At the last minute, Mel handed me her knife. I didn’t want to take it, but she insisted.
“Don’t worry, I have a spear,” she said. “And I know how to use it.”
I believed her.
“Remember,” she continued, “keep your eyes peeled, and come back early. Don’t stay in the jungle at night.” She looked me in the eye. “You’ll be okay.”
We hugged, then I joined Pablo and set off.
As we tromped over greenery and vines, I caught him staring at me sideways. I touched my encrusted cheek uncomfortably.
“What?” I demanded.
“Nothing. It’s just you look very glamorous.”
I shoved him playfully.
“Seriously,” he continued. “It’s a good idea—the mud. Good protection.”
“I guess. Hey, Rittika said something interesting to me—that on the island, brown people have the advantage.”
“The advantage? Like how?”
“I don’t know—like, how we’re superior because we’re darker.”
“Yeah, she would say that. It’s basically the opposite of white supremacy, but just as screwed up. Rittika has a unique way of looking at the world. That’s what comes from having the world’s richest dad.”
“She seems pretty confident we’ll find the enemy.”
“Confidence is good, but overconfidence isn’t. I’m with Mel—we should have prepared better.”
“You don’t think we can do this?”
“We’re not hunters! I don’t even like to step on bugs.”
I liked the way Pablo didn’t try to impress me or make himself out to be something that he wasn’t.
“I hope we don’t see him—the enemy,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re not the only one.”
“But if we do …”
“We have to put him out of commission,” he replied grimly.
“How are we going to do that?”
“You’re the one with the knife.”
“But I don’t know if I can use it.”
At that, he stopped and looked at me squarely. “Look, even though I’m scared out of my mind, I’m still gonna use this spear if I have to.” I glanced at the sharpened stick in his hands. “You gotta be ready, too.”
I nodded and we continued walking in the direction Rittika had chosen for us. We were to survey a southwest swath of the jungle. As we walked side by side, I was aware of his elbow brushing my arm, of the synchronicity of our breathing. I was equally aware of the density of the jungle, of the nearly impenetrable green. Even if I lived here for twenty years, I wouldn’t get used to the riot of trees, vines, and shoots. All of them were cross-hatched, pressing over, under, across, and between.
Keep your eyes peeled, Mel had warned.
But it was impossible. I closed my eyes every few moments just to let them rest. A headache was building behind my temples like the one I’d had right after the crash. There was just too much to take in. The green color wheel was spinning out of control. The enemy could be hiding anywhere: on a bower overhead, in the thicket to the right, under the curtain of ivy to the left, behind the mossy bank we’d just passed. Every creak, crack, and snap startled me. Every rustle and drip made me tremble.
I jumped when Pablo took hold of my arm.
“What?” I whispered urgently.
“Relax.”
“What?”
“You stopped breathing.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
With his spear he started swatting at the brush ahead of us. I concentrated on that motion: the whipping of the sharpened cane back and forth, back and forth. I concentrated and tried to remember to breathe.
I kept my knife in the air, like Pablo kept his spear. We walked in concentric circles, or what we thought were concentric circles. It was hard to know precisely where we were or where we’d been, even though we noted landmarks, the location of the sun, everything Mel had told us. We saw butterflies, birds, snakes, frogs, monkeys, lizards, the flash of something four-legged and yellow disappearing in the distance. I swore it was a jaguar. It was more likely a figment of my reeling imagination.
The tension didn’t abate. I grew more tired by the minute. I started to understand how people were able to sleep amid warfare, in the most uncomfortable of places, in the most treacherous of conditions. It must come upon them, the sleep, like a torrent. It was impossible to stay hyperalert like this without the body and mind giving out.
Pablo and I walked and searched for hours. He noticed before I did how the sun was falling, how the shadows were growing longer. I didn’t know why, but I felt closer to him than ever before. I trusted him. When we decided to go back to camp, we began to talk. We spoke quietly and intensely, still on guard but not quite as wary.
“Tell me the story of how you got to Drake Rosemont,” he said, his eyes focused on the jungle. “Were you recruited?”
“Me? What for? No.”
“For being mixed.”
“You mean half Indian?”
“Yeah.”
“Do they recruit for that?” I asked, remembering something Alexa had once told me.
“Well, not exactly. But they do like diversity—especially URMs.”
“What’s a URM?”
“Under-Represented Minority. I bet you got counted as one and didn’t even know it. Who was your Drake Rosemont interviewer—Mrs. Duval?”
“Yeah. You had her, too?”
“Yup. She was ecstatic that I’m half Mexican. I guess they needed me to meet some quota.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure some of their funding depends on getting students of color.”
“Students of color—I hate that. What does it even mean?”
“I know—seriously, right? Like if you’re some shade other than white, you’re suddenly riding a rainbow.”
“I don’t even know if I consider myself a student of color.”
“Well, you’re a mixie, and Duval loves mixies. We’re brown enough to be considered minorities, but white enough not to make anyone uncomfortable.”
“Did you just call us mixies?”
“Yeah, mixies! Mixed race—you and me, kid. We’re the hot new thing.”
“I guess I should be flattered …”
“You know I’m being sarcastic.”
“Yeah, I get that. So are there other mixies, besides you and me?”
“Sure. Lots of people. Ming, Chester …”
“Chester?!”
“Yeah, he’s part Native American. Like, one-sixteenth or something like that.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“No joke. That kid looks like a Nordic Viking—like a teenage Thor.”
I giggled. And I realized something. Pablo was funny—and fun to be around. He wasn’t typical crush material, but he was a lot more interesting. I was surprised that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” he said.
My heart skipped a beat. “Sure.”
“Do you like it here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Being on the island—do you like it?”
“I don’t know. All I’ve thought about since being here is getting off—and getting away from the psycho who’s threatening us.”
“I’m the opposite! All I can think about is staying. This is my definition of paradise. I can’t believe there isn’t some big, fancy resort here. I can’t believe some developer hasn’t come with his crew and torn down the trees to put in a golf course and casino and whatever other crap developers put up.”
I laughed.
“Sorry,” he said shaking his head. “I’m a little cynical.”
“Aren’t you too young to be cynical?”
He looked at me ruefully. “Probably. Chester won’t even talk to me about environmental stuff anymore. He says I’m obsessed. But I think the way I feel is a logical response to our planet going down the toilet.”
We were silent for a few minutes, then Pablo said, “Hey, you want to see something crazy?”
I shrugged, not sure what to expect. “Okay—I think …”
Pablo smiled and turned. He’d ripped his Drake Rosemont trousers into shorts. Now he dropped them low enough for me to see a small black tattoo above his butt. It looked kind of like a cat, but was so sloppy and misshapen, it was hard to tell.
“Oh my …”
“What? You don’t like it?”
“I want to tell you it’s not terrible, but I’d be lying.”
“Now, that’s cruel, Samantha.”
“Sorry!” I laughed when he pretended to look hurt.
“My friend from home inked it on me and two other guys. He’d never tattooed anyone before. We were his guinea pigs.”
“But why a cat? And why your ass?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time. And it’s not a regular cat. It’s an Iberian lynx. They’re close to extinction. There are only, like, a hundred left.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yeah—it is. I got the tattoo to remind myself about conservation.”
“For me, your tattoo’s more like proof.”
“Proof?”
“Proof that tattoos are always a bad idea!”
“All right, all right. Calm down,” he joked.
“Well, now I know your deepest, darkest secret.”
He smiled, and I thought for the first time that his smile just might rival Chester’s. “Yeah, I guess you do.”