Here Where the Sunbeams Are Green (33 page)

The wall makes whirring mechanical malfunctioning sounds but it’s not budging, and Ken/Neth’s footsteps are right behind me. I whirl around to face him with my weird crown of shrieking birds, and I look straight in his eyes, because if he’s going to destroy me and my family and the birds I might as well show him some fury while I can.

And he’s standing there with his needles, and he’s about to lunge, and behind my back I’m still trying to shove my fingers into the sliding wall.

I only have a split second to wonder why Ken/Neth hasn’t grabbed me yet when suddenly the wall gives—my shoe slips down, my fingers wedge in, the wall starts sliding open before immediately starting to slide shut again. I stick my leg backward into the gap, and the wall jams there, pressing hard on my calf.

“GO!” I scream at the birds. “
GO!
”

They’re still shrieking, clawing and scratching and piercing my head as they launch themselves off it, squeezing through the narrow
gap in the sliding wall, and there they go, and I crane my neck to glimpse them, heading up the hallway, up the stairway, upward, upward, their scream fading.

My knee is trapped and twisted by the wall and now that the birds and their shriek are gone I’m starting to feel pain again, the pressure of the wall becoming way too much to handle. I yank my leg out of it and it slides shut with an angry groan. I turn back to face Ken/Neth.

He’s standing there, staring at me, his arms still raised at his sides, his hands clutching the needles. I stare back at him through the blood running down my face. I wonder what’s going to happen next. Just me and Ken/Neth in this sealed room, and I’ve done exactly what he didn’t want me to do, and now I know that he’s the World’s Greatest Liar, and now I know that all this time he’s been spying on me and Mom and Roo for La Lava. He doesn’t care about my family, or about birds that are almost extinct, or about being a good person. I don’t even consider begging him for mercy.

All the courage is swiftly draining out of my muscles, and I can feel a tremor of dread moving upward from my legs to the rest of my body. I clench my jaw so Ken/Neth won’t see my teeth chattering. It occurs to me that he’s about to attack me with those needles, and I cross my arms over my chest, as if that would make any difference at all.

“You’re brave, Madeline,” Ken/Neth whispers, letting his hands fall limply down by his sides. His face looks solemn, maybe sincere, but his eyes won’t meet mine. “And you come from a great family.”

I blink at him in shock. Before I get the chance to absorb this—Is he
joking
? Is this just a cruel setup to lull me into calmness before he does whatever he’s going to do to me?—a new sound comes
marching down the hallway toward us, the
pow-pow-pow
of heels on marble. And red-hot panic races through my veins.

Patricia Chevalier! So he was just putting me off-guard before she showed up to torture me in some other way! She’s probably already slaughtered Miss Perfect and Mr. Beautiful on one of the stairways. I shiver, picturing their blood dripping down the white marble steps.

I’m pulling away from the wall, preparing to face her, when I realize my dress is stuck in the sliding door! I look over at Ken/Neth to see what he’ll do with me now that I’m completely trapped, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s simply staring at my bloody hair. And I’m going,
Okay, so I guess he’s just waiting to pass me off to Patricia Chevalier—the only person, frankly, who scares me more than Ken/Neth himself
.

The footsteps pause on the other side of the wall. There’s a heaving sound, a woman groaning, and the door slides slowly, slowly open. I scoot out of the way and shut my eyes. I’m not ready for this.

“Holy
Jesús
,” she murmurs, but it sounds more like a prayer than a curse.

My eyes pop open.

Whoa. Double whoa.
Quadruple
whoa!

Vivi! Vivi of the dark shining hair! Vivi of the grass-green dress! Her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, her body jammed there in the doorway star-shaped, arms and legs spread wide to keep it open as it squeezes her. I can see her sculpted arm muscles straining against the pressure.

“Thank god for my personal trainer,” she says, struggling into the room.

She straightens her dress as the wall slides shut behind her.

“
Dios mío,
” Vivi mutters as she takes in the laboratory, the cages, my bloody face, Ken/Neth’s bloody temple, and the needles clenched in his hands. “It’s all true, isn’t it?”

Ken/Neth is still stuck in his frozen stare.

“Thank god I found you,” Vivi says to me.

And the volcano rumbles, but softly.

Vivi turns to look straight at Ken/Neth. “Do you want to know what
hurts
my
heart
right now?” she demands. “Thinking about how much
money
I’ve given this place.”

Then she shakes her shoulders, as though shaking it all off.

“Unless you want your name smeared across the front page of the
New York Times
tomorrow morning, you’re going to come upstairs with me right now,” she barks at Ken/Neth. “But first give me those needles.”

I look up at her, amazed—she’s treating Ken/Neth like he’s not a threat to her or me or anyone else. And I look over at him, waiting for him to protest or yell or pull out a gun or something.

But, dazed, Ken/Neth steps toward Vivi and hands her the needles. She seems comfortable, maybe even happy, as though she’s used to seizing all sorts of weapons from all sorts of men.

“So, where’s your family?” she asks me, and then to Ken/Neth: “Why don’t you open this godforsaken wall for us, buddy.”

Vivi looks expectantly at him, and I try to imitate the look on her face as I stare at him. But Ken/Neth barely seems to notice us. He’s gazing intensely down at the floor, as though the slabs of white marble might explain something important.

“I’m … sorry,” he says, quieter than a whisper. “I … Somehow I …”

“The wall, buddy,” Vivi says impatiently. “Open it.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Ken/Neth murmurs politely, stepping
forward and gazing upward at the face-recognition device on the ceiling.

As the wall slides open, he reaches down, picks up my crunched shoe and my noncrunched shoe, and hands them to me. I slip them on (the right shoe a bit uncomfortable, but better than nothing) and stare at Ken/Neth in wonder. What is
up
with him? Where’s Mr. Evil, Mr. I-Won’t-Help-You, Mr. I’m-Gonna-Chase-You-Down?

With Vivi on his left side and me on his right, Ken/Neth leads us through the sliding wall, down hallways, up staircases. And as we walk, Vivi talks.

“When I get a gut feeling about something I won’t let it go,” she tells us. I love her low, almost growly voice. These warm waves of relief are washing over me as I listen to her. Her words swirl around me—I hear some, others slip away on the warm waves. “See, ever since I got to La Lava I’ve been having these mystical dreams … too much to go into, old cultures and amulets and stuff like that … suffice it to say, I had this
feeling
I was needed here, this
gut
feeling … and then when I didn’t spot the odd girl in the green dress as they were rounding everyone up for evacuation, I snuck away.… You should have seen that Patricia Chevalier, flying out of here in a white SUV all by herself, not stopping to help another soul, screeching in terror the whole way.… Well, let me tell you she doesn’t know the first thing about terror, just wait till the world’s best investigative reporters starting banging down her door.… I grew up in some pretty wild areas; I am
not
scared of volcanoes … so I started searching this whole place for whatever it was my gut was acting up about … knew I was on the right track when these two just
ridiculously
stunning screaming dream birds flew over me like bats out of hell on their way up and out … but the dead-end hallway … if it hadn’t been for that little bit of green dress sticking through …”

I’m just floating along, drifting up staircases, feeling safer than I’ve felt in a long time, when Vivi suddenly stops.

“You!” Vivi shouts, turning to look at me head-on and pointing right at my heart. Startled, I seize up all over again. “
You
are something else, kiddo.”

“You sure are,” Ken/Neth murmurs in agreement. And here’s what’s crazy: He sounds like he means it.

W
e don’t have to force Ken/Neth to look up the second time either. He does it calmly, even
willingly
, raising his head to gaze at the face-recognition device until the wall slides open.

I can’t describe the feeling I have as that white marble wall moves aside and the people I love appear in the dim room beyond.

They’re standing in formation, ready to attack, Dad and Mom in front flanked by Roo on one side and Kyle on the other, Señor V and Señora V behind. So ready are they to rush whatever enemy is coming for them that they actually fall forward a few steps, too shocked to believe that it’s me standing there, along with Vivi and Ken/Neth, his head hanging in what seems to be shame.

Roo is the first one who stops staring speechlessly.

“Mad!” she says. “You look
so freaky
!”

I’d totally forgotten about the blood drying on my face.

“Who
did
that to you?” Roo demands, scowling at Ken/Neth.

“Miss Perfect,” I say, “and Mr. Beautiful, her mate. When I was helping them escape.”

“Miss Perfect is ALIVE? And she
ESCAPED
? With her
MATE
?” Roo shrieks joyously.

With that they break formation and burst out of the shadowy room—Roo racing ahead of everyone else, and Kyle right behind her (Kyle!), followed by Mom and Dad and the Villaloboses. They all blink in the warm light of the hallway as they surround me.

“Well, yeah,” I explain, “I got her and Mr. Beautiful from this cage, and then I held a sliding wall open with my foot, and they went flying out.” It feels weird to describe it that way, as though I knew what I was doing all along. As though I wasn’t just bumbling around.

Mom uses the edge of her ball gown to wipe the blood off my face. “My little monkey!” she whispers. “My mockingbird, my frog!” which is a lot more normal than
my beautiful, beautiful girls
, and I have to say it’s a big relief. Kyle is staring at me all disbelievingly, and Dad puts his hands on my shoulders and calls me Madpie, and Señora V says something in Spanish that I can’t understand but I think it’s a compliment, and Señor V grins deeply and silently at me.

“I sent my chauffeur off with all the other evacuees,” Vivi announces, “but my limo’s out front, so let’s get
outta
here.”

But I’m distracted by Roo wrapping her arms around my waist and telling me how my guard was
so peeved
that I snuck away, but how Ken/Neth told him, “Oh, the kid in the green dress? Don’t waste time looking for her—she’s the wimpy one, she’d never try anything.”

I look over at Ken/Neth, standing off to the side, and I’m seriously shocked to see that he’s
smiling
. I’m pretty sure it’s not a mean smile. I’m pretty sure it’s an I-wish-I-had-what-you-have smile, an I’ve-done-bad-things-for-money-but-all-I-really-want-is-a-family-like-yours smile. And you know what? I want to feel other things toward Ken/Neth; I want to feel anger, I want to feel betrayed and tricked and
mad
, but right now all I feel is pity.

Ken/Neth senses me looking at him and steps toward me. I spring backward, clinging to Roo, suddenly frightened.

“Oh,” Ken/Neth says sadly, as though I’ve wounded him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you jump away when I get close. But of course I understand.”

Everyone goes silent and stares at Ken/Neth. The beak-gash on his forehead is dark with clotted blood. There’s dried blood on the collar of his white shirt. His orange tie is cockeyed. He looks a little like a maniac.

Then he falls to the floor in front of Dad, his hands on Dad’s feet, and I’m going,
Wait, is Ken/Neth
bowing
to Dad
, worshipping
Dad? Or is he trying to hurt him in some new way?

But then I see that Ken/Neth is pulling something out of the breast pocket of his tuxedo, something black and plastic, and I see that he’s lifting Dad’s pant leg to reveal the green flashing light, and then he’s bringing the plastic key up to the tracking device.

The tracking device falls off Dad’s ankle, landing with a dull clunk on the marble.

“Let me just say,” Ken/Neth mutters, slowly standing up and looking at each of us, though not at our faces, only at our feet. “Let me just say this one thing. Sometimes … a situation can spiral out of control. Sometimes you just … go along step by step, trying to do what makes the most sense at each turn. Someone approaches you, asks you to do something … offers you compensation that makes you feel like you’re worth something. You tell yourself you’ve always been a person of good intention. You … somehow believe that’s still true. You even start to feel like you’re the best version of yourself when you’re around the family you’ve been sent to keep an eye on.… Sometimes you’re not sure if you’re just an incredible actor or if you really do get a kick out of these kids, if you really do think
their mother is a great lady. You convince yourself you’re just doing what you have to do … and then suddenly you find yourself in a face-off with a bighearted twelve-year-old kid, and
bam
, there you are, the bad guy … even though you never meant to be.”