Boyboy and Michael look at each other.
I narrow my eyes at Boyboy. “You called him? You told him?”
Boyboy puts an indignant fist to his hip. “Somebody’s gotta look out for you, and I am simply not made of that sort of manly stuff.”
“I can take care of myself! I don’t need manly men.”
“That’s what you think. You’re a minnow getting ready to swim with sharks. Man, woman, whoever, you need the safety of numbers.”
Michael still hasn’t said anything. I round on him. “And I suppose you agreed to come to make sure I keep my end of our bargain?”
His eyes glitter. “You’re the one running off. Don’t act all high and mighty.”
I fold my arms over my chest and try to look down at him, but it’s less intimidating than I’d like, seeing as I’m a head shorter. “You seriously think you’re going to tag along?”
“I don’t want to just tag along. I want to go,” Michael says. “I made a bargain and I’m sticking to it. I’m going to figure out who killed your mom. If that means going to Congo to find Mwika, then let’s go. But yes, I also want to make sure you don’t bail.”
I grind my teeth. “I wasn’t going to release the dirt on your dad. Yet. I haven’t gone back on my word.”
“The deal was to do this together.”
“Aren’t you grounded?”
“Don’t you want to keep on not giving a shit?”
We stand glaring at each other until Boyboy rolls his eyes and says, “Ngai, you’re like two roosters fighting over a hen. Are we done with the chest beating? Because time’s wasting and we have a long way to go.”
“I just don’t want to be around when his father sends out a small private army to track him down!”
“You don’t need to worry about my father.”
“Oh really? Bet that’s what my mother thought too.”
Boyboy puts his sunglasses on and steps between us. “Okay! Time to go! Which bus is it?”
I take a deep breath. “So that’s it, then. You’re both coming?”
Michael nods.
“I’m not out here for my health, habibi,” Boyboy says, waving off minibus fumes.
“Fine. I guess I can’t stop you. But I’m not taking the bus.”
“Private car?” Boyboy asks hopefully.
“No.”
“All right, miss expert travel agent, what mode of transportation do you suggest, then?”
I tug the straps on my bag, cinching them down tight over my shoulders. “We’ll take what all the refugees take.”
Boyboy’s mouth drops open when he follows my gaze. “You’re kidding, right? A banana lorry?”
I smirk. “Unless you’ve got a private plane I don’t know about.”
“Michael does,” Boyboy says. “His dad has an arms-smuggling helicopter.”
Michael crosses his arms. “It’s one thing to take my dad’s motorcycle out for a ride. It’s another to steal his chopper. Besides, he’s using it.”
He gives me a pointed look. Does he know that I know his dad is traveling?
Boyboy groans. “I detest banana lorries. I vowed never again.”
“So take the bus and get stopped by border guards and bribe your way across three countries,” I say. “I’m taking the lorry.”
Boyboy removes his hat, gives it an apologetic look, and stows it in his bag. “I’m just putting this out there—this is the most unglamorous thing I will ever do for you, Tiny.”
“I’m not forcing you!” I say, exasperated. “You’re the one who wants to come. You could always stay here.”
Boyboy gives me a funny look. “It’s not that I want to come.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
He starts to answer, then just shakes his head and walks off toward the lorry. Even Michael gives me a weird grimace, like he’s embarrassed for me for some reason.
As he turns to follow Boyboy, Michael says, “For someone so smart, you sure can be an idiot.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Rule 12: Always be ready to bolt.
At some point in your life, you will have to escape from something. Don’t be caught unprepared. Maybe you have a fancy tunnel guarded by monsters, and cars and helicopters waiting outside to whoosh you away. Maybe you have passports and bank accounts in Europe. Maybe you have a motorcycle.
Maybe you’ve just got your feet. And if you’re thusly unprepared, I hope for your sake a big woman with a truck takes pity on you.
But that sort of thing doesn’t usually happen twice.
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