Read Online The Jade Notebook by Laura Resau - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Resau
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explanation.
He’s the one who realizes it first. “A fence,” he whispers, pulling me close. “Thank God.” I peer over his shoulder, catch a glint of sunlight off wire. Slowly, through the thick foliage, I see the nearly hidden outline of the high fence topped with coiled barbed wire.
And I can make out the cat’s open jaw, the gleam of its teeth, as it releases a roar that shakes the trees. We flee, leaving behind the TRESPASSERS WILL BE DEVOURED sign. Which has a completely new meaning to us now.
Back at the cabanas, Layla’s in the kitchen hut chopping cucumbers. At her side is Joe, in an orange wig and red rubber nose, attempting to twist and tie balloons together in the shape of what looks like a three-headed pig. The rubber squeaking sounds like a three-headed pig too.
Layla notices our panicked expressions first and drops the knife. “What’s wrong?”
Breathless, still holding a machete in my shaking hand, I tell her about the wildcat that would’ve devoured us if not for the flimsy metal fence.
Wendell grips my other hand. When my voice falters, he picks up the story. “So the signs are actually valid warnings.” He closes his eyes for a few seconds. “That animal’s teeth, his jaws, his massive head. It was—it was—”
I’m at a loss for words too, so I wait for Layla’s reaction.
“¡Qué padre!”
She gives Joe an excited glance.
He looks a bit more wary, his pink balloon creation still and silent in his hands.
“Layla,” I say, “it’s not
padre
. It’s not remotely cool to have a dangerous predator roaring at guests walking along the path.”
“Oh, I don’t know. They might find it thrilling.” She turns to Joe. “Right?”
Of course, he agrees, but just with a slight nod. “I do have to point out,” he says, clearing his throat, “this beast is a sign of things to come. The end of the world as we know it.” He stares pensively at the three-headed pig in his hands. “I bet it’s a jaguar. They were sacred to the ancient Maya, you know. The culture that lived here, on this very land. The culture that made the dire prediction thousands of years ago—”
“Thanks for your input, Joe,” I say, and turn to my mother. “Listen, Layla. We have to do something.” I open my mouth to tell her about the curse rumors; they must be related to this beast. But I bite my tongue. It’s one thing to tell Layla about a wildcat prowling nearby. She’s fearless when it comes to realistic dangers. Curses, on the other hand, are a different matter. Ridiculous threats of negative energy are much scarier to her than any wildcat. There’s no telling how she’d respond. She’s the queen of letting omens guide her choices. Three different people mention elephants in one day? Must be a sign to move to Thailand. Discover a leech on your ankle after a swim? Better quit your soul-sucking job.
If I tell her about the curse rumors, she might bail out onour plan to stay here for good. She’d somehow twist it into evidence that we should hightail it to Holland or Mongolia.
I stiffen my jaw. “It can’t be legal to own a giant wild feline. Let’s report the owner to the authorities and have the creature taken away.” I turn back to Layla. “And it might be helpful to have documentation that we live here—like the rental contract.”
“Well, I was thinking I’d have Raúl look it over.”
“Raúl?”
“You know, the lawyer from Spain.”
“That guy’s a lawyer?” Raúl has been lost in a tequila-and-pot-induced haze from the moment he got here. His only sober moments seem to be during sunrise yoga. But I have to admit, it does seem like a good idea to have a professional review the contract. “Try to make him do it before he hits the tequila, okay, Layla?”
“Right.”
“In the meantime, I’ll figure out who owns this wildcat.”
“Jaguar,” Joe says, resuming his awkward, squeaky balloon-twisting, torturing the freakish pig. “Definitely a jaguar.”
I
He’s the one who realizes it first. “A fence,” he whispers, pulling me close. “Thank God.” I peer over his shoulder, catch a glint of sunlight off wire. Slowly, through the thick foliage, I see the nearly hidden outline of the high fence topped with coiled barbed wire.
And I can make out the cat’s open jaw, the gleam of its teeth, as it releases a roar that shakes the trees. We flee, leaving behind the TRESPASSERS WILL BE DEVOURED sign. Which has a completely new meaning to us now.
Back at the cabanas, Layla’s in the kitchen hut chopping cucumbers. At her side is Joe, in an orange wig and red rubber nose, attempting to twist and tie balloons together in the shape of what looks like a three-headed pig. The rubber squeaking sounds like a three-headed pig too.
Layla notices our panicked expressions first and drops the knife. “What’s wrong?”
Breathless, still holding a machete in my shaking hand, I tell her about the wildcat that would’ve devoured us if not for the flimsy metal fence.
Wendell grips my other hand. When my voice falters, he picks up the story. “So the signs are actually valid warnings.” He closes his eyes for a few seconds. “That animal’s teeth, his jaws, his massive head. It was—it was—”
I’m at a loss for words too, so I wait for Layla’s reaction.
“¡Qué padre!”
She gives Joe an excited glance.
He looks a bit more wary, his pink balloon creation still and silent in his hands.
“Layla,” I say, “it’s not
padre
. It’s not remotely cool to have a dangerous predator roaring at guests walking along the path.”
“Oh, I don’t know. They might find it thrilling.” She turns to Joe. “Right?”
Of course, he agrees, but just with a slight nod. “I do have to point out,” he says, clearing his throat, “this beast is a sign of things to come. The end of the world as we know it.” He stares pensively at the three-headed pig in his hands. “I bet it’s a jaguar. They were sacred to the ancient Maya, you know. The culture that lived here, on this very land. The culture that made the dire prediction thousands of years ago—”
“Thanks for your input, Joe,” I say, and turn to my mother. “Listen, Layla. We have to do something.” I open my mouth to tell her about the curse rumors; they must be related to this beast. But I bite my tongue. It’s one thing to tell Layla about a wildcat prowling nearby. She’s fearless when it comes to realistic dangers. Curses, on the other hand, are a different matter. Ridiculous threats of negative energy are much scarier to her than any wildcat. There’s no telling how she’d respond. She’s the queen of letting omens guide her choices. Three different people mention elephants in one day? Must be a sign to move to Thailand. Discover a leech on your ankle after a swim? Better quit your soul-sucking job.
If I tell her about the curse rumors, she might bail out onour plan to stay here for good. She’d somehow twist it into evidence that we should hightail it to Holland or Mongolia.
I stiffen my jaw. “It can’t be legal to own a giant wild feline. Let’s report the owner to the authorities and have the creature taken away.” I turn back to Layla. “And it might be helpful to have documentation that we live here—like the rental contract.”
“Well, I was thinking I’d have Raúl look it over.”
“Raúl?”
“You know, the lawyer from Spain.”
“That guy’s a lawyer?” Raúl has been lost in a tequila-and-pot-induced haze from the moment he got here. His only sober moments seem to be during sunrise yoga. But I have to admit, it does seem like a good idea to have a professional review the contract. “Try to make him do it before he hits the tequila, okay, Layla?”
“Right.”
“In the meantime, I’ll figure out who owns this wildcat.”
“Jaguar,” Joe says, resuming his awkward, squeaky balloon-twisting, torturing the freakish pig. “Definitely a jaguar.”
I
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