Nando tried anything sneaky. "Okay, I guess." Pressing the paddle into the water, I stroked, pulling the paddle back hard.

I bumped into the crocodile.

Barb and Nando laughed so hard that the boat started rocking like crazy. I gripped the sides until my knuckles turned white. The crocodile closed his eyes, rating me a complete zero.

Not even worth attacking.

Just before sunset we walked a narrow path through the trees to the little village church for Isabel's
quinceañera
ceremony. On a long table in the front of the church stood small statues of Catholic saints covered with colorful clothes, flowers piled at their feet. Three green crosses hung on the wall. Wearing dresses and necklaces! This was not like anything I'd seen that one time I went to Mass with Fiona. Smoke from burning incense sweetened the air as the ceremony started.

Isabel stood in front of the altar. She wore a pink dress like Fiona's sister had worn to prom. She had short curled hair, small earrings, high-heeled shoes, and gloves like a woman in an old movie. Seven girls wearing blue dresses stood on one side of her and seven boys wearing dark pants and white shirts stood on the other. All the girls wore crowns of flowers in their hair and looked so beautiful and grown-up. I recognized one girl—the dancer Nando liked at lunch the other day. She looked even prettier today, with her silky hair swept up into a bun.

The priest spoke Spanish so fast I couldn't understand a word, so I looked around and noticed Alfredo sitting in the row behind Nando and his family. People packed into the tiny church, crowding every single space. Barb and I sat in the back on the last row of benches, and even though people made a big deal about us being "Señor Paul's
amigas,
" I felt white. Very, very white. Every person who walked through the door gawked at us.

The ceremony droned on.

The little chapel felt like a sauna: incense, sweat, heat. Some men left their seats and stood in the doorway, smoking. My head got dizzy. I wished I hadn't come. I didn't belong here.

A baby crawled over, pulled herself up on my knee, and stared at me with big brown eyes, as if she'd never seen a white person before. She probably hadn't. I felt like she could see through me, see that I was a fake. She knew I didn't belong. I couldn't look at the baby, her chubby hand sticky on my knee, little nails digging into the side of my leg. Barb leaned over and made cooing noises. The baby giggled. I knew she was laughing at me: the stupid, out-of-place white girl.

The priest paused, and Nando's parents stood to present a ring to Isabel. The priest said something, and Isabel and her friends shuffled their feet and giggled. People in the crowd laughed. My head swirled; my stomach churned. I wanted to get out. Go back to the hotel. Walk on the beach like a normal person, sipping an umbrella drink. I belonged with the tourists, not these Mayans with their strange customs and weird churches. My face got all hot and prickly, like the time Fiona caught me lying about having a crush on Zach B.

Finally Isabel and her friends walked out of the church, and we all followed. People stood on the edge of the path greeting her like she was a queen, and I wondered if Nando modeled Muluc after his beautiful sister. I felt a little better in the fresh air, but I still wanted to go home: all the way home to Salt Lake City. It didn't help that my stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Wasn't that so cool?" Barb said. "And that baby was so cute. Did you see that girl from lunch—the dancer? I'd like to have a special party when I'm fifteen. A mermaid party."

Yak yak yak.

The sun had dipped behind the trees, and everything glowed with warm light as we walked to an open-sided hut that overlooked the water. Isabel and her friends surrounded a small table in the center of the room while Nando's older brothers brought in an enormous three-tiered cake covered with big pink flowers and thick, loopy bows of frosting. Alfredo took a picture of Isabel blowing out her fifteen birthday candles. Everyone cheered and sang "
Las Mañanitas
" —just like in Mrs. Ruiz's class. Barb ran up to Isabel and handed her our stupid little present.

I tried to press against the wall and disappear.

Instead, I knocked over a case of Fanta Naranja soda. The bottles rolled around on the floor. Clink. Clink. Clink. I tried to pick them up as fast as I could, but I knew everyone was staring at the crazy, clumsy white girl. An old man squatted down to help, smiling at me with his tobacco-stained teeth. I smiled back, but I wanted to cry.

Fortunately, musicians started playing, and everyone stopped staring at me and turned toward the music. A group of old men walked out to the center of the floor and began doing a real slow dance. So embarrassing! They looked like Dad doing his robot dance at family reunions. A small laugh popped out of my mouth. I searched the faces around me to see if anyone else was snickering, but everyone wore a solemn expression, as if they were still listening to the priest in church.

Then the musicians picked up the tempo, and Isabel danced with her father, sweeping around the floor like they were in a black-and-white movie. Other people joined in during the next song, and Nando, of course, danced with the girl from the restaurant.

I stood there, totally out of place.

Women from the village brought in trays oftortillas, chicken, beans, avocados, tamales,
taquitos.
So much food! Barb joined the people filling their plates. The smell of fresh, handmade tortillas tormented my empty stomach. But I couldn't eat something made in such conditions.

Barb scooped chicken into her tortilla. "This is amazing. The best ever. Even better than Dad's."

High praise from Daddy's Little Pet. Looking at all the food piled on Barb's plate, I realized that I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

While I'd been watching Barb feast, the girls had changed out of their formal gowns into their white embroidered dresses and were now dancing in their bare feet. Isabel wore the turtle earrings! A fast song started, and all the girls ran into the center of the room and twirled around, swinging their arms out wide. Nando's girl grabbed my hand and pulled me into the group, smiling at me with the kindest smile, but I pulled away.

I stood there like a lump, watching everyone else laugh and dance. What was stopping me? Why was I afraid of embarrassing myself? Fiona was thousands of miles away—she couldn't tell me I was "oh-so rhythm-challenged." I thought about how I climbed down that pyramid one step at a time. I just did it. Why couldn't I dance? I took a step toward the dancers. Then another. Nando rushed toward me, took my hand, and whirled me around, making me laugh at the dizzy feeling in my stomach.

A new song started, one full of drumbeats and a quick rhythm that made me think of Muluc for some reason. I closed my eyes and felt the music.

Around and around and around. I flung my arms wide like a little girl. The music matched my heartbeat. Time slowed. Peace wrapped me like my grandmother's hug. I belong. I belong. I belong. Everywhere, I belong.

When the song ended, I opened my eyes to see Nando smiling at me. "Let's get something to eat.
Mi mamá
just brought another batch of tortillas."

And I didn't shake my head no. I didn't even think about germs or whatever. I just thought about the delicious food, the happy laughter bouncing through the air, the friendship.

Barb continued dancing with the girls, but Nando and I walked outside, sitting on a flat rock overlooking the water, which shimmered with moonlight and shadows.

"The food is so good," I said, stuffing my face in a way that Fiona would call oh-so piggish, but I didn't care.

I chattered a bit about the food, but Nando had grown kind of shy, and I worried that I'd offended him again somehow.

"I want to apologize, Little Jaguar," he said. "I haven't been fair to you."

"What do you mean? I'm the one who was disrespectful. I'm totally sorry, and I'll never do anything like that again. I swear." I almost saluted, reminding myself way too much of Barb. "I mean, I understand how important it is to respect your culture."

"That's why I want to apologize." Nando stared out at the water. "I don't think I've been respecting your culture."

"My culture?" I couldn't even think what that was. Wearing the right clothes like Fiona? Listening to oh-so danceable music? Watching oh-so hilarious TV shows?

"I thought all Americans were the same." Nando smoothed the crease of his white slacks. "You know—big, loud, rich, throwing their money around, driving fast cars, living in mansions the size of a Cancún hotel, ordering Mexicans around."

I laughed. "You watch too much television."

Nando smiled. "Maybe. I do spend a lot of time at my cousin's house."

I thought about all the images of Americans on TV, and most of them weren't too flattering. Images of Mexicans weren't too flattering either. And all of it was wrong.