by Lisa Yee
Cover
Lea Dives In
Lea Leads the Way
Lea and Camila
About the Authors
Glossary of Portuguese Words
Preview of Gabriela
Copyright
For Jodi, Dan, and Sara
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: The Adventure Begins
Chapter Two: A Familiar Face
Chapter Three: Making a Splash
Chapter Four: Three Wishes
Chapter Five: Praia Tropical
Chapter Six: Dinner in Distress
Chapter Seven: A Babysitter in Brazil
Chapter Eight: Camila
Chapter Nine: Turtles and Troubles
Chapter Ten: Night Surprises
Chapter Eleven: Ama’s Promise
Chapter Twelve: An Invitation
Chapter Thirteen: The Hike
Chapter Fourteen: Action Shot
Chapter Fifteen: Someplace Magical
Chapter Sixteen: The Gift
Acknowledgments
ea, don’t forget your camera,” Dad yelled from the hallway.
My camera! I sure didn’t want to leave that behind. I couldn’t wait to start taking pictures of my first big adventure outside of St. Louis. I realized that I was a little nervous—I had never even been outside of Missouri before, yet in twenty-four hours I would be 4,500 miles away in Brazil—and I didn’t know a word of Portuguese! But with a camera in my hands, I felt like I could go anywhere without looking out of place.
Ever since I got my brother’s hand-me-down camera when I was six, I’ve loved taking photos. And when my grandmother gave me a new camera for my tenth birthday, I took it with me everywhere I went. Last year I won third place in a national kids’ magazine contest for my photo collage of St. Louis. I couldn’t wait to start taking photos in Brazil! Would I capture the shot that would win me first place?
I’ve decided to be a photographer when I grow up. Well, that or a veterinarian, or maybe a travel writer, or a paramedic, or…something else entirely. My grandmother always said, “Lea, you should be open to trying new things. Life is like a buffet to be sampled!”
I picked up my camera and stared at my overstuffed suitcase. I had no clue how I was going to pack everything I wanted to. After all, I needed room for the necessities, such as my sea turtle identification book, my passport with its butterfly cover, a photo of my turtle Ginger, and of course my new bathing suit. I felt a rush of excitement as I imagined the sun warming my face and shoulders on the Brazilian beach. It was freezing in late January in St. Louis, Missouri, and outside my window in Lafayette Square I could see the clapboard houses dusted with snow. But we were heading south of the equator, where it was summer!
“Ahem!” Dad shook me out of my daydream. “How do I look?”
He was standing in the doorway wearing clunky hiking boots, pants with too many pockets, a complicated fishing vest, and a green cloth hat with long flaps on three sides that covered his short, dark brown hair. Everything still had the price tags on. I cringed when I imagined Dad walking around Brazil wearing this ridiculous outfit. Was he really going to wear all that—at once?
“What?” my father asked when he saw the horror on my face. “If we’re tromping through the Amazon rainforest, I want to be prepared.” He tried to yank one of the price tags off. “Don’t you think Zac will be impressed?”
“You can’t…” I stopped when I saw him laughing, and then feigned seriousness and said, “Yes, Dad, Zac’s going to be totally impressed.”
Thinking about Zac made me smile. I hadn’t seen my big brother in ages, and he was the reason we were going to Brazil.
Zac and I spent a lot of time together when I was little, especially when Mom and Dad had to work late, which was quite often. I used to follow him like a shadow and we’d talk nonstop—me asking him questions, him giving me the answers. Zac even nicknamed me “Cricket” because he said I was always “chirping up.”
But after Zac left for college in California three years ago, the house grew quiet—and so did I. I missed him so much that sometimes I’d hang out in his bedroom and pretend that he was just in another room. Then when Zac headed to Brazil for a year to study the rainforests, that meant not even seeing him at Christmas.
My father stepped over my clothes strewn across the floor and gave me a hug. “It’s going to be great with all of us being together again,” he said, adding, “I miss him, too.”
After Dad left, I sat on my bed and stared at my suitcase. The dark brown leather was battered and looked as if it was held together with stickers from all over the world. It had belonged to Ama, my grandmother.
Ama was my hero. She smelled like orange blossoms, and could roar like a lion, and was the bravest person I had ever known. Who else had a grandmother who climbed mountains, and boogie-boarded in the ocean, and made friends in every country she visited?
The last time I saw Ama, she was in the hospital. Though she struggled to sit up in bed, her familiar smile came easily. The sun was setting, and the room was bathed in a golden glow. She motioned me to her and slowly unclasped the small compass necklace that she always wore.
“Lean forward, Lea,” she said. When I did, she put it around my neck. “This compass has been my travel companion for years—even before I was a world traveler.” Ama’s voice was weak. I moved closer. “It has pointed me toward all kinds of adventures, and now it can accompany you on yours.”
I lifted the pendant to the light and admired the red flower design on the face of the compass. “Thank you, Ama,” I said.
She nodded, and pulled me in to a tight hug. A nurse came in and said that it was time for Ama to rest. That night, while I was sleeping, my grandmother passed away peacefully.
I picked up the compass from my dresser and fastened the cord around my neck. Would this compass help me in Brazil?
Mom appeared in my doorway. She was carrying some old books with an orange ribbon wrapped around them.
“Join me for a second,” she said, sitting down on my bed.
I sat next to her and peered at the mysterious books as she placed them in my lap.
“Ama wanted you to have these,” my mother said. “She told me to give them to you when the time was right.”
“What are they?” I asked.
“Her travel journals,” Mom explained. “Ama wrote about all of her world adventures in these.”
I looked down at the journals. They were simply numbered One, Two, Three, Four. Each had a worn cover of soft red leather.
“Did you read them?” I asked. I ran my fingertips across the first book’s cover.
My mother nodded. “She led quite a life. Some people don’t like to try new things as they get older. Your grandmother wasn’t like that. In fact, she got more adventurous with age.”
“You mean she wasn’t always a world traveler?” I asked.
Mom shook her head. “When I was your age, she always stayed close to home. Ama was busy working, and driving me places, and always volunteering at my school. I never thought of her as someone who would one day climb mountains and go on dinosaur fossil digs. Later, though, it didn’t surprise me. When I think back, I realize she always had that spark.”
“Like Zac,” I said.
“Hmm…yes, I suppose so,” Mom agreed. “And I see that spark in you, too, Lea.”
I felt my cheeks go warm and touched the compass pendant that hung around my neck. Would I ever be a world traveler like my grandmother had been? I had always wanted to be.
Once when I was in kindergarten, I announced, “When I grow up I want to be just like you, Ama!”
“That’s funny,” she said. Her h
azel eyes sparkled mischievously. “Because I want to be just like you!”
And so you know what Ama did? She put her gray hair into two braids that matched mine! Even though I eventually outgrew that hairstyle, my grandmother never did.
I looked down at her travel journals. The covers were battered, and many of the pages were wavy, as if they had gotten wet and then dried all crinkly. I could hardly wait to read about Ama’s journeys all over the world. As I embarked on my own journey, it would be almost like taking her with me.
s I looked out the airplane window, I could see mountains below. They looked so small that they reminded me of the relief map of Missouri that my best friend Abby and I had once made for school. Mom had told me that I should try to get some sleep since our journey would take over sixteen hours, but I was too excited to sleep. I was going to see Zac!
Zac and I both love animals. Ama was always sending photos of herself doing things like swimming with dolphins, riding a camel, or even holding a huge snake. We lived for her photos and wanted to be her! I wondered what wild animals I’d see in the rainforest. A jaguar, maybe? Caimans, of course. Toucans and snakes, I hoped. And monkeys, lots and lots of monkeys! But first, we were going to stay at the beach, which was about fifteen hundred miles away from the Amazon. This would be a first for me—seeing the ocean—and I couldn’t wait.
While Mom and Dad slept, I pulled the stack of Ama’s journals out of my backpack, untied the ribbon, and opened the first one. It was stuffed with photos and airplane ticket stubs and other scraps of paper, like phone numbers of people she had met. Pasted into the inside cover was a worn black-and-white wedding photo of a young man and woman looking deliriously happy. I looked closely. The bride was Ama! I’d recognize her smile anywhere. The groom was Grandpa Bill. He died long before I was born, but Mom and Ama had told me so many stories about him that I felt as if I knew him.
I turned to the first page of the journal. In Ama’s familiar loopy handwriting it began:
I have decided to stop making excuses and to start traveling like Bill and I always wanted to. I’m a little nervous about traveling alone, but if I don’t start now, when will I? Hello world, Amanda Cooper is coming your way!
I turned the page, eager to find out where Ama had traveled to first.
Aloha from Hawaii! she wrote. Even though I’m in the United States, I feel as if I’m in another country. The island of Kauai is so beautiful—and the beaches, ah, the beaches. I’m definitely not in St. Louis anymore. Today when I was snorkeling, a giant sea turtle swam past me. At first I panicked—he was huge! But then I realized I wasn’t that interesting to him, and he just kept going. Neither one of us was in a hurry, and I marveled at the sight of him. I’ve read that sea turtles bring good luck, so judging by the size of this one, I’ll have good fortune for many years to come!
To think I was once scared of traveling alone and now I can’t wait to figure out where I’ll go next. Paris? Greece? The Galapagos Islands? Ah, but before I decide, it’s time to hit the waves…after all, I won’t see anything exciting from the inside of a hotel room! Now that I’ve gone to the trouble of traveling to a new place, I should see and do everything I can.
Gotta go—time for my windsurfing lesson!
On the next page was a photo of Ama standing next to a windsurfing board on the Hawaiian beach. Her wavy brown hair was streaked with gray and was worn loose, skimming her shoulders. Ama’s high cheekbones and freckles reminded me of my mother, and people often said that we shared the same big hazel eyes. But Ama’s slightly crooked, totally radiant smile was all her own.
The date in the journal was 1996—twenty years ago. My brother would have been just a few months old.
When Zac announced that he wanted to study the Amazon rainforest, no one was surprised. In college he was an environmental studies major. Like Ama, he craved adventure. Despite my parents’ initial objections, for his twentieth birthday, my grandmother took Zac skydiving. I have a photo of the two of them in the air, grinning.
It was Ama who had convinced my parents to let Zac study in the Amazon rainforest. “My father came to the United States from Brazil when he was a boy,” she began. “That means Zac is one-eighth Brazilian. So it only seems right that we send our young man from the United States back to South America, even if it is just for a year!”
My mother thought it would be dangerous. My father thought it would be expensive. But with Ama on his side, Zac couldn’t lose. She had a way of getting people to do things her way, by making it seem like it was their idea.
“He needs to test himself,” she argued. “He’s ready.”
“Zac can test himself right here in the United States,” Dad said.
“There are wild animals in the rainforest,” Mom pointed out. “And poisonous plants, and—”
“And with any luck he will see them,” Ama noted.
“He could catch malaria,” said Mom.
“He’ll get medicine before he goes,” Ama assured her.
The arguments went back and forth like a doubles tennis match, and in the end, the team of Ama and Zac triumphed.
“Well, it is a wonderful chance to broaden your horizons, Zac,” Dad said. “I wish I had studied abroad when I was in college.”
“And Ama does have a good point about living with a family in the Brazilian rainforest being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Mom mused. “What an experience that will be!”
And away Zac went, just like that.
No one had asked for my opinion.
It was after midnight when we landed in Salvador, Brazil. Soon we would be meeting Zac at the hotel! I watched the suitcases going around and around the luggage carousel. They were mostly black, including ours—but Mom had tied big red ribbons around the handles so that we could spot them easily. It was a trick she had learned from Ama.
As my parents struggled with the luggage, I glanced around the airport. Near the doors were a few men, each holding a sign with a name on it. These were drivers who were hired to take visitors to their hotels. Chan Family, DiNovas, Dr. Birdsall…Família Clark. That was us!
It was hard to see the driver because the sign was covering his face. Plus, I was sleepy. However, when I heard him yell “Cricket!” I snapped awake. There was only one person in the world who called me that.
“It’s you!” I screamed, running toward him.
“Lea!” Mom called out. “What are you doing?” She paused, then cried out, “Zac!”
“Zac?” Dad said, spinning around. “Zac!”
I was the first to get to him.
“Cricket!” he laughed as I leaped into his arms. He tried to spin me around in the air the way we used to do when I was little—and we both almost fell over.
Mom and Dad joined us for what I am fairly certain was the longest group hug in the history of Brazil.
We hadn’t expected to see Zac at the airport. And he didn’t even look like Zac. His short brown hair was now longish and wavy and had flecks of blond, and his tanned face was covered with stubble. He just barely resembled the pale, skinny goofball I remembered. This new Zac was sort of rugged and more athletic looking. However, his blue eyes still had that sparkle that told me this was my big brother. He mussed up my hair, and I grinned back at him.
“Let me look at you, Cricket,” Zac said, taking a step back. “Hmm, your eyes are still hazel, and your hair is still light brown, but it’s longer than I remembered. Still, I’d recognize that crazy smile anywhere. You’ve grown!”
It was true. Recently I’d had a growth spurt, and I was nearly two inches taller than the last time Zac had seen me at the end of the summer. I was now tall enough to hook arms with him as we left the airport.
By the time we finally checked into the hotel, I was exhausted. I could hear the waves, but even with the moon out it was hard to see them. I could barely keep my eyes open. “Can we go to the beach now?” I asked drowsily.
“It’ll still be there in the morning,” Mom assured me.
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br /> “But I can’t wait…” I began. “I came all this way, and if I don’t see the ocean, then I’ll…I’ll…”
Before I could even finish my sentence, I was asleep.
t was dark when I woke. For a moment I forgot where I was. Startled, I bolted upright and looked around. That’s when I remembered. I wasn’t in St. Louis, Missouri, anymore. I was in Salvador, Brazil—and the sound I was hearing was the ocean waves!
I jumped out of bed and almost tripped over the luggage before pulling back the curtains. The bright sunlight blinded me at first, but when my eyes adjusted I gasped. A thin strip of golden sand lay between a rocky sea wall and water shimmering in a shade of turquoise blue I never even knew existed.
I knelt and rooted around my suitcase, tossing my homework assignments aside until I found what I was looking for. When I stepped out on the balcony, I immediately began to take photos with the camera Ama had given me.
I had been waiting for this moment for so long. Practically all my friends had been to the ocean. My best friend Abby had been to the beach THREE times—twice in Florida and once in California.
“You’re going to love, love, love the beach!” Abby had declared. We were catching the after-Christmas sales at Chloe’s Closet, the only store in Lafayette Square that sells bathing suits year-round. “Here, try these on,” she said, piling a half dozen swimsuits into my arms. “And come out after you put them on, so I can see each one!”
My family was still asleep when I changed into my Abby-approved bathing suit. I was so excited that I put both legs into one side. When I fell over, Mom and Zac slept through it, though Dad mumbled, “I already took out the trash.”
As my family continued to doze, I said softly, “Time to wake up.”
No one did.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me? Time to go to the beach,” I said, louder.
Dad rolled over and Mom put her arm across her eyes.
Zac didn’t even move, but then he was always a solid sleeper.