The next morning, Brianna and Dana didn’t make it downstairs until after eight-thirty. As soon as they stepped into the hotel lobby, Miss Yancy, the younger teacher on the trip, gave them bananas and pushed them on the small tour bus where everyone else waited. Brianna glimpsed Enrique smirking at her from beneath his Chicago Bears cap as she stumbled down the aisle, and embarrassment churned her empty stomach. Her hands sneaked up to her hair which, to her dismay, she found already working its way out of her carefully slicked-back braid into the crown of frizz it preferred.
“Now that we have all decided to get out of bed,” the other teacher, Mrs. Fritz, announced, looking pointedly at Brianna and Dana, “we can finally head out.”
“Like the whole country’s gonna shut down if we’re a little late,” Dana mumbled to Brianna as they sat down.
The bus lurched away from the curb, and Brianna slumped against the window. There was nothing like fresh humiliation to start the day. She fought the urge to peek at her classmates; did she really need to see Enrique still laughing at her? Then again, Dana was probably right. She’d need to be at least a blip on his radar to garner his attention for that long.
Just eat the stupid banana, Brianna thought as she peeled away the bruised skin and wondered how to avoid the huge sections that didn’t look an edible yellow.
“Mine’s not as bad as yours,” Dana said. “Want a piece?”
“No, thanks. I’ll just close my eyes when I eat.”
As if cued to make things worse, blond hair spilled over the front of their seat as Stacia peered down at them. “Too bad you guys were late. Breakfast was unbelievable.”
She proceeded to describe each and every dish in tortuous detail. Even as Brianna felt Dana’s patience eroding and her own stomach growling, she found Stacia’s bubbliness contagious. On the flight to Mexico City, Stacia had carried the conversation between them by rambling about everything and everyone, jumping from one unrelated subject to another with barely a breath to rest in between. Brianna learned not only that Stacia’s boyfriend chose watching a soccer match over spending one last pre-Mexico night with her, but that he always cried—secretly—while watching Pixar’s Up. The dance team captain had also heaped a load of praise on Brianna’s dance skills, making Brianna like her even more.
“Here’s your mp3 player,” Stacia continued, handing the device to Brianna. “I loved The Pharcyde, they’re like Digital Underground with a strip of acid in their latte. I think my favorite song’s a tie between ‘On the Down Low’ and ‘Ya Mama’.”
Dana gave Brianna an instant rundown of her thoughts with one raised eyebrow. You let the leader of the munchkins borrow the mp3 player I gave you for your birthday? And now she thinks she knows classic hip-hop? Uh-huh. Don’t even get me started on the acid thing.
As Brianna quickly slid the mp3 player into her jacket pocket, she hoped her smile didn’t look too eager. “Really? I’m surprised—I mean, I’m glad you liked it.”
“Do you wanna see my music?” Stacia asked.
“Maybe later. I’m not really in the mood to listen to anything right now.”
“Did you happen to bring that crossword book with you?”
Brianna shook her head and mentally kicked herself for ever buying that stupid book at the airport. Why didn’t she get something cooler instead, like one of those celebrity gossip magazines? Because, of course, she considered them a waste of money, and she loved word games. Still, maybe she should throw the book away before Enrique saw it.
“That’s too bad,” Stacia said. “I’m bored.”
“You could try counting the lines on the road and see how high you can go,” Dana said with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Oh, I hate stuff like that,” Stacia replied. “It puts me to sleep.”
A broad, saccharine smile took over Dana’s face, but Brianna pretended not to notice.
“Hey,” Stacia said, her eyes growing wide, “you guys wanna play Truth or Dare? We can probably get everybody to join in.”
Dana threw another readable look at Brianna. Clinique for brains. “I’m going to take a nap.” Without another word, she moved into the empty seat across the aisle and laid down, sending a clear message. If Stacia wouldn’t shut up, Dana would shut her out.
They’re like magnets that naturally repel each other, Brianna thought. Maybe it was a good thing Dana would never get a chance to watch a dance team halftime performance.
“You guys didn’t get much sleep?” Stacia asked Brianna.
“We stayed up talking for awhile.”
“Katie and Lil’ Bit went to bed as soon as we got to the hotel.” Stacia dropped her voice to a whisper. “They have special silky blindfolds and matching hats for sleeping in.”
Brianna stifled a giggle and peered around Stacia at the two sisters seated in front of her. It seemed like a mirror divided the aisle between them and their game of Go Fish; each sat Indian-style, their long, mahogany hair pulled back in identical ponytails. For the past two years, Brianna had shared history class with Katie, the older one, without ever exchanging a word with her. Unmoved by their teacher’s non-textbook knowledge of historical gossip, Katie spent most of the class writing notes to pass to her friends in the hallway. When she did bother looking up, she sat erect as if balancing a stack of books—or a tiara—on her head. Dana often called the Homecoming Princess the very reason popularity contests shouldn’t exist.
“It took them almost two hours to get ready this morning,” Stacia said. “They had to wash their faces with three different creams and put on five layers of makeup.”
Brianna felt embarrassed by her own long morning routine, which produced nowhere near the result of the sisters’ efforts.
“And then after all that, their parents called and riled them up. Katie said her folks were afraid they’d skipped out on the flight. Unbelievable, right? I mean, how does it get flipped so that your parents force you to go on a vacation without them?”
Brianna’s stomach tightened. A few weeks before the trip, she almost decided not to come. Did the sisters mind the trip as much as they minded their parents paying for it? Not that even the richest teenagers at St. Francis could point to any other option for money, but sometimes it seemed better not to let people think they were doing you any favors. Even parents.
A deep snore ripped from Dana as if to second Stacia’s notion. Her head hung awkwardly against the window and a line of drool rolled out of the corner of her mouth. Then a steady stream of snoring erupted, and everyone laughed as they realized it came from Dana.
Brianna resisted the urge to wake her friend, who would only grumble about not caring what other people thought, and took a tentative bite of her banana. Her gag reflex kicked in as one of the mushier, browner sections assaulted her taste buds. She spit it into her hand, and threw it and the rest of the banana out the window. Her stomach whined in protest. “I have no idea how I’m going to make it until lunch.”
“Why don’t you ask Enrique for something to eat?” Stacia said. “He jacked a bunch of really good biscuits from the buffet table.”
“Oh no, that’s okay. I don’t even know him.”
“So what? I bet he’d love to share something with you.”
Before Brianna could ponder what that might mean, Stacia scurried into the seat behind Brianna and began calling for Enrique’s attention. Horrified, Brianna tried to shush Stacia, but Enrique had already turned from his window. His scrunched up St. Francis Football T-shirt exposed a small part of his six-pack, the sight almost holding Brianna’s gaze hostage. He munched on a biscuit, and she guessed that the napkin-covered bundle on the seat next to him hid a few more.
“What’s up?” he asked Stacia, sunlight glinting off perfect white teeth.
Stacia put a finger to her lips. “Shh. You’ll wake Dana.”
“So?” he replied a little louder than before.
“Shh. Give me a couple of biscuits and jelly packets.”
“Why’re you always so hungry?” he asked, lowering his voice a little.
“Just gimme. They’re for Brianna. She missed breakfast, remember?”
“Oh. You should have said so to begin with.” He unwrapped his food and handed two biscuits to Stacia, who passed them on to Brianna. The smell of that buttery bread made Brianna’s stomach do cartwheels of joy, and she tore into the first one with gusto before remembering that he could still see her.
“Thanks,” she whispered after quickly swallowing the food in her mouth.
“No problem. But eat it, don’t inhale it,” said Enrique, laughing.
Stacia shushed him again. “What about the jelly?”
“Here you go.” He winked at her.
Brianna started to turn down the messy jelly, but Stacia didn’t even attempt to pass it on. Stepping into the aisle, she braced herself against the bouncing bus while leaning over Dana.
Worry prickled the back of Brianna’s neck. “What are you doing?”
Stacia didn’t answer. After a minute, she sat next to Brianna with a jelly packet in her mouth, sucking out the straggler droplets. When Brianna peeked into her best friend’s seat, her heart hammered at what Stacia had done.
Globs of grape jelly draped Dana’s lip in a shiny purple mustache. As she exhaled, her new facial hair shook like Jell-O, giggling soundlessly with everyone except Brianna. “Why in the world did you do that, Stacia?” she whispered.
“Why not do it?”
“’Cause she’s not going to like this.”
“Of course not at first. That’s why it’ll be funny.”
“I’m cleaning her face.”
“No way,” Stacia replied while gripping the seat in front of them, as well the one behind them. “This’ll be too hilarious.”
Brianna gaped at the girl who’d seemed so nice only a moment before, and then tried to nudge past one of her pale, skinny arms. But Stacia didn’t move. Brianna began pushing harder and harder, until her full weight bore down futilely on the snickering dance team captain. Even Stacia’s fingers refused to yield when Brianna attempted to pry them from the seats. The blonde had transformed herself into the Great Wall.
“Move!” Brianna pleaded in a low voice, lest she wake Dana.
“No. Not until you relax and see the funny. And if you can’t do that, then you might as well sit tight anyway. My older brother wrestles, so nobody ever moves me unless I let them.”
Just when the situation couldn’t get any worse, Winston Welch—the seventh and final student member of the Spanish Club—strode up the aisle from the back of the bus. Living up to the nickname Brianna secretly christened him with freshman year, “the Imp” stood over Dana and ogled her like she was an insect pinned behind glass. “I can’t believe she’s still sleeping,” he said as loud as seemingly possible.
Everyone motioned violently for the Imp to sit down and be quiet, but he laughed like an idiot until, unsurprisingly, Dana stopped snoring and shifted in her seat. The students became still. After a few long seconds, she resumed a softer wheeze.
“Isn’t the point to let her wake up and freak out about what’s on her face?” the Imp asked, his grating voice enough to wake anyone, miles away.
Dana shifted again, tucking her chin toward her chest. Everyone held their breath and waited. The jelly quivered and started to roll. She twitched and licked her lips, but it dripped to her chin undeterred. Then, without warning, she smacked herself in the face, right on top of the jelly. Her eyes popped open as if someone else had just slapped her awake.
Laughter roared through the back of the bus. The teachers glanced back from their front seats with little interest, probably assuming that any laughing signaled that they needn’t intervene. Brianna couldn’t find her voice.
“What the hell,” Dana muttered, slurring with sleepiness. At first, she simply stared in confusion at the mashed jelly in her hand but when she licked her lips again, her face darkened. “Who did this?”
The laughing stopped. Dana zeroed in on the empty jelly packet in Stacia’s hand. The dance squad captain threw the packet on the floor and shrank back against Brianna.
The cool glass of the window chilled Brianna’s back and made her shiver. “Dana, I should’ve tried harder to stop them—”
“It was my idea,” Stacia interjected. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to be funny. I prank everyone, seriously.”
Dana nodded, as if she expected such immaturity. Katie offered her some tissue, which Dana calmly used to wipe at her cheeks, holding her jelly-filled hand away from her body. Then, before anyone could stop her, she flew across the aisle and shoved her purple hand into Stacia’s face. As Stacia spat out jelly along with more apologies—insisting again that she pranked everyone—Dana eyes narrowed even more. Her fists towered inches from Stacia’s face. Enrique leaned into the aisle, his brow thick with concern; the sisters hid in their seats. Brianna, amazed at the obliviousness of the adults, prayed that one of them would finally pay attention.
The Imp, straddling the aisle just out of range of any potential melee, waved his camera in the air. “I’ve got a front row seat!”
The bus went over a huge bump in the road, bouncing everyone into the air. The Imp fell back with a thud on the aisle floor, bringing a fresh round of laughter.
As though tapped by a higher power, Mrs. Fritz finally stood and frowned. The older, more Spartan, trip sponsor looked ready to march down the aisle and swat everybody with a ruler. “What’s going on? Miss Tate, sit down. Mr. Welch, what are you doing on the floor?”
Dana retreated to her own seat, and a fresh surge of blood warmed Brianna’s arm as Stacia released it. Shameless and unfazed by the averted drama, the Imp grinned and held up his camera. Brianna was disappointed that it wasn’t broken. “I was getting ready to take a picture, Mrs. Fritz,” he said.
Miss Yancy and the tour guide skimmed over everyone else, sitting in silent innocence, and seemed to lose interest. They resumed their conversation with the bus driver, but Mrs. Fritz moved closer, her lips stretched into a stern line. “A picture of what? You can take pictures from your seat, young man. Everyone needs to remain seated. Miss Mulligan, what is wrong with your face?”
“Dana and I accidentally squirted jelly on each other…as a joke,” Stacia replied.
Without saying a word, Dana glared at each one of her classmates. Especially Brianna.
“I see,” said Mrs. Fritz. She scanned the group as if looking for anything else that might be out of place. “Just make sure you clean up. We’re only ten minutes away from Teotihuacán. And everyone needs to stay in their seats.” She shook her head, and sat down. Soon her attention went back to the other adults.
“Yeah, stay in your seat, Winston,” Enrique said, laughing as the Imp returned to the last row.
Relief poured out of the sisters in a mantra of oh-my-God’s as they emerged from hiding, handing out more Kleenex to Stacia and Dana. “We thought you were going to kill each other,” Katie said with wide eyes.
“I wouldn’t have let it get that far,” Enrique said, slouching back against his seat again.
A strained, nervous giggle escaped from Stacia. “Well, it’s over. We all know now that not everybody likes surprises, jokes, being woken up, whatever. No more pranks. And no grudges…right, Dana?”
Instead of answering, Dana stretched out in the seat again. A smile snaked across her face, and her eyes shifted to Brianna. An accusation of disloyalty danced in them. Brianna swallowed hard.
Stacia sighed her apparent relief. “Good,” she said, cheerleader enthusiasm returning to her voice, “because we’re gonna have some fun on this trip.” She relocated to the seat behind Brianna to talk to Enrique, barely glancing at Dana, who turned sulkily toward the window.
Guilt curdled inside Brianna, and she sank down in her seat. Perfect. As if she needs any more proof that I’m joining the Dark Side.I should’ve stopped them. Everyone else seemed to quickly forget what almost happened, leaving Brianna to figure out how to tread through Dana’s hurt feelings. That wouldn’t be an easy path since Dana could hold a grudge for eternity.
To keep her frustration at bay, Brianna steered her attention outside. The bus traveled through a sea of rocks and sand with hills that dipped and crested around them. In the distance, small villages peeked out of the hills like fleeting schools of fish as patches of shrubs punctuated the landscape. The beautiful monotony outside the window soothed and mesmerized her, lulling her away from the recent drama. And then she saw great islands rise out of the brown sea.
“There’re the pyramids,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.
But everyone heard and crowded to her side of the bus, snapping pictures through a chorus of oohs and ahhs. Mrs. Fritz started giving the usual field trip pep talk, beginning with how they needed to stay together as a group. Then she rambled about respecting other people’s cultures, cautioning against litter and graffiti before her voice faded into the faceless unintelligible wah-wah-wah gibberish of the invisible teachers in all the Charlie Brown cartoons. The last of her words didn’t even make it to Brianna’s ears. She was ready to get off the bus, and touch a piece of history.