Suppressing a shudder, I try to focus on the beauty around me. I can only see what my flashlight falls on, but that is enough to take my breath away. Flowers as big as my head blossom full beneath the moon, whose faint light is rare this close to the jungle’s floor. The soil here is too poor to sustain much life, so the trees spread their roots above the ground in great fan-shaped buttresses draped in moss. The frequent rains are the trees’ main source of water; the larger the roots, the more rain they can catch, and the taller the tree. I see plants with leaves the size of umbrellas, their tops thick and smooth, their bottoms laced with red veins.
Alai lopes in ever-widening circles around me, and I realize this is his first time in the wild too. He must feel what I feel—perhaps more. He is a creature of the jungle, after all. His head turns right and left, his tail is rigid behind him, and he misses nothing.
Beneath my feet, the moss and leaves are as thick and lush as any carpet. More so, for every step I take sinks an inch as soon as my full weight is on it. The soft, moist earth receives my steps silently, as if reluctant to allow an outsider like me to interrupt the rainforest’s nocturne. Frogs and birds and other insects chirp along with the perpetual hum of cicadas. When I stop and close my eyes to listen, I’m struck by how noisy it is. At first the jungle seemed as silent as it is dark, but in truth, the sounds are almost cacophonous.
As I concentrate now on the way ahead, the noises fade again into the background. I am getting wetter with every step; the leaves that brush against me are damp, and little droplets of water splash off of them onto my dress and my arms. A spider monkey swoops across my path, swinging at head height and chortling with monkey laughter. Alai snaps at it. My flashlight just happens to catch its round yellow eyes, which stare straight into my own for a brief moment. Startled, I stop until it melts into the darkness.
The jungle enchants me. I’m unable to turn around and go back. Every sound, every glimpse is a breath of sweet, fresh air. Instead of filling me up, the rainforest empties me, leaving me thirsty for more. The more I see, the more I want. My nerves and will are stronger now, my fear is less. I am committed. Little Cam is out of my reach, so whatever is happening there, I cannot stop. If they’ve already discovered my absence—so be it. Uncle Paolo can’t forbid what’s already been done.
Flooded with this conviction, the last of my inhibitions flee, and I quicken my pace. Soon I am nearly jogging, my razor-sharp reflexes preventing me from tripping over the numerous roots and rocks abounding across the jungle floor. There’s too much; I can’t take it all in. But I keep trying. My eyes hardly blink, they are so intent on seeing every detail. My ears fill with sounds that, though I’ve heard them my entire life, suddenly feel new and exciting. Even the scents of the jungle are stronger out here—moist soil, ripe fruit, flowers, water, and a faint, woody smell like smoke.
The outside! I’ve done it! I found a way out and I took it, and I only looked back once. I have never realized how much I wanted this until now.
Freedom. It’s as intoxicating as any drug, a rush of adrenaline through my body. Wild Pia and Timid Pia merge; fear is overwhelmed by heady exhilaration. I am one. I am whole. I am free.
I am so captivated by the emotions inside me that I don’t even see the boy until we collide.
EIGHT
He yells. I yell. We both hit the ground, him on his back and me landing smack on top of him. For a moment all we can do is stare, astonished, at one another. His eyes are startlingly blue and as wide as papayas.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, like Alai’s hackles.
A boy.
Our noses are inches apart. I feel very warm from head to toe, and my abdomen clenches as if I’ve swallowed one of the torches from my party.
A boy.
I have never seen such blue, blue eyes.
I bolt upright, every muscle tense and alarmed, ready to flee in a heartbeat, as Alai springs from midair and lands atop the boy, pinning him to the ground. The boy is chattering away in a strange language that’s nothing like English, but when he sees the jaguar’s fangs inches from his nose, he falls silent.
“Who are you?” I demand, my voice shaking.
He’s still gaping at the jaguar when I shine my flashlight right in his face, and he winces and holds up a hand between himself and Alai—as if that could protect him if Alai decided to bite.
“Jaguar,” he gasps. “You have a jaguar!”
“I asked, who are you?” I hold my flashlight with both hands, angled at him like a gun.
The boy, still holding up his hand and never taking his eyes from Alai, replies, “Call away the cat, and I will tell you.”
I hesitate a moment, then call for Alai. He hisses, spraying spit across the boy’s face, then slips to my side.
The boy climbs slowly to his feet, keeping a watchful eye on the jaguar. “My name is Eio. Who are you?”
“Pia.” I take a step back as he reaches his full height, my flashlight still aimed at his face. “What do you want with me? Where—where are you from?”
“You’re the one who crashed into me.” He is taller than me, and though he is thin, he is very muscular. I can tell because he’s half-naked. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a cord around his neck from which hangs a tiny jaguar carved into jade, but nothing else, not even shoes. His skin is the color of a shelled Brazil nut, light, warm brown, the brown of days spent in the dappled sun of the rainforest. His hair is as black as the night around us and thick with tangles. There is something vaguely familiar about his face, but I can’t think of what it is. That’s very disconcerting for me, since I forget nothing. If I had seen this boy before, I would remember it. And not just because my memory is perfect. I’d remember those eyes…that sculpted chest…the definition of his abdomen.…
I snap my eyes up to his face, whipping my thoughts back into line. My initial fear gives way to anger. “What are you doing out here, anyway? It’s the middle of the night. Where are your clothes?”
He replies, remarkably calmly, “You’ve wandered far from your cage, Pia bird.”
“What?” I ask blankly.
“The dress,” he says, nodding at it. “It makes you look like a bird. The kind we Ai’oa like to keep on our shoulders. But that’s not a good thing to be running around the jungle in.”
I look down at my torn dress. “It’s my birthday.” Furious, I glare at him, refusing to let him distract me. Again. “Ai’oa? What is that?”
He presses a hand to his bare chest. “We are a who, not a what.”
“Are you a native?”
“I’m Ai’oan. Only the scientists call us natives.” He cocks his head curiously. “Are you a scientist? I think you must be, because you are of the Little Cam village.”
“No. Yes. I mean, I will be soon. How did you know where I’m from? Have you been to Little Cam?” Fear had turned to anger, but my anger now transforms into fascination. I’ve never spoken with anyone from outside Little Cam. Harriet Fields doesn’t count because now she’s from Little Cam too.
“I’ve seen it,” he says, “but only from the trees. It is no place for the Ai’oa. Kapukiri says there is evil in the village of the scientists.”
“Little Cam isn’t evil,” I reply, bristling. “What do you know about it?”
“Only what Kapukiri says.” He kneels and stares curiously at Alai. “He obeys your command and follows where you go. Incredible. Truly, you are blessed to have such a companion.”
His words soften me, and I warm a little. “Is your village close?”
Eio’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why? What do you want with Ai’oa?”
“I want to see it,” I say on a whim. “Show it to me.”
“I don’t know.…” He frowns.
“That smoke I smell, is it from Ai’oa?” I close my eyes and breathe deeply. “It’s coming from…that direction.” I open my eyes and start to follow the scent. When I look back, Eio is staring at me with wide eyes.
“You�
��” He runs to catch up with me. “You can smell it from here?”
“Ah…” I swallow and backpedal a bit. “Well, can’t you?”
Uncertainty plays openly across his face. “I guess…if you promise not to wake everyone…”
“I swear.”
“Well…okay.” He still seems uneasy. I take it that visitors aren’t often invited to Ai’oa.
I follow him over fallen logs made soft with mosses and under low-hanging vines and limbs. I wonder how he’ll see where he’s going, but he seems to feel his way rather than see it. I thought I moved silently through the jungle, but Eio seems to float over the ground rather than walk on it. He moves as sinuously as a snake and as lightly as a butterfly. Alai stays between us at all times, showing his mistrust in his hackles and rigid tail.
Before long I smell smoke; then I see the fires from which it comes. They burn low, more embers than flames, several dozen of them. Around the fires are huts made of four poles and thatched with palm leaves. They have no walls. When we reach the edge of the village, Eio stops me.
“They are sleeping. It is never good to wake what is sleeping. Stay here and look, but don’t wake them.”
“You’re awake,” I point out.
“I couldn’t sleep. I heard a jaguar and went looking for it.” He looks down at Alai.
I remember Alai’s roars as we escaped through the fence. “Is it a good idea to hunt jaguars? Seems to me they’d end up hunting you.”
Eio sits on a mossy rock, arms crossed over his bare chest. “Not to catch one! To see it. It is a powerful sign, the glimpse of the jaguar.”
“I see a jaguar every day,” I say, reaching down to rub Alai’s ears.
“It is a thing unheard of.” He shakes his head. “In the jungle, the jaguar is king. He follows no one but himself, and we Ai’oa fear and respect him and call him guardian.”
“Alai’s just a big baby, really.”
Eio gives a short laugh. “Of course. That’s why he tried to bite the nose off my face!”
“How do you know English? Uncle Paolo told me you natives were ignorant about everything outside your own villages.”
“I’m not ignorant,” Eio objects. “It is you who are ignorant, Pia bird. My father taught me English.”
“Your father?”
“He is a scientist like you, in Little Cam.”
“Really!” I blink and stare at him with astonishment. Well, well, someone’s been hiding a really big secret.…“Who is it? What’s his name?” I think of all the scientists, wondering who it could be.
“To me, he is only Papi. He comes and teaches me English and math and writing.”
“What does he look like?”
Eio shrugs. “Ugly, like all scientists.”
I frown. “You think I’m ugly?”
“Of course,” he says, staring toward his village.
I feel my face flush with anger. “That’s the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me! I’m not ugly! I’m…” I look down at my muddy, bedraggled dress, and my voice falls to an embarrassed whisper. “I’m perfect.”
“Perfect? Is that why you’re running around in the jungle, making noise like a tapir running from the spear, in a dress?”
“I—it’s my birthday.…I wanted to see the jungle. I’ve never been outside Little Cam before. I wanted to feel what it was like to be outside, in the wild.”
“Are you a prisoner, Pia bird?”
“No,” I say, startled.
“Why have you never left, then?”
“I—they say it’s dangerous. Anacondas.”
“Anacondas! I have killed an anaconda.”
“You have?”
“Yes. It was as long as I am tall, and I am the tallest Ai’oan in the village. I made its skin into a belt for Papi.”
“I’ve only seen an anaconda once. It was dead too. Uncle Timothy shot it.”
“With a gun?”
“Of course with a gun!”
“I don’t like guns. I hunt with dart and spear and arrow. These are silent and will not scare away your prey like a stupid gun.”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the night is growing even darker. “I should go back now.” It’s been much, much longer than an hour. My delirious rush of adrenaline leaves me weary and nervous. I want to get back, to change and shower before my absence is noticed. If it hasn’t been noticed already.
“I will take you back,” Eio announces, rising to his feet.
“I can find the way,” I say.
“I will take you back,” he repeats in a firmer tone. “It’s not good for a woman to walk alone in the jungle without a man to protect her.”
He thinks I’m a woman. I stand a little taller. “Well, all right. If you want.”
As we walk, he begins telling me all the names of the plants we pass. I already know their names, but I don’t tell him that. He seems to think that scientists always want to know the names of things, and so I guess he thinks he’s being helpful. Anyway, I like listening to his voice. It’s deep and a little hoarse, as if he’s been yelling all day, and his accent makes every word sound new and exciting, as if he’s speaking another language I don’t have to strain to understand.
“Here is annatto, for repelling insects and curing snakebites. The girls say it makes a love potion, but I don’t believe them. They have all tried it on me, and I don’t love any of them.”
“Why? Aren’t they strong or beautiful?”
He gives me an odd look before answering. “Some, I guess. Look, here is suma. It helps the blood and the muscles and the memory, very good to eat. Curare, to poison our arrows. It is a strong poison, but not as strong as yresa.”
Unlike the others, that name is unfamiliar. “What’s yresa?”
“There is none here. In all of the world, there is only one place were the yresa grows. That place was very sacred to the Ai’oa, but we cannot go there anymore. The scientists forbid it with their guns.”
I now have a feeling I know what this yresa is, but I don’t say so. There is no warmth in Eio’s voice when he talks about the scientists taking the flowers from his people, and I don’t want him to think it was my decision. For some reason, I want this strange, wild boy to think better of me than that.
I watch his every move with fascination. Questions surge to my lips, batter at my teeth. I want to know everything about him. Where does he sleep? What does he eat? Has he been to a city? Does he have friends? But I feel unusually shy and don’t know what to say. Or even how to say it. In just the minutes I’ve known him, he’s shown himself to be entirely different from anyone in Little Cam.
“Look,” Eio says, stopping by a tall, slender tree. “Know what this is?”
I tap the bark. “Mauritia flexuosa.”
“No.” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “It’s aguaje.”
“That’s what I said.”
He shakes his head. “Wait here. I’ll get you some.”
Before I can say a word, Eio grabs the branch of a different tree and hauls himself up. Within seconds, he’s twenty feet in the air and still climbing. I watch him with wide eyes, waiting for him to slip at any moment and crash to the ground.
Soon he’s lost to sight, hidden by leaves. I stare for a long minute and start to wonder if he changed his mind about walking me home and just abandoned me in the middle of the jungle. Then I hear a rustle and a shout behind me, and I whirl to see him sliding to the ground on a thick liana. He lands lightly, knees bent, with a string of aguaje draped over his shoulder.
With a smile that can only be described as cocky, he deftly skins the fruit and hands it to me. I discover I’m grinning like a monkey.
“Thanks, I guess,” I say. The fruit is mildly tangy, not my favorite of the local produce, but what can I say when the boy climbed a hundred feet to pick it? “Aren’t you going to eat some too?”
He laughs. “No! Aguaje is for girls. If a man eats too much of it, he starts to look like a woman.”
&n
bsp; “That is the most unscientific thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Then you haven’t met my cousin Jacari.” Eio swings the string of fruit back and forth. “Too much aguaje. Now the mothers use him as a wet nurse.”
My mouth freezes in mid-bite, and I stare at him. “You’re teasing me.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”
I throw the aguaje pit at him, and he laughs again and catches it. His laughter is infectious. I can’t stop smiling. Everything he does, each movement, each word, is so vivid and strange. I feel like I’ve discovered some fascinating new species. Homo ferus: wild human. An unpredictable, nocturnal creature usually found in trees. Caution: may cause bewilderment and disorientation. Also, prone to teasing.
He picks another aguaje from the vine and tosses it up and down, watching me with his head tilted and his eyes curious. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen. How old are you?”
“Almost eighteen.”
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” I’ve always been enchanted by the idea of siblings. As a rule, the members of my family tree could never have more than one child, for the sake of population control—though that rule backfired on them when the Accident happened.
“Not by blood,” he says. “But by heart.”
“What does that mean? If not by blood, then they’re not really siblings.”
He frowns and catches the agauje again, rubs his thumb over its scaly skin. “Shows what you know about family.”
“I’ve spent months of my life studying genetics,” I say. “I think I know all there is to know about family.”
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