CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mud, Rain, and Tears

As the bus bumped along, the sky outside Danya’s window grew darker. Madame Angelica was taking a nap now, and most of the other performers on the bus were sleeping as well. Danya wished she could sleep, but her mind was moving too fast. Finally, she pulled out her notebook and her lucky purple gel pen. On the very last page, she jotted down a line for each day she’d been away from home. There was one for the night they crept onto Turtle’s truck, one more for the night they spent at Graceland, and a third on the cruise ship. . . .

Three whole days away from home. Danya felt suddenly light-headed as she looked down at her wobbly pen marks. That meant today was Wednesday. She had one more day to reach her grandmother and get the money for Sancho. She capped her pen and tapped it against her leg, thinking. What would happen if the bald man showed up at her house and Sancho wasn’t there? Would her dad get in trouble? They had a contract, Danya knew, and her dad had already spent the money the man gave him paying for the mortgage. Could her dad go to jail if she didn’t get home in time?

Danya shook her head, trying to force that horrible thought away. Sighing, she reached down to scratch Sancho’s head, worried he might be uncomfortable, but he was fast asleep, too. The hair hanging over his nose fluttered as he snored.

Outside, thunder rumbled and the clouds broke open. Rain poured down. It slapped against the ground and the side of the bus and tapped on Danya’s window like an old friend. She sighed and leaned against the window, watching the lines of water trail down the glass. Pia wasn’t sleeping, either, but they hadn’t spoken since they’d gotten their fortunes told. Danya hadn’t been able to think of a thing to say. Every time she opened her mouth, the only thing that came to her mind was . . .

In order to get the fortune you seek, you must forgive yourself.

She clenched her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against the rain-cooled glass, trying not to think about it.

Before long, the bus pulled off of the well-lit highway and traveled down a dark, muddy road. For the first time since picking a card from Madame Angelica’s deck, Pia glanced up.

“Where do you think they’re taking us?”

Danya shrugged. “Wherever it is, it looks muddy.”

The bus slowly wound its way down the muddy road, which was longer and darker than Danya thought possible. Finally, it slowed to a stop, and the engine sputtered off. The door screeched open, and flashlights flicked on as the performers began to file outside.

A shadow with big, bushy hair made its way to the back of the bus. Once it was standing in front of Pia and Danya, a light flicked on, illuminating Penn’s face.

“Hey there, reptiles,” she said, holding the flashlight under her chin. “We’re all heading out to put up our tents. Think you two can handle this one? We’re just going to the clearing up ahead. You can’t miss it.”

She handed Pia a blue canvas and a bundle of metal poles. Danya assumed those things came together to form some sort of tent-like structure, though she had no real idea how.

“We’re supposed to do this in the rain?” Pia asked.

“And in the dark. The dark rain.” Danya poked at the pile of tent, half hoping it would leap from Pia’s arms and build itself.

“Oh, this is for you, too,” Penn added, motioning to the flashlight. “When you get off the bus, just turn left and follow the dirt path for about a hundred feet. Do you think you’ll need help?”

Danya was just opening her mouth to say yes, of course they needed help, when Pia interrupted her.

“Nah,” she said. “Looks easy.”

“Cool.” Penn flicked off the flashlight and tossed it to Danya before scurrying back out into the dark.

“I could have used help,” Danya said under her breath. Pia didn’t seem to hear her.

“I guess we should—” Before she could finish her sentence, Pia was interrupted by a crack of thunder so loud it shook the bus. Sancho woke with a start, snorting as he struggled to his feet.

“—go?” she finished. Danya glanced out the window and shivered.

By the time the two girls and Sancho negotiated their bodies (and tails) out of the bus, there was a small circle of tents set up amid the trees. Flashlights blinked on and off behind the canvas walls.

“Looks like we’re on our own,” Danya said. Sancho whinnied and nudged her forward with his nose.

Together the girls dragged themselves through the mud (Danya lost one scaly foot and her left, clawed glove) and found a dampish, flattish area of land beneath a dripping tree.

Pia dropped the tent onto the ground, and the girls knelt next to it. Danya picked up two poles and tried to get them to stand in the mud. Sancho held them steady with his nose, and for a moment, they kind of seemed like they would balance . . . but then a particularly large raindrop fell from the sky and knocked them over. Sancho scurried out of their way, his hooves making hollow plomping sounds in the mud.

“There are these short, kind of pointy stick things,” Pia said, holding up a wooden stake. “I think we’re supposed to, like, tie them to the poles using the edges of the tent.”

“That makes sense,” Danya said.

The girls worked together in silence trying to ignore the rain that plastered their hair to their foreheads, and dripped down the backs of their costumes, and the way their scaly legs sank low into the mud, so they had to stop every few minutes to yank them out. Even Sancho looked miserable. He tried to help by holding the flashlight in his mouth, but mud stuck to his mane and tail and hooves, making it hard for him to move.

Danya kept thinking about her and Pia’s secret fort back home, with its twinkly Christmas lights and stacks and stacks of books lining the walls. But the muddy, wet tent was nothing like her hideout, and thinking about how cozy and warm she’d be if she were home right now just depressed her.

“At least we don’t have to worry about anyone recognizing us,” she muttered under her breath. In the dark, rainy night, not a single person alive would’ve been able to tell that Pia and Danya were the girls from Runaway Watch. That thought made Danya feel a little better . . . until another crack of thunder burst through the sky, making her jump.

Finally, after over an hour of tying and pounding and yanking and balancing, the pile of canvas and poles had taken on a tent-like shape. The girls stood back to survey their handiwork.

“It’s done it’s done it’s done!” Pia said, her teeth clattering together in the cold. She waved her arms in the air and did a funny alligator dance that involved tapping her feet, wiggling her shoulders, and spinning in a circle. Sancho tried to dance, too, but he couldn’t really move his legs, so it just looked like he was wiggling his bottom.

“Finally!” Danya said. “It’s freezing!”

A clap of thunder sounded, and Sancho whinnied, rearing back. “Easy, buddy,” Danya said, grabbing his reins. Pia kept dancing. She added a new move where she clapped while doing a leaping spin.

“Wait!” Danya said as Pia spun to perform the move again. Her long, scaly alligator tail swept into the tent, knocking the canvas and poles back into the mud.

For a long moment Danya couldn’t move. She stared, frozen, at the ruined tent as water dripped down the back of her costume and thunder rumbled in the distance. Sancho whickered under his breath, pawing at the mud sadly.

“Whoops . . .” Pia said, quickly moving to pick up the muddy pile of canvas and poles. “I can fix this. . . .”

Danya shook her head. She couldn’t remember a time she’d been more wet or cold or miserable. Pia shuffled over to Danya, her tail making slapping noises as she dragged it through the mud.

“I can fix this,” she said again. “It’ll be up in no time. And don’t make that face, Snap. We’ll just have to make the best of things until I—”

“Make the best of things?” Danya’s voice was louder than usual and squeaky, like she might break into tears at any moment. “How are we supposed to make the best of things? Things are awful!”

“Danya . . .” Pia frowned. “Look, I know I messed up, but yelling at me isn’t going to help. . . .”

“Maybe I don’t want to help,” Danya yelled. “You think it’s easy cleaning up your messes all the time? While you’re running around causing trouble and breaking everything you touch, someone has to be responsible. This was supposed to be about saving Sancho, but all I’ve been doing this entire trip is rescuing you.”

“Maybe you don’t remember,” Pia said, her words short. “But this whole trip was your stupid idea. I wouldn’t even be here if—”

“If what?” Danya interrupted. Anger clawed at her chest and her heart thudded. “You said you wanted to help me, Pia. If you hate all of this so much, why did you come at all?”

“Because I couldn’t stay at home!” Pia snapped. She was crying now, and her words were interrupted by hiccups that shook her skinny shoulders. “My parents are getting divorced, Danya. That’s why they sent me to stay with you and your family.”

Danya opened her mouth, then closed it again, not sure what to say. “Pia, I didn’t . . .”

“My dad isn’t just visiting his sister,” Pia continued. “He’s living there because he and my mom can’t even be in the same room together anymore. They’ve spent so much time fighting and yelling they barely even notice I’m there.”

Danya swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly dry. She thought back on the last few days. How Tía Carla was crying. How Pia told the woman at the edge of the river that her parents didn’t care about her. How insistent she was that they run away. How happy she’d been since they’d been gone.

How had Danya never noticed that things had been so bad when they left? How had she missed something so big?

Pia let out another hiccup. “You remember how Petey offered us that job at Gatorville?” she said, sniffing, and Danya nodded. “I really wanted to take it, Danya. There’s no reason for me to go home, and I’m good with the alligators. Maybe . . . maybe things would be better if I really did run away. For real.”

“Pia, no!” Danya didn’t know what to say. It was like a low ringing started in her ears, making everything around her seem far away. “Pia, you can’t.”

“Why not, Danya? You don’t need me for this stupid adventure. I might as well go back. At least there would be a place for me there,” Pia said.

“There’s a place for you here, Pia. With me. Who’s going to make a pillow fortress with me when I’m sick? Or sleep next to me after my dad has told a scary story? You’re my best friend, no matter what happens with your parents.”

“You really mean that?” Pia sniffed.

“Of course!” Danya insisted. “You’re like a sister to me, Pia. I could never have made it this far without you. I need you, Pia. Every day.”

Pia hiccupped again and Danya waddled over to her, ignoring the way her tail stuck in the mud. She wrapped her arms around her cousin as Pia hiccuped and sniffled and tried to keep herself from crying. Sancho nudged his nose between them, wanting to be part of the hug, too.

The girls and Sancho stood like that for a long time, even as the rain poured around them and thunder rumbled in the distance.