Jungle Crossing Read Online Free PDF Page A

going to be amazing."
    "I truly doubt it."

    We spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the beach or pairing up in the hammocks. I swung in a hammock by myself, not saying anything, like a big old nobody. I'll be a nobody back home too—on the outside of every inside joke. I pictured Fiona's Five sipping sodas by her pool, probably talking about me behind my back, rating my body parts the way they rated Grace Williams's wardrobe last summer. Lunch-box shirt. Inside joke.
    Everyone else chatted away. The Sun Goddess—Monique—was from Paris. The Hunky Blond Dante, lived in Belgium. Luc, the other Sun Goddess admirer, was from Germany. The brothers Josh and Max came from New Jersey.
    The blue-blonde who laughed at me but thought Barb was the cutest thing ever, lived in New York City. Her name was Talia, and she went on and on about how the clubbing in New York was far superior to Cancún and Playa. Yeah, right. How old was she, fourteen?
    The cheerleaders flipped all over the sand showing each other their moves, while the others talked about music. Talia claimed to have seen almost every concert in existence.
    At mini-camp they'd be lying out by Fiona's pool, rating guys. Luc and Dante would score perfect 10s. Nando would get a big fat 0 for personality because he'd sat in his stupid kayak and watched me suffer. My dad was even paying him! I reached into my backpack and pulled out my journal and added two new reasons. Number 39: scary eels. Number 40: mean tour guides. Talia watched me, so I quickly flipped away from my list and sketched a few palm trees.
    "I like to draw sometimes," she said. "You know really the only way to learn to draw is to study the masters. Like in New York they have all these amazing museums—filled with all the most famous paintings in the world—like you wouldn't even believe it. The only place to live if you want to be a really famous artist is New York City. Like I'd totally take a drawing class, except I'm so busy and—"
    I stopped listening and worked on getting the shadows right in my sketch.
    When we finally got on the bus again, everyone sat near the back, talking about movies and comparing American and European TV shows. Once again, Talia, flipping her blue-blond hair around, was the expert. I thought about sitting back there, but...
Bock! Bock! Bock!
I chickened out and sat with Barb, right behind Nando. Alfredo tuned the bus radio to some funky Mexican music and bobbed his head to the beat. Dancing: 3.5. He and Nando shouted to each other in their bad Spanish.
    "Do you think there's treasure buried in those trees?" Barb pressed her face against the window. "I'm going to ask him." She nodded to Nando.
    "No, don't." I put my hand on her outstretched arm. "You'll just make him mad."
    "But I want to say something Spanish—like I can say please. I mean
por favor.
"
    I leaned toward Barb. "His Spanish isn't all that great. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Ruiz would flunk him. His English is okay, but still, don't bug him."
    Nando whipped his head around. "I wasn't speaking Spanish. I was speaking Maya. And my English is good.
Mi profesor,
my teacher—"
    "I know what that means."
    Nando shrugged. "
Mi profesor
gave me high marks. I'm not a dumb Mexican, like you American
turistas
think. I speak three languages. How many do you speak?"
    "I didn't think you were dumb." I felt my face flush as I lied. "But you are a Mexican because you live in Mexico."
    "I am Mayan, son of kings."
    "Well, then I'm a daughter of European warriors, or something." I could never get a straight answer from Mom or Dad about my ancestors. Half seemed to be English; some came from Scotland, I think. Or Norway or somewhere cold like that.
    "Did the kings have treasure?" Barb asked. "Is there still treasure out in the jungle?"
    "Why?" Nando narrowed his eyes. "You want to rob our temples so you can put our culture in a museum far away?"
    Barb's eyes filled with tears. "I just want to be a famous explorer