Chapter Seven:

"And last year I covered The Carnival in Rio de Janeiro," Helga says, strutting along the trail. Her posture is confident and sure, her chin is up, and a brilliant smile lights up on her face.

"Wow, that must have been amazing!" Antoinette exclaims, eyes wide.

"What's The Rio Carnival?" Richard inquires, taking full advantage of the tree in his way by sliding closer to Antoinette as discreetly as possible. For the record, she doesn't notice. That, or she doesn't care.

"It's a festival held in Brazil each year before Lent," Helga explains, her face bright with excitement and her blue eyes sparkling.

It's a struggle not to just stop in my tracks and stare at her. The Helga I remember was not this chatty. Well, at least not this friendly while talking. She could chatter a long list of insults or threats, but never just talk about world events like this. I've definitely never seen her this bright and exuberant about something without getting defensive and rude if you noticed her interests. It's almost as if she's found a passion, something to live for, goals to strive for, and with that she's become more confident in herself and content with the world around her.

I find myself in complete stunned silence. And I have to admit, I'm intrigued by this sudden zeal I see in her, especially considering it's something that I can relate to: traveling, history, and the world. There's a strange lump forming in my throat and I have to kind of clear it before I speak to make sure my voice sounds normal. "It's like Mardi Gras in New Orleans," I comment.

Was that high voice mine? Geez, what's wrong with me?
"Yes, very similar," Helga confirms with a nod, obviously not noticing my sudden loss of voice. Thank goodness. "Rio Carnival is considered to be the biggest carnival in the world. Every day there are about 2 million people on the streets." The more she talks the more animated she gets, her hands and arms moving with excited fervor. "If I'm ever actually not writing an article that time of year, I'm totally going back-even if I have to sleep in an alley." She stumbles on a rock on the trail, grabbing my shoulder to steady herself. Her eyes meet mine for a brief moment before she yanks her hand away, continuing her story without missing a beat. Without warning, a slow warmth spreads throughout my body, leaving me feeling light-headed and causing sweat droplets to form on my brow. It must be really hot today. Amazon heat wave, maybe? Is that a thing? Can it actually get hotter than normal here?

"Last year while I was there, I watched the parades of the Escolas de Samba-which are like nothing you've ever seen! Each escola has about 300 drummers and percussionists, gigantic floats, and at least a few thousand costumed dancers. I mean, it's one of the most colorful, remarkable things I've ever seen in my entire life. Even more remarkable than that time your grandma stole that bulldozer from Nick Vermicelli by swinging from a rope dressed as Tarzan." She elbows me lightly in the ribs and I shoot her a withering look.

"Wait, what?" Sandy asks, simultaneously grabbing the back of her three-year-old Ramses' shirt and pulling him away from a huge bumblebee.

"Oh, it's a long story." Helga laughs lightly before continuing. "One night, while in Brazil, I got to celebrate with a small neighborhood banda. They called themselves Simpatia é Quase Amor which means Sympathy Is Almost Love. It's pretty much their goal to have a kind of whimsical, if not ironic, name. And they go down the streets as musicians, with a sound truck, playing marches and sambas. Oh, and then crowds of people trail behind or cheer them on from the street sides. It's literally something everyone should see." Her lips stretch into the biggest smile I think I've ever witnessed on the face of Helga. I can't help but stare. The wind blowing through her blond hair, her fluid gait, her catlike grace...

Watching her, I can sort of tell she's in her own little world...almost like she's forgotten we're here. Her mind racing with memories and love for the adventures she's had. "The first festivals held in Rio de Janeiro even date back to the 1700s, which I think is pretty amazing. I mean that's 300 years of carnivals! I've kind of got this thing for history," she adds, her cheeks showing a hint of red. "It's one of the reasons I originally applied to cover this area. I think the ancient people and history here are so intriguing. Plus, I kind of like going off the beaten path and exploring things very few others have seen. I feel like there are endless new things to discover here."

"What exactly do you do when going 'off the beaten path'?" Soren asks, swinging their littlest up onto his broad shoulders, likely just to keep him out of trouble. There's no end of energy when it comes to their two boys.

Helga sighs as she looks up into the bright sky, her eyes half-lidded and her grin twisting into a dopey smile. I feel a slight stirring in my chest. Maybe I'm about to have a heart attack. Can twenty-six year-olds have heart attacks?

"Oh, you know," Helga smiles, still gazing at the view above through the jungle canopy, "sleeping out under the stars for a week because you're so far away from society."

"No, thank you! I wouldn't want to do that! At least here we can drive a couple of hours to civilization and shower and sleep in a bed if we want to," Antoinette remarks, looking exhausted by just the thought of sleeping outside.

"Do you do this kind of thing by yourself?" Sandy questions, her voice nervous and possibly a bit suspicious.

"Sure. Why not?" Helga shrugs nonchalantly. "I can take care of myself. Plus, it's just so therapeutic just to be away from people and have the chance to sit and think and enjoy the beauty of the world."

I have to almost physically close my mouth while I'm listening to her. It's like she's reading my own thoughts and feelings, which is pretty amazing in itself. This is Helga G. Pataki. Someone who I have a bit of an interesting, if somewhat rough history with; someone who bullied me and berated me and once informed me that she was only just a "mean and nasty" person. But the way she talks about history, going off the beaten path, and finding alone time therapeutic...it's like we're sharing a mind. And I can't help but be...overwhelmingly intrigued.

I mean, it's not like I haven't known other people who love history. Obviously, Antoinette and Sandy both love history or they wouldn't be in this field, but even for them they have other passions that kind of transcend their love of history. And they're not likely to go spend a week on their own in the middle of nowhere just for the heck of it. And even if they did they wouldn't enjoy it that much. And even now, they still get tired of living in a tent or a cabin far away from any cities.

So, I've never known anyone who seemed to have the same kind of thrill that I have when it comes to this kind of thing. There's a strange kind of heat in my chest listening to her, and I'm pretty sure I'm smiling like a big dope. All of a sudden, my mind is overflowing with things I'd love to discuss with her and her like-mindedness.

"And I gotta say, I was pretty thrilled to get this assignment," Helga states, and I realize she's beside me again, her arm bumping mine from the rhythm of our hiking.

"You were?" I ask, looking up to her in surprise and rubbing the goose bumps that have suddenly formed on my arms. Can you get goose bumps from it being hot outside?

She chuckles, obviously amused. "Of course. You know, I've heard whisperings and rumors about these elusive Green Eyed people for years. Granted no one ever said they were Egyptian though. Just you." She shoots me a teasing look. "All I know is that they were a very small, secretive civilization, way out here. One day, about twenty-five years ago, they just...disappeared," her voice fades. "Once I even tried to come out here myself, but they've got the place pretty well protected."

"An entire civilization vanished without a trace. Not to mention a pair of anthropologists," Eduardo starts, shooting me a solemn look. "We didn't think it was wise to allow people in. El niño ahogado, tapando el pozo," he adds solemnly, removing his hat briefly and resting it over his heart.

Helga nods slowly, clearly understanding, but then asks, "but why open it now? After all these years?"

"Señor Arnold convinced me," is all he says before turning and continuing on ahead of us.

"Quite the conversationalist, isn't he?" Helga quips to me.

I silently let out the air I've been holding in. It's not that I don't want Helga to know about the fact that it was my parents who were the anthropologists that disappeared, it's just that I'm not really ready for her to know all the details. Though, my guess is, if she were to think about it, she would know enough to put the pieces together. Helga's anything but dumb.

"That's not true. He just takes a while to warm up. He's actually a pretty friendly guy once you get to know him."

"So let me ask you this, Mr. Shortman," she begins, readjusting the strap of her bag and changing the subject. "Was your whole plan to end up over here in San Lorenzo or did it all happen by coincidence?"

"Well, honestly, I kind of hoped it would happen," I reply frankly, watching our feet matching in step as we head up a steep slope. "I started out studying the Green Eyes, but when I found out that the sites were closed indefinitely I switched to Egyptology and became intrigued by the similarities in their linguistics and cultures. And it kind of snowballed from there."

She looks at me intensely for a moment again and I meet her gaze, my heart skipping a beat at the deep blue of her eyes. "Did you want to come to San Lorenzo to...to..." she trails off, a guilty look in her eyes, as she casts them downward.

"To find my parents?" I finish for her, trying to hide the emotional waver in my voice. "Well, I kind of gave up on finding them alive a long time ago. But it would be something, at least, to find out what happened to them. Maybe a little bit of closure. But, at the very least, it's incredible to be finishing their work."

When she doesn't respond, I look up to see her studying me again. Her large eyes look almost sorrowful as they gaze at me. "I'm sorry about your parents, Arnold. I really and truly am."

I can only nod in response, before quickly glancing away. The thought of my parents, and losing them causes a dizzying pain in my heart. And there's a burning lump forming in my throat and tears forming in my eyes and I know if I speak they'll start falling and I will not cry in front of Helga.

Since I can't speak, I turn away and observe the trees we pass by as we walk up the hill. We're on an old overgrown path, probably once used by the Green Eyes to visit the temple, but it definitely hasn't been used recently. Vines, bushes and growth of all sorts have taken over, but it's still mostly clear of large vegetation. However, tight against the edges of the trail are the giant trees towering above us, allowing very little sun to actually get through. Since our eyes are more accustomed to the brightness of the trail, it feels significantly darker when I gaze into the surrounding jungle. Shadows ebb and flow around in between the dense trees. It's almost like there's something there beyond the foliage, darting in and out of sight...

With a sharp intake of breath, I almost stop.

Wait. What was that?

A sudden surge of dread overcomes me for a second, snaking its way up my back. This time I really do stop walking to stare into the shrubbery. My heartbeat immediately increases and drops of cold sweat make their way down my face.

I close my eyes for a second to moisten them and whipping my head around to look to the tree line behind me, searching the jungle, but seeing nothing but trees and vines.

I could have sworn I really did see something-a shadow, darker than the rest-following us. But, there's nothing there...no foreboding shadow, no figure hovering there behind us, nothing but the normal expanse of forest.

Shaking my head, I let out the tense breath I've been holding. Glancing back to Helga, I notice she has also stopped walking and is eyeing me closely. "What's wrong, Arnold?" she questions, glancing behind me.

"I thought I saw something following us," I tell her, my voice losign a hint of it's normal bravado.

"Probably just an animal," Helga states. But her brows are slightly furrowed as she looks past me into the tree line.

"Maybe it was a panther," Antoinette comments, approaching us from behind. "I still haven't seen one yet."

"Why would you want to see one?" Sandy asks with a fearful shiver, tugging protectively on Sawyer's hand to bring him closer to her.

"I bet it was Edward," Soren comments, coming to stand next to her.

"Who's Edward?"

"Or maybe...it's Jacob," he adds with intrigue, trying his best to stay straight-faced.

"Did you seriously just make a Twilight joke? I don't know if I should be impressed or embarrassed," Sandy remarks, giving him a withering look.

"Did you know that panthers aren't actually their own species?" Richard interjects, moving close to Antoinette again. It's getting harder to believe how she seems so oblivious to his obvious advances. "They're actually either jaguars or leopards, born with a simple recessive gene that causes the all-black or dark brown color. They can even have siblings with normal spots."

Antoinette stops and stares at him for a minute. "How do you hold all that information in your brain?" With that she turns and continues walking up the hill.

Helga and I share a look with a snicker as Richard hurries past us to catch up with her.

"He's got a thing for her, doesn't he? He should try a new tactic," she quips. "Not that I'm an expert or anything. In fact, I'm about as far from being an expert as you can get." With that she kicks a stone in front of her and starts walking again.

Matching her speed I laugh. "Well, I don't know. I might have you beat in that area."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," she replies, an unidentifiable tone in her voice.

I glance up at her and witness an array of emotions flickering across her face, but they pass too quickly and Sawyer is suddenly in front of me before I can decipher them.

"Arnold, will you give me a piggy-back ride? Please?"

"You don't have to, Arnold," Sandy says, smiling softly. "If you're too tired, just tell him so."

I grin and squat down in front of the little exuberant six-year-old. "Sure, Sawyer, hop on up."

I've barely found my balance before he's already climbing up onto my back. Once he's secure, I stand up and begin heading up the hill.

"Hey, what's that over there? Can we go look?" he asks, pointing over my shoulder to a large, bright pink flower on a plant near the edge of the trail.

"Sure," I reply. Bouncing along extra dramatically, I race over to the flower. I glance behind us at Helga's retreating figure as she follows the rest of the group on ahead.

"What do you think?" I ask Sawyer, leaning over so he can get a good look at the flower.

"I think she's pretty," he replies softly.

"How do you know the flower is a girl?" I question, trying not to laugh.

He erupts into a fit of cute little giggles. "Not the flower. Flowers aren't girls, you weirdo," he replies, still giggling. "I mean the yellow-haired lady. She's pretty."

I glance back to where Helga and the group have paused on the crest of the hill, overlooking the view, and realize he saw me looking back at her when I asked the question. Great…he probably thought I was asking about Helga and not the flower.

"And I know a secret," Sawyer says, twisting around my shoulder until his face is looking into mine, his blue-gray eyes sparkling mischievously.

"What's that?" I chuckle, amused at his proud expression, and twist back to look at him as best as I can.

"You think she's pretty too," he exclaims before pulling himself back around onto my back.

My eyes are once again on Helga. There really is no denying that she is pretty; maturity has been kind to her. Her lithe arms lift over her head as she stretches. Sandy is next to her and obviously says something funny because now Helga is laughing. We're too far away to hear what they are saying, but the pleasant sound of her laughter flows down to us like a soft breeze. I must have zoned out for a moment because suddenly Helga is holding a piece of cloth – where she got it from I have no idea – and is wiping the back of her neck. Beads of sweat drip down the back of my own as I watch the extremely simple act of trying to cool off. Time seems to slow down and I can't tear my eyes away from the smooth skin at the nape of her neck as she pulls her sun-bleached hair back into a bun, short pieces falling around her face softly. Even from this distance I can see that she's tan and unblemished and looks strangely alluring.

Suddenly, my cheeks feel way too hot and there's an unfamiliar fluttering in my stomach. I wonder if I'm coming down with some Amazon flu, because surely it has to just be that. There was no way it was related to Helga.

Sawyer moves his head next to mine again, startling me out of whatever the heck that was. "So...are we going to go or what?"

"Uh, yah," I reply, still distracted, as I head to the top of the hill, trying not to think about the blonde-haired beauty in front of me. Oh geez, I did not just think that.

The group has already started heading down the slope. Eduardo's leading, followed by Antoinette, Richard, and Soren who is still carrying Ramses on his shoulders, with Sandy and Helga trailing behind them at the rear. It's only a little more distance to catch up, but I take my time, not wanting to exhaust myself too much from carrying a six-year-old on my back while running up hill.

When we almost reach Helga and Sandy, I pause when I hear my name being spoken between them in lowered voices. After a quick internal debate, I decide to hang back behind them, only just far enough to remain in hearing distance of their conversation. A little eavesdropping never hurt anyone, right?

"So you already knew about Arnold's parents?" Sandy asks Helga, a slight defensive tone in her voice.

"Of course. Everyone in Hillwood knows," Helga jests in response. When she notices Sandy doesn't reply, she turns to her. "Wait. You didn't know?"

Sandy shakes her head, and even from the slight distance between us, I can see the slight hint of betrayal on the profile her face. A pang of guilt seizes my chest. "No. He didn't tell us until after we discovered the letter Prince Wadjmose wrote. We had no idea."

Helga nods solemnly. "We all grew up knowing Arnold's parents were gone. My dad called him 'orphan boy'. That blowhard was and still is a big jerk. I know that really bothered Arnold, but maybe he took it to heart and that's why he decided not to tell anyone."

Sandy nods, her shoulders still sagging dejectedly. The pang only grows in intensity. Maybe I should apologize to the group. They are my friends. Maybe I should have told them sooner...

"In fourth grade when he found his dad's journal and learned all about his parents, you couldn't get the kid to shut up about it," Helga explains, quietly. "He told us all about how they were anthropologists and traveled to San Lorenzo to help these Green Eyed people...how he was born here during a volcanic eruption...and how one day his parents went back and just never came returned," she stated, a hint of grief in her voice.

"He had all these plans and crazy dreams that he was going to go to San Lorenzo, find them, and rescue them from whatever trouble had kept them from returning home." I'm almost touched at the sincere sound of sorrow in her voice. I never thought Helga even cared. She was usually too busy throwing spitballs at me for me to think otherwise. "Or he thought that they would come back on their own one day. I mean it was all he talked about for a long time.

"Then one day, when we were older, he just...stopped." She pauses, thoughtfully. "He never mentioned them or San Lorenzo again. I don't know what happened or what changed. But, one day that little glimmer of hope he always had in his eyes, was just...gone." Kicking a rock dispiritedly with each step of her right foot, she continues. "That hopeful spark was replaced by a dull, empty look. I think he just finally gave up hope that'd he'd ever see them again. The more time that went by since they left...well, I think he decided they were probably...gone forever."

I can't take it anymore. It's bad enough knowing people are talking about me, but being able to hear them makes it just so much worse. Not to mention the fact that they are talking about something so painful for me. Setting Sawyer down, I send him running to his mom. He plows into the back of her legs, almost sending Sandy sprawling to the ground. Helga turns to watch me walking towards them. Her cheeks redden slightly and she quickly looks down to brush a patch of dirt off her pants.

"Everything okay?" I ask, coating my voice in innocence. Time to try out those acting skills again. Hopefully, they'll work better then last time.

Helga shrugs nonchalantly, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" Her cheeks are still pink and she hasn't met my eyes. When she finally does, she says, "Tell me about this letter from a Prince Whatcha-ma-somebody Sandy was just telling me about."

"It's Wadjmose," Soren states, proudly, as the others approach us to see what the delay is. "He was supposed to be Pharaoh...but the little weirdo totally left Egypt."

Sandy smacks him on the shoulder. "Don't speak ill of the dead, dear."

"Why'd he leave?" Helga asks pulling out a pen and notepad. "I mean, so far, he does sound like a little weirdo. What kind of name is What's-a-moose anyway?"

"Wadjmose. And he didn't leave by choice," Sandy replies with an eye roll. "His murderous siblings forced his leave."

Watching Helga talking with the others so casually and friendly gives me kind of a weird feeling. I mean it's Helga...but it's not Helga. It's strange. It's funny that only six years would change a person so much. But then again, six years is a long time. Plus, being away from Hillwood and, most importantly, her family was probably pretty liberating. She could be herself and finally be appreciated for her talents , since her family never really did appreciate her. For as long as she can remember, she's always been exceptionally smart and talented. Winning contests for her poetry, finishing high up in school spelling bees, receiving the highest scores on tests of all sorts. But her parents never noticed, and because of it, Helga never thought she was anything special, or that she had any talents or intelligence. But now I can see that she knows she's smart. She isn't just saying she is to brag or look tough; she really believes it.

And she looks different. Something about her-everything about her seems softer, at peace with the world and herself. Her voice has lost its defensive, angry timbre. Her tight, stiff pigtails are gone and replaced with long, wavy, silky hair. Her eyes are more often than not bright and happy instead of narrowed and scowling. Even the way she carries herself is more lithe and agile instead of stomping and hunched.

It kind of makes me wonder if I've changed at all since she's last seen me. Am I any different? Better? Or maybe worse?


Before too long-well, more like after a long day of hiking we reached the temple ruins. The sun was low in the sky, sunset only about an hour away. We set up camp and made a fire quickly while Sandy started the dinner. When we finally finished all the work, we sat down to eat and enjoy the sunset. Afterward, Soren put the little kids to bed and Sandy whipped out all the ingredients for s'mores.

Busy with setting up camp, there hadn't been much time to chat or talk with Helga. And then we were all so ravenous at dinner, that we quietly watched the bright colors sink into the horizon while the boys wrestled and chattered about their adventures on the hike. Now it was dark around us, the sounds of the nocturnal animals surrounding us with the quiet rustle of the wind blowing through the leaves.

"So, do you guys go all the way to town just for chocolate so you can make s'mores?" Helga asks with a slight chuckle, sticking a marshmallow on a stick and leaning forward to put it into the fire.

"Nobody knows," Richard says in a mock-spooky voice.

"I know," Soren says matter-of-factly, shaking the stick with a burning marshmallow on it. "It's-"

"Watch where you're swinging that thing," Antoinette interrupts when Soren's flaming marshmallow almost hits her in the face.

"I am," Soren replies, waving her off. "Like I was saying, I know how there's always chocolate." He narrowed his eyes as if it's some great conspiracy. "One word: Sandy."

Glancing over at Helga, I can see her laughing as she watches Soren tease his wife, her eyes glowing with reflected firelight, her face happy and content.

"Chocolate makes for a balanced diet," Sandy comments placing a large piece onto her marshmallow and smashing it with two graham crackers. "Never underestimate the power of chocolate, my friends."

"I second that," Helga grins at me from across the fire. "All that crap about diamonds being a girl's best friend. That's baloney. Chocolate is a girl's best friend." With that, she takes a big bite of her s'more, the melted chocolate oozing out the sides. Carefully, she wipes the drip off the side of her mouth with her ring finger and I can't seem to look away.

Antoinette, who is sitting next to me, sighs and startles me, drawing my attention back to the group. "Mmm, so true."

"Girls," Richard laughs.

"You said it," I reply, my cheeks heating up once more, as I realize I'm watching Helga again. Why do I keep doing that?

"So, Eduardo," Helga says after finishing her s'more, "got any exciting stories to tell us from your anthropologist days?"

He pauses to look up at Helga, his eyes soft and slightly sad. Pensively he runs a finger across his mustache. "Well, let me think..."

"Ooh, I know! Tell us a story about baby Arnold in the jungle," Sandy interjects, licking the chocolate off her index finger. "Cute wittle baby Arnold, who would grow up to be a great archeologist."

Eduardo chuckles softly. "Aw, little chico Arnold. He was a lindo little baby. Lucky for his parents, he slept through the nights at such a small age. Probably because he had so much energy. He never stopped. Just always going and going. Muy activo. He learned to crawl at only six months. It was loco! I had never seen that before, and to this day I've yet to see a baby crawling at such a small age."

He leans back against the large rock behind him and stretches his feet out in front of him, comfortable in his story-telling. "I remember one of Arnold's last days here in San Lorenzo." He shoots an unsure glance at me before continuing, but I don't give him any indication to stop. "At the time they were living in a pequeña hut near the river. It was near an antiguo temple where Miles, Arnold's father, was working. He was translating some of the Green Eyes hieroglyphics there. Un poco torpe pero dedicado, your father."

He smiles softly at me, a hint of melancholy working at the corners of his mouth. Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I lean forward, unable to resist the need to hear more about my parents.

"Miles was very set on finishing those inscriptions. He felt they were very important, and as the only one who knew the language completely it was his duty." Eduardo smiles warmly at me. "I'm sure he never imagined his son would follow in his footsteps. If he had, I know he would be very proud-muy orgulloso."

I can feel eyes on me. You know the feeling. You can't ignore it. It's like someone poking you ever so lightly with little pins. Glancing around the fire, I spot Helga, watching me closely, her eyes half-lidded and unreadable. Our eyes meet for a second, before she looks back to Eduardo as he continues. I feel a flush come to my face, a flutter to my chest, and a tense anxiety all at the same time. Maybe I should consider going to the doctor when we return to civilization, because I can't remember the last time I felt like this.

"He was a very active little chamaco. As I said, only six months old and already crawling!" Eduardo continues. "Miles and Stella were so very proud of him. All the local villagers loved him and his bright blond hair, so different from anything they'd ever seen on a baby. Just a few weeks before this day, he had had an encounter with un grande snake. And it had scared your poor parents so badly they decided they needed to move back to Washington.

"That's why Miles was trying to finish up his research. He wanted to bring Arnold and Stella back home to be safer." He looked back to the fire then, as if remembering a long lost memory. "The three of us were sitting just outside their hut. We were eating lunch and listening to Miles talk about the latest Green-Eyed writings he had deciphered. Arnold was just inside the cabin playing with a little toy I had carved for him out of caoba wood. He seemed so happy playing there on the hut's wooden floor. Stella wanted to move him over by us, but Miles thought it was best not to disturb him since he was so content, so we let him play there while we talked. They would look back every couple of minutes and wave to Arnold, checking to make sure he was bien and still having fun."

A cloud of a new emotion rested on Eduardo's face then. "But, at one point, Stella looks back and he's gone! ¡Desaparecido! Ay Dios mio! Our hearts froze in our chests! To say your father panicked is an understatement. He ran inside and threw everything apart looking for you, Arnold," he says, his voice raised with restraint emotions. "The beds, papers, suitcases...anything and everything.

"Stella and I checked around the hut, but Arnold was nowhere to be found! When we all came up empty, I remember your parents held each other, trying to decide what to do next. You had wandered off a few times before, but we usually found you very close by. They started to worry that you would be lost in the jungle forever... por siempre," Eduardo states, looking at me again. "I remember your mother standing there, staring into the jungle, her hand over her heart, tears on her cheeks. She kept saying, 'I had a bad feeling; I shouldn't have ignored it. I should have paid attention and just moved him next to me where I could see him the entire time."

Eduardo leaned forward then, the firelight dancing in his eyes, his face brooding with dark memories. "Dusk was coming and we knew we had to find Arnold rápido before the sunset. We could not understand how he was able to crawl so fast. Going on Stella's motherly instinct-because she would not ignore it this time-we went to check the site your father had been working on. It was an ancient Green Eye temple and alter, abandoned in ancient times by their people. Miles and Stella even suspected it was also a burial site. As we arrived at the site, the sun was setting. The temple was a dark shape there on the hill. An ominous and foreboding sight, at a time of such fear where Arnold was concerned.

"But there Arnold was. Sitting at the entrance, his back to us, giggling at something in the darkness of the temple, muy feliz, dressed only in his shirt and diaper. We did not see anything there in front of him. But he laughed and laughed. To this day, we do not know what baby Arnold was laughing at or why he crawled up there."

He looked at me then, the emotion in his eyes, his words directed specifically to me. "Your mother rushed over to you, Arnold, picked you up and hugged you muy tightly. She was so happy to have found you! And I remember she blamed herself because she left the door open and didn't have you play next to her. She cried tears of joy when she held you. She was so glad you were safe.

"Your father had tears in his eyes as well, but while your mother hugged you, he kept staring into that temple...almost like he could see whatever it was that you had been giggling at. He just kept staring until Stella was finally was willing to share you again. Then your father looked you over to make sure you were unharmed and hugged you como si se acabar el mundo. But I will tell you, as we stared into that temple, we felt suddenly uneasy...a dark and-how you do you say?- presentimiento feeling. It spread through us with sudden force. A feeling I had never felt before. Nunca. It was like doom. Malvado.

"All the way home to the cabin in that deep darkness, your mother held you tight. When we got back I heard your mother talking to your father. Your mother didn't want to stay here anymore, she wanted you all to go home. And your father agreed.

"They packed up and left the next day. Your dad didn't even finish his work. They both loved you, Arnold, very much. They wanted you to be safe. They wanted to protect you from all the harm of the jungle. You were their world, and they never wanted you to be in harm's way again.

A thick, tangible silence spreads around the fire. My eyes quickly dart down to the ground, hoping no one's watching me. An all-too-familiar pain is starting behind my eyes, shooting through my head-that common pain of unshed tears and heartbroken grief; bottled up and buried inside for years. Never-endingly torn between the desire to hear more stories about my parents and the desire to avoid talking about them-avoid thinking about them. Most of the time I prefer to stuff those feelings and pain back inside again-hiding them from everyone and pretending like I'm okay when every day is a constant battle of turmoil and heartache inside me. A lump grows in my throat and a single tear trickles down my face.

My parents. What I would give to see them, just once more.

I look up, not sure what caught my attention. But there's Helga, sitting across the fire, her large eyes fixed on me. Emotions I can't quite read are evident on her face: Sorrow? Pity? Compassion? Something else? I don't know or even try to figure it out because suddenly I'm filled with that feeling of warmth again and for once, just like that, the pain is almost gone. For once, embracing that warmth, I feel like I maybe someday I can find peace.


A/N:

Whoo! Yay! Another chapter down! What did you guys think? Did you like it? Was it funny? Interesting? Entertaining? Tell me all!

Also...I kind of imagine baby Arnold like my oldest...full of energy and never stopping. In fact, mine crawled at 5.5 months and walked at 7 months...so it's shockingly possible for him to have crawled so young!

And shout out to AibouFTW and Marie Allen for their amazing help on this story! Seriously! I'd still be stuck if it wasn't for their help! You guys are amazing! Seriously.

And a shout out to E. D. Alvarez90 for all the help with the Spanish, including giving me fun phrases to use. It was a huge help! And now I feel like Eduardo is much more legit. :-) Also, you're just awesome for a zillion other reasons...like re-inspiring "No Competition" and helping with my book!

Please remember to review and let me know what you think! Fun stuff!

XOXO,

Arnold's Love