by Loriel Ryon
They had to consult their clipboard for her name. Yolanda was even more sure about what she was going to do now. She nodded solemnly and opened the door wider to let them in. Sonja rounded the corner, Ghita following her.
“Sonja, I’m sorry, but I—”
“Stop!” Sonja held up a hand. “I’m not talking about this now—I need to say goodbye to Wela.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Yolanda glanced at Sonja, who refused to look at her. Sonja pressed her lips together, but Yolanda could see her chin quivering and the tears shining in her eyes. Ghita nodded and sat down on the bottom of the steps, burying her head in her hands. Yolanda felt a pull to console Ghita, wrap an arm around her and tell her everything was going to be okay, but she stopped herself.
They weren’t friends anymore.
Yolanda led the two men to the living room. “It’ll be a few minutes. If you could wait here, we’d like to say goodbye.”
The men sat down. Yolanda grabbed Sonja’s hand and pulled her into Wela’s bedroom, closing the door behind them.
She heard Mrs. Patel come in through the front door. “Girls, Abby is here too,” she called.
“Wait! Where’s We—” Sonja said.
Yolanda placed a finger to her lips and waited until she heard Mrs. Patel and Abby greeting the men in the living room.
“Where is she?” Sonja demanded, her voice growing loud. “What is going on?” Yolanda placed her hand over Sonja’s mouth. Sonja tried to fight her off, but Yolanda held on tight, sneaking her through the bathroom, through the kitchen, and out the back door before finally letting her go.
Sonja glared at her, her blue eyes blazing. “Where is she?”
Yolanda pointed. Hasik and Wela stood in the freshly mowed lawn, the yellow serape draped over her shoulders.
Wela waved, and Sonja’s mouth fell open.
“I’m taking her to the pecan tree. She asked me to. It’s the only way to save her.”
“What are you talking about?” Sonja said. “Are you crazy? You’ll never make it.” Her eyes narrowed. “She’ll never make it.”
“We’ll manage. Keep an eye on Rosalind Franklin for me?” Yolanda bounced down the steps, grabbed the red backpack, and slung it over her shoulder. The house phone rang, echoing through the open door.
Yolanda hesitated. No one called the house phone except for one person.
Dad.
She started back toward the phone and then stopped herself. Ghita, Mrs. Patel, and Abby were coming through the kitchen toward the back door. She locked eyes with Sonja.
Please, Yolanda mouthed.
“No.” Sonja crossed her arms.
“It could be Dad.” Yolanda tightened the strap over her shoulder as the wave of realization washed over Sonja’s face.
As Sonja bolted inside, Yolanda jogged to Wela and Hasik. The blue backpack was inside the wheelbarrow and Hasik had pushed it across the lawn to the edge of the tall grass. Wela stood on shaky legs, her face bright and eager.
“Ready?” Yolanda asked.
“Are you sure about this?” Hasik glanced back at Wela and Yolanda, not looking sure himself.
“Are you sure, Wela?” Yolanda gripped Wela’s frail hand tight in hers.
“Vámonos.”
The sun, high in the sky and hot, beat over them. Towering over their heads, the grass, blades thin and green, popped and clicked.
Yolanda took one last look at the big white house with the wraparound porch. The blue star on the red-and-white flag shimmered in the sunlight.
She parted the popping blades with the back of her hand and pulled Wela behind her, leading the way into the cool darkness of the tall, tall grass.
Fifteen
THE GRASS snapped shut behind them, and it was quiet.
Too quiet. As though the world Yolanda left behind had never, ever been. It was disorienting and calming at the same time. They had made it.
A voice called out in the distance. Yolanda ducked in the towering grass. There was no telling if anyone could see where they were from the porch, even if she couldn’t see them. The fresh sweet scent of the grass tickled her nose.
She heard a faint jingle.
Yolanda started walking, pulling Wela behind her as Hasik pushed the wheelbarrow. The grass was thick and difficult to navigate. Yolanda had to concentrate as her feet tangled on the grass and the blades hit her in the face. She couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her. Wela stumbled behind her. This was going to take much longer than she had thought. They needed to find their way to the casita first, and Yolanda had only a vague idea of where it was. It was also impossible to see which direction they were heading with the grass towering over them.
Suddenly, a voice spoke.
“I thought you were going to leave without me.”
Yolanda spun around, and her shoulders sagged in disappointment.
Sonja.
Of course Sonja had come. She always had to find a way to be involved in everything.
Sonja emerged from the dense grass, a hiking backpack slung over her shoulder. Out popped Rosalind Franklin, her dog tags tinkling.
“Go back. We can manage just fine without you—thanks.” Yolanda turned around and started to pull Wela behind her again. Having Sonja and Rosalind Franklin come along was only going to be a hindrance. “Besides, don’t you have other things to deal with?” Yolanda muttered under her breath.
Sonja bolted ahead of the group and stopped, blocking their way. “Oh, come on. You need me.” Sonja dug into her pack and pulled out a pair of machetes. “Look, I brought these. You’re going to need them if you want to get through this.” She swiped the machete back and forth in front of her, slicing the grass down and cutting a clear path.
Yolanda stared at her sister. Of course she thought of the machetes. She thought of everything.
Wela suddenly paled and her knees gave out.
“Wela!” Yolanda caught her before gently laying her on the ground and kneeling beside her.
“I’m okay, just feeling a little faint.” Her wrinkled skin was greenish, her lips cracked and dry.
Yolanda unscrewed the top of a water bottle and placed it to Wela’s lips.
She took a sip. “That’s better, mija. Thank you.”
“She’ll never make it,” another voice said.
Yolanda glanced up.
Ghita.
Ghita stood with her arms crossed over her chest, looking quite sure of herself. “You have to take her back.”
Yolanda groaned. What was she doing here? This was starting to fall apart. She definitely didn’t want Sonja and Ghita coming along. They would only complicate things. They needed to go back.
“What are you doing here?” Sonja said. “I told you I don’t want to do this right now.”
“You have to go back.” Ghita pushed her long dark hair from her face. “Wela can’t stay out here. Look at her—she’s sick.”
Wela pushed herself up on her elbows and looked Ghita square in the eyes. “I am not going back.” Her voice was stern and clear. “We are going to the tree.”
Ghita’s gaze shifted down as she kicked at the ground with the tip of her shoe. “Well, I’m not going to be a part of this.”
“No one asked you to!” Yolanda snapped. “Just go.” She helped Wela drink another sip of water.
“Go back,” Sonja said.
Ghita didn’t move. She instead stared at Hasik.
Sonja placed her hands on her hips. “Go.”
Ghita ignored her. “Amma is going to be really angry if you don’t come back with me, Hasik.” Ghita tapped her foot. “You’re being a majnu.”
Hasik rubbed the back of his neck. “Mom won’t be mad,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound so sure. “And don’t call me that.” His grip tightened on the wheelbarrow handles.
Yolanda didn’t want Ghita to stay, and she certainly didn’t expect her to. It was Ghita after all. Abandoner-in-chief. But she wasn’t going to let her convince Hasik to le
ave.
“What does that mean, Ghita? Majnu?”
Ghita raised her eyebrows and nodded toward Hasik. “I’ll let him tell you.”
“It’s nothing,” Hasik said, but his face said something different. “She’s trying to embarrass me.”
“Yeah, she’s good at that,” Sonja muttered.
A hurt looked crossed Ghita’s face.
They must be fighting, Yolanda thought. The realization didn’t bring her as much satisfaction as she thought it would. Wela reached for the water bottle, and Yolanda gave her another sip. Then she screwed the cap on the bottle. They needed to go.
Yolanda climbed to her feet. “We don’t have time for this. We need to get going. So, Ghita, you head back to the house and let us get on our way.”
“Fine,” Ghita said, raising her arms in defeat.
Good. This was better. Ghita was leaving without a fight. Now, if Yolanda could just get Sonja to go with her.
Ghita spun around in a circle. “Do you know which way the house is?”
The grass towered over Yolanda’s head, making it impossible to tell which direction they’d come from. She turned around, the never-ending grass blurring all around her.
“The house is that way. Behind us.” Yolanda pointed and then hesitated, biting her lip. “Or maybe it’s that way.”
Sonja sighed and dropped her backpack to the ground. “I couldn’t find my compass,” she said. “So I can’t be sure, unless I look.”
Yolanda’s gut squeezed with guilt as the compass weighed extra heavy in her pack. But she wasn’t going to tell Sonja she had it. This was not the right time for a fight.
“The pecan tree is directly south of the house,” Sonja said. “I’ll need to climb on someone’s shoulders to see over the grass.”
Sonja scrambled onto Hasik’s shoulders and he winced as her sneakers dug into his back. Rosalind Franklin barked and jumped up and down.
“Enough, girl,” Yolanda said, picking her up. “We need to get to the casita first. See if you can spot it.”
Sonja’s long red braids hung down either shoulder, the bees darting in and out of her hair. Shielding her eyes from the bright sun, she looked one way and then the other. “Hmm, the pecan tree is that way.” She pointed the same direction Yolanda had pointed. “The casita is over there, but the house … is gone.”
“What?” Ghita said. “What do you mean?”
Sonja scoured the horizon. “I mean the house is gone. I can’t see it anymore.”
“What are you talking about? It should be right there,” Yolanda said. That didn’t make any sense. Where would it have gone? “We haven’t gone far.”
“See for yourself.” Sonja jumped off Hasik’s shoulders.
Ghita climbed up next. “But it can’t be gone!” Her head jerked back and forth. “Where did it go?” Ghita jumped down and reached into her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone and held it over her head. “I don’t have any service. What’s going on?”
“My turn,” Yolanda said. There was no way the house could be gone. It wouldn’t simply vanish. It made no sense.
She set Rosalind Franklin on the ground and climbed onto Hasik’s shoulders.
“Ouch,” he said as her shoes dug into his ribs.
“Sorry!”
Way in the distance, on top of the butte, the pecan tree stood alone, covered in a dull haze. Yolanda looked in the opposite direction. All the way to the shadows of the mountain range was never-ending grass. Lush, green, vibrating grass. She squinted, hoping to be missing something quite obvious, but there was nothing. The house was gone.
Sixteen
YOLANDA hopped down from Hasik’s shoulders and ran to Wela. “Where is it? Where did the house go?” It made no sense. She could see the casita, the pecan tree, and even the mountain range. Where had it gone?
Wela opened her sleepy eyes. “It’s a strange land. There is no turning back once you enter the grass.” Her head lolled back. “Take me to the tree, mija.”
“I’m going to take you.” Yolanda looked around frantically. “But they need to go home!”
“You’re kidding, right?” Hasik wiped the tiny beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “The house isn’t really gone.”
“What’s happening?” Ghita whined.
Yolanda sat on the ground next to Wela. Rosalind Franklin climbed into her lap and licked the sweat from her cheek. This was supposed to be Yolanda’s thing. By herself. Why did everything have to get ruined?
“The tree, mija,” Wela whispered as she closed her eyes again.
Getting Wela to the tree was more important than anything else. Wela said everything would be set right when they got to the tree. Her family depended on it. As much as she didn’t want them to come, this was the only way. If it meant bringing her sister and her ex–best friend along, she would just have to deal with that. Yolanda glanced at Sonja, who was frantically pushing buttons on her cell phone. A small swarm of bees ducked in and out of her braids.
And the bees. She’d have to deal with the bees.
Yolanda shuddered, remembering she’d never gotten her epinephrine refill from Mrs. Patel.
Yolanda stood and took a deep breath. She pointed at Ghita. “I don’t want you here as much as you don’t want to be here.” Then she pointed at Sonja. “And I certainly don’t need your help or interference. Or your bees, for that matter. But I’m taking Wela to the pecan tree. It’s the only way to save her. And she’s weak, so I can’t do it by myself.”
“I want to go home,” Ghita whined.
Sonja shot her a look.
“That’s the way to get you home,” Yolanda snapped. Even with the nose ring making her look older, Ghita sure acted like a baby sometimes.
“I can’t believe I came in here.” Ghita shook her head.
Hasik put an arm around his sister. “It’s okay. We’ll get back. Everything will be okay.”
Ghita shrugged him off. “Amma is going to kill us.”
“No she won’t,” Hasik said.
“She will if we miss our flight to Kolkata in two days.”
Hasik wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. “Oh yeah—that.”
Sonja examined a bumblebee crawling down her arm. She looked deep in thought.
“What, Sonja?” Yolanda said. “What are you thinking about?”
Sonja squinted her eyes and bit her lip. “It shouldn’t take us long to get there. Dad and I hiked there once. It’s just under ten miles, and if we hike around the side of the butte, there are switchbacks—”
Sonja stopped.
“What?” Yolanda said.
Sonja glanced at Wela, who was asleep, the butterflies nestled deep in her hair. “But Wela”—Sonja ran her fingers through the blades of grass—“and this are really going to slow us down.”
“That’s why we brought the wheelbarrow.” Hasik lifted it up.
“I think that’ll help, but it’s still going to be slow.” Sonja cinched the backpack up on her shoulder. “We won’t get there before sunset. We’ll have to sleep out here at least one night.”
“Sleep out here?” Ghita cried, her arms wide. “We leave in two days!”
“And that’s if we don’t run into any problems.” Sonja swatted a bee from her forehead. It flew up and settled into her red hair.
Yolanda glanced at Wela and brushed a white curl from her forehead. “It’s for Wela,” Yolanda finally said. “We have to do this.”
Sonja let the bumblebee crawl onto the tip of her index finger and then looked at Yolanda. “We’re going.” Then she looked at Ghita. “We’re all going.”
Seventeen
“WE CAN cut the grass to soften the bottom of the wheelbarrow.” Hasik ripped a handful of grass from the ground and set it inside the wheelbarrow. “When she wakes up, if she’s up to it, she can walk.”
Sonja and Yolanda cut thick handfuls of grass with the machetes and placed them in the bottom of the wheelbarrow. Together, Hasik, Sonja, and
Yolanda lifted Wela’s frail, sleeping body and set her gently inside the wheelbarrow. The butterflies, disturbed, hovered above Wela for a few minutes, but nestled back in her hair as Yolanda tucked the serape in around her.
One of Wela’s chanclas fell off, and Rosalind Franklin snatched it and pranced around proudly. “No, no, no.” Yolanda pried it from her teeth and hid it underneath the serape. “These are Wela’s. She doesn’t want you messing with them.” Yolanda grasped both handles and lifted. “I’ll push.” The wheelbarrow barely moved.
“It’s pretty heavy,” Hasik said, reaching out to help.
“Help Sonja clear the grass.” Yolanda grunted and lifted, almost tipping the wheelbarrow on its side. She heaved and righted it, determined to do it on her own.
“I’ll take over when you are tired,” Hasik offered.
“Just clear the grass,” Yolanda said through her clenched jaw.
Hasik and Sonja each took a machete and thwacked at the grass, cutting a clear path, while Rosalind Franklin pranced her fat little body in front of the wheelbarrow, leading the way.
“Who called on the house phone?” Yolanda asked. “When we were leaving?” Surely if it was Dad, Sonja would have said something.
Sonja glanced over her shoulder. “Telemarketer.”
Disappointment sank in Yolanda’s gut. Still no word and it had been weeks. What if something bad had happened this time? What if this time it really was different and he didn’t come back? She shook the thoughts from her mind. She needed to focus on Wela.
“Why didn’t Yosemite come?” Hasik asked.
“She wouldn’t.” Sonja shrugged. “I called her to follow me, but she wouldn’t step foot inside the grass. Rosalind Franklin, on the other hand, bolted in right after you guys.”
“Of course she did.” Yolanda laughed as Rosalind Franklin snorted through the tall blades of grass.
They walked so slowly it seemed like they weren’t getting anywhere at all. For a while all she heard was the slicing of the machetes and the pops and clicks of the growing grass echoing all around them. From time to time Yolanda glanced at Ghita, who was last. Ghita looked back occasionally, but the path disappeared as they walked, filling up with grass.