The Biodome loomed in front of us like a spaceship. Tim the Motor Coach Operator pulled obligingly close to the front entrance, and we scurried into the building through the driving rain. The structure had been built less than twenty years ago, and the exhibits were all centered around animals. So, there was a very good chance this portion of our trip would be ghost free. Plus, I was a sucker for anything having to do with a rainforest—and in the Biodome they had recreated one and imported the appropriate animals.
Sid had produced his clipboard at the ticket counter, and various forms and bits of paper were being exchanged. Mrs. Redd stood nearby nodding as if her life depended on it. It was then that I noticed we were missing some key people. I pushed my way through the students and tapped Mrs. Redd on the elbow.
“Oui, Katuh?” she said, Frenchifying my name by adding a syllable to the end.
“Um, Madame Rouge, my mother… the two parent chaperones, my mom and Mrs. Gray. They’re not here.”
“Non,” she said. “Elles ne sont pas nécessaires ici parce que—”
“Could we maybe do this part in English?” I asked, adding a bright smile because grown-ups often like that sort of thing.
“Ah. We are here to speak French, Kat. But in any case, we’re giving them a bit of a break while we’re at the Biodome. Sid and I will be with you at all times, of course, but this is a completely enclosed facility. None of you can accidentally wander off or get lost, so your mère and la mère de Jac have gone for a coffee.”
“Gone for a coffee?” I asked. “Like, a coffee in the same place? Together?”
“Oui, ensemble,” she declared. When I stared blankly, she added, “Yes, together.”
“I… well. Okay. Thank you.”
I walked back to Jac, taking a stealth note of Ben’s position as I went. He had obtained a map of the Biodome and was studying it intently.
“Jac, something weird is going on,” I said.
“Yeah, why isn’t he over here with us?” Jac asked, a little too loudly. She was wearing a strawberry-red fleece that was absolutely enormous on her and somehow complemented her floppy red hair. I took a moment to remind myself of her adorableness before shushing her.
“Not so loud, jeez,” I said. “I’m not talking about Be… about that. It’s our moms. Apparently, they went for coffee together.”
Jac looked weirded out.
“Together? As in with each other?”
“I know, right? What can they possibly have to talk about?”
“Nothing,” Jac said quickly. “It’s stupid. Forget it.”
Forget what? Jac was acting very weird. Then again, she often acted weird.
I started to ask, but was interrupted by Sid.
“Okay, guys, so we’re gonna go in. I know you’ve all done your reading so you know that there are four complete ecosystems recreated right here in the Biodome. We’re gonna start in the rainforest.
“There’s only one way to go, from one exhibit to the next, and once you’ve left one you can’t go back in. So take your time, drink it all in, and we’ll meet up at the exit of the last exhibit by the gift shop in two hours. And no flashes on the cameras, please, because they aren’t so good for the animals.”
Our little herd began moving forward. Mikuru and Indira were chattering excitedly with Yoshi close behind them, scanning the rest of the crowd like a Secret Service agent. The Random Boys were imitating some sort of primate, or maybe they always behaved that way in museums. Who knew? Phil was recording everything on a tiny video recorder. Ben, still holding the map, was waiting to the side for a break in the crowd.
“Kat Roberts, it’s time,” Jac said.
“Are you going to let Ben Greenblott walk all by himself? It’s ridiculous. You’re dying to hang out with him. So, do something. Go and ask him to walk with us. It’s just the Biodome; it isn’t… brain surgery.”
I took a deep breath and looked Jac in the eye.
“I can’t,” I told her.
“You can,” Jac said. “Look at Brooklyn.”
I did. She was applying a heavy coat of lip gloss and casting pointed looks in Ben’s direction.
“She looks like she’s getting ready to go talk to him,” Jac said.
Now, there was no way Jac could know what Brooklyn meant to do. But truth be told, it did seem possible.
“Do you want that to happen?” Jac pressed. “Ben’s so nice, if Brooklyn attaches herself to him he might not be rude enough to tell her to get lost.”
A terrifying thought.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I said.
“Good,” Jac said. “Let’s have a code word in case you want me to leave you two alone.”
“We don’t need a code—”
“Glockenspiel,” Jac said. “If you want me to buzz off, say glockenspiel.”
We did not need a code word. Of that I was sure. Not today, anyway. But since the chances of my ever figuring out how to use the word glockenspiel in a sentence were slim to none, it probably didn’t matter.
“Okay,” I said. “Do I look—”
Jac reached out and untwisted my earring. She grabbed a section of my hair on one side and put it in front of my shoulder. Then she reached into her bag, produced a tiny bottle, and gave me a squirt of the same perfume she’d spritzed me with at the hotel.
“Now,” she said.
It’s good to have the kind of friend who can perform this sort of appearance tune-up without hurting your feelings. I gave her a smile, and as the line moved forward I veered off in Ben’s direction. He glanced up from the map as I approached, then did a double take when he saw it was me, which was kind of… well. Gratifying.
“Hey, Ben,” I said.
I’m sorry. I was very nervous. It was all I could come up with.
“Hey, Kat,” he said, and the greeting just sounded so much cooler coming out of his mouth. “Are you psyched? I know it sounds nuts, but I’ve wanted to visit a rainforest all my life.”
I stared at him for a second, truly surprised.
“Me too,” I said. “But, actually, seriously me too. I mean… I…”
I was out of words. And in spite of the fact that I had not even approached the word glockenspiel, Jac was nowhere to be seen.
“I guess this is as close as we’re going to get,” he told me.
What?
What?
I must have been staring with my mouth hanging open.
“To a rainforest,” Ben said. “For the time being. I guess this is as close as we’re going to get to a real rainforest.”
I am the stupidest person in the world, sometimes. This was one of those occasions.
“Exactly what I was going to say,” I lied.
The line had been moving during my display of stupidity, and we found ourselves at the threshold of the rainforest. The entrance was a small tunnel hung with long strips of rubber and plastic that you had to brush through. It was like going through a car wash. Without the car.
When we emerged on the other side, I came to a full stop, overwhelmed.
The energy was delicious. The air was thick and warm and moist. It smelled of earth and leaves and water. There were unfamiliar sounds all around—bird calls and hoots and rushing water. It was as if we were on another planet entirely. I felt more than saw Jac at my elbow, which meant that she was either coming to my rescue or bored with leaving me alone with Ben.
“My hair is going to frizz,” she said.
“Jac, it’s like… it’s like paradise!” I exclaimed.
“If you say so, Voodoo Mama,” Jac said. “Seems to me there could be all kinds of aggressive rainforest-type insects in here. Based on what I’ve seen in the movies, they’re probably supersized. I need a bug detector. Do you think they sell them in the gift shop?”
“Will you look at that tree?” murmured Ben.
I was already looking at it. It was like the great-grandfather of trees—warm and wide and strong and reaching far up into the air where I could see movement on its branches.
Ben walked over and placed both hands on the trunk, and he leaned in close so his face was almost touching the bark. I was on the verge of asking Jac to secretly snap a picture of him doing this delightful thing when I began to hear voices again.
The voices were male, there were a number of them, and they were speaking or chanting in a guttural language so foreign to me I couldn’t even begin to identify it. And unless there was some odd, avant-garde bit of performance art taking place somewhere in the Biodome, the voices were not coming out of my time, or my space.
But they weren’t ghosts. Not the way I usually experienced them. My eyes were open. People were moving about, pointing at things and taking pictures and walking and talking, and there were no spirits cavorting amidst them. But I could hear this strange chanting clear as a bell. What was happening to me?
Should I be scared?
I had gotten a half minute or so into serious consideration that I might be experiencing some sort of mental breakdown—because let’s face it, hearing voices is never the best sign—when I heard a dainty scream. Shoshanna was standing a few feet away from me pointing at a spider—a very large, hairy spider that may well have been carrying some sort of weapon. The fact that the spider was displayed under Plexiglas and had all the appearances of being, you know, dead, had not done anything to alleviate Shoshanna’s distress at having seen it. The Satellite Girls instantly surrounded her, at least three of them did, making sympathetic sounds of disgust and covering their faces with their hands. Both of the sporty Random Boys joined the group, alternating between mocking the girls’ fear and offering anti-spider protection services.
Brooklyn had been left out of this comfort-fest and stood off to one side, unable to squeeze into the crowd and equally unable to tear herself away from it. When it became obvious that the sea of Satellite Girls was not going to part and welcome her in, Brooklyn took a few confused steps in the opposite direction. She caught sight of Ben, his hands still on the tree, and she walked over and stood behind him, clearing her throat. When he didn’t move, or acknowledge her in any way, she spoke.
“Ben,” she said, more loudly than she needed to. She shot me a look to make sure I was listening.
“Ben,” she repeated, “Can you help me with my camera? The thing won’t—”
Ben held up one hand in a “wait a minute” gesture. He remained with his back to her, hands on the tree. Brooklyn stood for an uncomfortable minute, then looked in another direction, like someone had called her name. Which no one had.
She took a step back from Ben, weighing her options. Then her eyes met mine. And they narrowed. I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t see. Brooklyn was in the middle of one huge incomplete forward pass. Why should I make it less embarrassing than it was? Brooklyn should have picked another boy to bat her eyelashes at, plain and simple.
“Bummer about that camera,” I said.
“Be quiet, Spooky,” Brooklyn said. She came right over to me and got in my face a little.
“I almost didn’t come on this trip because of your gypsy mother,” Brooklyn said.
What?
“That’s right. My mother was very concerned about your mother being a chaperone. Actually, most of the mothers were concerned about it. It’s inappropriate. A fortune-telling crystal ball reader has no business supervising children. And I think it’s my duty to make sure Ben has all the facts about your family.”
My face flushed furiously with rage. Once, when Brooklyn had said similar things about my mother, I had gotten so angry I recited a fake incantation and made her believe I was conjuring up spirits to haunt her. I knew it was wrong for any medium to deliberately cause fear, and I’d promised both myself and my mother I’d never do it again. But I certainly enjoyed the memory of Brooklyn running away from me in terror.
“How come you’re not hanging out with Shoshanna?” I asked innocently, as if the subject of my mother had never come up. “Oh yeah, I forgot. She doesn’t like you anymore.”
“Of course she likes me,” Brooklyn snapped.
“Really? I thought people who liked each other usually hung out together. Even talked to each other. My mistake.”
“Shut up,” Brooklyn said. “I’m out of here. I’ll catch Ben later, make sure he gets up to speed on our local coven of witches, sorry, I mean your family.”
“You do that,” I said, scowling. “If you can get him to give you even a minute of his attention.”
“Oh, I can do much better than that,” Brooklyn declared. She tossed her high-maintenance hair and walked off, navigating around the Satellite Girls like she hadn’t noticed them, and making a beeline for the oversized toothy fish display.
I felt uncomfortable. Ben obviously wasn’t high on Brooklyn, but I knew when she put her mind to something she could be extremely driven. Particularly when that something would make someone else upset.
I used to think people like Brooklyn Bigelow existed only in books and movies. By which I mean people who took pleasure in deliberately causing difficulties or unhappiness for others, simply because they found it fun. But Brooklyn Bigelow was sadly real. Maybe she had low self esteem. Maybe her parents were mean to her, and she was merely turning her pain outward and dulling it by being cruel to others. Maybe Brooklyn Bigelow was miserable on the inside.
Frankly, I didn’t care. I hated her.