Jungle Jitters by Lisa Dalrymple

Author:Lisa Dalrymple
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459813519
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2017-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

We met the guides and Mr. G. at the canoes. Unlike the day before, we didn’t get any surprises on our way to the Yagua village—only after we arrived. There were no drums, no painted faces and no men in leafy skirts. Without any tours to entertain, today the villagers were looking at us.

I had figured Dre’s dark skin would get a lot of attention, but it was my paleness that stood out. Even the grown-ups were watching me. Noelle’s friend from the day before ran over to take my hand, but I was sure she just wanted a closer look. I never knew I could be so aware of my own skin. The girl gestured that she wanted to touch my red hair.

“What do I do?” I whispered to Dre.

“I think you bend down.” He grinned.

As she touched my head, the villagers murmured. Soon another kid approached, and then more. With so many hands in my hair, I felt like a dog on a schoolyard. But the grown-ups were chuckling, and the children were happy.

They followed us everywhere we went. It was distracting, especially when we were putting together the bookshelves. Every time I dropped my screwdriver—which was often—someone ran to help me. And every time, they stroked my hair or my arm as they left. Mr. Gallagher asked if I’d like to work by myself for a while.

“I need someone to paint ABCs,” he offered.

I nodded and followed him around to the back of the school, where a new blackboard leaned against the stilts. Although this was on the edge of the jungle, I could still see Dre, Noelle and the village kids not that far away. The barrier created by the bookshelves wasn’t perfect, but it would keep people from wandering over as I worked.

“You’ll have to use white oil paint on the board,” Mr. G. said. “The Yaguas’ natural stains won’t stand out on the black.”

He left, and I started tracing out the letters. After I finished a few, I stood back to look at them.

I heard someone approaching. When I turned, no one was there. I peered through the stilts for the others, but they were gone too. The light was fading, and I hadn’t finished. I shook the paint can and pried off the lid.

A twig snapped behind me. I heard voices. I spun around, but I was definitely alone.

Still holding the lid, I turned back to my work. A ribbon of white streamed from my hand. I looked down. The plants all around me were spattered in un-rainforest-friendly white paint. I heard a squeal from the jungle. Or maybe it came from me. Would the villagers be mad at me for getting paint all over the plants?

Maybe I could wipe them clean. I grabbed a rag and started rubbing. Paint smeared everywhere, all over my hands and all over the leaves. I tried to rinse it away with my drinking water, but the water only beaded off, and the leaves stayed white. I took a deep breath.

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