Ellen Outside the Lines, page 3
Then silence, like I’m underwater. The heavy drone of plane engines fades. Laurel’s mouth opens and closes, but I hear almost nothing. I slide them down to my shoulders and look at Abba. “But they’re yours.”
“I’ve got my earbuds for this trip, and I’ll get myself a new pair when I wrap up my next work project. These belong to you now—if you want them.”
He looks at me, and it’s almost like he’s holding his breath. Any hint of betrayal I still feel about the change to our trip schedule dissolves fast.
“Yes.” I give him a quick nod. “Todah rabah, Abba.”
“You’re very welcome, metukah.”
As two flight attendants roll a big metal trolley past us to the front of the cabin, Laurel leans forward and digs through her bag. She sits up, showing me her own headphones. They’re the same brand, but a lighter, brushed silver.
“We can pair both sets and listen to the same playlist. Look.” She pulls out her phone and taps into an app.
I lean over as Laurel scrolls through a list of available devices.
“Which one is yours, Elle?”
“Probably Sheli.” I check the devices list on my own phone. There’s only one flower-related Bluetooth connection that appears. “You’re Bloom?”
“Yeah!”
Laurel taps on her screen and pairs us up. “What’s sheli mean?”
“Mine,” I tell her.
Beside me, Abba looks thoughtful. “Although now that it’s Ellen’s, maybe I should’ve changed it to Shelach, which means—”
“—yours,” I finish.
“I adore that,” Laurel tells me. “It’s like you and your dad have a secret language. Not like with Spanish since everyone in our class studies it.”
I adore it, too. Even at our temple, most people only learn Biblical Hebrew, which is different from the language people speak in Israel. Abba, Mom, and I know Modern Hebrew, so we can talk about anything we want.
“Okay, done.” Laurel’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Put them on again.”
A few beats after the music starts, I move one speaker away from my ear. “This is that song from last winter.”
“Um, yeah! This is our sleepover playlist.”
I pass a meal to Abba, then take mine from the flight attendant. My family keeps kosher, following kashrut rules about what food we can and can’t eat and how it should be prepared. Both of our meal containers have a sticker on them that says KOSHER, so we know the food is okay to eat.
I steal a quick glance at Laurel. She doesn’t seem bothered that it’s been months since our last sleepover. Just thinking about it makes my skin prickle. I put my new headphones back on.
The song’s melody flows through me. I let myself flap my hands in time with the music underneath my table, and my whole body relaxes.
After dinner, the cabin lights dim. The playlist has moved on to a song Laurel and I first heard while watching an online video about the physics behind gymnastics elements. I lean back and close my eyes, imagining an army of Laurels performing handsprings as I drift off to sleep.
It’s only Laurel and me in my dream.
My eyes flutter open. For a moment, everything’s a little dark and a lot silent. I rub my eyes, then blink. Abba comes into focus, asleep in his window seat.
My headphones are silent. I twist in my seat to check if Laurel’s also asleep, then freeze.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Andy’s voice sounds muffled through my headphones. He tugs on the cord attached to his earbuds, and they tumble into his lap. “What’s up?”
I nudge my headphones off with the back of one hand. “Where’s Laurel?”
“Oh, um.” Andy runs a hand through his black hair, then points up the aisle. “Just up there.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand, spotting the silvery strip of Laurel’s headphone band. Next to her, Sophie-Anne wears matching headphones. I drop back into my seat, wondering if Laurel’s sharing our playlist with Sophie-Anne.
“Laurel and I traded seats,” Andy says, even though I didn’t ask. “Gibs passed out just like you, and Madison still won’t talk to me after…” He shrugs. “It just wasn’t fun having to sit by her, but my parents checked me in late, so yeah.”
It takes me a second to realize Gibs must be a nickname for Noah-James. My eyes dart to Andy’s Lynnwood basketball T-shirt, with THRASHERS PRIDE! spelled out in bold capital letters. His hands lie clasped in his lap.
I tilt my head. “Why is Madison—”
“What’s the new kid like?” Andy pauses. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“I wanted to know why Madison’s not talking to you.”
“Well…” Andy looks at his hands like they might hold the answer. “I kind of broke up with her.”
“‘Kind of’?” You can “kind of” understand a language you’re still trying to learn, but I’m not sure how you can “kind of” break up with someone.
“Yeah,” Andy says. “On the last day of school.”
“Okay.”
When I don’t say anything else, Andy wrings his hands.
“Don’t you want to know why?” he asks.
“Why what?”
“Why I broke up with her.”
“No.” I wanted to know why she wouldn’t talk to him, so that’s what I asked.
“Then you’d be the first. So, the new kid…”
“Isa Martinez,” I say.
“Yeah, what’s up with her? Or is it him? And why did Isa say ‘neither’ when Gibs asked, do you know?”
Okay, that’s way too many questions.
“How would I know?”
Andy’s brows pinch above his nose. “I just saw you talking with Isa and Señor L at the airport, so…”
He trails off as Abba stirs. Abba yawns then looks over at us. “You’re not Laurel.”
“No, sir.”
Abba glances at me, then back at Andy.
“I changed seats with Laurel,” Andy explains, “but I can ask to switch back.”
“It’s fine.” My heart sinks as Abba extends his hand. “I’m Natan Katz, Ellen’s dad.”
“I know.” Andy lights up. “Fisher’s Final is incredible. The illustrations. That plot. I’ve read it like ten times and still can’t figure out how you did the—” He catches himself, then reaches past me to shake Abba’s hand. “Sorry, I’m just a huge fan here. I’m Andy Zhang. Ellen and I had English and science together last year.”
I stare at him. I didn’t realize someone like Andy—popular and an athlete—noticed me enough to know which classes we had together.
“Nice to meet you.” Abba smiles. “Want a sneak peek at what I’m working on next?”
“Seriously?” Andy’s eyes shine under his overhead light.
“Seriously.” Abba pulls out his iPad. Rainbow flag stickers in a spectrum of bright stripes decorate the cover, souvenirs he brought back from a comic convention.
He offers it to Andy. I press back into my seat as Andy leans over to take it.
“Your dad is so cool,” he whispers to me.
Even though it’s not too loud or too bright on this plane, something feels like it’s building inside me.
“Ellen’s already seen most of this stuff,” Abba starts, but I stand up fast. If I were as tall as Andy, I’d have hit my head on the overhead bin.
“I”—I force the words out of my tight throat—“have to use the bathroom.”
“Oh, okay.” Andy unbuckles his seatbelt.
I slip past him before he can stand, heading toward the lavatories at the center of the plane. Then I spot Laurel with Sophie-Anne and Madison. Turning fast, I rush to the very back.
I slip into a bathroom stall and sit on the closed toilet seat, letting myself rock.
Once. Twice.
I count from uno to sesenta.
This trip will be different than I imagined, in so many ways I can’t control. The scavenger hunt is one example, but it’s not the only thing that’s off. It also feels like Laurel and I are growing further apart by the second.
Chapter Five
Day 1
“Señoras y señores, bienvenidos a Barcelona.…”
Beside me, Laurel rubs her eyes, then fusses with her hair, even though it looks fine. “Oh my actual gosh. This flight took forever.”
Nine hours, forty minutes. It’s technically Sunday afternoon, but it feels like the crack of dawn, like I should still be asleep.
I didn’t know what to say when Laurel returned to her seat. Even the music on our new playlist didn’t help. Soon, she fell asleep. Eventually, Abba drifted off again, too.
Not me.
I say a silent goodbye to the lottery-winning CEO as we file off the plane. Señor L makes us wait until the other passengers get their suitcases from baggage claim before we can grab our own. It feels like it takes twice as long as it should, but I’m probably just tired. My body feels stiff after sitting upright for so long.
“We’ll be taking a bus from here to our hotel,” Señor L explains as we head outside.
I relax a little. We’re back to following last year’s schedule. Maybe Laurel was right. Maybe the scavenger hunt is just last year’s trip in a slightly different form.
“Hoo-wee.” Mrs. West fans herself. “It’s hot as Hades.”
Beside her, Madison rolls her eyes.
“It feels like we’re walking through soup,” Abba joins in.
I shift my bag up on my shoulders and my shirt sticks to my back, hot and damp. The bus driver takes our suitcases, then I follow Laurel into the passenger area. Cold, crisp air blows from ceiling vents. I breathe in deeply, grateful to be out of the heat.
“Window or aisle?” Laurel asks. Happiness tingles in my chest as I pick the window seat. Sophie-Anne and Madison take the row in front of us, and the feeling dims a little.
Then, we’re off. We leave the airport behind and merge onto a freeway.
Sophie-Anne presses her face to the window. I blink the light out of my eyes, eager to see the city, too.
But everything’s bright and blurry as we speed past signs, then buildings. I reach for my phone and click record. This way, I can play it back later and won’t miss anything.
“Do you know if our hotel is the same one they used last year?” Laurel asks.
I nod. “It’s called Hotel El Búho.”
“You really do have everything memorized.” Laurel laughs. “Doesn’t búho mean ‘bird’?”
“Owl.”
A few minutes later, we enter a roundabout. “Passeig de Sant Joan,” the driver announces. “Hotel El Búho.”
Out on the sidewalk, we’re reunited with our suitcases—and the humidity.
My classmates look around, chins tilting up to take everything in. I steal a quick glance up, too, before looking back at my feet. Horns honk and I catch bits of Spanish as people pass by us.
Sounds. Light. The heat. It’s a lot for me to process all at once.
“This way,” Señor L calls.
Eyes still down, I turn and almost collide with Laurel. One hand shades her eyes as she points toward a building. An enormous owl stares down at us with round yellow eyes.
“It’s like a vintage cutout,” Laurel says. “Except, what’s it supposed to advertise?”
“Maybe it’s like the Big Chicken,” I say, imagining the fifty-foot landmark that rises above a restaurant back home. “People here might use it the same way.”
“Like, ‘to get to the airport, take a left past El Búho and keep driving for five miles’?”
I nod, then reach for my phone to take another video.
“Elle-bell! Laurel!” We both look over at Abba, who’s waving at us with one hand, holding open a door with the other.
“Well, now we know how our hotel got its name!” Laurel takes my hand.
I keep my eyes on the owl until it’s out of view. Then Abba, Laurel, and I enter a foyer, where the rest of our group waits. Laurel weaves us around some of our classmates, stopping beside Sophie-Anne and Madison.
Señor L lifts a clipboard over his head. “Okay, folks. Room assignments. The boys’ll be on the third floor with Mr. Katz and me, girls on the second with Mrs. West and Mrs. Delfina. There’s no elevator, so let a chaperone know if you need help with your luggage.” He passes a sheet of paper to Mrs. West, then heads for the stairs.
“See you soon,” Abba calls as he rolls his bag toward Señor L. The boys file up the stairs first. Noah-James doesn’t bother lifting his suitcase. It bangs against each step.
“That means we’re actually on the third floor,” Madison tells us, “because people in Europe count the ground level as floor zero.”
“At least we don’t have to go all the way up to the fourth floor like the boys,” says Sophie-Anne as she lugs her suitcase up the steps.
Laurel and I go last. On the landing halfway up to our floor, I turn back to Laurel. “This would be easier if we were owls.”
“So much easier.”
“All right,” Mrs. West calls when we all make it up to the second-floor-that’s-really-the-third. “Everyone should already know who you’ll be rooming with from earlier school correspondence.” Smiling, Laurel catches my eye. “When I read off your room assignments, come get a set of keys. There’ll be two room keys and one to get in and out of the hotel.
“First up: Clara Bryant and Emmaline Delfina are in 2A.”
Clara and Emmaline step forward to get their keys. While Mrs. West hands over the 2B keys to Sully and Tess, my gaze snags on Isa hovering near the stairs, apart from the rest of us. I do some quick math. Eight girls and eight boys originally signed up for this trip, a neat, even number of two kids per room.
But now there’s Isa.
“Ellen Katz and Laurel McKinley in 2C,” Mrs. West continues. “And last but not least, Sophie-Anne Taylor and my little Maddie in 2D.”
“For real, Mom?” Madison says under her breath.
Abba once told me I notice things on my own schedule, sometimes fast and sometimes gradual. Right now, my gaze moves beyond Laurel. Past Sophie-Anne and Madison.
“Now, settle in,” Mrs. West calls as she heads down the hall. “I’ll come get everyone for dinner in about ten min—”
“What about Isa?” I interrupt.
Mrs. West turns back to us. “I beg your pardon?”
Everyone’s looking.
My words take off in the opposite direction, like they always do when I’m the center of attention. I’m about to shake my head when Laurel speaks up.
“You forgot a name, ma’am. Señor L said Isa Martinez is a new student.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.” Mrs. West looks back at the list, then over at Isa. “I’ll sort this out with your teacher now, Miss Martinez.”
A look passes across Isa’s face that reminds me of the expression Mom makes when she hits the wrong song note. It’s gone in a blink.
“I’ll wait,” Isa says. “No big.”
“Come on, Sophie.” Madison jangles the keys.
As Laurel slides a key into our door, I glance back again, but Isa’s eyes are on the floor.
We enter our room, leaving Isa in the hallway. Our room has white walls with flowery lavender decals over twin beds, plus a clock, side tables, and matching floor-to-ceiling closets.
“Do you care which bed I take?” Laurel asks.
I shake my head. Laurel rolls her suitcase over to one, and I take the other, beneath the wall clock. A Post-it on my bedside table shows the hotel’s Wi-Fi code. I enter it into my phone.
Laurel hands me my room key. I unzip my suitcase to start organizing my clothes into one of the closets while she heads toward a narrow door just past the pillow on my bed.
“This must be the bathroom.” Laurel twists the knob and peeks in. “Yep.”
I make my way toward Laurel, who steps aside so I can see. There’s a sink beneath a mirror, the toilet, and a small shower that looks like a test tube from last year’s science class. Directly across from our door, another opens, revealing Madison.
She shrieks, and I slap my hands over both ears before I can stop myself.
“What? What is it?” Sophie-Anne’s voice drifts in from their room.
“Just us,” Laurel says. As she swings their door open wider, I lower my hands. “I guess we’ll be sharing a bathroom.”
“You scared the heck out of Madison.” Sophie-Anne giggles.
“Sorry!” Laurel waves me over. “Your room looks just like ours, except you have pink flowers on your walls and we’ve got purple.”
Madison steps past us, into the bathroom. “There’s almost no counter space.” She sounds as distressed as I felt when Señor L announced the changes to this trip.
While the three of them arrange their makeup, hair products, and brushes on the bathroom counter, I return to our room and grab my backpack. I haven’t felt like taking out my dot diary since the airport, but now I do. Relief floods through me as I flip the pages. Everything we’ve done so far has followed last year’s schedule. I update my task boxes with little checkmarks.
A series of sharp knocks make me look up.
“Dinnertime, girls,” Mrs. West calls.
I close my diary and follow Laurel into the hall. She immediately heads toward Sophie-Anne and Madison.
Isa steps closer to me before I can join Laurel. “Thanks for earlier. No one told me if I was supposed to be on this floor or with the boys upstairs, but I’m good now.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, even though it doesn’t really feel like I did anything big. “Where did they put you?”
“2E.” Isa points to a door on the opposite side of the hallway. “So I guess this is the girls-plus-Isa floor.”
The rest of our group arrives before I can ask what Isa means. Together, we head down one flight of stairs to the first-floor-that’s-really-the-second. At the end of the hallway, Mrs. West stops in front of two large doors.
“That over there’s the community room.” She points to the left door as she glances at the hotel’s glossy brochure on her clipboard. “And this is the dining area.”
She opens the other door, and we all file in. Two long tables divide the room. Against the far wall, platters of food are set up in neat rows on a smaller table. I quickly spot Abba. Andy, Noah-James, and other kids sit around him at the first table, chatting.
