Chapter Fifteen
After our siesta, I hop out of bed and grab my room key.
“Is it time?” Laurel asks.
I nod.
“Finally.” She bounces on her bed. “Good luck!”
My chest flutters with excitement and nerves as I say goodbye to her. I close the door, then spot a sheet of paper taped to it. It’s a pencil sketch of La Pedrera. Abba’s drawn four shadows looking up toward the roof, where each of my teammates poses.
Across the hall, Isa’s door has a sketch taped to it as well. It’s us in the subway, Isa leading the way.
I take the La Pedrera sketch, stomach alive with jitters.
Upstairs, I knock on room 3B’s door.
“It’s unlocked,” Abba calls.
He spots the drawing in my hands as I enter. “I didn’t feel like napping. Do you like it?”
“Yes. Did you draw something for Andy and Gibs, too?”
“I did.” Abba gestures to his bed. His room is like mine except there’s only one of everything, plus a desk where Abba currently sits. “I sketched a little something for each member of your team.”
Nerves swirl in my stomach as Abba unlocks his iPad. Abba clicks into Mom’s contact info, and I silently repeat the first words of the script Laurel and I came up with.
Remember when you told me you could give me space at the airport, but I said I didn’t need it? I was wrong.…
I thrum my fingers as Mom’s face fills the screen.
“Hello, hello!” Mom lifts a piece of fabric up to the screen. “Look who found a new hobby.”
“Is that…” Abba’s brows scrunch. “A cactus?”
“It is!” Mom beams. “I’m learning to cross-stitch. I should have all ten cacti in this pattern done by the time you get back.”
“What happened to learning Southern phrases?” I ask.
“Oh, I was as lost as last year’s Easter egg trying to keep them straight.” Mom laughs. “Cross-stitch makes so much more sense to me. It’s also relaxing. Anyway, how are my favorite people?”
Abba looks at me. “I don’t know about Ellen, but I’m zonked.”
“Because he was drawing instead of napping this afternoon.” I hold up the sketch.
“Traitor!” Abba winks. That’s my cue to know he’s joking.
“I see.” Mom leans in, and I move the sketch closer to the screen. “Is that your scavenger hunt team?”
Not for long.
“Yes.” My shoulders tense, even though it’s technically not a lie yet.
“You all look so happy. Now tell me, where have you visited so far?”
Relief washes through me when she doesn’t ask more questions about my teammates. I tell her about La Sagrada Família, then La Pedrera.
“You know,” Mom says, “I took a few art history classes in undergrad, back before I decided to become a cantor. Gaudí has such an unusual style. Barcelona also has a gorgeous Gothic Quarter, and probably some of the best—”
“Miriam,” Abba says. “Let’s leave it for Ellen to discover.”
“Oh, of course, of course. I’m just thrilled you’re having so much fun.”
With a jolt, I realize I am. I like being a part of my team.
Abba asks Mom about her workday, but I tune them out and try to imagine being on a team with Laurel, Sophie-Anne, and Madison. Like really imagine us figuring out clues and exploring places.
I can’t.
But it’s what I want, isn’t it?
Mom’s phone rings, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“It’s the temple,” she says. “Ugh, I have to take this. But I promise we’ll talk again soon.”
“Right before Shabbat?” I ask.
“Absolutely.”
We say our goodbyes. The screen goes dark, and Abba switches over to his email account.
“Well, that was a nice talk with your ima, even though it got cut short.”
“Yes.” I swallow. “Abba?”
“Hmm?” His eyes stay on his iPad, skimming a new email.
My phone vibrates in my pocket before I can say anything. Three private chat messages from Isa.
Isa (they/them)
As promised, all the puns I could think of.
Let me know if you need help figuring any out!
Isa (they/them)
No matter how hard you push the envelope, it’s still stationery 
Time flies like an arrow 
Fruit flies like a banana 
You can tune a piano but you can’t tuna fish 
The list goes on. So many lines to dissect.
The warm feeling returns. I close my eyes, savoring it.
“Did you need something, metukah?”
I startle, eyes flying open. “No.”
Wait, I did, though.
Abba looks at me. “You’re sure?”
This is my chance. All I have to do is recite my script.
But I’m still stuck on Isa and their pun list. I shake my head.
I take the stairs back to my room as slowly as I can, trying to figure out what happened before I have to face Laurel.
Maybe I didn’t want to hurt my teammates’ feelings.
Or maybe I didn’t ask because it wouldn’t be fair to change teams after we already solved la primera pista.
I still don’t have a clue by the time I spot Laurel in the hall outside our hotel room. She’s put on makeup since I left and changed into a pale-orange dress.
“I couldn’t wait for you to get back.” She looks at Abba’s sketch in my hands. “This is so cute. I just wish he’d drawn you as part of our team.”
She doesn’t seem to notice my silence. “So, what did your dad—”
A door opens. Isa steps out into the hall.
“Hey.” They look at Laurel, then over to me. “Did you get my chat messages?”
I nod, throat tight.
“Cool. Also, Señor L liked how we solved the first clue. He gave us copies of la segunda pista.”
“Oh, good.”
Isa passes me a sheet of paper. I fold it small enough to fit in my pocket as my throat gets tighter.
Laurel’s eyes are on me, but another door opens before I can speak. Boys appear on the stairway. Soon, everyone’s making their way downstairs.
As Señor L leads us to a nearby restaurant, I find myself sandwiched between two very different groups. To my right, Laurel walks beside me, with Sophie-Anne and Madison, all in dresses. On my left, my actual teammates wear shorts and T-shirts.
“Did you guys get a drawing from Mr. Katz, too?” Isa asks.
“Yeah!” Gibs’s voice rings in my ears. “Mine was of all of us at the church.”
“What kind of food do they eat in Barcelona?” Sophie-Anne asks Madison. “I mean, besides what we’ve been eating at the hotel.”
“He’s seriously good at drawing.” That’s probably Isa, but it’s hard to tell. No one else seems to have problems hearing their friends when people talk over one another. Just me.
“Lots of seafood,” Madison says.
“He’s actually a professional artist.” Andy this time. “Have you read his graphic novels?”
I don’t get a chance to hear Isa’s response before Laurel takes my hand and pulls me toward an empty table at the edge of the outdoor seating area. The adults take the table next to us, then my teammates sit down one more spot over. A mix of voices reaches me from Abba’s table, then laughter from Andy, Isa, and Gibs.
I should be chatting with them.
“So.” Laurel taps my shoulder. “What’d your dad say?”
Sophie-Anne and Madison lean forward.
Before I can respond, a server appears. She hands us menus. “¿Bebidas?”
While Madison and Laurel both order a Coke, I pick at the edge of my black shorts.
“Agua, por favor,” Sophie-Anne says.
“¿Agua con gas o sin gas?” the server asks her.
“Sorry, what?”
“Still or sparkling water.”
“Oh. Sparkling, please!”
I order, too. The server leaves us menus, then everyone’s eyes return to me.
“I”—my throat still feels thick, but I force the words out—“can’t be on your team.”
I take a shallow breath, preparing to defend my decision.
“He said no?” Laurel frowns.
I shake my head—as in, Abba didn’t say no because I chose not to ask him.
“I figured that’d happen.” Madison reaches for a menu.
“Still sucks, though.” Sophie-Anne leans toward Madison to read over her shoulder.
“It really sucks.” Laurel’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry you’re stuck on that team, Elle.”
Before I can form the words to correct Laurel, Madison sighs.
“And I’m sorry we’re stuck with Cody. He stinks. As in, literally needs better deodorant.”
I don’t remember Cody smelling when he sat across from us this morning, but Madison doesn’t linger on the subject as she scans her menu. “Anyway, we should figure out what we want to eat. I think the paella.”
Two teen girls pass us on the sidewalk. One holds a phone in front of them both, as they video chat with someone in Spanish. I want to nudge Laurel so we can come up with their story.
Except Laurel’s huddled over Madison’s menu.
Nearby, Jake brags that his team’s done with two clues already. Gibs says something back that I can’t quite make out, then laughter erupts from both tables.
Even though I’m sitting with Laurel, it feels like I’m sandwiched between two groups of people, still the odd one out.