Uncontacted 2.0

Chapter 21 Alex

Dadwas the one that answered Mom's cell phone.

"Olá?"

Hewas not the one I wanted to talk to. He was the most likely to murderme and then kick me out. "Where's Mom? I need to talk to her." Iran my fingers through my hair and turned to face the window. Curtisstood an almost respectful distance behind me in an empty waitingroom we'd found on the third floor.

"Yourmother is sleeping."

"Canyou wake her up?" My voice was small and whiny. It was like I wassix again.

"She'shad a hard day. You can leave a message with me though." He wasn'treally listening. I could hear a voice in the background that soundedlike a sports commentator. Soccer, probably.

Ithought about hanging up and calling later, but I turned just enoughto see Curtis still there behind me with his arms folded. I lookedout at the cars on the street below, all the people caught up intheir own little emergencies. They were oblivious to the tsunamiheaded my way.

"It'sokay. I can talk to you." I lied.He didn't respond. I could hearcheering from his side of the call. I tried to start a conversation."Have you found the girl yet?"

"What?"

"Haveyou found her? The one you were looking for?" For seven years, I'dwondered how I would tell my parents if I ever had to and I still hadnothing. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass.

"Thegirl from the Tree People? No."

"Ithink I know where she is."

"Youdo?" He was listening now. "Where is she?"

Myheart was hammering and my stomach was churning. This was it. "She'shere in San Francisco."

Pause.Then Dad broke into a laugh, one of those belly laughs you do aftersomeone tells a good joke. "You are a joker now, huh? Do you needus to come home for something? We were going to visit my parentstomorrow."

Iscowled. "I'm serious, Dad. She's here. Do you even know her name?I do. It's Katavia and she's here in the ICU with pneumonia." Evenas I said them, the idea was unreal. She was vibrant and energetic.She was never sick, never fragile, but the image of her laying inthat hospital bed connected to machines wouldn't leave.

"Howcould she be there? How would she get out of Brazil?" He asked, butthe questions weren't accusations, but surprise.

"Maybeshe flew."

"Howdo you know it's her? What does she look like? We have some policesketches and Joao was able to pick her out of some old footage I had,but it's not much."

Shelooked like a dying bird. Like she'd been torn from the sky to lay inthat bed. "All she said was the name 'Peter Jeffries' and ouraddress," I said instead, but I could feel my blood pressurebuilding.

"PeterJeffries? How would she know my name?"

"Noteverything is about you, Dad!" It burst out of me like vomit andsplashed across the nearly empty room. "It's myname too. She was saying myname. She was looking for me."And she was. I had no idea why, but I knew it was true and I wantedto puke. "Where do you think I learned how to throw a spear or howto climb the thorn trees? It wasn't from you."

"Don'ttalk to me like that!"

"Whyshouldn't I? Where do you think I was going when I snuck out ofcamp?"

"Thatwaswhat you were doing when you snuck out. Meeting up with one of thetribe? Do you know what you've done? With all the space your mom andI gave you to explore and be your own person, you did the onething we asked you not to do."