“Oh, no no no, it won’t cost you a cent. Honest, I’ve got this huge wad of cash that Bolon gave me. All I need is for you to go with me. I’m a little scared to do this on my own.”
“Now who is Bolon?” he asks.
“He’s the Mayan guy, the Elder, who’s helping me with this prophecy thing.”
“Geez Caity, this sounds serious.” He bites the inside of his lip. “But your parents don’t know anything about it?” he asks. “Your father has been so good to me, I really hate to—”
I put my hands up. “I’ve got it covered. I’ve set it up so they think I’m going to visit my friend Justine, so all you have to do is tell your mom and your grandma that you’re going camping or fishing or something. They won’t even know we’re together.”
We’re together. I say it again in my head.
“Well, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?” He looks down and pulls at his chin as he thinks. “Alright then. I’m sure I could come up with some reason to be gone.”
“Really?” I ask. “You’re really saying yes?”
“Against my better judgment,” he says as he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “aye.”
I spontaneously hug him and then quickly pull away.
“So may I see some of this stuff you’ve discovered?” he asks.
“Right now?”
“I have to go help Gran finish with dinner cleanup, then I’ll come up. Unless, of course, you don’t trust me in your room all alone,” he says with a smile.
“Very funny,” I say as I hit his shoulder with my fist. I’m embarrassed that I make such a fifth-grade move.
When he turns and jogs back to the kitchen door, I step over and press my back up against where he was leaning. The wall is still warm from his body. I look up at the stars winking in the twilight and tell myself I can’t move until I see one falling through the sky. After a few minutes one streaks by and I think about how it’s possible that Alex and I had, at one time in the past few billion years, been atoms in the same star soaring through space.
Anyone see you come up?” I ask as I close and bolt the door behind Alex, who has Mr. Papers balanced on his shoulder.
“Nae, they’re all getting snookered in the parlor,” he replies.
“Thank God for Scotland and all that whisky.” I lead him over to my desk, open the file from Bolon, and then give up my seat to Alex. “Have at it.”
I fake being cold so I can light a fire, which both gives me busy work and adds to the romance of having Alex in my room again.
As he scrolls through the pages, he quietly says things like hmm and interesting and I see, as if talking to someone on the phone. Once the fire is lit, and I can’t give him space anymore, I stand behind him to read over his shoulder. He’s looking at the grid representation of the Tzolk’in.
“You read it top to bottom, starting in the upper left corner,” I tell him. “These little pictures on the far left are the twenty daylords and the numbers of their weeks of thirteen days are made up of dots for ones and bars for five.”
“Caity, this is amazing.”
“Amazing how?” I ask, not wanting to shape how he interprets this thing. Maybe he sees something I hadn’t. I mean it is really cool looking, this grid, which is why I’d printed it out and taped it into my sketchbook.
“Between this and the Long Count calendar that ends in 2012, there’s some really interesting math here,” Alex says.
“Oh yeah? There is such a thing?”
“What?”
“There’s such a thing as really interesting math?”
“Aye, all math is interesting to me. Got a problem with that?” he asks with a grin. “Because if you do, I s’pose I couldn’t possibly go with you to Easter Island and bore you with all my math talk.”
“Nope, no problem at all. Love math, always have. Don’t make me get out my ‘I heart Math’ T-shirt …”
“Now you’re just torturing me!” he says with a laugh. “We can go ahead and get engaged this minute if your homepage is set to www.mathworld.com.”
Oh how I wish that I could stop time right now to reset both my homepage and my blushing face.
Alex turns back to the screen. “Now what exactly are you supposed to be doing with this information?”
“Getting it out to kids. Getting them to use the Mayan calendar—or ‘resonate’ with it was how Bolon put it. But I really don’t get how a calen—”
Alex interrupts. “Resonate? Seriously?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because the whole time I was looking at this stuff, I was thinking that the underlying math looked harmonic.”
“Like music?”
“Maybe notes, or maybe just a tone …”
Mr. Papers waves his hands at us and jumps, but we’re too engrossed in the calendar to pay attention to him.
“So you’re saying take Bolon’s suggestion literally—literally resonate—with some kind of sound?” I ask.
Mr. Papers suddenly jumps in between the computer screen and Alex, then taps Alex on the nose like a reprimanding teacher.
“What?” Alex asks, seeming irritated.
Mr. Papers grabs a hair band from my desk and three newly sharpened pencils from my pen cup, binding the pencils together about an inch down from their points. Then he fans them out into a tripod and sets this contraption, eraser-side down, on my desk so that it looks like an upside-down teepee. Finally, he sets a sheet of origami paper on top of the pencil tripod.
“What on earth are you doing?” I ask.
He raises one finger to me as if to say, “Just a moment,” and then hops over to an old tea tray by my bed. He takes a spoonful of sugar from the sugar bowl and with expert balance he walks back to the desk and hops up without spilling a grain. Very carefully he shakes some sugar on the piece of paper.
“C’mon Papers, what’s this about?” Alex asks.
Mr. Papers takes a deep breath, bends down so that one side of the paper is touching his chin, and then bursts out with a weird sound, like someone singing the note “ti.”
The grains of sugar hop around on the paper from the vibration of his voice.
“Bloody hell, Caity! Look at what the sugar is doing!”
He doesn’t have to tell me to look; I can’t even talk for fear of missing a second of what’s happening before me. The sugar is forming a pattern on the paper, a beautiful image somewhere between a zinnia flower and a stylized sun.
When Mr. Papers is out of breath, he sits back and looks at the paper, then smiles at us.
Quickly Alex Googles “shapes from sound” and some articles pop up, which Alex reads out loud.
“The study of the wave phenomena of physical patterns produced through the interaction of sound waves in a medium such as sand is called cymatics. Sand activated by sound can form itself into standing wave patterns from simple concentric circles to traditional mandala designs.”
“But how does Mr. Papers know this?” I ask.
“Haven’t a clue,” he replies, lost in an article on cymatics. “Oh, Caity, listen to this. A Russian research team of geneticists and linguists is using the theory behind cymatics to modify DNA.”
“No way … the right sound can change DNA?” I’m stunned. “So I guess Mr. Papers is saying that you’re right, that this must have something to do with turning the Tzolk’in into sound.”
We both jump back when Mr. Papers lets out a deafening screech, again placing his chin on the paper.
“Damn it Mr. Papers,” Alex says, covering his ears. “Ought not do that to a pal!”
“But look what it did to the sugar!” The crystals have morphed from the pretty, symmetrical arrangement into what looks like broken glass.
“Freaky!” we both say at the same time.
I add, “Jinx, you owe me a Coke,” but Alex looks at me like I’m speaking Martian, so I let it drop. Must be an American thing.
“I reckon he’s telling us that there are good tones and bad tones,
” Alex says, still looking at the sugar on the paper.
“Or damaging tones and healing tones,” I add.
He shrugs. “I s’pose, if you want to get all new agey.”
“Brace yourself, Alex, this thing may get very new agey.”
He gets up from the chair and puts a hand on my shoulder. “As long as I have my math to hang on to, I think I’ll be fine.”
I could kiss him. Really. We are in position—one of his hands is touching my shoulder and I can feel the heat of his palm though my T-shirt. All I have to do is lean in.
I am a wuss.
“So what next?” I ask instead.
Alex picks up the Tzolk’in disc. “I’ll look more deeply at this and try to find some way to make it resonate.”
I lean over my desk and jot down the website URL. “Here’s the website I put up. Definitely not my best web work, but—”
“My, you work quickly!” he says, pocketing the paper. “Should we check on some air and train schedules while we’re here?”
I love how he pronounces schedule like shed-u-all.
“Oh, good idea,” I say, as eager to have him stay as I am to get everything lined up. I take the driver’s seat and pull up my favorite travel site.
I’m glad I have a big wad of cash from Bolon because travel prices have gone up even more. Pretty soon only the elite with private jets will be able to travel, which is probably exactly what the Fraternitas wants: keep the people down on the ground, broke and pathetic.
We book our flights and then I print out all the plane ticket information and give him enough of Bolon’s money for the ferry, train, airfare, and other stuff that might come up.
“Okay, you just get yourself to San Francisco and then we’re off to Easter Island for this … gathering,” I say.
Alex smiles. “You know this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, don’t you?”
I want to ask if I’m the most exciting thing or if the situation is the most exciting thing, but I’m afraid of the answer so I just say, “Me too.”
“Do you need me to bring anything special? Herbs, potions, eye of newt?”
I laugh. “No, got it covered. I just need to sneak Dad’s satellite phone …”
“Ah, you going to do one of those fancy teleconference things where everyone calls a number on their phone and you talk to them?”
“Genius! I hadn’t even thought of that! I was thinking I’d webcast, but I hadn’t figured out how they were going to get Internet access at all these funky places.”
“And there’s cell service pretty much everywhere.”
“Have you done this before? How do you know about it?” I ask.
“I’ve called in to some football teleconferences; they have famous footballers talking about their strategies and such, and you just listen in.”
“Very cool. I’ll check it out.”
After Alex takes the CD and goes home, I check the fake email account I set up for Mom. There’s a reply from Justine’s mom: She bit! We’re on!
I immediately reserve a plane ticket for Justine to Peru, one that flies to Los Angeles first so that her parents won’t see her board a plane to South America. I pay for it from Bolon’s Banco de Maya account and then I email Justine’s mom with all the information.
Justine has to be in the know, so I forward all the emails to her so she can see what I’m doing. She responds:
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Chantrea’s email
Dude, you nailed the email momspeak. I just called the Pho shop, Chantrea is in Cambodia all summer with her grandparents like I thought. Her email address is [email protected]. I can’t believe I’m going to peru. If you get to take jcrew can I invite David to come with me? You wouldn’t have to pay, he could probably buy a plane ticket with his weekly allowance, you know how loaded the von Kellermans are …
For a moment I hesitate about the David von Kellerman thing, but then I think about how much I am asking of her. I mean, making your friend go alone to South America is a lot to ask. Plus I’ll feel better about her safety if someone else is with her.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Chantrea’s email
THANKS for getting me Chantrea’s email address so quickly. As for David, why not? You think he’d want to? I arrive around noon on the 18th, then leave again the next day right around the time you do. I’ll get a hotel room in SF when I get there. Then we can spend the day together before we both have to go do this …
All this scheming has me completely exhausted. I really want to go to bed, but I figure I better set up this phone thing and try to get in touch with Chantrea and Amisi. With the time-zone weirdness, the hours that I’m asleep could be crucial in this whole plan.
The teleconference setup is pretty easy. I get assigned an 800 number and book a block of time for my call. As long as it’s listen-only and no one but me is going to be actually talking, it looks like there is no maximum number of callers. Now I have to email the girls.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]
Subject: Hello from Caity Mac Fireland
Hey girlies, it’s Caity! Amisi and Chantrea, I don’t think you two know each other, but you both know me and you both know Justine. Amisi, let me introduce Chantrea—her parents own the best Vietnamese restaurant in San Francisco called Lucky Pho (oh how I miss it!). She’s spending the summer in Cambodia with her grandparents. And Chantrea, Amisi is from Egypt. She lives in Cairo but went to school with us at the Academy of Cruelties last year while her dad was in San Francisco with that huge mummy exhibit (he’s the main guy in charge of the pyramids).
Anyway, as you both know my parents moved me out to Nowhere, Scotland this summer, to this very strange island. Well, it turns out that my relatives or ancestors or whatever were involved in a big mystery that is kinda unraveling right now. Anyway, one of the things I’m supposed to do is sort of unite kids. I don’t even know the whole entire story yet, but I know it has to do with kids and this ring of sacred places around the Earth and with the Mayan calendar (see website here).
OK, so let me get to it—would either of you be able to be the point person on a gathering? Amisi, you’d be in charge of the one at the pyramids and Chantrea, you’d be doing one in Cambodia at Angkor Wat (which I never even heard of before I moved here!) Anyway, it wouldn’t require much work, just your cell phone and a poster with a phone number on it. We’re supposed to do this event at the same time all over the world, on summer solstice (I know that is only a few days away! Yikes!) Justine is going to Machu Picchu and I’m going to Easter Island (double yikes!). I’ll be calling from Easter Island and all you have to do is call this 800 number and listen. There might be no one there with you, there might be ten or twenty people. Who knows? This is all new to me too.
If you’re up for it, cut and paste the message below, along with the Mayan calendar website attachment, in a new mail to as many kids as you know, and encourage them to send it to more. Let’s see how many people we can get! So here’s the mail you can send around:
Dear friends,
Did you know that if you have a room full of silent tuning forks all you have to do is strike one and its vibrations will make all the other tuning forks sing too? You can be that tuning fork!
Join us (no one over 19, please!) as we come together at special places on Earth to get everyone our age to start changing the world. It doesn’t matter if you can’t vote—as long as you feel like we need to change the hellish course the adults have sent us on, then join us.
We’re kicking off the use of the Mayan calendar (the website is attached to this mail). Check it out; if it makes sense to you, then use it and meet up with us on summer solstice. Here are the times:
Egypt/Pyramids @ 7:00 PM on June 21st
> Angkor Wat Temple @ 11:00 PM on June 21st
Machu Picchu @ 11:00 AM on June 21st
Easter Island @ Noon on June 21st
Bring your cell phone! Join us! We CAN make a difference.
I hit the send button and realize that they may just think I’ve totally lost my mind. I know Amisi really well; she had English class with Justine and me and we stalked her until she would talk to us because she was so beautiful and exotic looking. Chantrea goes to a different school and I only know her from the restaurant. I was a seriously regular customer but we never had any big deep conversations or anything. But I do know that she considers herself a closet anarchist so this kind of thing might be right up her alley.
I guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to see what they think.
In the morning the first thing I do is check my email. I can’t believe it, both Amisi and Chantrea have responded.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]
Subject: RE: Hello from Caity Mac Fireland
Hello to you! For some reason I am still on the Academy’s email list and I received an assignment on the Mayan calendar just a few hours before I got your email! Quite a strange coincidence, no?
I would love to help! The day of the gathering I will ask my father to tell the guards that I am permitted to have a few students come into the restricted area around the great pyramid for a class project. It will be a beautiful place for something like this, especially at that time of the evening. I’m sure I can get a few people to show up.
Thank you for including me. I love that it’s all girls doing this—and you and Justine are quite brave to go so far! Chantrea, good luck at Angkor Wat. I was there once on holiday with my parents and was awed by the beauty of Cambodia. In Peace, Amisi
The Daykeeper's Grimoire Page 19
