by Lisa Yee
When he saw my eyes widen, Marcos added, “As long as you follow the safety rules and respect the wildlife, you’ll be safe. Animals won’t bite if you leave them alone.”
Zac nodded. “Believe me, Lea, the animals’ idea of a good time is not to hang out and have humans for supper, but for us to leave them alone. By splashing around in the water like that, you disturbed their habitat.”
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open in disbelief. Was he seriously taking the piranhas’ side?
Marcos started paddling again, past the maze of roots and plants. We emerged from the curtain of leaves, and I shaded my eyes from the bright sunlight that was just beginning to peek over the trees. Once we reached the middle of the river, Marcos started the boat’s engine and we zoomed ahead. The warm wind whipped through my still-damp hair like the best blow-dryer in the world. In the distance, I could see the Barroses’ yellow house. It looked tiny, like a dollhouse. I was eager to get out of my wet clothes, but sorry that the river cruise was already over.
After I had showered and changed into fresh clothes, I went outside for some time alone. I scanned the yard for Galo Louco, and was glad to see that he was penned up behind the fence. I walked to the dock and waved to Marcos as he motored away to pick up the first of his tour groups. Then I sat on the edge of the dock for a long time, thinking about how brave I had felt just a few days ago in Praia Tropical. Now I felt like a coward. I had been in the rainforest for less than twenty-four hours and already the two kinds of animals I had come into contact with had scared me—and one was just a dumb chicken! What would I do if I really did come face-to-face with an anaconda—or a jaguar?
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a screen door slamming shut. I looked up to see Tomás bolt out of the house and scramble up a massive, gnarled tree in the yard. Shortly after, Zac came out.
“Tomás, onde você está?” he called out. Then he noticed me on the dock. “Lea, have you seen Tomás? We’re playing hide-and-go-seek!”
“If I told you, wouldn’t that be cheating?” I asked, heading toward him. I glanced at the tree and smiled. The leaves rustled, and I could see one of Tomás’s legs among the branches.
Zac looked up. “Está aí, Tomás?” he asked. “Are you there?”
“Não estou aqui,” Tomás replied.
Zac chuckled. “He says he isn’t there.”
I laughed along. When I was little, I used to love playing hide-and-go-seek with Zac. Now, here he was halfway across the world playing the same game with his new family.
“Tomás?” Zac called up.
In an instant, Tomás scrambled down the tree and leapt into Zac’s arms, laughing. I felt a strange twinge watching the two of them. My brother seemed so comfortable here with Tomás and his host parents. He seemed like he was at home.
fter lunch, I opened up my tablet to read my classmates’ comments on yesterday’s blog post. The first comment was from Dax, the boy who always calls me a scaredy-cat.
I don’t believe you. Are you really in the rainforest? Where are all the wild animals?
That’s what I wanted to know! I was determined not only to see some myself, but to photograph them and post the photos to my blog for my classmates to see. I responded with a short blog post about this morning’s river cruise:
The rainforest is unlike any place I have ever seen or even imagined. Even the air is different here—it’s humid and smells like a greenhouse. There are walls of plants that tower up and block out the sun. And the Amazon River, well…though it might not have been my plan to go for a swim, I did! I fell in headfirst! I’m lucky the piranhas didn’t get me…or the caimans…or the electric eels!
I smiled. That should satisfy Dax, I thought. At least for now. I logged off and went into the living room to remind Zac that he had said he’d take me on a hike today.
Tomás wanted to join us, but Olivia made him stay behind so that Zac and I could have some time to ourselves. I was secretly glad that he wasn’t tagging along. Tomás was cute, but I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous whenever I saw Zac playing with him like he used to do with me. In fact, it seemed like Zac had forgotten that he had a real sibling right here in Santa Sofia.
It was almost as if my brother was more interested in being a part of the Barros family than our own family. I wondered what my mom and dad were doing. I’d had lots of sleepovers at Abby’s, but I had never been this far away from my parents before. Being fifteen hundred miles apart was a lot different from being three blocks away, and e-mailing was not the same as being in the same room.
Zac had the rest of the year to be with Tomás, but only one week with me. It would be nice, I thought, to have my brother to myself for a while.
As we walked through the rainforest, I was on high alert any time I heard a sound, thinking it might be an animal nearby. I stopped so often that I almost lost sight of Zac a couple of times. Yikes, I thought. Getting lost in the rainforest was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.
The rainforest was dense with tropical trees and plants. At times it was hard to see the dirt path that meandered in and out of hidden passages, through bushes, and under and over fallen tree branches. Zac had no problem climbing over the branches, but one was a struggle for me. I tripped and scraped my knee and cried out with surprise.
Zac was by my side instantly. “You okay, Lea?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m totally fine,” I assured him. “Let’s keep going!”
“Okay, but keep your voice down or else you’ll scare away all the animals.”
My eyes lit up, but I contained my excitement. Just to be sure that we couldn’t get lost, I kept taking photos of landmarks in case we needed to backtrack, the way I had during our hike in Praia Tropical. I got so busy taking photos that I lost sight of Zac.
Instinctively, I reached for Ama’s compass necklace, but instead I touched the seed necklace that Marcos had given me. I took a deep breath. Don’t panic, I reminded myself. Zac couldn’t be far away. I wanted to call for him, but I didn’t want to ruin my chances of seeing the animals.
I cupped my hands. “Zac?” I called in a loud whisper. “Where are you?”
Something hit my shoulder. An anaconda? A giant spider? I flinched and spun around.
Zac was standing behind me. “Man, you’re jumpy,” he whispered. “What’s the matter?”
“Um, nothing,” I said, shaking off my nerves. Come on, Lea, I told myself. Get it together. “I was hoping that we’d see more wild animals,” I said as I followed Zac through a dense wall of vines. “I mean, besides the piranhas we saw this morning.”
“If you pay attention, you’ll find that they’re all around us,” Zac said.
I raised my camera, but I didn’t see any movement amidst the leaves. Zac must have been mistaken—or maybe I was. I had thought that the rainforest would be filled with animals, sort of like the St. Louis Zoo, only here the animals could roam freely.
Zac sensed my disappointment. “I’ll see if Marcos can take us on a night cruise along the river after dinner,” he promised. “The rainforest really comes alive with wildlife at night!”
“But won’t it be hard to see?” I asked.
“Not if you use all of your senses,” Zac said mysteriously.
I wondered what he meant. I mean, if I couldn’t see, then how would I know that the animals were there—and how would I get any pictures? I had told my friends that I was going to see lots of wildlife, and that I’d take photos. But how could I do that if the animals didn’t show up? Or if they did, but I couldn’t see them?
I swatted the bugs that buzzed in my ear and was glad that I had put on a triple layer of insect spray.
“We’re making too much noise,” Zac said. “The wildlife can hear you coming, especially when you’re on foot, and they warn the others. Listen.” I cocked my head and heard deep hoots in the distance. “That’s the sound of monkeys warning one another that there are humans nearby,” he said.
Zac poin
ted up. Above us a pair of monkeys leaped from tree to tree. I raised my camera and took a burst of shots as the monkeys disappeared into the canopy.
Finally! I couldn’t wait to post this on my blog. But when I scrolled through the photos, all I saw were trees. The monkeys had been too fast, or I had been too slow. I still had nothing to show my classmates.
We stopped so that I could take a drink of water. I was about to sit on a log when I spotted a line of black ants marching across it. That was a close call! I focused my lens and began snapping pictures, following the ants down the log, up a tree, and…I gasped. If I hadn’t seen it through my lens I would have thought it was a mountain of dirt, but up close I could see hundreds—no, thousands…maybe millions!—of ants. The mountain of ants was about as tall as Tomás. This was something to blog about!
Buoyed by my find, I grabbed a stick and handed it to Zac. “You know what would be cool?” I asked, breathless with excitement. “Take this stick and poke the anthill. And when the ants start to go crazy, I’ll shoot a video for my blog!” The video would be epic and amazing! Even Dax would be impressed. I raised my camera. “Go ahead, I’m ready,” I called to Zac. “Action!”
Zac didn’t move. He just stood there with the stick dangling at his side. Maybe he didn’t hear me.
“Go for it,” I said again. “Any time now.”
Through the lens I saw Zac drop the stick and advance toward me. He looked angry.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Why didn’t you poke them?”
“I’m really disappointed in you, Lea,” he said sternly, and pushed past me.
What did I do now? I wondered as I watched him walk away.
“I don’t get it,” I called after him. “They’re just ants, Zac!”
He shook his head and stopped to look at me. “Just ants? We don’t bash an anthill for entertainment. We don’t destroy their habitat for a video so you can show off to your friends back home. What were you thinking?”
My face flushed red. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t thought about that.
“Those ants are just going about their own business,” he went on. “For us to bother them, to disturb them, is wrong. Not only is it inconsiderate, but they’ll think you’re attacking them and fight back. Get all of them riled up, and you could have some serious ant bites. And if they were bullet ants—which, thankfully, they are not—one bite could paralyze you—or me!”
“I—I didn’t think—” I sputtered.
“Clearly,” Zac said, shaking his head.
He turned to head back to the Barroses’ house and I followed, embarrassed and ashamed. I had just thought it would make a good video. But I had let Zac down. I had let the rainforest down. I had let myself down.
When we got back to the house, Zac went inside without a word.
I wandered down to the dock and dangled my feet in the water, feeling alone and naive and totally out of my element. A couple of small boats passed, and when the passengers waved, I waved back, grateful for the friendly gesture. But clearly, I didn’t belong here.
After a while, I headed back toward the house. I’d e-mail Abby and Camila, I decided, and maybe even try to video-chat with Mom and Dad. That would make me feel better.
But as I neared the front door I heard a familiar crowing sound. Great. Galo Louco was heading toward me, blocking my way to the house. Not knowing what else to do, I scrambled up the gnarled tree that Tomás had used as a hiding place.
Urrgg! I am such a totally clueless city girl, I thought as I straddled a low, sturdy branch. Enemy to the ants, scared of a chicken. I felt homesick. And embarrassed that I had bragged to my class about all the wild animals I was going to see—and ashamed that my bragging had driven me to consider destroying the ants’ home. A few tears streamed down my cheeks, and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. It felt good to cry, and I was glad no one was around to see my pity party.
After a few minutes, I thought I heard someone say my name. I looked down, but no one was there. All I saw was Galo Louco strutting around the tree trunk—and he wasn’t talking.
“Lea,” the voice said again.
I looked up.
Tomás waved at me shyly from his perch on a higher branch. He wore a crown made from the leaves of a palm frond. He climbed down to a branch near mine and looked at me with curiosity.
“Por que você está chorando?” he asked, running his fingers down his cheeks to signal tears.
I pointed to the chicken and shrugged, wiping the tears from my face. I was certain he was going to laugh at me. But instead, Tomás pulled a piece of fruit out of his pocket. He threw it past Galo Louco, who went running after it.
Then Tomás took the crown off his head and handed it to me.
“Obrigada,” I said, feeling better.
“De nada,” he said.
I put the crown on my head, and when Tomás smiled, so did I.
s the day wore on, I still felt awkward around my brother. I was so ashamed of my behavior with the ants that I couldn’t even look at him. At dinner, we didn’t say much to each other. Olivia and Marcos were busy chatting and didn’t seem to notice. But Tomás sat between us and kept glancing back and forth at Zac and me.
“So, Lea,” Marcos said, pushing away from the table, “Zac mentioned you might be up for a night cruise on the river?”
I looked up from my plate where I had been poking at my food, and smiled. “Yes!” I glanced at Zac, but he didn’t take his eyes off his meal. I was glad that he had kept his promise and asked Marcos to take us out on the boat.
Even though I could hardly wait to get back on the river, I did my best not to rush through the rest of my meal. After we packed away the leftovers and cleaned the dishes, we went out to the dock.
In the canoe, I sat up front near Marcos while my brother sat with Olivia and Tomás toward the rear, leaving several rows of seats between us. After cruising along at a high speed, Marcos cut the motor and let the canoe drift silently. It was eerie and beautiful at the same time. The bright moon reminded me of the night in Praia Tropical when we watched the baby turtles hatching from their shells and making their way toward the welcoming waves of the ocean. I wondered how the hatchlings were doing and how many had made it to safety.
Tomás started singing quietly. “Brilha, brilha, estrelinha…” I recognized the tune and realized that he was singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” in Portuguese. After a while, Tomás finished his song and we were silent again. Marcos used an oar to slow the boat and let the current carry us.
“I don’t see any animals,” I whispered to Marcos.
I could see Marcos’s smile in the moonlight. “To know the rainforest is not just to see it, but to hear it,” he whispered. “Close your eyes,” he instructed. I did as I was told. “Now listen. Listen. Listen.”
I expected to hear the hoots of monkeys that I had heard in the forest earlier that day. But instead I just heard a constant high-pitched, pulsing hum.
“What is that buzzing sound?”
“Those are millions of cicadas,” Marcos replied. “Keep listening. Try to listen deeper.”
Listen deeper? What did he mean? I closed my eyes tight and I tried hard to listen. I wanted to hear what he was talking about so badly.
“Relax, Lea,” Marcos said softly. “This is not a test. Just relax and listen.”
I hadn’t realized that my shoulders had tensed. I exhaled—and that’s when I began to hear it. Softly at first, then more clearly through the droning cicadas: a glorious symphony of sounds wafting through the warm Amazon air. Tree frogs, night birds, the splashes of animals entering the water. As the wildlife conversation rose all around us, Marcos taught me to isolate each animal’s unique sound. The hoots and squawks of owls, the creaking croak of tree frogs, the flutter of wings, and caimans splashing in the water. How could I have missed all this before? It was beautiful, and even though I was in the canoe with others, I felt as if the wildlife were serenading me alone.
> I looked at Zac, wanting to tell him how much I loved this. But I knew we were supposed to stay quiet.
“It is so hot in the rainforest that most animals sleep during the day,” Marcos explained in a low voice. “When it cools off at night, that’s when they come out.”
He picked up a flashlight and turned it on. I was surprised by the strong beam of red light. “A regular flashlight would disturb the animals, but this red light lets us see them without bothering them.”
He swept the powerful light along the shore. I could see lots of small flashes of red in the trees above us and on the riverbank just a few yards away.
“What are those flashes?” I asked.
“Animals’ eyes, reflecting the red light,” he explained.
I sat up, alert. The animals were so close!
Marcos trained the light far up into a tree. I could see four sets of glowing red eyes. I strained to get a better look.
“It’s a family of sloths,” he said.
My breath caught in my chest. There they were, their lanky arms clutching the tree branches. Sloths! I longed to see them up close.
We continued down the river, and Marcos slowed the canoe. “This is a favorite spot for caimans,” he whispered. “Like most animals, they have very sharp hearing. If we make any sudden noises, they’ll swim away. We aren’t nearly as interesting to them as they are to us.”
With the canoe drifting near shore, Marcos swept the area with his flashlight. Dozens of small red lights lit up, some in the water, some on land. Caimans! My heart leapt with joy—and a little fear. “How sturdy is the canoe?” I whispered, my voice unsteady.
