A Field Guide to Getting Lost, page 7
He’d once asked his mom what was in that box with his dad’s name on it, and she’d said old papers. But sketchbooks were paper.
The box was not, however, within reach. The exercise bike was tipped on its end, about as tall as Luis himself. He could reach the car seat and flowerpots where they were jumbled atop the bike, and the tips of his fingers could barely graze the bottom of the crutches, if he really stretched.
By using the box by his feet as a stepstool, he was tall enough to get a hand around the bottom of one of the crutches. And jostling the crutch should be enough to loosen the box he wanted and drop it into his arms.
It seemed like a good plan. Sort of. It seemed like a plan, anyway.
He stepped on the box, reached past the bike and the pots and the car seat, wrapped a hand around the crutch to jostle it—okay so far—and then it all went wrong.
His foot crashed through the box he was standing on. He lost his balance and went flying backward, his grip still strong on the crutch, as though it might somehow keep him upright even though it was also falling through the air. And then he was not only on his back, but an avalanche of stuff was falling down on top of him.
“Luis!”
His mom was in the doorway, her hair a wild halo, all giddiness from her evening chat with Martin washed away in an instant of terror.
It took a lot longer to get out of the pile of stuff than it had taken to get covered by it. And as soon as Mom realized Luis was actually unharmed, her concern turned to irritation, which built into something closer to fury as she untangled the mess.
“What were you thinking… could have been killed… almost had a heart attack… think before you act… just ask for help…”
Luis’s head spun. Dizzy, he sank back down to sit on the concrete stairs leading into the kitchen. “I wanted to see Papi’s sketchbooks,” he said, trying desperately not to burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean all this up.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, her face softening. “At least not about wanting to see the sketchbooks. You should have just asked for help. We’ll deal with the mess together, since it’s my fault there’s so much junk out here to begin with. But first, let’s find what you were looking for.”
The MATEO box had been among the things that had crashed down on top of Luis when he’d fallen. His mom dragged it over, reached in, and pulled out a picture frame, the glass broken. Underneath the jagged edges stood Luis’s father with his older brother and sister, all of them teenagers.
The tears Luis had been holding back burst forth. “I’m so sorry!”
His mother reached out and pulled him close. “Oh, love, it’s okay. Look, the photograph is fine. We’ll get a new frame. Plus, it’s been sitting out here in a box. The best photos are all inside, displayed.”
That was true. There were photos of Papi all over the house. Still. “Can I have this one?”
“Of course.” His mom carefully removed the photo from the broken frame and handed it over. “You can have any of this stuff.” She sifted through a few more things in the box and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. “Look at this.”
Luis’s eyes were drawn first to the official-looking seal in the top left corner with the same long-tailed bird that was on all the Guatemalan handicrafts around their house. The words on the page were Spanish, which Luis’s mom had learned when she lived with his dad in Guatemala after college. When his dad died, she’d kept speaking it with Luis at home, at least sometimes. So he understood a lot, and spoke some, but reading it was harder. He wrapped his mouth around the words slowly.
“ ‘El Registrador Civil de la capital certifica…,’ ” he read.
His mom kissed the top of his head. “It’s your papi’s birth certificate.” She kept digging through the box to see what else she might discover. There was a notepad filled with batting lineups for the softball team his dad used to coach. His Guatemalan passport. And finally, a stack of battered sketchbooks. She handed one to Luis and opened one herself.
Luis hugged his close to his chest. For some reason, he wanted to look at it later, when he was alone. His mom traced her fingers over the page in front of her. “He really was talented,” she murmured.
But then something in the box caught her eye. “Oh!” She brought it out reverently. “I remember this.…”
At first Luis thought it was a pocket watch, but when she flipped open the bronze cover, he saw something else: a compass. A shiver went down his spine. It looked like something Penelope Bell would find in the off-limits attic of the Whitlow School, a magical object that would have the power to help her defeat evil.
“That was Papi’s?”
She nodded and handed the compass to Luis. He had held things that belonged to his dad before. But this felt somehow different. Magical. Like it held a little piece of his soul. A horcrux, but in a good way.
“What did he use a compass for?”
Luis’s mom ran her fingers back and forth across his back. It almost tickled, but didn’t. “Your abuelos gave that compass to him when he left Guatemala for the United States.”
Luis had heard stories of the immigrants who came from Central America, all the way across Mexico by land, through deserts and dangers. It wasn’t an exciting journey, like a quest in a story, either.
“I thought Papi came here on an airplane.”
His mom smiled. “He did. His family saved and saved, and his great-aunt in Los Angeles sponsored him. He came to finish high school in the United States.” Mom took the compass back, cradling it carefully in her hands. “The compass was really a symbol,” she said. “So he could always find his way home. To Guatemala.”
“His home was here, though. With you. With us.” At least, it had been for the short time Luis had had with his father, which hadn’t been long enough.
“It was. But it was also Guatemala. And he did go home! We visited a few times.”
Luis didn’t really remember, but there were pictures on the mantel from a trip when he’d been around two, shortly before his dad got cancer. Holding his abuela’s hand as they walked through an open-air market. Arms tight around his abuelo as they rode together in the back of a tuk tuk—a tiny three-wheeled taxi of sorts. Learning to make tortillas with his mom.
“You should have this,” she said, pressing the compass back into his hands. “To help you find your way.”
“To where, though?” Luis tried to ignore the magic tingle in the palm of his hand. The compass called to him, but what was the point? He didn’t need to find his way back home. He never left home.
“To wherever you want to go,” his mother said. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like you’re stuck, like the outside world is dangerous. Sure, there are dangers. Maybe a few more for you than for other people. But you have an explorer’s spirit, love.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s explore.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sutton
“And then her mouth snapped shut like one of those koi fish at Swansons Nursery!”
“Sutton, honey…”
Dad’s voice had a warning edge to it, but the corners of his lips were quirking up. Aunt Lindsay was over for Sunday-night dinner and Sutton had been regaling her with the story of the nosy lady at the farmers’ market since she arrived. It was funnier now that they were home.
Aunt Lindsay grinned. “Sounds like you told her what’s what.” She turned to Sutton’s dad. “How about you, little brother? Are you still seeing the scientist? What was her name?”
“Elizabeth,” Sutton mumbled.
“Elizabeth, yes. In fact…”
His voice trailed off in a troublesome way. In fact, we’re getting married? In fact, we’re hoping Sutton can live with you while we travel the world together? In fact, we’re having a baby of our own?
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Aunt Lindsay said.
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. Just that Liz and I were talking, and we want to try another family date. The MoPOP maybe wasn’t quite fair. It was somewhere Luis was comfortable, but you weren’t, pumpkin. So we want to try again on neutral ground.”
Sutton stared at her plate. This was better than some of the other things he could have said. But he had definitely brought this up in front of Aunt Lindsay on purpose, so he’d have backup if Sutton freaked out.
“So… we were thinking about a hike in Discovery Park!”
Aunt Lindsay snorted. But when he said nothing more, she said, “Wait, you’re serious? A hike?”
Sutton’s thoughts exactly. If they were going for somewhere Sutton would be comfortable, a hike was the worst possible idea! What next? A Mariners game? An improv class?
“Sure. Liz and I have been on quite a few hikes together now. We thought it would be a fun thing to share with the kids.”
Sutton exchanged a glance with Aunt Lindsay. Aunt Lindsay once went “camping” to a place with room service, Wi-Fi, a Jacuzzi, and a butler, and she still complained about the bugs.
Sutton’s dad busied himself with pouring cream into a fresh cup of coffee.
“So is this serious, Martin?” Lindsay asked, breaking the awkward silence. “You’re spending time with each other’s kids?”
“You know me, Linds. I’m never serious.” Sutton’s dad made a goofy face and then looked pointedly at the dishes. “Clear the table, hon, and then maybe your aunt can help you figure out the glitch in your robot.”
“Pretty sure your daughter is way smarter than I am at this point,” Lindsay said.
“You built an electric guitar when you were her age!” her brother pointed out.
“I peaked early.” Lindsay stood up to help Sutton clear the dishes, ignoring her brother’s grunt of protest.
“It’s okay,” Sutton said. Time with Aunt Lindsay was too precious to spend on the bot, which she was unlikely to be able to help with. Aunt Lindsay was more tech-savvy than Sutton’s dad, but only a little. Just enough so that she could keep up with her middle school students. “Let’s just do the dishes.”
“What do you hear from your mom?” Lindsay asked once they were both in the kitchen.
“Not much.”
“I got an email from her a few days ago.” Lindsay rummaged in the cupboards for containers to hold the leftovers.
Sutton said nothing. There was nothing to say without betraying how upset she was about her birthday, how terrified she was that Elizabeth would tear her father away and Sutton would have no one. If she opened her mouth, a whole world of feelings would spew out. It would be too messy.
Sutton focused on the mess in front of her instead, rinsing gunk off dishes and setting them in the dishwasher.
“She’s really disappointed she won’t be home for your birthday.”
Sutton harrumphed. Aunt Lindsay had always been a neat link between her parents—her dad’s sister and her mom’s best friend. Her presence in their lives had always made Sutton feel like they were all still a family, even though her parents were divorced. But Sutton didn’t want to hear her aunt defend her mom.
Once the dishes were done, Sutton left her dad and Aunt Lindsay to their hushed conversation—probably about Elizabeth, and Sutton really didn’t want to know—and retreated to her room.
She searched through the back of her closet until she found the set of penguin stationery from her grandparents. Sutton wasn’t sure she’d ever written a letter on paper. She wasn’t sure she’d even send this one. But this is what she wrote:
Dear Mom,
I know you’re not going to be home for my birthday. And you’ll probably be home before this letter reaches Antarctica. I could email you, but I guess I kind of want to have something that feels sure and certain. A piece of paper I can touch and send through the mail, and know you’ll touch it too. Eventually.
I don’t want to make you feel bad. I know your work is important. But I’m important too. I don’t need a lot of people in my life. I don’t even want a lot of people in my life. But right now it feels like the two people I want most are slipping away.
We’re supposed to be a family, in our own weird way. But right now it feels like we’re three different bots, all bouncing off the walls in different parts of the same maze. Something’s gone wrong with our code, and I don’t know how to fix it.
Your daughter,
Sutton, almost 10
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Luis
Luis began his Monday morning by sitting on his bed with his dad’s sketchbook, poring over the pages with his heart thumping a drumbeat in his chest. Some of the sketches were in the familiar style of his dad’s art that hung around the house—bold lines and shapes that looked abstract, but if you looked more closely, figures started to emerge. People, animals, landscapes. Luis loved the style, but he didn’t see a story in it.
Other pages were filled with comic-style characters—superheroes, fairies, dragons, trees with faces, centaurs, robots. Anything and everything, really. Sometimes there’d be one sketch of a character and it wouldn’t appear again in the sketchbook. But other characters reappeared, and developed over the pages, and eventually spoke to one another in multi-panel comics.
His dad had been good. Really, really good. Luis wasn’t sure his own storytelling could ever live up to his father’s artistic skill.
But he was also excited to try.
Then his mom had told him they were going to see Sutton and her dad again. Luis had been filled with dread; the MoPOP hadn’t exactly gone well. He barely had time to process the idea of another encounter with Sutton before his mom told him what they were going to do that day: a hike.
A hike.
Now he sat in the back seat, his emotions even more jumbled because the car wouldn’t start. He waited as his mom ran to see if Mrs. Springer next door could help.
If they could get the car started, they were going on a hike through Discovery Park—534 acres, twelve miles of trails, and a 100 percent chance of bees. There was some trepidation at this revelation, but mostly Luis was elated. Sure, Mom would be right there every step of the way with her anti-allergy emergency kit. She’d made that clear when she’d laid out all the steps they would take in every possible catastrophe. She’d even made him demonstrate his use of the practice EpiPen (which thankfully didn’t have a needle in it).
But still! This felt like she really meant it when she said she was going to try to loosen up and let him experience more things.
And then they’d gotten in the car, and it had made that horrible chugga-chugga sound it made when it decided it needed a break.
His mom came back with Mrs. Springer—a children’s book author who was always wearing pajamas and loved talking to Luis about what he was reading. They had this down to a system. Mrs. Springer pulled her car around so it was nose-to-nose with the ancient Honda. Both women popped the hoods on their cars, and Luis’s mom attached cables from one battery to the other. Then Mrs. Springer got back in her car and turned its engine on.
This was when the magic happened.
Of course, it wasn’t really magic—more like the mechanics of how car engines work—but it sparked an idea. Penelope Bell and her friends at the Whitlow School could use Marjorie’s power of conducting electricity through her fingers to power the broken-down airship when they needed to rush to stop the Dark Force in its dastardly tracks.
Luis dug out the notebook he’d packed into his backpack and jotted down these thoughts.
With her car still attached to Mrs. Springer’s engine, Mom got back in and tried her engine again. As though Marjorie had touched it with her electric fingers, it sprang to life. Mom waved to Mrs. Springer, and Luis rolled down his window.
“Thank you!” he called.
“You’re welcome! You two call me if you get stranded somewhere!”
She was trying to be nice. But a seed of worry had been planted, and Luis couldn’t keep it from springing up into a tiny plant.
“What if we do?” he said. “Get stranded.”
What he didn’t say was: What if we go on this hike and a bee stings me and we can’t get to a hospital because the car won’t start? The thing was, if he was thinking it, his mom had already thought it. Hadn’t she? Usually she worried enough for the both of them. Though maybe she was so la-la over Sutton’s dad, she wasn’t thinking straight.
Luis was the one who thought in curvy lines and patterns and mazes. He needed his mom to think straight.
“The car’s running now,” she said. “It’ll get us to the park fine. And if we have any trouble leaving the park, Martin will be there.”
Right. Martin and Sutton. Sutton, who was probably an expert in how a car engine worked. Not that she’d want to tell him anything about it. Every time he’d tried to talk to her, she’d clammed up. Shy was one thing, but she had clearly not been happy to be at the MoPOP. Who can’t have fun at a museum full of superheroes, science fiction, and fantasy?
Still, Luis was determined to give Sutton another chance, for his mom. She’d been so happy since she started going on dates with Martin. Not that she’d been unhappy before, but now she sang while she made dinner and made goofy faces at her phone while texting, and she had loosened up enough to bring Luis on a hike!
He closed his eyes and let the music distract him—mostly. It was Into the Woods, a Broadway musical about a bunch of fairy-tale characters going into the woods on a quest. That was his mom’s sense of humor.
Probably she hadn’t been thinking ahead to the part of the musical where the giant comes down the beanstalk and tramples the woods and kills Jack’s mother and the Baker’s wife.
His eyes still closed, Luis felt the car swerve off the main road. “Are we almost there?”
“Yes, love,” his mom said from the front seat. “We have our plan, right?”
