Spirits of Ash and Foam (22 page)

Rain spent six more dollars of Mr. Kim's money buying the children ice cream—just to bring a stop to their tears. Half the twenty gone now, and she hadn't even paid for lunch. So when Michael dropped his ice cream in the sand and demanded another, it was all Rain could do not to cry along with him—especially when buying him a new cone.

John thought he deserved another cone too, and threatened to drop what remained of his in the sand to force the issue—at least until Rain made it perfectly clear that such a course of action would result in
less
vanilla-chocolate swirl, not more. He ate the rest of his confection in brooding silence.

Five minutes later, with the ice cream consumed, Miranda used the sated lull in the hostilities to suggest they all build a sand castle. Charlie upped the ante to “a huge sand fortress!” As this gave Michael an excuse to use his shovel, he agreed to dig in. As did John, who, despite hating the sand, enjoyed planning things. Wendy said she would only participate if Miranda did too. So the six of them went to work.

As locals, Rain and Charlie had chosen a section of Próspero Beach known as the Alcove, because it was semihidden from the main strip by an outcropping of rocks. Outside of High Season—when every inch of Ghost sand was packed—the Alcove tended toward the deserted. At this moment, there were only a few people around: a lifeguard in his squat white wooden tower; a couple of twenty-year-old Italian surfers, sitting in their wetsuits in front of their boards; two tenth graders, Connor Kelty and Conner Ellison; and Wendy, John, Michael, Miranda, Charlie and Rain.

The sun was pulling into position directly overhead in a cloudless sky, and the temperature was climbing. Everyone was thirsty. The ice cream truck left the parking lot to find a more profitable location, and John watched it drive away and muttered, “I'm still hungry.” On cue, Charlie's stomach growled loudly, which at least made the boys—and even Wendy—laugh.

Rain said miserably, “I better get everyone lunch.” She pulled the remaining eight dollars from her pocket, knowing there was no way she could feed six people on that amount of money this close to the ocean. (Prices dropped precipitously as one moved inland, but by the beach, a bag of chips could easily cost $5.95.)
What was I thinking, only asking for twenty?

Miranda put her hand on Rain's and said, “I can get this.” Rain looked up at her. “I can use my credit card to buy food. My dad won't think twice about that, and you won't have to spend your camera money. At least I'll be contributing a little.”

Spontaneously, a grateful Rain threw her arms around Miranda. “You think you're not contributing? I could never have managed this without you and Charlie.” She pulled back from Miranda but still held onto her arms. “I take him for granted; it's kinda our thing. But I'm
really
grateful you're here.”

Rain was emotional due to lost-camera stress, but it was Miranda who pulled an arm away to wipe at her eyes. She said, “Don't get me started. I cry like at everything.” Both girls laughed.

Charlie saw all this, smiled and continued to dig the moat per John's instructions.

Miranda took off to buy lunch. Wendy, temporarily engrossed in her own princess tower, didn't immediately notice the departure. Once she did, it was all Rain could do to prevent the eight-year-old from taking off after Miranda, who was by that time out of sight. Wendy stayed, begrudgingly, but clearly resented being stuck there without the older girl. Rain scowled—
I'm a girl, too!
—but she was already too exhausted and overheated to maintain her own resentment.

She desperately wanted to go in the water to cool off but knew she couldn't leave Charlie alone with the Kimlets. She stared out at the ocean wistfully.

That's when she saw the dolphin. Right there. Just offshore. Its long head poking up out of the water. Smiling. The Italians noticed it too, pointing and laughing.

Rain stood, fascinated. She'd never seen a dolphin this close to a public beach … this close to any beach.
Could it be?
The dolphin dove down out of sight—and then popped back up with the camera strap in its mouth. Rain started running toward the water. (Charlie and their charges were now forgotten.) The dolphin swam backward quickly, rising up on its tail to dance away as before and swinging Alonso's camera around its head like a tetherball. Rain dove into the water and swam.

Charlie stood. He had to fight the impulse to ditch the Kimlets and follow. Then Michael said, “Look.” And then …

Rain swam furiously, for all she was worth. The dolphin dove down with the camera and waited under the water for Rain to follow her beneath the surface and pull close. Very close. Rain was almost within reach of the floating camera.
Almost there … Almost …
At the last second, the dolphin took off like a shot. Rain followed until the beast was again out of sight. She became aware of a strange sound, something almost musical, singing perhaps, muffled by the seawater. Curious, and, in any case, needing air, she surfaced. And then …

Miranda approached with a shopping bag of deli sandwiches, chips and cookies in one hand and a six-pack of bottled water in the other. She turned into the Alcove and stopped short. The Manatee-Woman, torso discreetly wrapped in seaweed, stood on the shoreline, her human feet washed by little waves. Her mouth was open and her head bobbed slightly, but no sound came out—at least no sound Miranda could hear. Yet somehow this soundless cry evoked pain and longing in Miranda. Then this strange and beautiful creature crouched gracefully and beckoned with one hand. Miranda turned: the three Kimlets, smiling goofily, walked slowly toward Her. Charlie stood near the sand fortress, doing nothing, his jaw slack. Miranda looked around for Rain but didn't see her. She did see the two Italian boys, the two local boys and the adult male lifeguard, all staring at Her, all motionless. The Kimlets had nearly reached the Manatee-Woman, her arms opening wide to accept them. Finally, Miranda snapped into action, dropping food and water and racing down the beach. She leaped between the Kimlets and the Siren, wrapping her arms protectively around all three children. They struggled slightly. Anger flared in the Manatee-Woman's eyes. Her mouth snapped shut.

Miranda was terrified, but she squeaked out, “No.” Then, shouted,
“NO!”
The Manatee-Woman advanced two steps.

Behind her, Charlie felt like he was coming out of a daze. He shook his head. Rubbed his eyes. Tried to focus. He had a vague memory of the most beautiful song he had ever heard and, more than anything, longed to hear again. Longed to hear Her again.

Rain emerged from the surf, calling out, “Miranda!”

“She's trying to take the kids!”

First Witch!
Rain thought.
Aycayia the Cursed!
Rain ran toward them, shouting Aycayia's name. Aycayia's head whipped around; her dark eyes flashed, glaring at Rain. She took one last longing glance at the Kimlets, still gathered together in Miranda's protective arms, and then turned to dive into the water. By the time Rain reached Miranda and the kids, Aycayia had disappeared beneath the waves.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

EXTRA CREDIT

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 15

“Smuggler's Cove was a nightmare. Like spending an entire day trapped on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride—
without
any of the drama, humor or animatronics.”

Rain nodded as she poured more tomato juice into Mr. Kim's glass.

Concerned her husband might have insulted a piece of Rain's cultural heritage, Ms. Kim said, “It wasn't that bad. Just not what we were hoping for.”

“And what a rip-off! I spent all my cash buying tickets and lunch. I know I owe you for yesterday, but I need to hit an A.T.M.”

“You mentioned that last night,” Rain said with surprisingly little attitude. On the one hand, she still needed that money for the camera. On the other, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling she was personally responsible for exposing the Kimlets to Aycayia the Cursed, the murderous First Witch of the Taíno. It made money-grubbing now seem particularly distasteful.

Rain glanced at Wendy, John and Michael. All three glared at her, still angry she had chased away the beautiful Manatee-Woman. They had barely touched their breakfasts. Even John's bowl of Lucky Charms had gone unmolested. Rain held up the orange juice pitcher in her other hand. “O.J., anybody?” As one, the Kimlets—in full huff—turned their backs on her.

Esther Kim observed this and shook her head. “I'm sorry they're being this way. It sounds like you did a great job yesterday.”

“Did—did they tell you why they're mad at me?”

“Yes.” Esther didn't even try to suppress a smile. “You and Miranda wouldn't let them swim away with the mermaid.”

“Womanatee!” John called out over his shoulder, unwilling to face either Rain or his parents.

“What did happen?” Esther asked.

“Nothing really,” Rain said. “There was this woman on the beach. I guess she was singing, and she was about to go into the water. And the kids tried to follow her. And we stopped them—because Miranda had just brought our lunch.”

Wendy turned back around, looking betrayed. She tried to form words, to articulate how Rain was
lying with the truth,
but it was a practice beyond Wendy's previous experience—and she couldn't work out how to explain it. So she snapped her mouth shut and glared.

Rain swallowed hard and looked away.
Another thing to feel guilty about. I'm shattering their innocence.
She didn't want to overdramatize the situation, but still there was a fog of unease left over from the day before. She tried to sound casual as she said, “So … what do you guys have planned for today?”

“Nothing too ambitious. I think we're just going to the mall,” Mrs. Kim said.

“To spend
more
money,” Fred Kim groused before stuffing a good third of a cheese omelet into his mouth.

Rain was relieved.
As long as they're staying away from the ocean.
She wished them luck, poured orange juice unbidden into all the Kimlets' glasses and returned to the kitchen.

Iris was taking inventory. “We're low on bacon and sausage. Oh, and Lucky Charms. That kid eats a lot of Lucky Charms.”

Not today,
Rain thought as she put down the two half-empty pitchers of juice.

“I'll phone in the order to Rusty,” her mother said. “On your way home from school, stop by and pick it up, okay?”

“Sure, Mom.”

Mrs. Cacique's eyebrows rose slightly. She wasn't used to her daughter acquiescing to additional chores without complaint. “Thank you,” she said.

Rain smiled at her mother, then grabbed her backpack off its hook. She took a step toward the back door but paused and gave Iris a kiss on the cheek first.

A speechless Iris Cacique watched her daughter depart for school.

 

 

Mrs. Beachum was lecturing about something, but all Rain could think about was the Taíno. This ancient people—
her people,
at least in part—were connected to everything: the
zemi,
the mosquitoes, the dolphins, Aycayia—probably even a corpse. She didn't know what the connections were, but it was clear the key to unlocking the truth was with these original inhabitants of the Ghosts. She started doodling on a blank sheet of paper in her notebook. Crude drawings of dolphins, manatees and bugs. Crude drawings of the
zemis
in Pablo Guerrero's office. She started writing down questions. Finally, in big block letters, she wrote
WHAT DID THE TAÍNO WANT?
across the bottom half of the page.

She glanced at Charlie, who was focused forward. She ripped the question out of the notebook, and the sound of the tearing paper got Charlie's attention. He watched her fold it up small and reach across to hand it to him.

Mrs. Beachum said, “Passing notes in class? Seriously, Rain, this isn't third grade.”

Charlie and Rain had that deer-in-the-headlights stare. They said nothing.

“All right, Charlie, bring it up here,” Mrs. Beachum commanded.

Charlie looked to Rain. He didn't know what she had written, how incriminating or how insane it might read. For a second, he seriously considered swallowing the wad of paper to save his friend. Then Rain surrendered with a shrug. Charlie nodded, stood and shuffled to the front of the room.

Mrs. Beachum took the paper and began unfolding it. “I assume this was important enough that the entire class should hear it.”

Rain actually smirked. Mrs. B wanted to embarrass her, but …

With mild but growing surprise in her voice, the teacher read the note aloud. “What did the Taíno want?” Then she paused. It was taking her a moment to compute this. She looked up at Rain. “You read ahead in the textbook?”

Now Rain was surprised.
We're studying the Taíno in class?!
She said cautiously, “I'm … interested … in local history.”

Mrs. B said, “I … I've never seen you take an interest in history before.” She had to stop herself from saying,
I've never seen you take an interest in
anything
before.

Rain shrugged again.

Mrs. Beachum considered her next move for a moment or two. Then she picked up a marker from the chalk tray. “All right, here's your punishment. I'm giving you an extra credit assignment due Friday morning. An oral report.”

Rain's eyes went wide. “Can't I just have detention or something?”

“No. Now, I want you to source this. Don't just search the Internet. Anyone can put anything up there. Doesn't mean it's true.” She pulled the cap off the marker and waited.

Finally, Rain said, “What am I searching for?”

“I want you to define for the class the Taíno word
cacique.”
She wrote
CACIQUE
up on the whiteboard, but she pronounced it
kah-see-KAY
, Spanish fashion, with three syllables. (Rain and her family always pronounced it in the French style, as the two-syllable
kah-SEEK
.)