Free Jakarta Missing by Jane Kurtz Page A

Catherine I, Peter II, Anne, Ivan VI, Elizabeth, Peter III … okay … who was next? Alexander I? No, she was missing someone. Or maybe more than one. Sophia ruled while Peter I and Ivan V were children, so Ivan must be with Peter. Which Catherine was Catherine the Great? Dakar didn’t feel any closer to sleep than before she had started.
    Think about something else. Think about Jakarta coming. Tuesday afternoon, Mom said. That was day after tomorrow. Tuesday afternoon. Tuesday afternoon, Tuesday afternoon, Tuesday afternoon. Over and over Dakar saw it, saw Jakarta coming through the door, saw herself running—running swiftly and lightly as only a princess could—to fling her arms around Jakarta. Someday she would tell Jakarta about her quest idea and see what Jakarta thought. Also, she would see if Jakarta had felt anything that moment Dakar heard her voice. But in the airport they would simply twine together, right there in the lounge or on the steps, and vow to never live whole continents away from each other again. The red rose and the briar.

EIGHT

    D akar expected to feel gloriously excited when she woke up on Tuesday, but instead, she felt queasy. She wished she hadn’t told Melanie about the hoodies and the Allalonestone. “What’s the big deal?” she asked herself, rummaging around inside her brain for an answer. But she didn’t find one. Only that she was really good at keeping secrets and she didn’t have much experience telling secrets. “Do I have to go to school?” she asked at breakfast. “My stomach doesn’t feel so great.”
    Mom’s face was shiny hopeful. “You’re probably just excited, like me,” she said dreamily. “We should make a big sign. KARIBU, JAKARTA .”
    â€œToo embarrassing,” Dakar said.
    â€œToo embarrassing,” Dad agreed. “Why don’t you just stay home? Jakarta’s flight comes in at one, anyway.”
    â€œWe should do a project,” Mom said, “to make the time go fast. Take a look at the hedge. I haven’t had a hedge since I left North Dakota twenty-five years ago, but isn’t it supposed to be neater than that? It looks awfully scraggly compared to the neighbor’s side of it.”
    â€œI have a conference call with the president of the American Society of Tropical Medicine at the university this morning. Then I’ll be back.” Dad stood up, scooped up Mom’s hair, and kissed the back of her neck. “And I like wild hedges. Isn’t it bad enough that we’re living in a town with square lawns and in a white two-story house? A neat, square hedge, too? Too conventional.”
    Mom smiled. “Too conventional.” After Dad had gone, though, she said to Dakar, “I’ll bet we could figure out how to clip that hedge. Let’s go see if we can find some tools in the garage.”
    They made a good team, Dakar thought. She liked the softness of the sunshine, here, and the smooth schick, schick of the clippers.
    Mom often got this strange look on her face when they were traveling and had gotten absolutely lost and were whirling around one roundabout after another on the wrong side of the road or walking down winding brick streets that all looked the same. Or sometimes it would happen in some airport where people abruptly started shouting and pushing, but no one seemed to speak English. Dad would usually be laughing. Occasionally he’d be yelling. But Mom would get a pained expression as if a big animal were sniffing at her, and if she could stand or sit utterly still, it would go away and not gobble her up. The look always made Dakar’s own thoughts start fluttering. What if they stayed lost forever? What if they missed the plane? What if they got kidnapped by someone assuming they were rich Americans? What if they didn’t know some custom and people sneered or scowled or laughed?
    Out here in the sunshine, Mom’s