Jungle Crossing by Sydney Salter Page B

forest of carved columns, and tried to imagine it as a thriving marketplace. Muluc saw all this when it was new and painted with bright colors. Today it seemed like such a gray place. If only I could zip back in time and see it all painted red, blue, and yellow. Plus, I could help Muluc. Were they going to dump her into that nasty green water? Nando
would
tell a story like that.
    I breathed in the hot air at the highest point in Chichén Itzá, thinking that I wasn't going to allow people to make me feel beneath them anymore. Starting now with Talia. And Nando. And even stupid, traitorous Barb. My heart thudded as I looked down the steep steps, wondering if someone could maybe send a helicopter to get me off of this thing. How many tourists break their necks climbing pyramids? I'm sure that's why they closed it. I imagined thunking down the steps the way I'd skidded on the stairs at the movies, popcorn flying everywhere and Fiona laughing her head off because I was "oh-so stairway-challenged." But I thought of Muluc struggling to stay strong, and I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and counted to ten again. Then I just did it.
    I walked down like they were any old stairs.
    Our whole tour group cheered for me—except Nando.
    "You've got the guts," Dante said with his sexy accent, staring down at my legs. "Strong."
    "Thanks." Does blushing increase your chances of spontaneous combustion? Dante offered me his water bottle. I took a long drink, and his fingers brushed mine when I handed it back, causing my whole body to tingle, alive and triumphant. Is this what it feels like to win an Olympic medal or something?
    "Dang, how did you
do
that?" Josh asked. "How did those tiny Mayan people do this all the time, wearing all those feathers and capes?"
    "Maybe that's the trick," I said. "You have to be small."
    "Small, but strong as hell," Josh said. "You're amazing."
    Nando spat out, "She's a disrespectful tourist. The worst kind. Using our temples like a playground. Not caring about our culture—just wants to come take her pretty pictures."
    Did he have tears in his eyes?
    "Gosh, I'm sorry." My stomach fluttered almost as bad as it did on top of the pyramid. "I didn't hurt it. I didn't even take any pictures, but how could that hurt anything anyway?"
    "That's not the point. You didn't care. You rich Americans don't care." Nando turned on his heel and stomped away, still cursing me.
    The guide pushed through the group and continued to scold me, blending Spanish-English-Mayan, and that's when Alfredo decided the tour had better be over. No one really complained, because we'd seen the highlights and it was like a million degrees outside. The Bronze Sun Goddess actually thanked me as we walked back to the bus in the sweltering afternoon sun.
    But Nando wouldn't even look at me.
    Barb kept begging him to continue the story, but he wouldn't look at her either. And even though she's a total pain, it made me mad. Barb didn't do anything to him or his precious been-there-for-hundreds-of-years-withstood-thousands-and-thousands-of-tourists pyramid.
    "Hey, tell her the story," I said when we sat down in the bus. Even though Josh invited me to sit back with the group, I sat next to Barb because she was upset, not that I cared
that
much, but
I
was her sister and I wasn't about to let Talia take over. Not anymore.
    "You don't care about my story," Nando said. "You're just bored. You don't have your American television out here in the jungle. I'm just a clown to you."
    "Omigosh, Nando. I apologized. I'm really sorry that I climbed the pyramid." My shoulders sagged. "Even though I totally didn't hurt anything."
    "Yeah? Well plenty of tourists have—someone damaged the Chac Mool, jumping on it like playground equipment."
    "But I didn't."
    "But you have the same attitude."
    "No, I don't—"
    Nando turned around, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. He was right. I didn't respect the boundaries. I just did what I wanted—kind of