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No están aquí para ser

amigos, pero tal vez

se enamoren el uno del otro.

TTI

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SOPHIE GONZALES

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A Sarah

UNA

Maya

El tipo que está a mi lado en el bar me sonríe íntimamente, como si

conociera todos mis secretos pero le gustara de todos modos. Es un
poco inquietante, sobre todo porque estoy completamente segura de
que no lo he visto en mi vida, y soy buena con las caras. Sin
embargo, es el tipo de sonrisa que conquistaría al instante a
cualquiera con la capacidad de confiar en un hombre con una
sonrisa carismática. Eso se lo concedo.

Es una pena que yo no sea una de esas personas.

Pero da la casualidad de que quiero algo de él, así que reflejo

descaradamente su sonrisa de seda y espero. "Estoy intentando
averiguar algo", dice para romper el hielo unos segundos después,
alzando la voz por encima de la música. Es una remezcla de bajo de
una canción pop, a unos doce decibelios de volumen.

"¿Qué puede ser?" Miro al camarero mientras hablo, pero acaba de

empezar a servir a otra persona. Vamos a estar aquí un rato.

Bien.

"¿Por qué crees que alguien decidió que todos los cócteles de mejor
sabor de un menú eran bebidas para chicas? ¿Qué hace que una
bebida sea para chicas o para chicos? Es una bebida".

Cuando las películas y los programas de televisión me decían que

me preparara para que los chicos me hicieran una pregunta coqueta
en el bar, esto no era exactamente lo que esperaba. Aunque eso
puede deberse a que esos bares suelen estar en un club exclusivo o
en un restaurante obscenamente caro. Quizá cuando estás en la
barra de una peculiar bolera en la que las bolas son de neón, las
mesas están decoradas...

con recortes de periódico de varios perros, y la bebida estrella se

sirve en un plato sopero, hay que esperar que las cosas se salgan de
lo común. Con frases para ligar y todo.

"Sexismo, supongo". Digo encogiéndome de hombros.

"Bueno, sí, eso es un hecho. Pero sabes que no fue una chica la que
puso esa regla, así que, ¿por qué los tíos nos jodemos así? Los tíos
podemos beber café sin miradas raras, pero te apuesto lo que
quieras a que si yo llevara un martini espresso a mi mesa recibiría un
sinfín de hostias de mis amigos. Sin fin", repite con énfasis,
golpeando la barra con el puño. El camarero le lanza una mirada
molesta y él retira la mano bruscamente.

Que un grupo de tíos se hagan los gilipollas unos a otros por

tonterías no es precisamente sorprendente. Pero estoy un poco
perdido en cuanto a por qué al azar decidió compartir este hecho
conmigo. "¿A quién le importa si lo haces? ¿Tan frágil es tu
masculinidad?"

Ahí está de nuevo esa sonrisa deslumbrante. "Sé lo mal que esto me
va a hacer sonar, pero, sí. Lo es, por desgracia, y estoy trabajando
en ello, pero hoy no es ese día".

Y, finalmente, hace clic. "Pues resulta que estoy aquí con toda una
mesa de chicas que estarían encantadas de que te unieras a ellas
para tomar un martini espresso tranquilamente. Sin juicios
incluidos".

" Eso", dice el tipo, "es una propuesta interesante".

Lo dice como si se me hubiera ocurrido una idea genial de la nada, y

desde luego no lo ha dicho para que me invite a una copa. Parece
un montón de problemas para ir a cuando yo habría dicho que sí si
él sólo, ya sabes, me preguntó si quería una copa, pero aquí
estamos. Hablando de tomar la ruta escénica. "Vale, ¿qué tal esto?",
continúa. "Me pido un espresso martini, y lo que quieras beber como
agradecimiento por tu amable oferta, ¿y luego me presentas a tu
mesa de amigos sin prejuicios?".

Hago como que me lo pienso mientras el camarero termina de servir

al otro cliente. Finalmente, asiento con la cabeza. "Claro, me apunto.
Que sea un espresso martini y un pink passion crush. Gracias".
Poco después, con las dos bebidas en la mano, el tipo (que se
presenta como André) me sigue hasta mi mesa. "Toma, ya puedes
coger la tuya, si te

quiere", ofrece.

"Oh, no es mi bebida", digo.

Disminuye la velocidad de sus pasos al rodear mesas llenas de

jugadores que sorben líquido rosado de tazones de sopa. "¿A quién
acabo de invitar a una copa, entonces?"

" Tú", le digo, "acabas de invitar a mi hermana a una copa por su

vigésimo cumpleaños.

Muy caballeroso de tu parte. Estamos en esa mesa de allí".

Llegamos a la mesa de mi hermana Rosie -bueno, en realidad son

dos mesas juntas para que quepamos los nueve- y Rosie me lanza
una mirada de aprobación impresionada. Pan comido , digo.

Fue ella quien vio a Andre sentado con sus amigos en la bolera, a
unos metros de nosotros. Fue muy dramática al respecto,
declarando a todo el mundo que estaba a su alcance que cometería
un delito federal para conseguir su número. Cuando terminamos la
partida, nos dirigimos a la zona del comedor para disfrutar de la
verdadera atracción de la bolera para Rosie -los cócteles y las
paredes cubiertas de flores que se habían colocado especialmente
para hacernos fotos- y Andre y sus amigos hicieron lo mismo, pero
se sentaron al otro lado de la zona.

Así que, obviamente, cuando vimos que Andre se dirigía solo al bar,
la mesa decidió que alguien tenía que hacer de copiloto y, también
obviamente, yo tuve que ofrecerme voluntaria. Estoy segura de que
en algunos estados es ilegal negarle un favor a tu hermana el día de
su cumpleaños. O tal vez sea cosa de la mafia. De todos modos,
pensé que si era soltero y le gustaban las chicas, seguramente
podría convencerlo de que le deseara un feliz cumpleaños a mi
hermosa hermana soltera. Misión cumplida. Más o menos.

"Rosie." Me deslizo en mi asiento junto a ella. "Este es Andre. Te

compró una bebida de cumpleaños".

"Es muy amable, gracias", dice Rosie mientras las otras chicas de la
mesa le dedican sonrisas inocentes y agradables, como si no lo
hubiéramos planeado.

Mi mejor amiga, Olivia, le hace señas para que se siente. "Bueno, no

puede beber sola en su cumpleaños, ¿verdad?"

André mira entre Rosie y yo, antes de coger una silla de una mesa
vacía cercana e instalarse junto a Rosie. Si le sorprende sentarse con
Rosie en vez de conmigo, no parece disgustado.

Y así no debería ser. En lo que a mí respecta, le ha tocado la lotería

con Rosie.

"¿Cómo lo haces?" pregunta Olivia en voz baja. "Yo nunca podría".

Me encojo de hombros. "No sé. No puede ser mi impresionante

atractivo, porque tú lo tienes a raudales".

"Cierto".

Vuelvo a mi cóctel de mango y lichi que, por suerte, viene en un

vaso alto y no en un cuenco. "Simplemente hablo con ellos. Son sólo
chicos, no son intimidantes".

"¿Sólo te intimidan las mujeres?" bromea Olivia.

"Vale, estás de broma, pero literalmente. Nunca podría levantarme y

presentarme a una chica guapa. Me moriría antes".

"Ves, así es exactamente como me siento con los hombres."

Su sonrisa se desvanece al final de la frase y frunce el ceño mientras
mira algo por encima de mi cabeza. Sigo su mirada hacia el televisor
instalado en la pared detrás de mí, sobre un arco de flores de papel
crepé en tonos pastel.

El titular en la parte inferior dice: Jordy Miller, hermano de la

princesa Samantha de Chalonne, lee a los huérfanos y les da dulces
y esperanza. En la pantalla aparece el propio Jordy Miller delante de
un orfanato de Chalonne, recibiendo una enorme tarjeta de
agradecimiento de uno de dichos huérfanos, con la mano pegada al
pecho como si su corazón estuviera a punto de estallar.

Ese maldito hijo de puta.

Algunos de los demás también nos miran, entre ellos Rosie y André.

André es el primero en reaccionar a nuestras miradas, agitando

alegremente su martini. "Era amigo suyo cuando vivía aquí", dice. Su
tono es un poco fanfarrón. "Era uno de sus mejores amigos".

"¿En serio?" Pregunto, confusa. "¿Nos conocimos alguna vez?"

Como ya he dicho, estoy seguro de no haberle visto nunca la cara,

así que me sorprende oír esto.

Ahora le toca a él poner cara de perplejidad. "¿Por qué habríamos de

hacerlo?"

"Um." Rosie se ríe. "¿Porque Maya salió con él durante un año?"

Andre me mira a la cara, como si intentara ubicarme. Estoy bastante

seguro de que sé lo que viene a continuación.

Tres, dos ..

"Espera. Espera, espera, espera. Tú no eres el que se volvió loco

cuando se mudó, ¿verdad? "
Uno.

Algunas chicas de la mesa le abuchean.

"Por favor, no", dice Rosie en tono de advertencia.

"Te dejamos sentarte con nosotros" , añade Olivia con el ceño

fruncido.

André nos mira a todos confundido. "Vale, de acuerdo. Parece que

hay algo más en la historia".

Miro fijamente mi bebida, cuento los cubitos de hielo y , de repente,

deseo no haberme ofrecido como copiloto.

"Es un gilipollas tramposo", dice Olivia. "Y si vuelves a llamar loca a

Maya, ese martini acabará en tu cabeza y no tendrás tiempo de
detenerme".

" ¿Jordy? " pregunta Andre con escepticismo, levantando las manos.

"¿Como nuestro Jordy Miller? ¿Lee a los niños, hace donaciones

benéficas, inventó el feminismo Jordy?".

Muchos cubitos de hielo en este vaso.

Olivia no se echa atrás. "Era el novio de Maya, se mudó a Canadá,

engañó a Maya durante dos meses y luego, cuando Maya se enteró,
rompió con ella. No estoy segura de qué parte de eso es feminista.
O quizá necesites leer la definición".

"No, es justo. Quiero decir, la historia que escuché era un poco

diferente. Pero te entiendo. A veces estas cosas se tuercen".

La cosa es que dice las cosas correctas, pero puedo decir por su
tono que no se lo cree. Mira, me he dado cuenta de algo sobre la
gente en el último año o dos. Incluso cuando se consideran
racionales, y justos, por lo general creen la historia que escuchan
primero. ¿Alguna vez has oído la frase "la mejor defensa es un buen
ataque"? Este es un buen ejemplo. La persona que publica primero
su versión de los hechos es la autora de los libros de historia.
Escribir la historia es fácil. Reescribirla es lo difícil.

Por desgracia para mí, Jordy se aseguró de hacer pública su versión

de los hechos antes de que yo supiera que había una carrera. En su
versión, Jordy rompió conmigo con lágrimas en los ojos cuando tuvo
que mudarse de país y me dijo que nunca me olvidaría. Entonces, de
alguna manera, interpreté que eso significaba que seguíamos juntos,
a pesar del discurso de ruptura tan claro de Jordy. Poco después,
envié a mi amigo en Canadá a acechar...

y luego montó en cólera cuando ella le informó de que había

seguido adelante, acusándole de engañarme sin motivo.

Es una gran historia para Jordy. Seguro que lo pinta en la luz más
positiva del mundo. Ni el mismísimo Da Vinci podría hacer un cuadro
más bonito.

Lástima que todo sea mentira.

Los amigos de André deben de estar preguntándose dónde se ha

metido, pero no parece que le importe mucho abandonarlos. Otra
pena.

Rosie, que ya no parece muy contenta de tenerlo en la mesa, se da

cuenta de mi expresión y se encarga de cambiar de tema. Que Dios
bendiga a esta chica. "Entonces, ¿fuiste al instituto Sigmund?", le
pregunta a Andre.

Mientras André responde, Olivia se inclina hacia mí. "Hola. ¿Estás

bien?"

Me enderezo y esbozo una sonrisa. "Mhm. Estoy acostumbrada".

Jordy ya no sale en la tele, pero aún puedo ver su cara cuando
posaba delante del orfanato. Sonriendo a la presentadora como solía
sonreírme a mí. Como si fuera la persona más interesante del
mundo.

Dios, esa mirada solía hacer que mi corazón se saliera del pecho.

Me pregunto cuántos otros se sienten así cuando ven a Jordy Miller

sonreírles desde el televisor. O en las revistas. O en los pósters de
sus paredes.

¿Cuántos de ellos ven su caparazón y creen saber lo que hay bajo

esas capas de encanto? ¿Y qué dirían si lo descubrieran?

Olivia me mira con escepticismo y yo estoy a punto de insistir en que

estoy bien con ese tono chillón que convence a la gente de que no
estás a la defensiva, cuando suena mi teléfono. Salvada por el
timbre. "Espere, perdone", digo acercándome el teléfono a la oreja.
"¿Diga?"

"Hola, ¿habla Maya Bailey?" "Al

habla".

"Este eezgwendbushmeeford zhombareemaday-"

Me levanto. "Espera, lo siento, no te oigo. Déjame salir. Sólo... voy

a...

vale". Cierro la puerta de cristal tras de mí y me dejo caer en un

banco del aparcamiento. "Lo siento, hola, ¿quién es?"

"Gwendolyn Bushman, llamo de Producciones Bushman y Siegal. Te

llamo porque tenemos una oportunidad emocionante para ti que
creemos...

que te encantaría participar".

No he oído hablar de esta productora en mi vida, y estoy casi seguro
de que se trata de una llamada fraudulenta. En cualquier momento
me pedirán los datos de mi tarjeta de crédito, ¿no?

"Perdona, ¿de dónde has sacado mi número?". pregunto, pasando el

dedo por encima del botón de "finalizar llamada".

"De Jordy Miller."

Si no me hubiera sentado ya, me habría caído del susto. " ¿Jordy? "

"Sí. Nuestro equipo ha producido algunos de los reality shows mejor

valorados de los últimos años. ¿Conoce Nerds in the Jungle, Dating
Without Caffeine y Extreme Bathroom Makeovers?".

"¿Quién no?"

"Todo nuestro. Este año tenemos un nuevo y emocionante proyecto:

un programa llamado Romance de segunda oportunidad. Cada
temporada seguirá a un pretendiente principal y a sus ex, mientras
vuelven a salir para ver si la chispa que les hizo enamorarse la
primera vez sigue ahí ahora que ambas partes han crecido y
madurado. Este año, estamos encantados de contar con Jordy como
nuestro primer pretendiente".

Me tomo un segundo para procesar esto. "¿Jordy Miller va a estar en

un reality show?" pregunto finalmente.

"Sí. Y, esperamos, ¿tú también?"

Miro instintivamente hacia dentro, donde veo la mesa llena de mis

amigos. De repente, me entran unas ganas locas de correr hacia
ellos y exigirles que se amontonen encima de mí para enterrarme
bajo su peso corporal colectivo y exprimir la rabia que bulle en mi
interior. "¿Queréis que vuelva a salir con Jordy Miller? ¿En la tele?"
"Sí. La serie se rodará en Loreux, Chalonne, y te alojarás en una
preciosa mansión junto al lago, es realmente algo. Todas las
comidas, por supuesto, serán proporcionadas, y recibirás una
pequeña compensación por tu participación..."

"Mira, no sé por qué Jordy me propuso", la interrumpo. "Pero no

estoy interesada, y él lo sabría".

"Sé que puede sentirse así cuando una relación no funciona. Pero lo
cierto es que algo os unió en primer lugar. Cuando las personas
crecen, suelen cambiar a mejor. Lo más probable es que él haya
conservado ese algo especial, pero quizá algunas de esas diferencias
que os separaban..."

"Déjame ser claro, Gwendolyn. Preferiría que me tragaran las

entrañas del infierno y llegar a un acuerdo con el ángel caído Lucifer
antes que volver a salir con Jordy Miller".

La pausa de sorpresa de Gwendolyn se prolonga lo suficiente como

para que casi me ría en el silencio. "El ángel caído Lucifer es el
diablo", dice por fin, como si pensara que me he equivocado un
poco.

"Sí, Gwendolyn."

"¿Me estás diciendo que prefieres salir con Satanás que con Jordy?"

"Te digo que antes iría a un reality show con el mismísimo príncipe
de las tinieblas, Gwendolyn, sí".

"Es una opinión muy fuerte".

" El infierno de una fuerte opinión parece más exacto aquí".

Me divierten nuestras bromas, pero Gwendolyn no se ríe. "¿Qué tal

si te dejo pensarlo?".
"Preferiría que no".

"¿Me das tu correo electrónico? Podría enviarte un paquete de

información. Es bastante maravilloso, hicimos un pequeño
PowerPoint..."

" Satanás en persona,

Gwendolyn." "Te anotaré como

un 'tal vez'." "Por favor, no lo

hagas."

"¡Ha sido maravilloso hablar contigo, Maya! Espero verte mucho en

la hermosa Chalonne. El rodaje empieza en dos meses, por cierto".

"Literalmente no podría importarme menos, Gwendolyn."

Da un trino de risa. "Vale, cuídate". "Tú también, Gwendolyn".

Cuelgo y me paso cinco minutos mirando al vacío, con la cabeza en

blanco.

Por fin, un pensamiento se abre paso y grita a los cuatro vientos en

el centro de mi cerebro.

No quería volver a tener nada que ver con él.

Es un pensamiento desesperado, doloroso, furioso y agotado a la

vez.

Pero me guardo esas emociones porque me voy a largar de aquí

antes de que empiece y, por lo tanto, no tengo que sentir nada.

Ni de coña voy a hacer esto. De ninguna manera. Bajo ninguna

circunstancia. Ni aunque me paguen un millón de dólares.
Bueno, sinceramente, quizá por un millón de dólares. Pero
Gwendolyn no dijo nada de un millón de dólares, y probablemente
habría sacado el tema si hubiera sido relevante, porque Dios sabe
que el dinero sería un argumento de venta mucho más persuasivo
que la promesa de ser seducida, jodida y gaseada por Jordy Miller.

Otra vez.

Así que, tranquila, sin alterarme y totalmente despreocupada, vuelvo

a entrar, me siento despreocupadamente junto a Olivia y sonrío
como si no me importara nada. Porque no me importa. Estoy bien.
Estoy condenadamente bien.

Me echa un vistazo y frunce el ceño. "¿Nena? ¿Qué te pasa?", me

pregunta. "Parece como si hubieras visto un fantasma".

DOS

Maya

Rosie y yo miramos atónitas mi teléfono mientras vibra sobre la

mesa de la cocina en mitad del desayuno.

Mamá, ajena a todo, empieza a preparar su segundo café de la

mañana.

"¿Alguien quiere algo mientras estoy levantada?", pregunta.

Pero no recibe respuesta. Porque me está llamando alguien llamado

NO

TE ATREVAS A MANDARLE UN SMS, JODIDO MASOQUISTA, y

Rosie y yo sabemos exactamente quién demonios es, y por lo tanto
no es momento para tomar café.

La elección del nombre es un remanente de hace una vida, cuando

me sentía débil tras la ruptura, y Olivia me ayudó a cambiar el
nombre de contacto de Jordy como recordatorio.

Y es una puta mierda, porque ahora siento que tengo problemas con
mi teléfono.

Ni siquiera es justo, porque es Jordy quien se pone en contacto

conmigo, no al revés. Pero aún así, el nombre intermitente parece
más una acusación que una notificación.

¡Fracas

o!

¡Fracas

o!

Fracaso que merece que le vuelvan a romper el corazón porque es

una maldita débil de voluntad.

¡Fracaso!

"Que suene", dice Rosie.

"¿Quién llama?" Pregunta mamá. Oh, bien, por fin se ha dado

cuenta de nuestras miradas de horror inimaginable.

"Jordy", digo apretando los dientes.

" ¿Jordy? " Mamá repite. "Contesta y ponlo en altavoz. Lo espantaré

para siempre".

Me muerdo el labio, cojo el teléfono y retiro la mano en el último

segundo. "No le debo un no".

"Definitivamente no", está de acuerdo Rosie.

"Honestamente, no puedo creer que piense que siquiera consideraría
esto", digo.

"Es un narcisista", dice Rosie. "Probablemente no cree que haya

hecho nada malo. Probablemente piensa que te está haciendo un
favor dejándote disfrutar de su brillantez".

"Maya, déjame hablar con él", insiste mamá.

Vuelvo a mirar el teléfono, vacilante. Entonces la pantalla se

oscurece y la decisión está tomada.

"Bien", digo enérgicamente. "Esperemos que sea la última vez que lo

intenta".

"Tú te lo pierdes", dice mamá. "Tengo un discurso muy bueno. Llevo

dos años trabajando en él".

Rosie estudia mi cara, frunciendo el ceño. "¿Estás bien, Maya? Si

necesitas que alguien intervenga y le diga que se retire...".

Hago un gesto con la mano. "No, estoy bien. De verdad. Al final se

rendirán". "Diles la mitad de la verdad", dice mamá, echando un
poco de leche en su café.

"Tienes que ir a la universidad".

Hmm. Me gustaría presumir de ello ante Jordy, aunque sólo fuera

para ver su reacción. "En realidad", digo con la boca llena de avena.

antes de la universidad".

Como Gwendolyn me recordó por correo electrónico no menos de

tres veces esta semana mientras me rogaba que lo reconsiderara.

"Pero no es sólo filmar, ¿verdad?" pregunta mamá mientras se

remueve.
"Tendrás entrevistas, y sesiones de fotos, y la gente te reconocería,
y... y tendrías todas esas oportunidades de trabajo".

"¡No oportunidades de trabajo!" exclama Rosie.

"He visto a esas chicas reality", dice mamá. "Siempre presentando

sus pequeños programas de radio. Eres demasiado joven para saber
si estás preparada para comprometerte con tu propio programa de
radio, Maya".

"De todas formas no importa, porque no lo voy a hacer", digo.

"Bien. No puedes permitirte la distracción en tu primer año. La mejor

venganza que puedes conseguir de ese chico es tener éxito, ya
sabes".

Rosie se apoya en la mesa. "Yo diría que el primer año es cuando

más te puedes permitir una distracción. Estoy segura de que la
mayoría de los de mi clase pasaron más tiempo en fiestas que
estudiando el año pasado".

"Pero eso es diferente", dice mamá. "Maya va a ir a la Universidad

de Connecticut".

Sus ojos se abren de par en par y se dirigen a Rosie en cuanto las

palabras salen de su boca. Agacho la cabeza para mirar mi avena y
me preparo. Tres, dos...

"¿En contraposición a mí?" Rosie

pregunta

con

frialdad.

"No,
Rosebud..."

"No puedes dejar de hablar de mi escuela ni un segundo, ¿verdad?

La mía también es dura, ¿vale?"

"Bueno, tú eres el que ha dicho que tus compañeros son todos unos
borrachos, no yo", dice mamá, levantando las manos.

"Mamá, somos estudiantes universitarios. Los universitarios se van

de fiesta. Y te aseguro que en la UConn también salen de fiesta".

"Vale, vale."

"No, no está bien, porque no me perdí el comentario del programa

de radio".

Me pongo en pie y acerco apresuradamente mi cuenco al

lavavajillas, con la mirada gacha. Si no los miro no pueden verme y
si no pueden verme no pueden arrastrarme a esto.

"¿Qué, ahora no puedo hablar de radio sin que de alguna manera

encuentres un insulto ahí?"

"Lo que querías decir era que algunas carreras no son tan buenas
como otras, ¿no?". "Cariño", dice mamá entre dientes apretados,
"estoy muy orgullosa de ti,

hagas lo que hagas. Pero tuve dos trabajos para que pudierais ir a la
universidad, para que ganarais un sueldo decente y para que nunca
tuvierais que hacerlo por vuestros propios hijos. Maya lo entiende".

Aquí estoy. Saco el móvil y vuelvo a la mesa, donde me concentro en

hojearlo. No me gusta precisamente quedarme escuchándoles
pelear, pero sé cómo se ponen estos dos, y necesitan un testigo que
intervenga si la cosa empieza a ponerse demasiado personal. Por el
bien de ambos.
"¡Bueno, a lo mejor quiero dedicarme a la radio!" dice Rosie.

Mamá golpea con las manos la encimera de la isla. "¿Desde

cuándo?" "Desde ahora mismo, haces que suene tan apetecible".

Mi teléfono zumba y el repentino sonido hace que ambos giren la

cabeza hacia mí. Al menos esta vez no es Jordy. Es otro correo de
Gwendolyn. Agito la mano: No hay nada que ver. Como si nada.

"Conseguiré un trabajo después de la universidad, mamá", suspira

Rosie. "Puede que no m e haga millonaria, pero sobreviviré con eso,
de alguna manera. No te preocupes por mí, ¿vale?".

Abro el correo electrónico y me encuentro con una presentación de

diapositivas adjunta. Jesús, nuestro Señor y Salvador, esta mujer no
se rinde, ¿verdad? Toco para abrirlo.

"Me preocupo. Me preocupo por mis dos hijas. No dejaré de

preocuparme hasta que sea vieja y canosa en mi lecho de muerte.
Es mi trabajo".

El pase de diapositivas es un poco difícil de ver en mi teléfono, la

parte inferior está recortada. Es un trabajo de portátil. Me levanto
para irme y ni mamá ni Rosie parecen darse cuenta de que me
muevo.

"Estoy genial. Maya es genial. Tienes que confiar en nosotros para

tomar nuestras propias decisiones".

Estoy demasiado lejos para oír la respuesta de mamá. En mi

habitación, me acomodo en el escritorio y subo el pase de
diapositivas.

La presentación comienza con una portada cubierta de flores,

destellos animados y las palabras Second-Chance Romance: The Ex's
Handbook.
Hago clic.

¡Enhorabuena! Has sido invitado a aparecer en el nuevo programa

más excitante del canal PN: ROMANCE DE SEGUNDA
OPORTUNIDAD. Si has recibido esta invitación, es porque uno de tus
ex ha sido elegido Explorador de esta temporada. ¡Y espera volver a
explorar cada centímetro de ti!

¿Qué coño es esto?

Segundos después, Rosie irrumpe por mi puerta sin llamar y se tira

de cabeza sobre mi cama para gritar contra la almohada. La observo
pacientemente hasta que se cansa y me mira con un ojo. "Nunca
volveré a casa", declara. "Es demasiado peligroso para todos. Voy a
estrangularla un día, y entonces veremos cómo son mis perspectivas
de empleo". Se da la vuelta y se fija en mi portátil. "¿Qué es eso?"

Me reúno con ella en la cama y mira incrédula la pantalla. Hago clic

en la siguiente diapositiva.

¿De qué trata este programa? pregunta el

título. Me alegro de que lo preguntes. Se responde solo en la

siguiente diapositiva. Oh, eso es útil.

SECOND-CHANCE ROMANCE sigue a un Explorador elegido, que

vuelve a salir con un grupo selecto de sus ex, con el fin de volver a
explorar su conexión y descubrir cuál de ellos podría ser el que se
escapó. En SECOND-CHANCE

ROMANCE creemos que todo el mundo se enamora por una razón.

Las estadísticas demuestran que las cosas que hacen que las parejas
se rompan -desacuerdos, incompatibilidades, cambios de lugar-
suelen resolverse por sí solas con el espacio y el tiempo, a medida
que crecemos y cambiamos como personas. Pero, ¿esas maravillosas
partes de nosotros que hicieron que alguien se enamorara de
nosotros para empezar? Ésas nunca cambian.
"Hay que citarlo", digo, y Rosie resopla.

¡Suena increíble! ¿Quién es el Explorador de esta

temporada?

La siguiente diapositiva es un retrato de Jordy. Estoy seguro de que

es reciente, porque tiene el pelo castaño, largo y ondulado, corto y
bien arreglado, y ya no tiene la pequeña astilla en el diente de
abajo. Sonríe a la cámara con los ojos arrugados, como alguien que
acaba de contar el chiste más gracioso del mundo.

Parece un príncipe de cuento de

hadas. Eso sí que es un chiste.

El Explorador de esta temporada es Jordy Miller. Jordy, de 20 años,

guapo y carismático, es conocido sobre todo por ser el hermano
pequeño de la princesa Samantha de Chalonne. Jordy s e g a n ó e l
corazón de los habitantes de Chalonne -y del resto del mundo-
durante la boda de su hermana con el príncipe heredero Florian de
Loreux. Aunque saltó a la fama por sus lazos con la realeza, Jordy se
está haciendo un nombre rápidamente como humanitario y
rompecorazones por derecho propio. El año pasado recibió la
condecoración del Rey por su excepcional servicio a la humanidad,
tras recaudar por sí solo fondos suficientes para renovar el programa
de alfabetización infantil de Chalonne en todas las escuelas públicas.
Y, lo que es aún más notable, el mes pasado fue nombrado octavo
hombre más sexy del mundo por la revista Opulent Condition.

Pero a pesar de ser indiscutiblemente una de las más elegidas de

Europa

soltero, Jordy ha descubierto que la fama, la riqueza y el privilegio

no son todo lo que parecen. Aunque dedica su tiempo a mejorar la
vida de los niños necesitados, él, como los niños que rescata
desinteresadamente de las garras de la falta de hogar y el
analfabetismo, no es ajeno al sufrimiento.
Se lamenta de que, a pesar de ser el preferido de las mujeres
hermosas que desean casarse con él...

" Al diablo con esto", dice Rosie sacudiendo la cabeza. La hago

callar.

-es casi imposible saber cuándo una conexión es genuina o cuándo

es víctima de alguien que busca despiadadamente fama y riqueza a
su costa. Pero a diferencia de los niños necesitados de Chalonne,
Jordy no ha tenido ningún salvador que alivie su dolor. Hasta que
apareció SECOND-CHANCE

ROMANCE. Al volver a explorar sus conexiones con sus ex novias

(¡incluida usted!), este soltero con derecho a serlo puede elegir
entre las mujeres que le amaron antes que el mundo.

¿Y tú? Puedes conocer a Jordy en tu tiempo libre, aislado de los

millones de guapos y talentosos,

mujeres atractivas que, de otro modo, habrían sido tu competencia.

En SECOND-CHANCE ROMANCE, tu única competencia son las otras
mujeres con las que Jordy ha salido en el pasado. Esas sí que son
buenas probabilidades.

Me tomo un segundo horrorizada para apretarme las manos contra

los en. labios antes de chasquear

¿Cómo me gano el corazón del Explorador?

Tú decides cómo hacerlo. No es asunto nuestro. Fuera de los

premios de los desafíos en grupo, verás a Jordy durante el desafío
semanal en grupo y durante el evento Notte Infinita, en el que
tendrás la oportunidad de asistir a una fiesta con Jordy y los demás
ex restantes.

¿Dónde se rodará el programa?

A las afueras de la pintoresca capital de Chalonne, Loreux. Te
alojarás en nuestra mansión junto al lago con los demás ex. Aquí
está una imagen de lo que puede esperar (Tenga en cuenta:
mansión real puede variar).

Debajo de las palabras hay una foto pixelada de lo que parece un

Beverly Hills

mansión, toda iluminada con luces naranjas por la noche. Estoy 99%
seguro de que buscaron en Google y eligieron la primera foto.

En realidad, ahora quiero comprobarlo. Segundos después, descubro

que estoy equivocado. Es la sexta foto. Error mío.

¿Tengo que pagar una cuota?

Toda tu comida, facturas y alquiler estarán cubiertos durante tu

estancia en Chalonne. No te preocupes por los vuelos: te llevaremos
a Loreux y te devolveremos por donde has venido.

"Eso parece innecesariamente agresivo", dice Rosie, llevándose las

rodillas a l p e c h o .

¿Recibiré una compensación por mi participación en el

programa?

Sí. A todos nuestros concursantes les pagamos con recuerdos, risas

y, si tienen suerte, ¡con una buena dosis de romanticismo! ¿Cómo se
puede poner precio a la oportunidad de encontrar el amor
verdadero? No tiene valor.

"Creo que quieren decir que no tiene precio", susurra Rosie. "Eso, o
que han llegado a conocer a Jordy", digo con ligereza.

¿Cuánto tiempo estaré en el programa?

Queda a discreción del Explorador cuánto tiempo pasará en nuestra
mansión. Cada semana asistirás a una fiesta Notte Infinita, donde
tendrás tu última toma para satisfacer al Explorador.

Lo siento, ¿a qué?

-antes de que haga su llamada. Se le puede pedir que abandone el

local durante cualquier fiesta de la Notte Infinita.

Al final de la sexta semana, el Explorador hará su elección final entre

los que queden. Los concursantes perdedores que sigan residiendo
en la mansión en ese momento deberán permanecer en un
alojamiento preorganizado en Loreux después de la elección final y
hasta el episodio en directo Full Circle de la séptima semana, ¡donde
aparecerán en el episodio final para animar a la feliz pareja!

"Oh, no", murmuro. "Esto es lo peor. Esto es... quiero decir, es lo

peor que he visto nunca. ¿Esto es lo peor...?"

"' Concursantes perdedores'", fuerza Rosie con voz aguda entre

carcajadas impotentes. "'Siento que Jordy no te eligiera, maldito
perdedor.

Hora de ponerte en cuarentena en el hotel de la vergüenza con los

demás perdedores y beberte las lágrimas de pena de los demás
como sustento mientras Jordy se escapa con la chica que le
satisfizo'".

"Gracias a Dios por la universidad, ¿verdad?" Pregunto entre risitas

impotentes.

Rosie intenta calmar su risa respirando profundamente. Cuando se

serena, sacude la cabeza. "Maya, ¿quién va a proteger a esas pobres
chicas si tú no vas?".

Ya no me río, aunque no estoy del todo seguro de si sigue

bromeando o
no. "¿Qué, como algo encubierto? ¿Entrar y frustrar a Jordy desde
dentro?"

Rosie asiente, despacio, luego rápidamente, como un muñeco

chocado.

"Bueno, ¿podrías? " Mis cejas se alzan, pero eso sólo la anima por lo
que parece. "Podrías cambiar la narrativa. No más huérfanos, no
más... malditos cachorros y caramelos y paquetes de seis. Tú serás
la que esté en cámara por una vez. Puedes exponerlo, Maya.
Muéstrale al mundo quién es en realidad".

Tal vez estoy delirando de tanto reír, pero tiene sentido. "¿Como
contar a las cámaras mi versión de la historia? ¿Dejar las cosas
claras de una vez por todas?"

"¡Sí! O que las otras chicas comparen notas y se enfrenten a él. No

puedes ser la única a la que trató así. Apostaría lo que fuera".

"O", digo lentamente, una idea formándose. "Podría satisfacerle".

"Qué asco, Maya".

"Rosie, Dios mío, cállate. Quise decir que puedo ganarle en su propio
juego.

Haz que se enamore de mí otra vez. Hazlo hasta el final..."

Rosie sale disparada sobre sus rodillas mientras hace clic. "Y

rechazar su culo en la televisión." "Exactamente."

"Podrías dar un discurso", dice Rosie. "Enumerar todo lo que te ha

hecho. Y cualquier otra cosa que descubras por el camino. Porque
habrá cosas. Muchas."

"Le daría a Gwendolyn el espectáculo de su vida", le digo. "Sería el

final más dramático que nadie haya visto".
Ya está. Salto de la cama y cojo mi teléfono del escritorio. "Voy a
llamarle".

"¿De verdad vas a hacer esto?" Rosie pregunta, con los ojos
brillantes. "Realmente voy a hacer esto".

"¿Llamarás a Jordy, le dirás que irás a su programa y luego bajarás y

le dirás a mamá cómo es?".

"Llamaré a Jordy, le diré que voy a ir a su programa y luego le

contaré a mamá cómo es en otro momento, cuando me sienta
valiente y ella esté de mejor humor".

"¡Suficientemente cerca!"

Abro el historial de llamadas, pero antes de que pueda entrar, Rosie

frunce el ceño. Conozco esa mirada. "Eh, sólo... ten cuidado, ¿vale?"

Resoplo. "¿Qué va a hacer, romperme el corazón otra vez? Como si

pudiera".

"Cuidado de todo tipo. Esto va a implicar a la televisión. Todo lo que

pase será público".

"Uh, sí, ¿no es ese el punto?"

Rosie se encoge de hombros. "Sólo digo. Hagas lo que hagas o digas

lo sabrá todo el mundo. Y la gente quiere a Jordy. Puede que no les
guste que alguien vaya a la tele a destrozarlo".

"Entonces, ¿quizás no lo destrozo? ¿Quizás me asegure de que vean

su verdadero yo? Enciendo la cerilla y dejo que se prenda fuego".

"El fuego se propaga rápido".

Dejo caer el teléfono a mi lado. Me está quitando el aliento. "¿No

estabas tratando de convencerme de esto hace un segundo?"
"Sí, pero se me acaba de ocurrir que podrías hacerte daño y quiero
que me prometas que tendrás cuidado. Oh, no, sueno como mamá".

"Tendré cuidado. Siempre que sea posible".

"Aunque eso no es súper tranquilizador. Lo sabes, ¿verdad?"

Sonriendo, le digo NO TE ATREVAS A MANDARLE UN SMS,

MALDITO
MASOQUISTA.
antes de que se le ocurran más razones por las que de repente está
en contra de la idea.

Descuelga al segundo timbrazo.

"Maya Bailey. Me llamaste".

En cuanto oigo su voz, vuelvo a tener dieciséis años, locamente

enamorada y rota por dentro.

Rosie mira el teléfono con el labio torcido. Trato de respirar entre la

oleada de emociones y concentrarme. Lo consigo a medias. "Por
supuesto", digo, forzando una sonrisa. "¿Por qué no iba a hacerlo?

La risa de Jordy es fácil, cálida y familiar. La peor. "Ahh, buen punto,

buen punto. Supongo que me estaba asustando por nada. Ha
pasado tanto tiempo que me convencí de que tal vez ahora me
odias, o... no sé. Soy estúpida, ignórame".

Algo importante que hay que saber sobre Jordy es que tiene acento.
Se supone que es acento inglés, pero estoy bastante seguro de que
se parece más a lo que los estadounidenses creen que suenan los
ingleses que a un acento inglés de verdad. Su padre es inglés de
verdad y Jordy siempre ha insistido en que adquirió el acento de
forma natural al estar cerca de su padre y de sus primos paternos.
Aunque parezca increíble,

su hermana, Samantha, habla normalmente. Qué misterio más

extraño y completamente inexplicable.

Oh, espera, no importa, puedo e x p l i c a r l o perfectamente. Jordy

Miller es, como dirían sus parientes ingleses, un puto gilipollas.
"¿Odiarte?" pregunto fingiendo asombro, mientras Rosie reprime la
risa.

"¿Por qué iba a odiarte?"

"Lo sé, lo sé", dice Jordy. "Es sólo mi ansiedad. He... vaya. Sabes, es
realmente genial escuchar tu voz, Maya".

"¿A qué debo el placer?"

" Maya. ¿Te estás haciendo la tímida conmigo? Nos conocemos

mejor que eso".

Dios, realmente lo está poniendo difícil, ¿eh? "Supongo que has

llamado para preguntarme algo. Así que, adelante. Pregúntame."

Otra risa dorada. "Vale, vale, deja de dar rodeos, Jordy. Entendido.

Gwendolyn me ha dicho que habló contigo hace unos días sobre el

programa y que le dijiste que estarías demasiado ocupado".

Creo que Gwendolyn se ha pasado un poco con la paráfrasis, pero

claro.

"Algo así."

"Vale. Mira, lo entiendo, y no quiero que pienses que estoy tratando

de empujarte a algo que no quieres hacer aquí. Pero la cosa es que
no sé si quiero hacer esto si no vienes, Maya".

Pongo los ojos en blanco e inclino la cabeza hacia atrás. Rosie me

imita.

"Vamos, Jordy". Ni siquiera puedo intentar ocultar mi escepticismo

ante esto.

"No, Maya, en serio. Es... vale, es embarazoso, pero que le den.

Cuando acepté venir al programa, fue sobre todo porque pensé que
Other documents randomly have
different content
 After they had eaten all they desired, they laid themselves down
and fell into a refreshing sleep, which even their fear of cannibals
could not disturb. When they awoke, the stars were shining.
They first ate some of the bananas, and then discussed the route
they should take. It did not take them long to decide that the safest
plan, as well as the most direct road, would be to keep along the
beach as much as was possible, climbing or skirting any cliffs that
might interpose themselves.
With this plan in view, they made their way back around the cliff,
but reached the other side of it only to discover that it was as
crowded now as it had been deserted during the day, the natives
being scattered along it for a long distance—some of them gathered
around fires, at which something was evidently cooking, and which
they at once, with a horrible fear, fancied the worst of.
They hastened back as they had come, and decided without loss
of time to strike into the woods and go back a mile or more, and
then take an easterly course, which would bring them into a nearly
parallel line with the beach.
“I remember, now,” said Diego, “that the villages of these Indians
are always near enough to the beach to enable them to get to it.”
“Yes,” said Juan. “It is either so, or far back in the interior.”
But in this they were wrong, and, so far as it concerned the
island of Bohio, or Haiti, as it really was called, they discovered their
mistake ere very long. They retraced their steps in the wood until
they came to where they had slept, and made a fresh departure
from there. They had not gone two miles, however, before they
almost stumbled into a small village.
Greatly dismayed, they made a careful detour and passed the
village; but they were so fearful of coming upon other villages that
they proceeded now much more cautiously. Even that did not help
them greatly, however, for after another two miles, perhaps, they
came upon a very large village, and in endeavoring to go around this
they became hopelessly lost.
 If they could have seen the heavens, they could have gained
their bearings by the stars; but the woods were too dense for that,
and they would have been obliged to stop and wait for daylight if
Juan had not pointed out that they were certainly going up hill,
which would indicate that they were going south, since the hills, as
they had noticed from the canoe, ran east and west.
“Then let us keep on going up,” said Diego, “and perhaps we can
find a lookout to-morrow on the top of the mountains, and select a
safer course.”
The advice was certainly good, and it was not difficult to follow,
particularly as they fell in with no more villages. So they kept on,
always climbing, and occasionally, now, gaining a sight of the stars;
though the forest remained dense as far as they went.
How far they went they had no means of knowing; for even the
time spent or the fatigue incurred was no criterion; for while they
were quite certain that they must have been six hours on foot, they
had wandered so much from a direct path that it was quite possible
they might have gone but a very short distance; and they had been
tired from the start.
As well as they could in the darkness, they selected a sheltered
spot to sleep in, and laid themselves down to rest. They fortunately
had no need to think of snakes or of other dangerous reptiles or
beasts; for the only really unpleasant creatures on the islands were
scorpions, centipedes, and tarantulas, which were not feared by the
natives, and in consequence the voyagers also had learned to hold
them in little fear.
In the shaded woods the morning sun had no opportunity to
awaken the boys until they were ready to open their eyes, and so
the day was well advanced before they roused themselves.
“Ah-h-h!” yawned Diego, comfortably, “I am ready for breakfast,
aren’t you?”
“Sh-sh!” said Juan, and pointed through the trees.
Behind Diego, not more than a hundred yards distant, was an
opening, a sort of level plateau on the mountain-side, and straggling
along the side nearest the boys was a village of possibly two
hundred huts. Under the shade of the trees nearest the huts were
hammocks, in which the men lazily swung, while the women worked
leisurely at their light tasks. Children played about everywhere.
Nowhere had the boys seen comelier or pleasanter-looking
women; but nowhere had they seen more forbidding-looking men.
Their foreheads sloped back abruptly from their eyebrows, and their
faces were hideously streaked with paint. Moreover, they were taller
and more muscular in appearance than the other Indians they had
seen. At least the few men they saw moving about were; and
altogether the boys were satisfied that the men, at least, looked the
cannibals they were reputed to be.
They did not stop for any extended examination of the
inhabitants; but stole away from the village, going higher up the
mountain, as taking them in the direction they wished to go, and as
promising to carry them farthest away from the village.
When they had gone a sufficient distance for safety, they sought
a banana-tree and plucked a quantity of the fruit and ate it. It was
not what they would have eaten had they had the courage to make
a fire to cook by; for they could have had potatoes or yuca-root; but
they did not dare do that, and so they had to be content with
bananas.
The mountain by this time had begun to run bare of forest trees,
and to become steeper, and it was not long after that the boys found
themselves free of the woods altogether, with a patch ahead of them
of bare rugged rocks. It seemed quite improbable that any village
would be in such a spot, and they felt safe to cross the open space
and climb to the highest of the rocks, in order to obtain a view of
the ocean.
They had supposed, from the edge of the woods, that these
rocks were on the top of the mountain, but when they reached
them, they discovered that the mountain-top was many feet above
them still, and separated from them by a wooded valley. They
obtained from the rocks the view they desired, however, and almost
due northeast from where they stood they could see running to the
water the mountains which they believed were the ones they were
seeking.
“I am sure of it,” said Juan, making a mental calculation of how
far they had drifted and in what direction.
“Look!” said Diego, in a choking voice.
Juan followed his finger and saw a sail—the Pinta was returning
to find them.
“We must hurry,” said Diego.
“How far do you think it is?” asked Juan. “Six or seven leagues?”
“Seven, I should say,” answered Diego. “Everything looks nearer
in this country. Let us calculate. The Pinta will reach there in, say,
three hours. She will surely remain as many more. Oh, yes, she will
remain several hours. Why not?”
He was thinking that even if they walked openly through the
country, and at their best speed, they could not hope to reach the
place in less than ten hours, allowing for losing their way. Juan
understood him.
“Never mind,” he said. “Let us start, and we may be able to go a
long distance on the mountain-top without seeing a soul. Come! The
sight of the ship makes me stronger. How glad they will be to see
us!”
“Will they not?”
“Tell me, Diego,” said Juan, “I have been wishing to ask you and
did not dare; did Miguel knock you off the yard?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Because when I saw you falling I saw him with his arm
upraised, as if he either had struck you or intended to.”
“I think he tried to help me,” said Diego; “but I don’t know.”
“If the men knew he was on the yard with you, and they will be
certain to, I am afraid it will fare ill with him. Come, let us hurry!”
 “‘LOOK!’ SAID DIEGO.”

So they hastened down from their height, and struck into what
seemed very much like a travelway, it was so easy to pass along.
And yet it had no appearance of being anything but natural, and so
they had no suspicion of it. At first the slope was slightly downward,
but kept all the time in the open, rocky space. Then it entered a
wooded tract and led them to a pretty mountain stream.
They were tired, bananas offered themselves, and the water
sounded so inviting either to drink or to bathe in that they could not
resist.
“Let us bathe and eat before we go farther,” suggested Diego,
and they did so.
Diego, who was somewhat more particular in the matter of
cleanliness than the other sailors, always carried his comb in his
pocket, and so he and Juan made their toilet to the extent of
smoothing their hair; and then, very much refreshed, they got up
and pushed on again.
The woods were evidently only the result of the brook bringing
moisture and soil to the rocky tract; for in a little while the
depression ceased, and they emerged once more into the same
rocky belt.
“Hark!” said Diego of a sudden. “Do you hear any noise?”
“The sound of drums, or something of the sort? yes.”
They stopped and listened, and the noise grew distinctly in
volume.
“It is coming nearer,” cried Diego in alarm. “And I hear voices
singing, or howling. It’s behind us. Juan! What shall we do? Hide!
yes, that is it; hide!”
They looked all about them for a proper place, and Diego noticed
a narrow cleft in the rocks higher up to his right.
“Up here!” he whispered, and ran with all his speed followed
close by Juan.
They were soon there, and the cleft proved to be a narrow, cave-
like opening the depth of which the boys could not determine, nor
did they try to discover; for all that interested them was the fact that
it offered a good place of concealment for them.
At the same time it afforded them a good view of the country
they had been traversing, and promised to enable them to see the
new-comers without difficulty. And it fulfilled its promise in a very
few minutes, giving the boys a sight of a most extraordinary and
startling spectacle.
From out of the wood, not far from where they had just come,
there emerged a fantastic procession, which moved with a rapidity
that was really remarkable in view of the numbers of which it was
composed.
 “THE CLEFT PROVED TO BE A NARROW, CAVE-LIKE
OPENING.”

At the head of it came a man beating a sort of drum and moving

at a rapid pace. Behind him were perhaps twenty men, all beating
drums and chanting at the same time that they performed all sorts
of singular antics, though without interfering with the rapid advance
of the procession. Behind them again came hundreds of girls,
dancing and singing in time with each other; and behind them came
hundreds more of men and women, also singing and dancing with
the greatest fervor.
It was some time before the boys could see all of this strange
procession—strange in itself and stranger still for the place it was in.
Their first thought, and the one they clung to, was that it was some
horrible festival which would end in a cannibal orgy in the manner
that had been described to Diego by the natives from whom he had
learned to speak the Indian tongue.
They watched it with a sort of fascinated abhorrence, and in their
thoughts were deciding how they would escape it by climbing higher
up the mountain. Nearer and nearer it came along the way they had
come. Nearer and nearer to where they had turned to seek their
hiding-place. It was there.
“Juan,” gasped Diego, “it is coming up the mountain!”
By it he meant the procession; and it certainly had turned up
almost in the very footsteps of the boys. They shrank back, but still
watching the coming crowds, which, now at the ascent, had ceased
to dance, though the singing and drum-beating continued.
And as they came nearer, the boys all the while wondering what
their errand could be, it was easy to see that the man who led was a
personage of importance; for he was covered with ornaments of
gold, and wore a coronet of the same metal, with a head-dress of
feathers rising above it. The men who followed him were
ornamented in quite another way, being tattooed all over the body
with grotesque figures.
The girls, who came next, carried baskets of fruit and flowers,
and were decked out with gold and other ornaments. The men and
women farther down the line were loaded with as much as they
could carry in the way of finery, but carried neither fruit nor flowers.
All of this the boys could see because they did not dare to stir
and were protected from observation by the shrubs that grew about
the opening where they had taken shelter. Their hearts were in their
mouths for fear of discovery, and they crouched side by side, very
unwilling spectators of the scene that followed, and yet interested.
The leading person, whom the boys took to be either a high-
priest or a cacique, approached within twenty yards of the boys and
stood there until an attendant hurried up with a stool of a dark
polished wood, and placed it conveniently for him to sit, he
meanwhile never ceasing to beat his drum.
After he was seated, still beating his drum, the young girls with
their baskets gathered near, and the others drew up in a wider
circle, until all were up the mountain. Then the priests made
obeisance to the sitting man and delivered a sort of address,
pointing so often directly at the place where the boys were that
Diego, who had strained his ears to hear, caught Juan and dragged
him back.
“Juan, Juan!” he whispered, convulsively, “they are coming in
here. It must be a sort of cave. Let us run back into it.”
 Chapter XXIV.
As swiftly as they dared, the two boys ran back in the cave,
which proved to be about fifty yards deep; and when they reached
the other end they discovered, to their dismay, that it was not as
gloomy as they had at first supposed on looking into it after gazing
out into the bright sunlight.
Besides the light which came in at the entrance, more was
admitted through an opening in the roof, so that, when they stood at
the back and looked fearfully around them, they could see
everything quite distinctly. The cave was far more like a hall cut in
the rock than like a natural cave. It was fully fifty yards in height,
but was comparatively narrow, and the walls were covered with
figures carved in the stone, and images, like idols, were set in
niches.
Part of this the boys saw at the time, and part afterwards. At that
moment they only noted such things as seemed to have some
bearing on their situation, and were too anxious to look about them
with any idle curiosity.
“It must be a temple,” said Diego, “and the savages have come
to worship. If we could only hide somewhere.”
But look as they would they could see no place where they could
conceal themselves, and there was nothing for them to do but to
stand quite still, flattened against the wall, as much in the shadow
as possible. It was so hopeless, however, that both drew their
sheath knives, and waited with such terror as neither had ever
known before.
 There was more delay than they had anticipated in the entrance
of the men, but it was explained when, in a few minutes, they
entered the cavern holding lighted torches. The tattooed men came
first, and immediately upon entering set up such a howling as made
the echoes of the place beat against each other until the din was
little less than deafening.
After the tattooed men came the young girls with the baskets,
delivering the latter to the howling men, and then going in
procession towards the end where the terrified boys stood. It was
inevitable that discovery of them should ensue, and it did.
The girls came on whispering to each other, and unconscious of
the boys until they were almost upon them, when they stared full
into the white faces that were so unlike anything they had ever seen
before. The frightened girls stopped, pressed back, and then turned
and fled with loud screams.
“The men will come now,” said Juan, huskily.
“They shall never take me alive,” said Diego.
It was not for some time that the tattooed men could be made to
comprehend that something had frightened the girls that was worthy
of their attention; but after hearing such explanations as the girls
could make, they caught up some of the torches and advanced in a
body, holding the torches over their heads and peering before them.
Their astonishment, their fright perhaps, was hardly less than
that of the girls, for they could see not merely the strange, white
faces, but the singular clothing and the glittering knife-blades. They
spoke to each other in quick, jerky sentences, and advanced with
the utmost caution until they were within ten yards of the boys.
They stared in silence, as they stood there, and the boys stared
back. Then one of the men, seeming to pluck up courage to speak,
addressed a question to the boys.
“What does he say?” whispered Juan.
“I don’t understand all the words,” answered Diego, “but I think
he wants to know who we are. From the way he asks he seems to
think we are gods.”
“CAUGHT UP SOME OF THE TORCHES AND ADVANCED
IN A BODY.”

“Perhaps,” said Juan, “if we can make them think so they won’t—
won’t—” he was going to say “eat us,” but changed it to “hurt us.”
Diego had thought of the same thing. The other Indians had
readily believed, without any suggestion from the voyagers, that
they were from the skies. Why should not these? He spoke to them
in the tongue he knew.
“We are from the skies. We will not do you any harm if you do
not molest us.”
The men listened attentively, and the boys could see the cave
beyond them crowded full to the very entrance. When Diego had
ceased to speak, the men consulted among themselves in a puzzled
way, as if trying to make out the full sense of what they had heard.
Then they drew nearer and approached until they were within
arm’s-length of the boys, who watched them uneasily, but without
knowing how to act; for the actions of the men were not merely
pacific, but even conciliatory. Diego drew a long breath and
whispered to Juan:
“I think we’d better act as if we were not afraid.”
It was more easily suggested than accomplished, but it was so
plainly the only thing to do, and the men were so mild in their
manner, that Diego gained courage to act upon a sudden inspiration.
He took a hawk’s bell from his pocket and, jingling it, gave it to the
man nearest him.
The effect upon him and upon all those who heard the tinkling
sound was magical. They stared with wonder and delight, not
unmixed with awe, and crowded about the man who had taken it,
and listened enraptured while he shook it to produce the noise.
From that it was but a short step to getting closer to the boys
and touching their faces with gentle hands, feeling of their clothing,
and exclaiming with wonder. And Diego could make out that the
tattooed men were explaining to the girls that the bell was from the
skies, and that the boys had come down to do them good.
Meanwhile the news of what had happened, no doubt with
extraordinary exaggerations, had travelled back through the hall,
and had found its way to the cacique outside. He became impatient,
and voices were heard shouting something from the entrance, which
had the effect of clearing the hall.
The tattooed men thereupon made unmistakable signs,
accompanied by words which Diego could understand, inviting them
to go into the open air with them. As there was nothing to do but to
accept the invitation, the boys did it with what grace they could, and
were presently in the centre of a wondering crowd of men and
women, who were staring at them with even greater surprise than
had been accorded them in the hall, where the fairness of their skins
had not been so apparent.
The cacique, as in fact he turned out to be, questioned the boys,
and Diego answered as well as he could; though neither more than
half understood the other. The chief thing to the boys, however, was
that, in spite of the hideous faces of the men, there was not evinced
the slightest disposition to do them any harm; but, on the contrary,
these supposed cannibals were as mild and friendly as any of the
natives they had yet seen.
Indeed, the cacique was the very reverse of fierce; and when the
bell was handed him for his examination, he immediately began
shaking it, and presently was dancing with great activity to its music,
to the evident admiration of his subjects. This seemed to Diego a
good opportunity to present another bell, so he took one from his
pocket and thrust it into the empty hand of the cacique as he
jumped about, and the savage was so stimulated by the gift that he
whirled faster and faster, singing all the time, until he sank
exhausted on the ground.
This was very edifying to the cacique’s subjects, and equally
pleasant to the boys, for they had had enough experience with the
Indians to know that they intended no harm to them.
 Chapter XXV.
Being relieved of immediate fear, though still uneasy for the
future, the boys endeavored to make the Indians understand that
they wished to go to the mountain range to the northeast, visible
from where they stood. And, at Juan’s suggestion, Diego persuaded
the tattooed men, afterwards discovered to be priests, or Butios, to
climb higher up to where a better view of the ocean was visible.
There he searched the horizon, and to his joy saw the Pinta still
making her way to the rocky headland, her full spread of sail giving
her the appearance of a monstrous bird. Diego pointed her out to
the Butios, and told them it was on her that he and Juan had come
out of the sky.
This was evidently a satisfactory and gratifying proof of the origin
of their visitors, and presently the cacique was assisted up the
mountain-side, that he, too, might look on the marvel, and after that
the whole assemblage came up, and felt themselves blessed with
the extraordinary sight.
Then Diego explained that he and Juan must go down to the
beach and wait for the coming of the ship, and promised the Butios
great quantities of bells and beads if they would take them thither.
And, to give emphasis to his words, he and Juan showed in their
hands the beads and bells they had with them.
Well, the Butios marvelled, and showed in many ways that they
fully comprehended the meaning of Diego’s words and gestures, and
that it would fill them with great joy to have more of the bells,
together with some of the beads; but they also made it plain that
they were not at all disposed to part with their heavenly visitors. And
they gave Diego to understand that, much as it grieved them to
cross their cherished visitors, they yet could not help but take them
with them to the interior of the island, pointing to the southeast as
they spoke.
“We’ll have to go,” said Diego. “I don’t believe they will hurt us at
all, and we will be safe enough. From what I can make out, this
cacique is only an inferior one, and he would not dare to let us go
without showing us to his superior, whom they call Caonabo. And
they talk of Cibao, which I think must be the Zipangu of which the
admiral has said so much, for you can see what quantities of gold
these people have.”
“But if we go,” said Juan, “we shall lose the ship.”
“Well,” said Diego, “we have no choice but to go. What I meant,
however, was this: Let us pretend to go willingly, and so put them
off their guard until we can find the opportunity to slip away.”
“That is it,” said Juan, “and while we are with them we can
exchange our bells and beads for gold, and so return to the ship
loaded with it.”
It was the best plan they could devise, and worked better than
well, so far as the exchange of their bells for gold was concerned;
for when Diego took up some of the gold ornaments of the men and
showed his interest in them, they were offered to him with a
generous willingness that asked for no return.
Neither he nor Juan would take advantage of the generosity,
however, but gave in return the glass beads which they had. They
would have given them all away had not the cacique interposed,
making them understand that he wished some saved for the cacique
Caonabo, and telling them that if gold was desired by them they had
only to wait to obtain all they could wish.
The boys would have preferred to get their booty at once, but
yielded, thinking that what they had was enough to make them rich.
How they wished they could communicate with Martin Alonzo, and
let him know that they had at last discovered that Zipangu, the land
of gold, for which they had sought so long and at last so hopelessly!
That was not to be just yet, however, for the cacique gave orders
for a return, not merely down the mountain, as it turned out, but to
the place they had come from, putting the boys in the especial care
of the Butios, who proved a faithful guard over them, and watched
them jealously. Not, as it seemed, that they feared an escape, but
that they held them so precious.
As soon as the boys settled to the conviction that escape at
present was quite out of the question, they remembered that they
were hungry, and conveyed that information to the Butios, who no
sooner understood it than they called a halt, and procured them not
only cakes of maize flour and roasted yuca, but brought them for
drink small calabashes of a sort of liquid which they called cocoa,
and which the boys found very refreshing.
After that they went on again, and in the woods where the boys
had bathed, they stopped long enough to procure litters for the boys
and for the cacique, and in these the journey was continued.
At first they returned along the way the boys had just come; but
in a little while they turned to the south and crossed the mountains
by an easy pass, and presently could look down on a beautiful and
fertile valley. For half a day’s journey the whole party went together;
but coming then to a village of considerable size, a stop was made
and the party separated, scattering to their homes.
After that the progress they made was swifter, the party
consisting only of the cacique, ten of the Butios, and a body-guard
of twenty warriors, armed with war-clubs and long, heavy swords of
some hard, polished wood, showing that, however gentle the men
might be with their visitors, they had it in their natures to fight if
there were occasion, differing in this from the other Indians the boys
had seen.
For several days they travelled, their fame preceding them and
causing their progress through the valley to be a sort of triumphal
march. At each village they were respectfully shown to the
wondering inhabitants, and the cacique occasionally favored the
other caciques with a dance to the music of the bells. And at each
village it seemed to be known that the visitors desired gold, for there
was always awaiting them either rings, bracelets, or what they
learned to prefer, nuggets of virgin gold. The nuggets were of
various sizes, the largest being two of the size of a hen’s egg, each.
Diego and Juan gave a bell to each cacique as they went along,
and it was manifest that the cacique considered himself very much
favored and overpaid in receiving such a treasure for his paltry gold.
And it was also plain that the Butios grudged each bell given away;
not apparently from any lack of generosity, but because they disliked
to see the favors of heaven made so common.
As the days passed and Diego became more familiar with the
language, he was enabled to relieve his mind on the one subject of
their greatest uneasiness. He discovered, without being obliged to
ask the unpleasant question, that the natives were not cannibals,
and that they detested their Carib neighbors as much as any one
could.
The relief it was to the boys to learn this can hardly be imagined;
for it had not failed to cross their minds that they were being most
remarkably well fed and cared for, and that naturally suggested the
notion of being fattened for a purpose.
There still remained the uneasiness about the ship; but although
they had done all they could to make an opportunity to escape, they
had not yet succeeded. They would have lost trace of the passage of
time, had not Diego thought of making a notch on a stick with his
knife to mark each day.
The knives, by the way, were objects of great curiosity to the
Indians, who had never seen iron in any of its forms before, and
who marvelled greatly at the keenness of the blades. One of the
warriors of their guard wished to test the properties of the blade by
running it across his fingers; but Diego prevented him and displayed
the sharpness of the edge by slicing a banana in thin sections.
Instead of curing the man of his desire, however, it seemed to make
him only more eager for his own test, and Diego, shrugging his
shoulders, let him suit himself. Of course the knife cut his fingers,
but, so far from being distressed by it, the simple fellow seemed to
feel that he was to be envied; and so it appeared did the others, for
they would all have cut themselves had the boys been willing to
permit them to do so.
It was not until the tenth day after starting on the journey that
they reached the village of the grand cacique, Caonabo. The boys
were curious to see a chief of whom they had heard so much during
their progress through his dominions, and they certainly were
impressed by the fact that instead of going out to meet them with
his warriors, as the other caciques had done, he merely sent a
deputation to meet them and conduct them to him.
The village was a large one and very populous, though not a whit
more civilized in appearance than any of the other villages, so that
the boys could not help wondering if the stories about Zipangu had
not been exaggerated by the travellers who had been there.
Certainly there was gold enough; but the palace was not roofed with
it, and if it had been—the palace being a mere hut—it would not
have come to much.
The population was all out to gaze on the wonderful beings from
the skies, and they wore a great quantity of gold on their otherwise
naked bodies; but such was their respect for their cacique that none
of them dared make any advances to the strangers until they had
had an audience with him.
“I begin to be a little afraid of this Caonabo, of whom his own
people stand in such awe,” said Diego.
 “OF COURSE THE KNIFE CUT HIS FINGERS.”

“And I also,” said Juan; “but here we are, and we shall soon
know what he thinks of us. I hope he will think well enough of us to
do us no harm, but not well enough of us to keep us.”
 Chapter XXVI.
Caonabo, Cacique of Maguana, differed so strikingly in his
appearance and manner from his subjects that the boys were struck
by it at their first glance at him. He was not only larger and more
muscular, but he bore himself with a hauteur and dignity that any
Old World monarch might have envied.
He eyed the boys with wonder, it is true, but there was
something in his manner that made Diego mutter to Juan:
“I’m afraid he won’t accept the story of our descent from the
skies.”
“And he looks fierce enough for a cannibal,” said Juan.
They afterwards learned that Caonabo was, in fact, a Carib and a
cannibal, who had come to the island from his own home, when he
was a young man, and who had won his place as the most powerful
and most feared of the island caciques by his courage and his
sagacity.
He was kind enough to them, though, as Diego had said, he did
not act with any such awe of them as the other caciques had done.
He asked questions, which Diego answered as well as he could, and
he examined curiously their clothing, knives, and bells.
“I think from his looks,” said Diego to Juan, “that he would give
more for the knives than for all the bells in the world.”
And that was undoubtedly true; but he did not say so, and was
as scrupulously honest as the meanest of his subjects had been.
Honesty, indeed, next to hospitality, was the virtue held in highest
esteem among these islanders. Theft was so heinous an offence that
it was punished by death.
It seemed to strike Caonabo as a singular thing that his guests
should care so much for gold; though, indeed, the boys had found it
so easy to possess that it no longer had any charms for them, and if
they had not hoped to rejoin the ship, they would not have taken
two steps to procure a ton of the yellow metal. It seems so true that
a thing is valued only in proportion as it is desired by others.
However, Caonabo had no objection to having the boys procure
all the gold they desired, and he would not permit them to give their
bells for it; though he afterwards accepted the bells which were
offered him, when Diego made him understand that they were a gift.
What Caonabo coveted was one of the knives. He took one in his
hand, and tested the blade on a piece of wood; and when Diego
showed him how it could be used to pierce with, he buried it in a
calabash which lay near him with such an air of its being alive that
Diego procured the knife back, and would not again part with it.
“If we are going to run away,” said Diego, “I would prefer that he
should not have that to try on me.”
Running away, however, seemed every day less feasible. The
boys had been provided with a hut, and Butios had been assigned to
them to see that they lacked no comforts, and every measure had
been taken as if it were the fixed design of Caonabo to keep them
with him.
He had sent the cacique, who had first discovered the boys, back
to his own country, and the Butios had gone with him, very much to
their disgust at being obliged to part with their treasure; though the
boys had consoled them by giving each Butio a bell.
Finding their lives to be in no danger whatever, the boys made all
the preparations for flight that they very well could. Diego, on the
plea of seeing where the gold was procured, was taken, in different
directions, from the village to the rivers where the gold lay in grains
and tiny nuggets at the bottom. He was glad to see the gold, but
what he cared most for was the acquaintance he and Juan gained of
the surrounding country. Moreover, he asked questions of different
persons until he had learned that the sea lay about equidistant from
them on either side of the island. And from one old man, who had
journeyed much, he learned that, in a lovely valley to the north of
them, on either side of the Cibao Mountains, a beautiful river ran
down to the sea, and entered it at the foot of the mountain-chain
that lay parallel to the Cibao Mountains.
Then, there was the matter of the gold. It was valueless to them
now that they had it heaped in an ignominious pile in a corner of the
hut; but they knew it would regain its value when it was on the ship,
and so they questioned themselves what to do about it.
After going over the matter a great many times, they determined
to make a belt each, of the skin of a little animal called the coati, in
which to put as many nuggets as they could. No one suspected their
object in fastening the gold to the belts, the generally received
opinion being that it was a sort of religious ceremony.
They had no idea of the value in Spanish coin of the pile of gold
they had collected; but when their belts were finished, they found
them to weigh, each, not less than twenty pounds. They tried them
on, and felt so dubious of the comfort of such heavy belts that they
were tempted to throw off some of the weight; but Juan suggested
that they could throw the gold away at any time, and that it would
be very pleasant to go aboard the Pinta so laden.
That was true enough, and so they left the belts as they had
made them, and hung them in their hut, where afterwards they
discovered the natives looking at them in great awe. And the Butios
asked permission to carry them in procession to show to their
Zemes, as they called their idols.
Many times they thought of attempting escape, but whenever
they essayed it they discovered themselves to be very closely
watched, so that they were obliged to give up, unless they were
willing to use violence; and that they were afraid to do, even if it had
been feasible, and they were not sure that it was. By this time they
had been absent nearly three weeks from the ship, and they were so
uneasy that they were nearly beside themselves, though compelled
not to betray it to their host.
Then, one night, their opportunity came. It came in a singular
way, too. The people were passionately fond of dancing, and knew
no moderation in it. They would often dance as the boys had seen
the cacique do, who had discovered them at the cave, keeping on
their feet until their strength was exhausted, and then dropping,
almost fainting, to the earth.
Sometimes, too, the men would drink a sort of wine made from
the maize, when they had danced until they had dropped, and then
they would be stupid, and would sleep where they had fallen until
morning came. But in these cases there were always some of the
Butios who would keep their senses and watch over the boys.
But on the occasion spoken of it was not wine to which the fallen
dancers resorted, but to the dried leaf of a plant which had been
placed in a hollow dug in earth and there set a-smouldering.
The boys had seen this same leaf used in Cuba, but in a different
way. There the Indians had rolled it into a sort of stick, which they
called a tobacco, one end of which was taken into the mouth and
the other end lighted, so that by sucking at the stick a quantity of
the smoke from the ignited plant would be drawn into the mouth,
thereby causing the person so employed a pleasurable sensation. At
least the natives had declared this to be the case; though, when the
boys had tried it, they had had lively emotions of sickness in their
stomachs.
On this island the leaves were placed in the hollow spoken of,
and then ignited and smothered, so that the smoke would rise from
it in volumes. When it had come to this pass the Indians would lie
down by it with a hollow tube of wood shaped like a Y, the two
prongs of which were so arranged as to fit in the nostrils of the
smoker. Then the disengaged end would be thrust into the smoke,
which would then be inhaled until the smoker would fall over in a
stupor.
On a certain festival, which came while the boys were there, and
fortunately at a time when the Butios had lost all fear of the boys
escaping, though they had not relaxed their watchfulness, the
dancing was ended by an indulgence in a smoke.
The women took part in the dancing, but not in the smoking, so
that they would have been able to watch the boys if they had
thought it necessary; but they did not, and the Butios were so
anxious for the indulgence that they could not restrain themselves.
At first, when the dancing began, the boys did not realize what it
was to result in, and they had no thoughts of getting away that
night, but stood apart from the dancers, thinking how strange a
sight it was to see all those men and women whirling about by the
light of the flames that seemed themselves to be dancing as they
leaped up from the bonfires.
But after a while they saw how the men would fall down and
become stupid, and Juan pointed out how the Butios were dancing
and smoking with the others. That gave them their first hope of
escape, and after that they watched eagerly to see if the Butios had
really forgotten them.
It was quite late before they could be sure that they might
escape without fear of being noticed; but they knew that it would be
late in the morning before the men would recover their senses, and
that they would be able to go many miles if they made good use of
their time.
So they stole back to their hut, put on their gold-belts, and
started off in the direction of the Cibao Mountains, as they had so
often talked of doing. They went with many misgivings; for, not only
was there the fear of the wrath of Caonabo, should they be captured
and taken back, but there was the risk of not finding the ship, and of
being obliged to remain on the island at the mercy of other Indians,
not as friendly, perhaps, as Caonabo.
They had no hesitation because of their fears, however, but sped
away under cover of the friendly darkness, and, thanks to the care
with which they had studied the country all about the village, they
were enabled to take the right way without stopping to consider.