“I’ve learned that it takes a village to build a catapult, which is not a city in Mexico, and that uterus is not a dirty word or the name of a planet. I’ve learned that if a guy pretending to be a pirate tells you he’s nothing but trouble, he’s probably right. So you should find somebody else, ’cause there are some really cool guys — and girls — out there. I’ve learned that you can use an old evening gown to catch rainwater and that grubs taste a lot like chicken. I’ve learned how to build a good, strong hut and accessorize it just right. I’ve learned that feminism is for everybody and there’s nothing wrong with taking up space in the world, even if you have to fight for it a little bit, and that if you don’t feel like smiling or waving, that’s okay. You don’t have to, and you don’t have to say sorry. Mostly, I’ve learned that I don’t really care if you like these answers or not, because they’re the best, most honest ones I’ve got, and I just don’t feel like I can cheat myself enough to give you what you want me to say. No offense.”
Adina smiled. “Thank you, Miss Mississippi.”
“Am I done?” Tiara asked.
“Do you feel like you’re done?”
Tiara thought for a second. “Yeah. I do.”
They went to a commercial break. MoMo B. ChaCha, cradling General Good Times in his arms, conferred with Agent Jones. “The General must make the pee-pee. We will return, and when we do, it is time for the musical number. It is our favorite part.”
Agent Jones raced for the stage area. He stood outside the curtains and coughed, and Adina stuck her head out.
“Yes?”
“You’re going straight to the musical number.”
“What? But we haven’t done swimsuit or picked the Top Five yet!” Adina protested.
The agent rested his hand on the top of his gun. “We’re doing the abridged Miss Teen Dream tonight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mary Lou and Tane bobbed beside the yacht. On board, one of the ROC soldiers kept watch. They’d have to take him out somehow. Mary Lou climbed on board, startling the sleepy guard, who leapt into action with his gun leveled right at her. “Hi!” she chirped. The guard didn’t move. Mary Lou’s knees shook. “Do you have a bathroom I could use?”
The guard aimed. From behind, Tane whacked him with a life preserver and the man fell, unconscious.
“Cutting it a little close there, babe,” Mary Lou said, exhaling.
“I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t let you use the bathroom. What a jerk.”
They crept along the wall and took the stairs to the upper deck to make sure it was clear.
Mary Lou whistled as she took in the boat’s majesty. “Holy cow. Grill. Juice bar. Enormo-screen TV. Pineapple. This thing has everything.” Mary Lou paused before a bowl of cookies. “Do you think they’d mind if we helped ourselves to a cookie?”
“We’re helping ourselves to their boat.”
“Good point.”
“Let’s hope it’s got plenty of fuel and can get us all out of here.”
They crept down a spiral staircase to the main deck and the bridge.
“Wow, it’s even got windshield wipers,” Tane said.
The fog was rolling in, but Mary Lou could still see that the black water seemed to stretch forever. She felt a swell of excitement that had nothing to do with the urgency of their circumstances. “It’s so beautiful. And vast.”
“What’s that?” Tane asked. He was trying to figure out the control panel.
“The world.” She ran her fingers over the boat’s wheel. It felt good and right. “Bet you could see a lot of the world from one of these. Did you know that when the sun sets on this one particular part of the Indian countryside, it turns everything this amazing golden color?”
Tane gave her a quizzical look.
“I’d like to see it for myself. I want to go to the old churches in Prague. Stand on the edge of California under the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge like the beat poets. Learn to drive a race car or swim with dolphins. Play the ukulele. I want to do all those things.”
“You should, then.”
“And if I wanted you to come with me? What would you say?”
“I’d say yes.”
Mary Lou grinned. “Really?”
“Really. Never seen the Golden Gate Bridge, and I like the ukulele,” Tane said. “But first, we’ve got to figure out how to work this thing. I know a little about boats, but nothing about yachts. See if you can find anything — a manual, an instructional video, computer tutorial, anything.”
“Got it!” Mary Lou said. “Hey, Tane?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what, mate?”
She shrugged. “For being you.” She took the stairs two at a time to the lower deck and raced through the opulent yacht, marveling at its wonders. She passed a gold-plated bathroom and one room dedicated to Elvis jumpsuits.
“Whoa,” she said, opening the last door. The bedroom had been wallpapered with pictures of Ladybird Hope. In a corner was a
Ladybird Hope doll47 in a glass case on a pedestal. “‘Kay. Not creepy. Not at all.”
On a desk in the center of the room was a large, framed picture of Ladybird Hope sitting on MoMo’s lap in a Ladybird Hope Factory that was clearly not in America, featuring young girls working the looms. The laptop was open, and there on the desktop was a file marked Yacht Systems.
“Easy peasy,” she said and waited for the video to load. It was not about yachts. Not even remotely. MoMo B. ChaCha and Ladybird Hope sat in a heart-shaped bubble bath hot tub, rifles in their hands, champagne glasses nearby.
MOMO
Ladybird, you are a hunka hunka burnin’ love. When will you and The Corporation give me my weapons, my little dove?
LADYBIRD
Now, don’t get your peacock feathers all in a ruffle, MoMo. We have to be careful. Nobody can know we’re doing this.
Remember, we’ve got sanctions against you.
MOMO
I know. And it makes MoMo sad. Oh, pretty gazelle!
The Peacock took the swift animal down with one shot. Mary Lou flinched. “Meat is murder,” she whispered. “Bastards.”
LADYBIRD
Nice shot, Peacock! Bag it and tag it.
MOMO
Oh, Ladybird. All this killing and talk of weapons has made The Peacock amorous. A little less conversation and a little more action, please.
Ladybird and MoMo kissed and Ladybird ruffled the dictator’s hair.
LADYBIRD
You let Ladybird and The Corporation set up shop in the ROC, you get your weapons. I’ll arrange everything.
MOMO
Oh, Ladybird. Love me tender.
Mary Lou’s eyes widened. Her mouth hung open. About three seconds too late, she hit stop. “Ew. That was like watching your parents have sex. Your creepy, dysfunctional parents.” She grabbed the laptop and ran back to the bridge.
“You’ll never believe what I … what’s that?” The yacht’s radar blipped and beeped. A large green dot could be seen moving in their direction.
At the helm, Tane frowned. “Gotta be another ship.”
Mary Lou squinted out at the fog, but it was too thick to see anything. “Do you think it’s friendly?”
As if in answer, the other ship fired.
47Ladybird Hope doll, from the Ladybird Hope Destiny Dolls collection. But you should not put anything on a pedestal, least of all dolls who watch you while you sleep, waiting to suck the breath from your lungs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Thump-thump-thump-thump! The trees reverberated with the joyful cry of a Hindi love song from Shanti’s Greatest Bollywood Hits CD. The curtain that had been hung between two poles parted. Decked out in a glittering blue sari, Shanti stood front and center, lip-synching to the Indian love song. Behind her, the girls’ bangled arms fanned out like Kali’s. The music changed to a percussive rhythm. The girls peeled off and formed a line across the stage. They reached behind them for the plane seat cushions, which they tossed to one another like juggling pins while Petra ducked under, scooting to the front. Like a Bollywood flight attendant, she used two fingers on each hand to indicate the location of the exits — forward, back, over the wings. Her execution was flawless.
The girls jerked left, then right, simulating the plane crash in dance. They broke apart, and several of the girls slipped behind the curtains as if being sucked from the plane. They waited until they were sure the guards’ attention was on the stage, then they sneaked behind the Jeep and into the jungle to make their way to the ship.
Under the lights, Jennifer sidewinded across the stage, letting Sosie mock-throw a jar of Lady ’Stache Off at her. Jennifer “exploded” and rolled offstage while Sosie blew on the jar as if it were a gun — eliciting chuckles again — and placed the jar in the sand at the end of the runway. She executed three perfect backflips to applause and joined Jen backstage. Jen jerked her head toward the jungle and the two of them scuttled into the cover of leaves. They climbed the nearest tree and searched for the vine that would carry them to the next tree in a contagion that would take them nearly to the compound.
As Shanti lip-synched nervously, the girls backed toward the curtains, trying to follow her lead in the dance. Petra produced the flare gun from her cl**vage, and it was passed from hand to hand until it came to rest with Adina, who dropped into a firing pose. She aimed at the jar of Lady ’Stache Off, but the flare gun jammed in the island humidity. The girls glanced at her in panic, then resumed their smiles. Quickly, Shanti grabbed the gun and tossed it to Petra.
“WTF?” Petra said through clenched teeth as they performed a pop-and-lock imitation of fighting a tsunami.
“Fire!” Adina whispered.
Petra took a shot, but the trigger was still stuck. “Damn,” she said and tossed the gun to Nicole. Back and forth the flare gun flew, the girls never breaking stride. The song was coming to an end, and the girls felt real panic. Unless they could create a distraction, how could they escape? Finally, the last note was played. The gun came to rest in Tiara’s hand. She pressed the trigger all the way. A fireball arced through the crowd and ignited a palm tree.