The Guadeloupe Squadeloupe

Chapter XXI: Janis

"I fell in love with you the way you fall asleep, slowly and then all at once."- John Green

By nightfall we have a camp outside of a town called Taraira.

And by morning I'm in charge of getting us a way out. Or, more specifically, Bob and I are.

"So just us two," he says to Alice.

"Yes," my sister replies.

"Alone."

"Yes."

"In the city."

"Oh my gosh, Bob, just leave already!" Alice snaps.

"With Janis," Bob reminds her with a wink.

He walks over to me where I've been watching this whole situation and puts his arm on my shoulder. "Operation Transportation, got it," he says.

I push his arm off (you know, in the nicest way I can) and walk ahead, weaving my way through the jungle.

I hear Bob suck in a breath and clasp his hands together. Soft footsteps tell he begins to follow me.

We made our camp off of a nature walk and that's where we're walking now. I never even knew they made nature walks through the jungle in South America, you'd think tigers might stop you from doing that, but apparantly they do.

"So do you have a nickname?" Bob asks me.

"Excuse me?" I shove my hands in the pockets of my ripped jeans.

"This whole social small talk thing is hard, I need help."

"So you want to know what my nickname is," I say. The nature walk ends and I see buildings begin to appear around us. "If you insist-"

"Yes, I insist upon it." Bob smiles.

"Then I'll tell you that I don't have a nickname."

Bob feigns a large gasp.

"That's what I get for being twins with Alice. If she let me have a nickname it'd be some name of a book character."

"Oh. Books," Bob mumbles.

I laugh. "You should learn to read sometime. It can be useful for, living."

"Well then I suppose you'll have to teach me when we finally get home."

The idea makes me happier than I'd think it would.

"Hey, we're at a travel agency," I suddenly say, whipping my head to the buidling next to us.

I lead Bob into an adobe building. Inside there is only an old man behind a desk and a pathetic fan on the ceiling.

"Classy," I mutter.

Bob strides forward. "I got this," he tells me in a confident voice. He begins to talk in rapid Spanish to the old man about how I'm his girlfriend and we need to get out of the town as fast as possible and how was the best way to do that? "Tienen un aeropuerto?" He adds, asking if they have an airport.

I fold my arms and do my best scowl.

The man replies that their only rental place was a bike rental place down the street and there is an airport in Bogota, Colombia about 375 miles away.

"Gracias," Bob says.

He struts back to me, looking proud of himself. "I told you I had this."

"Indeed you did," I say sarcastically. "Good job."

Bob grins, not catching on.

I chuckle as we begin to head down the street to the bike rental the man talked about.