22 Lily Amaya

Lily

 

Arturo had been so shocked at my laughing and grinning as we sped away from GRIM that he offered to stop as soon as it was safe. I assured him I was okay and motioned for him to keep going. Though i t wasn ’ t impossible for us to hear each other while we rode, the helmets and the wind made it difficult.

After about thirty minutes we stopped in a wooded area. “ You wanna tell me what is so funny about GRIM agents? ” he asked, a bit hurt when I started laughing again. He folded his arms in his ‘I’ m-so-annoyed-with-you ’ way and stared at me.

I forced myself to stop the giggles . I cleared my throat and tried to sound serious. “ Nothing. Nothing is funny about GRIM agents. ” Then I totally discredited my words by breaking into unabashed laughter. I couldn ’ t help it. He was just so cute right then, looking all hurt and worried. He said a couple of sentences in Spanish and turned his back on me. Oops. I hadn ’ t seen him angry since back home, that day he told me to steer clear of Rose. I remembered what that was like and didn ’ t want to go there.

“ Arturo. I ’ m sorry ,” I said, pulling it together. “ I was laughing because I was happy. ”

He turned back and stared. “ Happy? ”

“ W ait, I ’ m not done. Let me finish. ” I talked fast, probably too fast for him to take in. Trying to explain about my moment of self-actualization. The moment I realized I wasn ’ t afraid, this new understanding of myself as a person. This great aha moment. He listened without interruption. And then I was done, waiting for him to say something.

He looked down at his watch. “ So what now? ” he asked.

I was taken aback that he didn ’ t comment on my great revelation . I n fact, so taken aback that I allowed him to get away with it.

“ Um. I don ’ t know. We still need to find friends. Our whole plan depends on it. ”

“ I am afraid to use nav-map. GRIM maybe track us if we turn on. ”

“ Then we ’ ll have to be careful. Maybe we should lay low for a while. Remember what Aaron said, how Clare and Dante travelled at night. Maybe we can try that. ”

“ And if we do not travel now, we do what? ”

“ Nap? ”

“ Okay,” he agreed easily, “ siesta .” He parked the bike and kicked a few stones out of the way. He spread out on the ground, slipped the soft helmet off his head and over his eyes, and just like that, fell asleep.

I took a book out of my backpack , the one I ’ d found on the bus during my long ride to Florida. I hadn ’ t gotten far, it hadn ’ t caught my interest yet, but now was a good time to give it another try.

 

The book didn ’ t put me to sleep, but it did help pass the time. Arturo slept for two hours, and though envious, I squelched the urge of my devil-half to awaken him. When he finally opened his eyes, I was relieved to have his company again.

He squinted his eyes against the bright sun that pierced the trees like broken glass. “¿ D ó nde estoy ? ”

“ I don ’ t know what that means. ”

He turned and looked at me, startled at first, then the look of comprehension.

“ Lily.”

“ Arturo. ”

“ Sorry. I forget where I am. ”

I smiled. “ Hungry? ” I asked, holding out provisions from Meg. “ I ate while you napped. ”

He made a face that said “ That stuff ’ s not food” but took it without commenting.

“ Now what? ” I asked. It was a long time until dark.

“ You talk while I eat, ” he said. “ Tell me more about you. ”

I knew what he was asking but played dumb. “ Well, let ’ s see. My middle name is Amaya—”

“ Amaya?”

“ Yes, it means ‘ night rain. ’”

“ In Spanish is ‘ high place. ’”

“ You have Amaya in Spanish? ”

“ Is a girl name. ”

“ Huh. I think I prefer ‘ night rain. ’ My mom used to whisper ‘Lily Amaya’ to me when I sat on her lap as a little kid. She said more, but it was in Japanese. I think I may have understood it then, but eventually I lost most of my Japanese. ‘ Lily Amaya, Lily Amaya, a flower nurtured by the night rain. ’ That ’ s it! That ’ s what she said. But I can ’ t remember the Japanes e . . . ”

“ Is beautiful, ” Arturo said. “ All your name is so beautiful. Flower, rain, garden. This quest you are on—is destino , I think. ”

And we were right back to what he had wanted to know in the first place.

He took a long swig of water. “ Tell me about your father, the Movement. ”

It had been on my mind during those long hours on the bike. I didn ’ t like the way Arturo had learned about my father and me. It felt lousy. And there hadn ’ t been time to explain; everything moved super fast at Meg and Aaron ’ s. Although we could have tried conversing during the long rides or the short breaks, neither of us had brought it up. I just couldn ’ t figure out how. Start with an apology?

And now we were at the moment. I ’ d rehearsed plenty of times in my head what to say, but the thing about rehearsed conversations is that the other person isn ’ t privy to your script.

I looked at him—propped up on one elbow, munching away on a Carbo square—watching me, waiting. “ Look, I ’ m sorry you found out the way you did. ”

“‘S okay.” He waited.

“ So, um, as you heard, it turns out my dad was a leader in an uprising about fifteen years ago. ”

“ You did not know? ”

“ My mom le t me believe that my father had died. ”

He nodded.

“ What more do you want to know? ”

“ You and me . . . uh . . . are friends when you find out? ” He raised his eyebrows.

“ Sort of. We had just met. ”

“ But you keep secret? And you keep secret that Ana i s . . . ” He searched for the word.

“ Raided? ” I offered.

“ Yes, raided. And that . . . uh . . . Rose is espy ? Why? ”

It felt like my lips were glued shut. I didn ’ t want to say it. How could I tell this boy who had followed me all the way to Florida to keep me safe that I hadn ’ t trusted him?

“ You not trust me, ” he said quietly into my silence.

And so, after all, there was only one answer. Arturo wasn ’ t dumb. He knew the answer. He ’ d known the answer since the night at the table when he learned James Gardener was the father of Lily Gardener and leader of Seed Savers. For the first time, I wondered what internal conversations had danced in the head of this young man as we coursed through the flat, hot land.

Swallowing my gentler emotions, I responded stoically . “ At the time, I trusted hardly anyone. ”

He turned his head and looked behind himself.

“ I understand if you ’re angry.”

He shook his head no. He turned back around but hung his head, refusing to look at me. I felt like a dung beetle. No, I felt like the dung.

“ I’ m so sorry. ”

He looked up, and I realized why he ’ d been avoiding eye contact. Tears quivered in Arturo ’s eyes; one had broken loose and was inching its way down his face like snowmelt down a canyon wall.

“ Arturo. ”

“‘S okay,” he said again.

“ I’ m sorry, I know it was a scumbag thing not to tell you everything. But, really, at the time, we hadn ’ t known each other long. And . . . there just hasn ’ t been time to fill you in . . . ” I was rambling now. Arturo had gotten up and moved next to me, enveloping me in a hug.

“ Stop, Lily. Stop.” He sniffed, wiped away the errant tear. “ Is happy crying. ”

“ Happy crying? ” My voice was muffled in the stifling bear hug. He pulled back and then sat next to me.

“ I understand you no trusting nobody. Your mom make you think your dad is d ied; Rose tell Trinia about you. Me, I am a strange Mexican boy follow you in the park . . . I so happy because now you trust me. ”

The air stole out of my lungs in astonishment. He wasn ’ t angry. He wasn ’ t hurt. And his happy tears unnerved me. Ma and me rarely cried—happy or sad—we were a pretty emotionless lot. But what Arturo said was true: I did trust him. Quite obviously, I trusted him with my life.

I wasn ’ t sure what to say in response to his sentimental display and feeling slightly uneasy, decided to steer the conversation back to where it had started. “ So, um, anyway, how much did you pick up of what Aaron and I shared? ”

“ Pick up? ” His face scrunched in confusion.

“ How much did you understand when I told Aaron everything? ”

“ Oh. You guys talk really fast. Tell me again, more slow. ”

I told him everything Ana had told me. I shared the details of Rose ’ s confession. I talked about my life with Ma. It helped pass the time, and when I was finished, it felt like we ’ d known each other for years.

Except I still didn ’ t know much about Arturo.