Lea 3-Book Collection

by Lisa Yee

  I threw my tablet on the bed and began stuffing my pajamas into my suitcase. Zac picked up my tablet and started scrolling through my blog.

  I looked up. “My class has learned a lot about the rainforest,” I told him. “Me too.”

  Zac nodded. “I can see that. I knew you took great photos, but the way you’ve written about the rainforest and Amanda is very moving. I’ll bet if more people were able to read your blog, it would help bring some attention to what’s going on here with deforestation and poaching.”

  “You really think so?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  My heart fluttered. If Zac liked what I had been posting, then maybe others would as well. Even though I’d be back in St. Louis all too soon, the rainforest and its wildlife would still be in danger and its story would need to be told. Zac could help me with that, and Erika and Marcos and Olivia, and even Tomás. Especially Tomás. Like me and my classmates, he was a part of the next generation—so what we did or did not do could determine the future of the rainforest.

  I closed my suitcase and turned back to my tablet. At the bottom of last night’s post, I added,

  To be continued…

  Tomás and Olivia were still asleep, but Zac was right behind me as we climbed into the canoe with Marcos. It was pitch black except for the light of the moon. As the canoe glided across the glassy black water, the buzz of cicadas and the croaking of tree frogs filled the air. Animals were all around me. They always had been.

  “Get ready for one of the most incredible sights you’ll ever see,” Zac said.

  I reached into my bag for my camera. Oh no! I had forgotten that it was still in Marcos’s truck.

  We rounded a bend and then glided down the river to where it opened up for miles and land was far away. There, Marcos cut the motor and let the canoe drift silently.

  A warm pink-and-orange glow on the horizon reflected in the water as the sun began to rise. For a moment the sun hid behind some clouds, lighting them up from within. As the sun rose higher, the white clouds spread across the great expanse of sky that was now turning a light blue. Without the camera lens in front of me, I had a panoramic view of the river. Instead of taking a photo, I felt as though I were part of one. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I took a mental picture, and knew it was something I would never forget.

  When we returned, Tomás was waiting outside with my camera in his hands. I’d forgotten that I had handed it to him yesterday when I held Amanda. He must have had it this whole time.

  “Obrigada,” I said, ruffling his hair.

  Tomás followed me inside and into the bedroom, and sat next to my open suitcase with a frown. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes.

  “I know,” I said. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  I turned around to grab my sweatshirt off the back of the desk chair, and when I turned back, Tomás was gone.

  “Lea!” Zac called out. “Time to go.”

  I closed my suitcase and grabbed my backpack, making sure that Ama’s travel journal was in there. I planned to finish reading it on the plane. I also double-checked to make sure I had my camera this time.

  I thought I had put my flip-flops by the bedroom door, but they were gone. I searched Tomás’s room, looking under the bed, in the closet, and behind the door. They were nowhere to be found, so I dug a pair of sneakers out of my bag instead. I said one last good-bye to the Barroses’ house and headed out the door.

  Olivia hugged me tight as we stood next to the truck. “Come back anytime,” she said. “We love your brother and we love you, Lea.”

  Marcos joined in for a group hug. “It has been wonderful getting to meet Zac’s sister,” he said. “Although now I’ll think of him as Lea’s brother,” he joked.

  “Where’s Tomás?” I asked, eyeing Galo Louco, who was glaring at me from the edge of the yard. When he came near, I tossed a piece of apple that I had saved from breakfast at his feet. He clucked happily as he ate his treat.

  Olivia shook her head. “I think Tomás is hiding,” she said. “He was very sad this morning.”

  I felt a tug on my heart. “I can’t leave without saying good-bye to him.”

  “Lea, we really should leave now if we’re going to stop and see Amanda before we head to the airport,” Zac said.

  “Give me a minute,” I told him. “I think I know where he is.”

  I went to the big tree where Tomás had given me the palm-leaf crown. “Tomás?” I said. “Tomás, I know you’re up there.” The leaves rustled. “Tomás, I want to say good-bye.” One of my flip-flops dropped to the ground, followed by the other one. I couldn’t help smiling. Tomás must have thought that if I didn’t have my shoes, I’d have to stay!

  “Tomás, I have to go now,” I said.

  The leaves rustled again and he climbed down slowly. I gave him a huge hug. When he started to cry, I bent down and wiped the tears from his face. He reached into his pocket and handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it and smiled. It was a drawing of Amanda, him, and me. I held it to my heart and thanked him.

  “You are like a brother to me,” I told him. “Brother. Irmão.”

  This made him smile. He pointed to me and said, “Irmã. Sister.”

  “So what do you think of your first international adventure?” Zac asked as he drove. “You swam in the ocean—and even in the Amazon River!—you created a wonderful blog about Brazil, and you rescued a baby sloth!”

  I smiled. “And I made friends with a crazy chicken,” I added. “Don’t forget that!”

  We both broke out laughing. I thought about the Meeting of the Waters at the beginning of my visit to the rainforest, where the river flowed black on one side and light coffee brown on the other. Maybe that was like Zac and me. We were very different and we always would be. But like the river, we were side by side, moving in the same direction, giving each other strength—and together we could really accomplish something. After all, together we had helped rescue Dad when he fell off the cliff, we had rescued and found a home for Amanda, and now we would help spread the word of the dangers that faced the rainforest. I couldn’t have done any of those things alone, nor would I have wanted to.

  y heart beat faster the closer we got to the wildlife sanctuary. I needed to know how Amanda was doing. A plan was beginning to take shape in my mind, but it sort of depended on Amanda.

  I pulled out Ama’s travel journal and thumbed through it until I found the pages I was looking for: the story about Georgie, the young giraffe my grandmother had adopted in Tanzania.

  Zac had called Erika and let her know we were coming, and she and Amanda met us outside. Something had changed in Amanda. Her eyes sparkled as she raised her paw up to play with Erika’s dangling earring.

  “Someone had a great night,” Erika said, laughing. “The medication finally kicked in. That happens sometimes, because we’re not always sure what dosage or what prescriptions will work best for each animal.”

  “So she’s going to survive?” I asked hopefully.

  “It looks like it,” Erika said, grinning. Without my having to ask, she placed Amanda in my arms. “This little girl has a lot of spunk for a sloth!”

  “I know someone else who could sometimes be mistaken for a sloth, but has a lot of spunk,” Zac teased, nudging me.

  I ignored him. “Erika,” I said as I held the baby sloth close, “I’d like to adopt her.”

  “Lea, we’ve been through this,” Zac said, lowering his voice. “You can’t take her home with you.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I want to help pay for her food or medication, or whatever she needs,” I said. “I have some money from my birthday that I’ve saved, and I’m going to set aside some of my allowance every week. Plus, I’m pretty sure I can get some other kids at school to contribute, too. I’m hoping that with your help, I can follow Amanda’s journey on my blog. Maybe you could keep me updated?”

  “I would gladly do that, Lea.” Erika smiled. “And we would be happ
y to accept your donation. You could be Amanda’s fairy godmother!”

  I grinned and kissed the baby sloth. “Even though I may be far away,” I whispered to her, “I will always be thinking of you.”

  It was a tearful farewell as Mom and Dad embraced Zac, and more crying when I said good-bye to him. But I knew that we would be connected through my blog—and that someday I’d get to visit him in exotic places all over the world.

  As the plane took off, I looked out the window. The green Amazon rainforest went on for miles, but I knew now that the rainforest and its wildlife wouldn’t go on forever unless we humans did more to preserve it.

  I picked up my camera to take some aerial photos, and then I scrolled through the photos of my trip. I smiled when I saw the shots of Tomás looking at the margays and made a mental note to send them to him. That’s when I noticed that there were pictures on the camera I didn’t remember taking. Most were blurry and oddly cropped, but a few were in focus. They were of me! There I was holding Amanda: There was one shot of us nose-to-nose, another with Amanda’s head on my shoulder, and yet another of us looking lovingly at each other.

  Who took these photos? I wondered. Slowly it dawned on me: Tomás. He’d had my camera for my last twenty-four hours in Brazil, and he’d been using it.

  “Thank you, Tomás,” I whispered. I had always been so busy behind the camera that there were few photos of me in front of it.

  I put the camera down and settled in with Ama’s last travel journal. I was eager to read about more of her adventures. She had just visited Egypt and was looking forward to seeing Beijing. But when I turned the page, it was blank. I turned another page, and then another—they were all blank. I turned back to her last entry, and that’s when it hit me. The date was around the same time Ama had learned she was sick. She never did make it to Beijing.

  My heart felt heavy as I looked out the window at Brazil below me. I wished there was some way I could keep Ama’s legacy alive. Then I had an idea. I scrounged around my backpack for a pen, and I opened Ama’s journal to the first blank page. I took a deep breath, and wrote:

  My name is Lea Clark, and I am Amanda Cooper’s granddaughter. Like Ama, I am an adventurer. Recently, I visited Brazil, where I met a new friend, found a little brother, and became the fairy godmother for a baby sloth named Amanda.

  Special thanks to Julie Kline, founder of the Américas Award for Children’s and Young Adult Literature; Nola Senna, Director, Undergraduate Portuguese Language and Brazilian Studies, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign; and Meg Symington, Managing Director, Amazon, World Wildlife Fund.

  To Mary See

  Thank you for always being there for me.

  — L. Y.

  For my grandmother Terry,

  who never let her fears stop her.

  Thank you for showing me what it

  means to live life to the fullest.

  — K. H.

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Camila Is Coming!

  Chapter Two: Seeing in a New Way

  Chapter Three: Coventry House

  Chapter Four: The Necklace

  Chapter Five: The Jewel Box

  Chapter Six: The Library

  Chapter Seven: City Museum

  Chapter Eight: The Mural in the Morning Room

  Chapter Nine: Trapped

  Chapter Ten: A Bridge to the Past

  Chapter Eleven: The Coventry School for Girls

  Chapter Twelve: Hallie

  Chapter Thirteen: Picture Perfect

  Chapter Fourteen: A Return to Brazil

  Copyright

  ea, how’s the cake coming?” my mom asked as she looked over at me from the island in the center of our sunny kitchen.

  “Good!” I replied. I was perched in our corner breakfast nook, surrounded by eggs, sugar, butter, cream cheese, flour, and our bright red mixer, which Mom had set up just for me. I cracked two eggs into the bowl of the mixer and studied my recipe.

  “I think that’s everything… Oh wait, vanilla!” I jumped off my chair and did a running slide in my socks over to the spice cabinet.

  “Slow down, honey,” Mom laughed. “It’s not a race!”

  I nodded, standing on tiptoe to grab the vanilla. I knew she was right—but I was so giddy, it was impossible to slow down. In just a few hours, the girl I’d met two months ago in Brazil, Camila Cavalcante, was arriving in St. Louis to stay with us for an entire week! My stomach did an excited flip. Yesterday in class, I’d been counting the minutes until spring break arrived, but ever since I’d woken up this morning, time felt like it was flying…and so was I.

  I measured out the vanilla and poured it over the other ingredients. In honor of Camila’s arrival, I was making my favorite dessert—gooey butter cake, a St. Louis tradition. I’d made it before with my mom’s help, but this was the first time I was baking on my own. I turned on the mixer. As I listened to the soothing sound and watched the paddle whip everything into a rich golden batter, I took what felt like my first real breath of the day.

  I’d already straightened up my older brother Zac’s room, where Camila would be sleeping. Plus I’d cleaned my room, and now it was so neat that I didn’t even recognize it! I’d also changed the water in my pet turtle Ginger’s aquarium, although she didn’t exactly seem grateful. But then, Ginger wasn’t big on expressions. Turtles seldom are.

  Before starting the gooey butter cake, I’d made sure to set the dining room table for the welcome dinner we were having for Camila. The fancy place settings made it feel as if we were having Christmas in April.

  Mom came over and peered at the buttery yellow batter as I turned off the mixer. “Looks pretty gooey,” she said, smiling. She stuck in a pinkie and tasted the batter. “Perfect-o!” she exclaimed. Without missing a beat, she handed me the baking dish we always used for gooey butter cake.

  She watched as I carefully poured the batter into the pan. It was hard to keep steady when all I could think of was the creamy, sweet gooey butter cake still warm from the oven!

  As the cake began to bake, I set the timer.

  “There,” my mother sighed. “Task #14 done.”

  “Only 437 more to go!” I said cheerfully.

  Mom laughed, but she looked tired. With a full-time job plus taking care of our family, she was always busy, and today was no exception. Mom was making toasted ravioli, Caesar salad, and her famous garlic bread, all from scratch, to welcome Camila.

  “Did you clear out a few drawers in Zac’s room for Camila to use?” Mom asked.

  “Oh no, I forgot!” I said. “I’ll go do it now.” I think my mother could sense that I was mad at myself, because as I crossed to the doorway, she called after me.

  “Sweetheart?” she said gently. “It’s okay if everything isn’t exactly perfect. I’m sure Camila will just be happy to see you.” I knew she was right, but I couldn’t help thinking, Camila’s never been to St. Louis before. I want to make sure she loves it.

  I ran down the hall to the front entry and hustled up the stairs, holding the banister. Our house is more than a hundred years old, and Dad always jokes that it’s held together by charm. It’s kind of true—the stairs lean a little, and none of the doors stay shut. Still, I love it. My mom says it’s “a typical Second Empire Victorian,” but its high tin ceilings and curlicue woodwork make me feel like we live in a life-size dollhouse.

  I stopped to catch my breath on the landing, plopping onto the worn purple velvet bench seat by the bay window. I love the view from here onto Hickory Street, where we live. Below, old maple trees line the block, shading the brick row houses painted in bright hues of blue and pink and yellow. Our neighborhood is known as Lafayette Square. At its heart is Lafayette Park, an elegant garden with wrought-iron gates and a gurgling fountain. Although the houses are old, the lively shops and restaurants make it feel like a quirky mix of old and new, past and present—just how my parents like it.

 
“Lafayette Square suits our family,” Dad often says, and I have to agree. Both of my parents like looking at old things in new ways. My father teaches history at Washington University, and my mother is an architect specializing in restoring old buildings. They renovated our house together when my brother Zac was little. Every time I walk through the rooms, I feel like the house is a treasure my parents found and saved for me.

  In Zac’s room, as I cleared his old clothes out of two dresser drawers for Camila to use, I screamed when I came across his rubber snake collection. Zac! Even though he was far away, he could still make me laugh. His walls were plastered with posters of the Grand Canyon and icy Antarctica next to action shots of pro surfers. Like my grandmother Ama, my brother loves to travel and explore the outdoors. That’s a big reason why he’d decided to study abroad for his last year of college. Back in February, I’d gone with my parents to visit Zac in Brazil. It was the most incredible trip ever. Although it was far from easy (we got lost in the jungle, and my dad broke his leg), I got over my fear of the ocean, rescued a baby sloth…and met Camila!

  Zac was still in Brazil, doing research on poaching in the Amazon rainforest. I tried to picture what he might be doing right now—taking photographs of a rare insect, or canoeing past a caiman. For a moment, I wished I could be there with him. Then I thought, No…Camila and I are going to have our own adventure here!

  Camila and I had gotten along so well in Praia Tropical, the Brazilian seaside town where we met. She was always laughing, always moving, and was full of questions about my life in St. Louis. We’d been sending each other jokes and photos over e-mail ever since we met. When Camila mentioned she was going with her parents to visit relatives in Chicago, I’d suggested that she come to St. Louis afterward. It’s only a half-hour flight, but I don’t think either of us really expected our parents would agree to it. When they did, my heart did a happy cartwheel.