WARNING: "It's really addicting." -- A Kid's Review
Move over Percy Jackson. Find out what everybody is talking about!
If you loved Harry Potter, if you couldn't get enough of Percy Jackson, if you're wondering what to read after The Mark of Athena -- from, Lars Guignard, the bestselling author of Lethal Circuit, comes the brand new, kids' magic fantasy adventure... GHOST LEOPARD
Imagine you're totally lost in a strange city with no idea where you are and no way home.
Now imagine that elephants and snake charmers start telling you that you've been chosen to save the world.
Would you even believe them?
What would you do?
Zoe Guire isn't sure. Having that elephant talk to her was really weird, and, as a rule, Zoe doesn't do weird. Except the thing is, when Zoe goes along on her mom's business trip to India, things get very weird, very quickly. Soon after she arrives, Zoe finds herself tagging alongside a kid named Zak, lost in a crazy city, with no money and no way home.
And those are the least of Zoe's troubles. Because if she's to believe the scary-looking snake charmer guy sitting in the corner, she and Zak have been chosen -- chosen to protect some kind of mythical animal called the Ghost Leopard from who knows what.
Now, the further they get into the mountains, the more crazily impossible things get. Carpets fly and statues talk and if either Zoe or Zak want to make it back to their parents, or the sixth grade, or anything even close to normal, they're going to have to make some new friends, learn some new tricks, and listen, really listen to that talking elephant. Because if they don't, the world will never be the same again.
Join Zoe and Zak as they journey high into the Himalayas to a place few have been and even fewer have returned to tell about it.
Live life beyond the edge.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
The
man took aim, treading a thin line backward along the cliff's edge, trying to
get a bead on the shadow. As the man stepped backward, the shadow followed him.
The man stepped backward again and, once again, the shadow followed him. Then,
without warning, the shadow covered the man in darkness. That’s when the
strange part happened. The man’s face tightened even more, his skin stretching
beyond the breaking point. His jaw lengthened, jutting outwards. Fangs flared where
his teeth had once been and coarse wiry fur grew out across his face. Even his
hands changed, yellow claws sprouting from his fingernails. But the most
frightening part was his eyes. The man’s coal-black eyes glowed red.
The
man, or creature, or whatever it was now, ran a rough black tongue over his
lips. Then he took another step back along the cliff side. His foot searched
for firm ground, but this time instead of snow his rear foot found ice. He
wavered as his foot began to slide, trying to regain his balance, but it was no
use. A gust of wind whipped across the mountainside. The man couldn’t stop
himself. He tumbled back, over the edge of the cliff. He screamed into the wind
as he fell, his cry cut short by a thud, and then there was no sound at all.
That’s
when I woke up. The thud was the thud of my head on the side of the rickshaw.
I’d been having weird dreams for a while now and I guess that one totally
qualified. I’d never even been to the mountains, so I had no idea why I was
dreaming about them. I yawned and tried to do a better job of staying awake.
My
name is Zoe Guire. I’m eleven years old and at the time of this writing, almost
finished the sixth grade. Right now, I’m just writing this down because
everything that happened was so very strange that I have to say something about
it. I don’t know if I’ll post it as a blog later or what. For now though, just
consider this my diary. The stupid thing is, I hate to write. Really loathe it,
as in, cannot stand to do it. But when something happens to you like what
happened to me, you need to do something. And since there’s only one other
person in the world, well let me correct that, since there’s only one other living
person in the world that I can actually say this stuff to, and he and I are
already talked out, I decided to scribble this down, for his sake as well as
mine — you’ve got to stay sane, you know.
So
here goes. Where was I? In the little yellow and black auto-rickshaw, I think,
coughing and sputtering my way through a sea of traffic. It was my first time
in an auto-rickshaw and I thought it was pretty cool. In case you’ve never been
in one, an auto-rickshaw is basically smaller than a car, but bigger than a
bicycle, a sort of motorized tricycle that people ride around in like a taxi.
Since it was my first trip to India, I had insisted that my mom and I ride in
one of the cool three-wheelers instead of taking a more normal looking car from
the airport. The flight from Washington had been long, but there hadn’t been
that many people on it, so I’d been able to sprawl out the length of three
seats and sleep. Still, obviously I was tired, because I’d been in India for
less than half an hour and already I’d dozed off.
Like
I said, I’m nearly done with the sixth grade. I guess I’m a bit of a tomboy,
meaning I’m not super girly. It might be because I’m tall for my age and bigger
than most of the boys I know that I’m like that, I don’t know. I have long legs
and arms and my teeth are pretty straight, you know, given that half the kids
my age wear braces. I’m fairly physically strong, like I play volleyball and
stuff, so I don’t tire out easily or anything like that. My dark brown hair is
wavy and long and my eyes are green, though sometimes they look a little blue.
Kind of a strange combination, but I didn’t pick it, that’s just how I am. I
guess I consider myself fairly outgoing. I mean, I have friends, but none of
this stuff really matters, except to give you an idea of who I am. I also need
to say right now that I consider myself to be a fairly calm person. That might
not seem like a big deal, but trust me, I’m letting you know so that when
things start to get really freaky later on, you might at least half believe me.
My
mom works for the United States government in the State Department. Her job means
she has to travel and lately she’s taken me on a couple of trips to foreign
countries. This particular trip came up near the end of the school year and I
had begged my mother to let me come. After some discussion, and since we
probably wouldn’t be doing that much important stuff in class anyhow, my mother
had agreed. It would be educational my mom had said. I thought it would also be
fun, but my mom told me she would have to work everyday for the first few days,
so I would have to promise to be on my best behavior. I suppose what I’m saying
is that I knew going into this whole thing that there would be a lot of time at
the beginning of the trip when I would be on my own.
But
have you ever noticed that however much you think you know how something is
going to turn out, it doesn’t turn out that way at all? Like not even close?
This turned out to be one of those times. I thought I was going on a short trip
for some quality time with my mom. Instead I ended up questioning every single
thing I had been told in my life so far.
The
trip to India had something to do with a World Economic Forum which basically
meant, as far as I knew, a fancy meeting at a fancy hotel. But so far the India
I had seen though the open doors of the rickshaw hadn’t been fancy at all. It
had just been crazy traffic and a whole lot of people. Horns blared and exhaust
smoke billowed into the sky while entire families rode by on tiny little
scooters designed for one person. In the five seconds I’d been there, I could
already tell that the place was going to be a crazy experience. Which brings me
to the other thing that you need to know about me: I love to take pictures. I
love to take pictures so much, that even though I was really tired, I snapped
away with my camera for the whole rest of the ride from the airport. Pictures
of ox carts and monkeys on the side of the road. Pictures of women walking with
giant brass jugs of water on their heads. Pictures of cows on the streets
rooting through piles of garbage. Pictures of everything.
The
driver pulled off the main road and the screech of the engine died down enough
that I could hear myself think. The yellow and black auto-rickshaw thingy had
no doors or windows, just an open seat in the back under a little roof so it
was pretty noisy and windy and it smelled like exhaust. When the rickshaw
slowed and there was less breeze blowing over me, I could actually feel how hot
and humid it was. It didn’t take long before I was drenched in sweat. I saw
some women in purple and red saris selling big round plates of what looked like
candy or fruit on the street.
Saris
are the long pieces of fabric that Indian woman wrap around themselves. They’re
basically the traditional dress and I think the piece of fabric in the average
sari is almost thirty feet long or something, so you can imagine how long it
must take to put one on. The other random factoid that I know about saris is
that they’re supposed to be mega dangerous to go swimming in because the fabric
wraps up around your legs and doesn’t let you move. I know this and all kinds
of other stuff about India because in the month before we came I read up on
tons of it. I like to be prepared when I can and research stuff as much as
possible. I guess I just feel better knowing what’s coming at me, which I
suppose is why I was so totally unprepared to deal with what did come at me. I
had no idea it was coming at all.
We
turned off the side street and rolled through an enormous stone gate into a
beautifully manicured garden. The place looked like a palace it was so fancy. I
swear, almost immediately the blaring horns and exhaust and chaos were behind
us. It was totally peaceful as we pulled up to the gleaming glass hotel. I shot
a picture as we squeaked to a stop under the porte-cochere, which is the fancy
French word for the roof thing out front of a hotel where the cars stop. I know
some fancy French words from Madame Brossard’s French class back at school, but
that’s not really the point. The point was, the difference between this
peaceful tropical landscape and the blaring horns of the street was so extreme
that I almost needed to take a minute to recalibrate. It was like we had
stepped into a totally different country.
“Is
this where we’re staying?” I asked my mom.
“It
sure is, Zo,” my mother answered. She called me Zo, without the “e,” a lot of
the time. I guess sometimes one syllable is better than two. “There are two
pools and a garden too,” she said. “The conference is four days, but we have
eight days here, so like I said, for the second half of the trip we’ll be able
to go sightseeing. Sound good?”
Sound
good? It sounded great. I could already tell without even going in the front
door that this place was going to be amazing. “Sounds cool, Mom,” I said.
“Good.
Just do me a favor. Listen to me carefully while we’re here, and don’t run off.
Do you understand?”
“I
get it, Mom.”
Before
we go any further, let me tell you a little more about my mom. My mom has long
chestnut hair and brown eyes that twinkle when she talks. Her name is Alexa and
I think she looks pretty good for someone that old, you know in their
mid-thirties. She’s about five feet ten inches tall and exactly the weight she
should be, and she has a really cool sense of humor. I smiled and snapped her
picture. She had a real glow about her just then, and I wanted a record of it.
I was like that. I liked to record moments. You know, to make them last. I hit
the shutter one more time for good measure.
“Now,
let’s check this place out,” I said.
I
jumped out of the auto-rickshaw while my mom paid the driver. There was a
beat-up meter that told how much we owed, but I think there might have been
some kind of problem with it because there was a lot of back and forth. My
mother had gotten some Indian money at the airport, and it took quite a few of
the brightly colored bills to settle the fare. The money was called rupees. I
didn’t have any of my own yet, but my mom had promised me she'd change my
allowance into them once we were settled in.
I
pulled my suitcase out of the rickshaw while my mother finished up paying. A
big doorman in a red jacket and red turban came to help me, but I politely
declined. I prefer to carry my own bag. I don’t like to owe anyone anything. I
did, however, after a little bit of sign language to make sure it was OK, take
the doorman’s picture. He stared sternly at me, his back stiff and his arms at
his sides.
I
should tell you that the other part of the reason for all this picture taking
was that my school back in Washington, DC, along with a bunch of other schools,
was participating in Shutter Shooter
magazine’s photography contest. The first-place prize was a field trip to New
York City for the whole class, plus a really cool new camera for the lucky
winner, and I was pretty sure that I could win it if I tried hard enough. I had
already won an art contest last year, but since photography was my new thing,
my mom had given me her old camera. It wasn’t new, but it was waterproof and it
had a good strap and lens and could easily fit in a pack around my waist. Fanny
packs were kind of stupid looking, but surprisingly useful if you wanted to
carry a camera around with you. The camera took pretty good pictures too, so I
knew I would be able to get some good shots. I was already pretty sure that if
the rest of my trip to India was half as good as the ride from the airport, I'd
win the thing hands down. There were just so many great photos to take.
I
waited for my mom to catch up and led the way inside the giant glass hotel. I
guess, given the stone gate, I had expected the place to be old, but it looked
brand new. The doorman opened the door for me and I thanked him with a smile. I
would have just said thank you, but I wasn’t sure that he spoke English. I knew
that some people spoke English here, but not everybody. There are a lot of
different languages in India and I was still a little shy to try out the few
words of Hindi I had read up on. The correct thing to say, if the doorman had
spoken Hindi, was probably namaste.
Namaste was kind of like aloha. It was a greeting you could say when you met
someone, and when you left them. Still, like I said, I was feeling a bit shy
and I had just gotten there, so instead of saying anything, I just smiled.
The
hotel was called the Grand Delhi Palace and as soon as I entered the lobby, I
couldn’t believe how crazily fancy it was. The place really was like a palace.
Outside on the road things had been chaotic and dusty and dirty, but in here
the marble and gold floor gleamed. There was a huge atrium. It looked like the
ceiling was maybe ten or twelve stories high and there were shiny brass
elevators going up the walls. The lobby was so big and tall that there were
trees inside growing in giant porcelain pots. There was even an echo in the air
because the space was so large. I saw people in all different kinds of clothes
walking back and forth. There were people in regular suits like I would see
back home in America, but there were also people in Arabian head dresses and
people in African clothing. There were even monks in saffron robes. It was like
the United Nations in there. There was a restaurant in one corner of the atrium
and a long marble front desk on the far wall.
I
waited under a tall tree that was planted in a big porcelain pot while my
mother lined up at the reception desk. Turned out that waiting under that tree
was my first mistake. It kind of set the tone for the rest of the trip, but
hey, hindsight is twenty-twenty. I couldn’t resist snapping a few shots while I
stood there. I wasn’t as tired now. I guess I’d gotten my second wind or
something. I took pictures of the crowd and, when I was done with that, of the
beautiful mosaic on the floor. It was going to be a lot of fun being here, I
thought to myself, even if I was going to be at the hotel most of the time.
I
took another shot of the intricate mosaic on the floor. I was into stuff like
that, patterns and colors. I guess that was another reason I liked photography
so much. It let you make a souvenir out of everyday life, something you could
bring with you, though, when I think about it now, I have to admit that my
feelings about photography in general and souvenirs in particular have evolved.
But at the time, the blue and green glass embedded in the marble in the shape
of a rustling palm was something I wanted a snapshot of. It was so pretty that
when I put the viewfinder to my eye, I could swear I actually heard the
rustling of the breeze. Of course, I came to my senses. The rustling sound
couldn’t be the mosaic, it had to be the tree above me. But I was inside. There
was no wind.
“Zoe…”
I thought I heard a whispering voice say.
I
stood ramrod straight. I could have sworn I had just heard my name. I looked
from left to right, but there was nobody standing anywhere near me. Just the
tree, and trees didn’t talk.
“Zoe
Guire….”
I
heard it again. My full name this time. It sounded like the Ghost of Christmas
Past, from that old movie A Christmas
Carol. I should probably tell you that I like old
movies a lot too, not just YouTube clips but full-on movies. I watch them with
my mom. But this was no movie. Whatever was happening, was happening to me. I
turned right around, but there was no one there. Just my mother at the
reception desk and some bald monks in orange robes maybe fifty feet away. Oh
well, it had been a long flight. I probably still had that feeling in my ears
from the altitude adjustment when you can’t hear quite right but don’t really
know it yet. Besides, I was in India. Who here knew my name? My nearest friend
was back home, ten thousand miles away. I snapped a picture of my mom who waved
back to me from reception. But then I heard it again: the same rustling in the
tree.
“Zoe
Guire, I speak to you.”
Had
I gone crazy? I was starting to feel uncomfortable. I knew I was tired, but
still, I couldn’t be hearing things. Could I? I looked at the tree. It was
normal looking. A gray trunk and a lot of leaves. But the voice had come from
somewhere around it. Was the tree talking to me? No. That was nuts. Trees
didn’t talk. But its trunk was moving ever so slightly. I could see it sway.
Maybe there was an earthquake? I didn’t know if they had earthquakes in India.
Of course, that wouldn’t account for the talking either.
“I’m
pleased to see you here, Zoe.”
I
jumped backward, the color draining from my face. To be clear, I didn’t
actually see my face, but I’m sure it was pale because I was totally shocked.
The leafy, green tree was talking to me. Then it started to move. Its big
branches bent, green leaves falling to the floor, and bam!
I ducked out of the way as something or someone fell out of the top of the tree,
nearly landing on top of me. I couldn’t believe it.
“Zak!”
I screamed.
My
voice echoed through the lobby. My mom looked at me. The doorman looked at me.
Even the bald monks in the orange robes looked at me. And Zak, who had somehow
landed on his feet, bent over, literally rolling on the floor in laughter. I
kid you not, he did two full barrel rolls on the floor.
“I
got you, I totally got you,” he said laughing. “You thought I was ghost or
something.”
“I
did not.”
“You
did. You should have seen the look on your face. It was hilarious.”
“What
are you doing here?” I asked.
“What
do you mean, what am I
doing here? What are you
doing here?”
“My
mother,” I said succinctly, “is attending the conference.”
“So
is my dad,” Zak said.
“Oh.”
“Oh,
is right,” Zak said. “Are we going to have fun or what?”
OK,
time to fill you in. Zak Merril was a boy I knew from my school back home. In
the interest of honesty, and since nobody else is reading this, except myself,
and maybe you, I should rephrase that. Zak Merril was a super-mega majorly
annoying boy I knew from my school back home. Zak was maybe an inch shorter
than me with longish, scraggly blonde hair and blue eyes. He was lean and
pretty athletic looking, or maybe he only seemed that way because he was always
jumping around all over the place like some kind of hyperactive monkey. He was
in the sixth grade, but he wasn’t in the same class as me because it was a
fairly big school. I knew that Zak's dad sometimes worked with my mom. I had
seen them talk together a couple of times before at school functions, but Zak
and I had never spent that much time together ourselves. Sure we’d been at the
same school for quite a while now and each of us knew who the other one was,
but that was about it.
There
were reasons we didn’t know each other that well. For one thing, Zak was a boy
and I had too many girlfriends to bother hanging out with boys. For another
thing, as should be obvious, I thought Zak was a class-A jerk. He was always a
bit of a troublemaker and I didn’t like to make trouble or get into trouble.
All in all, we just weren’t two people who hung out. I realized in that moment,
however, that this was all about to change in a big way. Zak was here and we
were a long way from home, which meant that Zak was going to want to hang out
with me whether I liked it or not. I could hope he wouldn’t, but if this
incident with the tree was any indication, I doubted that he was going to leave
me alone. So much for relaxing, I thought. Things were about to get
complicated.
“When
I saw you coming in the door, I couldn't believe it,” Zak said. “I ran and
climbed this tree first thing.”
“Why
did you do that?” I asked.
“Because
I wanted to freak you out!”
“How
did you know I’d be stopping under the tree?”
“I
don’t know, people always stand under trees. I just got lucky I guess. You
should have seen the look in your eyes. It was so worth it.”
Let
me be clear here. I’m a nice person. Even though we weren’t exactly friends, I
wanted to be happy to see Zak. I was, after all, a long way from home and it
was normal to be happy to see people you knew when you were a long way from
home. But I wasn’t happy. I was annoyed. Annoyed that Zak was making an idiot
of himself hiding in a tree. Annoyed that he had scared me. Annoyed that I had
let myself get scared. Mostly I was annoyed that here we were, in another
country, and instead of being just a little bit mature, Zak was rolling around
on the floor of this nice hotel. What was the guy’s problem? I was about to ask
him as much when my mother stepped over. She walked alongside a man in a blue
suit. He was about her age, but a little taller with dirty-blonde hair and a
strong chin. He was fairly broad in the shoulders, but a little gangly, kind of
like a grown-up Zak. He wasn’t bad looking, I guess. I recognized him right
away.
“Zoe,
I have a surprise for you. You’ll never guess who — ” My mom turned and saw
Zak. “Maybe you will guess. Mr. Merril, my colleague, brought his son Zak along
at the last minute. You guys will be able to keep each other company.”
“Great,”
I said with a big fake smile on my face.
“Nice
to see you, Zoe,” Mr. Merril said.
“Now,
let’s go to our room,” my mom said. “You guys can catch up in a little bit.”
I
smiled at Zak and said, “Bye.” Then I pulled my roller bag after my mother to
the big brass elevator. It was only when I saw the dorky forced smile on my
face in the elevator’s shiny brass doors that I finally exhaled. It was going
to be a long eight days.
CHAPTER TWO
“It’s
going to be fun for you with Zak here,” my mother said. “Now I’m not going to
have to worry about you getting bored while I’m in the conference all day.”
I
nodded at my mother. She was always a little worried about me, whether it was
me getting bored or me getting home safely on the bus. Overprotective I think
they call it. That and she made me work really hard at school. But I guess I
thought that, in the end, those were good things. Really, I loved my mom and
wouldn’t change a thing about her, except maybe the fact that she worked too
much.
As
far as my dad went, I had never known him. I just knew that my mom had adopted
me when I was a baby, and so far, these eleven or so years we’d had together
had been great. There had been some stuff lately, stuff that I knew my mom
wanted to discuss with me and that I wanted to discuss with her. Some important
stuff about my adoption, but all in all, little bumps in the road aside, things
had always been good between us. I worked hard at school and I tried not to
bother my mom with too much kid stuff, like problems I was having with my
friends and things like that. In return, as long as I was safe about it, my mom
pretty well let me do the things I liked. In regard to Zak, however, I had to
say something. Zak was here in India with us and that was what it was. But I
didn’t think that meant that we had to be together the whole time. It was one
thing not to be rude, but totally another to hang out constantly. On this
particular point, I thought I had better set my mother straight.
“Look,
Mom, I know you work with Zak's dad, and that’s cool and all, but just because
Zak and I are in the same grade at the same school, doesn’t mean we’re
friends.”
“Are
you and Zak having a problem?” my mother asked.
“Well,
no,” I said.
“Well,
what’s wrong then?” my mom asked.
“I
just, I don’t know, I thought this trip was going to be just you and me.”
My
mother looked at me and smiled. Then she wrapped her arms around me and hugged
me. I felt like an enormous doofus right then and there.
“We’re going to have time together, honey, I
promise,” she said. “But Zak's going through a rough patch right now. His mom
and dad just split up. It would be great if you could spend some time with him.
Who knows, you guys might even have fun.”
I
knew that she was right like she almost always was. I might not have liked it,
but I was thinking all about me and not about Zak at all.
“OK,
Mom,” I said.
She
kissed me on the forehead. “Now what’s it going to be? Explore the hotel or a
nap before lunch? My first panel isn’t for another two hours.”
I
smiled. Even though I felt a little tired, I knew I was too excited to sleep.
“Explore,” I said. “Obviously.”
“OK
then. Let’s explore.”
My
mom grabbed me by the hand and we headed out the door.
Like
I said before, the hotel was the fanciest place I had ever been to. Way fancier
than anything I’d ever seen back home. There were lush carpets in the corridors
and doormen with red turbans standing at every elevator to push the buttons for
you. There were fresh-smelling cut flowers in vases everywhere. And there
really were two pools. One of the pools was rectangular with an elephant
designed from shiny, brightly colored tiles on the bottom. It wasn’t a regular
elephant though. It was a mosaic of the Hindu god, Ganesha. Ganesha was an
elephant-headed god with a bunch of arms. He looked very wise, sitting there
cross-legged in the blue water at the bottom of the pool. I remembered that he
was supposed to be the bringer of good luck.
The
other pool was giant and round with a mosaic of what looked like a monkey with
five heads and ten arms on the bottom. I thought that the five-headed monkey
might be Hanuman, another important Hindu god. I think he was a general who led
an army and was super strong and loyal and things like that. I wasn’t totally
up on this stuff because, just like the Greeks, the Hindus had a bunch of old
gods and it was super hard to remember what each of them did. There was Brahma
the creator of stuff, Vishnu the preserver of stuff, Shiva the destroyer of
stuff, and oh, about three hundred and thirty million others, including of
course Ganesha and this Hanuman, both of whom were relaxing there at the bottom
of the swimming pools. All the Hindu god stuff made my head spin, so I’d kind
of skimmed that chapter in my reading. I’d told myself I’d look into it more if
the issue became pressing.
Outside
the pools there was a lush garden with brightly colored parrots in an outdoor
aviary, and a badminton court, and even a giant trampoline. I was pretty sure
I'd have fun out here while my mother was working in the conference rooms.
There was just so much to do. I'd loaded my tablet with books to read, one of which
was a guide to Delhi, the Indian city where we were. I figured if I planned
everything out, we wouldn’t have to waste any time figuring out where to go
once the conference was over.
My
mom and I ate at one of the hotel’s two restaurants. I had a non-spicy red
chicken curry with a cool smoothie sort of drink called a lassi.
I had been a little worried that I wouldn’t like Indian food, but so far it had
been pretty good. I was on the lookout, but we didn’t see Zak the whole time we
were eating or wandering around. He was probably sleeping off his jet lag, I
thought.
After
lunch, my mom changed her clothes for a panel she had to attend. I went with
her into the huge conference room. There was a big sign that said “World
Economic Forum.” I wasn’t sure exactly what the specifics of the conference
were, but I knew a whole bunch of people from different countries were getting
together to talk about money and jobs and how to make the world a better place
and that kind of thing. I also knew that a lot of people would be talking
because of the number of bottles of water and microphones at the long front
table where the panelists sat. I was proud to see my mom’s seat there with her
name tag on it: Ms. Alexa Guire,
and the subheading: Policy.
When
people started to file into the conference room to take seats, I kissed my mom
goodbye and headed out. I thought I'd shoot some pictures of the parrots in the
garden first. Another thing I loved about photography was that you never knew
which picture you took was going to be that golden shot — the one that really
turned out great. I didn’t think that I was ready for a nap, so I thought that
after the pictures maybe I’d go for a swim. Of course, right outside the
conference room I met Zak.
“Hey,
Zoe.”
Zak
leaned against the wall outside the big gleaming conference room doors where
everybody was going in. He was going to be hard to shake. The hotel was big,
but Zak had already found me. Then, of course, I remembered what I had said to
my mom about being be nice to him.
“Hey,
Zak,” I said.
“Going
swimming?”
“Yeah.
How did you know?”
“Bathing
suit,” Zak said, pointing to the suit I forgot I was holding in my hand.
“Oh,”
I said. “Yeah, I’m going to check out the pool.” I thought about it,
remembering my promise. “Wanna come?”
“Last
one there buys the ice cream!” Zak called out as he took off through the lobby.
The
pool was totally refreshing. We chose the rectangular one with Ganesha at the
bottom of it, closest to the aviary. Exotic birds chirped and squawked as we
swam.
“Cannonball!”
Zak screamed as he ran off the pool deck and splashed down.
I
preferred a more subtle approach as I lay there floating quietly on my back in
the warm water, taking in the sun. The air was fragrant with the smells of
tropical fruit and the outside world seemed to float by like I was in a dream.
I guess Zak got out of the pool, because the next thing I saw was what looked
like his bouncing head. It went up and then down, up and then down, his blonde,
scraggly hair lifting in the breeze. What was he doing? I turned and swam to
the side of the pool. There it was: the answer to the bouncing. Zak had somehow
pushed the trampoline onto the pool deck. He bounced up, higher than I had seen
him go the last time, and then flew right off the trampoline into the pool.
There
was a huge splash and he came up for air, a giant smile on his face.
“You
can’t do that,” I said.
“Why
not?” Zak asked.
“Because.
I don’t know.” I thought about it and I really didn’t know. It wasn’t like
there was anybody else at the pool. We weren’t bothering anyone.
“So
what’s the big deal?”
“Nothing,
I guess.” I didn’t see the point in arguing. I was feeling pretty relaxed.
“You
want to try it? You can get some wicked air.”
“Nah,
I’m just chilling.”
“You
can chill later.”
“Or
I can relax now.”
“Relaxing
is for sissies.”
I
could see I wasn’t going to be able to shut him up. Jumping in now would be
easier than listening to Zak prattle on about what a chicken I was for four
days.
“Why
not?” I finally said.
I
pulled myself out of the pool. If you put a trampoline beside a swimming pool,
it’s a no-brainer that eventually somebody is going to pull it onto the pool
deck. What harm was there in jumping off of it, I asked myself? I thought I’d
do one swan dive into the pool to satisfy Zak and take a nap. The jet lag was
starting to creep up on me.
I
walked over to the trampoline, the hot sun already drying my back.
“Double
flip, double flip, double flip,” Zak chanted.
He
sure was annoying. Obviously this whole trip wasn’t even going to be close to
relaxing. I lifted myself up onto the round trampoline and began to bounce. The
black mesh was hot on my feet, I didn’t know how many bounces I’d be able to
last. The good thing was that Zak had pulled the trampoline within a foot of
the pool. One good forward bounce and I’d be in the deep end. But that wasn’t
all I wanted to do. I kind of felt like Zak was testing me, trying to show me
who was boss. Not in a mean way, but in an I-don’t-know-how-cool-you-are kind
of way. Now, normally, this isn’t something I would let bother me. Especially
with a kid who wasn’t even my actual friend, like Zak. But in this case, I saw
some value to showing him what I could do. If only so that he would lay off me
for a while.
So
I decided to go big. I jumped up once on the trampoline feeling the taut bounce
beneath my feet. I hadn’t been on one since about six months ago in gym, but I
still remembered how to more or less stay centered on the thing. I twirled my
arms and landed right in the center of it, sinking way down into the black mesh
before I popped up again. This time I got a little higher and was actually able
to see over the walls of the hotel garden. Mostly I saw the dusty city around
us, some birds circling in the air. They looked like vultures or buzzards, but
I wasn’t sure, and before I could take a closer look, I was falling back down
again.
This
was it, my third bounce was coming up. Zak chanted from the pool. “Go, go, go.”
There
was no one else around, so I wasn’t worried about getting into trouble for
jumping on the trampoline so near the pool, but I was a little nervous. I’d
have to push off at an angle this time if I wanted to be going in the right
direction for my dive. My feet landed on the hot black mesh and I pushed off
with my toes. I felt myself going up, up, up, but instead of looking around
this time, I concentrated on the pool below me. Zak had a big goofy grin on. I
could tell that he was impressed. I was practically flying through the air like
a speeding missile. There was no way I was going to land back on the trampoline
so I started to concentrate on my dive. I tucked my head down and put my arms
out in front of me. I didn’t want to dive too deeply and end up hitting my head
on the elephant at the bottom of the pool.
I
was perfectly aligned with the center of the pool. It was no double flip, but
it was going to be a perfect swan dive. I saw Zak’s face before I hit the
water. He was definitely impressed. Hopefully, impressed enough to leave me in
peace. I closed my eyes as I hit the surface, but then opened them again as I
sliced though the clear water at the bottom of the pool. It had been a good
dive. I thought that I would order a lassi when I got out of the pool and maybe
take a short nap. I was expecting Zak to shout whoo
hoo, or awesome,
or something like that. What I wasn’t expecting was to have the elephant at the
bottom of the pool speak to me.
I
know it sounds crazy, but I heard it clear as day as I swam over the mosaic
elephant god at the bottom of the pool. I would say that I saw his lips move
too, but I wasn’t ready to admit that to myself, not yet. But I had definitely
heard it. I heard the mosaic elephant god say, “Welcome to India, Zoe Guire.”
Then
I think he winked at me. He was mosaic, a drawing in tile, so I knew it was
impossible for him to wink, but I think I saw it just the same. One big blue
eye shut, just for a second. I must have blinked because when I looked again,
both elephant eyes were open and I was headed back to the surface. I came up
for air and took a long breath.
“Wicked.
Wicked dive,” Zak cheered. “I want to see that again!”
I
didn't respond, but just swam to the side of the pool and pulled myself out of
the water. I had to be tired I told myself. Dead tired and imagining things.
Just like the tree hadn’t been talking to me, the elephant probably wasn’t
either. I grabbed my towel and lay down on a partially shaded lounge chair,
closing my eyes. I’d take a nap, a short nap, and I’d be myself again. After
all, it had been a long flight. I was probably just dreaming. Because what other
explanation was there? Mosaic elephant gods didn’t whisper greetings to
strangers from the bottom of swimming pools. That was totally nuts. Or so I
thought then.
Thank you for hosting:)
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