Kissing Frogs - A Tropical Fairytale

You used to call me on my cellphone...

"Easy, girls," Mr. A says, sliding his coffee mug out of harm's way.

I am so not giving up the phone.

"I had it first," I say.

"So?" she challenges, tugging on it.

"Give it up, Kiki," Travis calls. "Jess beat you fair and square."

Surprised, I look up. Did Travis just stick up for me?

Pouting, she lets go and walks back to her table. "Whatever, it's like from 1998 anyway."

Triumph fades to dubiousness as I look down at the phone in my hands. It does look pretty prehistoric.

Hector tells us how to dial and writes down the number for us.

"What about internet?" Harp calls.

"There is wireless in the bohío," Hector says, "and we have a laptop you may use."

"One laptop and one phone for all of us?" I ask in disbelief.

"You'll just have to share. We'll get a sign-up sheet going," Mr. A says. "Besides, there'll be some free time to use it."

I perk up.

"Free time?" Steven asks.

"Right, listen up guys. This is the schedule," Mr. A says, clapping his hands. "Up at six thirty, in El Valle by eight thirty. Whoever's turn it is to cook that night gets their groceries later on in the afternoon, and everyone else has free time. You can go to the beach, relax by the pool, work on your tan..." He waves his hand.

This isn't sounding too terrible. Aside from the six thirty wake-up.

Mr. A looks at me. "Or on your report."

Right.

"Make sure you're ready to leave in half an hour." He adds, "Chrissy and Steven, you guys cook tomorrow night, so you're on dishes today."

"I thought it was just dinner," Steven complains, twisting his ball cap around on his head.

"Nope, breakfast too, but lunch you're on your own," Mr. A says, benevolent.

"What!" Chrissy says.

I stand up, phone in one hand, dish in the other, and walk over to their table.

"Happy washing." I set the plate down in front of her with a sweet smile. Then turn and walk out of the bohío with my prize.

***

I sit down on a white plastic lounge chair by the pool. My stomach tightens as I dial Ky's number, chewing the nail on my left pinky.

No answer. I stare at the phone, spit out the piece of nail in my mouth and dial Miles.

The phone rings.

No answer.

Juan walks by, huffing on and cleaning his glasses.

"Hey, Juan, what's the time difference between Panama and Florida?" My chest feels tight.

"Don't think there is one." He slides the glasses back on his face, looking like an owl caught in a lightning storm.

Okay, so maybe it's a bit early. They both like to sleep in. Feeling desperate for some contact with the outside world, I try my parents next. Even though I think it's like five in the morning there.