The Spanish Club

Chapter 5

She’d assumed he took Spanish for the easy ‘A’, but obviously, appearances could hide a lot of things. “That’s really cool,” she said, touching his arm. Her own boldness caught her off guard and she shoved the daredevil hand inside her jacket pocket. He laughed and brushed her cheek. A nervous giggle escaped from her, but she didn’t move away.

Conversation flowed more freely as they followed Miguel into the Temple of Feathered Conches, where parrot-like birds dressed in faded crimson, gold, sapphire, and green adorned the walls. There, Brianna finally evolved past just mimicking human sounds into spouting interesting words and sentences. They bantered about the rest of the field trip, hoping it wouldn’t be filled with endless adult-supervised tours. Instead of just swallowing the dry, bland spoon-fed facts, they both felt anxious to explore México on their own terms. She wondered if—when—she could be alone with him, and yet the prospect scared her.

Winston poked his head between them and peered at the mural. “Why’re all the birds throwing up?”

His crude intrusion irritated her because it might irrevocably break the delicate rhythm between her and Enrique, all because the Imp wanted to be the center of attention. She started to tell him to go away, but a second look at the picture stopped her short. Something did appear to be coming from the birds’ beaks.

“Water is flowing from their mouths,” Miguel said. “Clean water.”

“That’s good,” Winston said but his brow wrinkled with skepticism. “No upchuck in the temple, just clean, regurgitated water. Guess that’s better than fire.”

Accompanied by the adults, the students scaled the Pyramid of the Moon next, though with less of the Feathered Serpent race’s enthusiasm as the sun beat its dominance into their backs from its high-noon apex in the sky. Winston tried to lead the ascent with a near-run, but the steps were smaller and much steeper than those of the Feathered Serpent Temple, and he slowed down after tripping and almost smashing his face into the adobe. The rest of the group climbed at the sisters’ nonchalant pace but with labored breathing nonetheless.

When they finally reached the top, where a shrine once paid homage to ancient gods, the magnitude of what they stood on seemed to permeate everyone’s thoughts. For a few minutes, no one talked or even took pictures. Instead, they drank in the southern vista, filled with the Pyramid of the Sun, the smaller stone temples, and the Avenue of the Dead stretching toward the horizon. Though well acquainted with the skyscraper views of Chicago’s downtown, Brianna considered the modern steel weaker than the old stone that now supported them. A sense of power rushed through her, evoking a strange déjà vu. She had never stood there before and yet it all seemed familiar, even more so than the faces of her own adopted family. She stole a glance Dana’s way, but saw only her best friend’s back as she stared out at the mountains, twisting her braids and rocking on one hip.

“Hey Brianna, immortalize me,” Enrique said, handing her his camera. He strolled back to the plateau’s edge and assumed a hard stance, cocking his head so that he looked down a little at the camera. “Try to get as much of the pyramids and everything in the shot with me.”

The weird déjà vu began to fade. Maybe she was lightheaded from the heat. “Sure,” she said and put her eye to the lens. After photographing him from five different angles with only his tough pose as the constant, the memory of what she had felt still lingered. She looked toward the other end of the plateau to find Dana gone. Katie and Lil’ Bit, both complaining loudly about the heat, started a cautious descent.