Chanel Bonfire by Wendy Lawless Page A

tickets to Morocco. He said he was scouting for land there to build a resort and we could come along for the ride. The plane stopped in Gibraltar to refuel, and Pop took us out on the tarmac to see the Barbary apes. We stood on the airport’s only runway, surrounded by the ocean on three sides. Pop pointed at the Rock of Gibraltar, and at first Robin and I couldn’t see them. Then little brown dots appeared to be scuttling all over the giant rock in a kind of figure-eight pattern, continuously swooping over the rock the way birds do in the air. We were amazed, having only seen wild animals in the zoo. Pop seemed happy to have shown us something new. He put his arms around us, sharing our delighted wonder.
    We reboarded and a few hours later arrived in the Moroccan coastal town of Agadir, on the Atlantic Ocean, where we spent a week at Club Med, which at that time was considered more cosmopolitan and exclusive than it is now. In the morning Pop would hand us ropes of plastic pop-it beads, which was the currency of the club, so we could buy lunch, drinks, trapeze lessons—whatever we wanted. Then he and Mother went off in a car Pop had rented that was thesize of a washing machine, searching for the perfect piece of land.
    Our first day, Robbie and I met some cute American boys a little older than we were who started talking to us in the pool. Their names were Nat and Tommy Ellenoff. They were tall and skinny and lived in New York.
    “So where are you guys from?” asked Nat. He was the older one. I never knew how to answer this question. Which of the four cities we had already lived in was the one we were from? I decided to keep it simple.
    “Well, we’re actually from New York, too.” We all got out of the pool.
    “Wow, that’s weird. Where do you go to school?” Tommy was rubbing his chest with a towel. Water dripped from the ends of his curly, dark hair.
    “Town,” I said.
    “But actually we live in London now,” added Robin as she fidgeted with her bikini bottom. I flipped my wet hair behind my shoulder and twisted the water out of it.
    “That’s cool,” said Nat. He snatched the towel away from Tommy, the younger one, who was kind of nerdy looking. They both wore braces.
    “We go to Dalton,” said Nat. “Jeez, Tommy, this towel is soaked.”
    “Hey, man, get your own.” Tommy shrugged at his brother.
    “So is that gray-haired guy with your mom your grandfather or your dad?”
    “He’s our stepdad—I mean, our ex-stepdad,” I said.
    The boys looked confused and I couldn’t blame them.
    “Our real dad is dead,” Robbie pitched in. I nodded.
    We had decided after a few weeks at ASL, since we honestly had no idea where Daddy was or if we’d ever see him again, to cut off such discussions rather than try to deal with the series of confusing questions that would always follow statements like “We don’t know where our dad is.” The truth was that we had no real answers anyway and no place to go for them. Our dad was MIA, that was all we knew. I felt bad lying and sometimes worried that by lying it would come true to punish me—but it just seemed easier for everyone. Including me.
    The boys nodded solemnly.
    “You want to come to lunch? We’ve got a ton of beads.” Tommy pointed at the outdoor restaurant at one end of the pool. Nat nodded in agreement.
    “Sure,” we said. After lunch, Robbie and I agreed to meet them for surfing lessons at the beach the next morning. None of us ended up being that good at it. The boys said the waves were puny anyway. We laughed and joked about being city kids.
    “Nat and I were thinking maybe we could meet you down at the beach tonight when it’s dark, you know, after dinner.” Tommy shook his wet head.
    I looked at Robin and we nodded. “Sure, see you then.” We wouldn’t have any trouble sneaking out.
    That night after dinner in the hotel restaurant, Motherand Pop went off on a rented scooter to experience Moroccan nightlife. I thought they looked