Kingston Kidnappings (What Happens In Vegas Book 3) by Matt Lincoln (classic books for 10 year olds txt) 📕

different enough that it can be difficult for people who aren’t familiar with it not to understand it, though.”

“That’s true,” Charlie nodded. “I definitely couldn’t catch most of what you were saying when you were speaking with Kamya.”

“There are some people who tend to speak more regional Patois than they do English,” I explained. “Those people also tend to be more impoverished with less access to education. It makes sense that the traffickers would specifically target children from those areas. Kamya was more used to speaking Patois than English, so it was difficult for her to communicate with people who only spoke American English.”

“Like speaking to someone with a really heavy accent,” Charlie surmised. “There were a couple of times back in Japan where I had to focus to catch what people were saying to me, even though they were speaking in English. I can see how she’d get frustrated easily trying to communicate and not having people understand her.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Anyway, the Parade is just up ahead. There’ll be more variety there than there is here on the side streets.”

“Lead the way,” Charlie shrugged. If I hadn’t been used to him by now, I might have thought that he was bored or annoyed. As it was, I was fairly certain that he just wasn’t the type of man that wore his heart on his sleeve. Still, it was a little disconcerting not getting any feedback from him.

As we got closer to the Parade, the crowd became denser and denser. All along the edge of the street, vendors were standing in storefronts and behind stalls, calling out to us in an attempt to get our attention. It was a little overwhelming to have so many people trying to sell us things, but at the same time, it felt like home.

“Oh, look at these!” I exclaimed as I approached a stall where a man was selling hand-carved jewelry made of driftwood and semi-precious stones.

“They’re beautiful, right?” The man behind the stall asked. “Here, try them on.”

“No, not for me,” I refused. “Charlie, do you think she would like something like this?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie huffed skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “She’s turning five. I’m not sure how interested in jewelry she is, yet.”

“For a little girl?” the man asked as he reached for something under his stall. “Not a problem. I have bracelets too. See? Unicorn, teddy bear, dolphin. It’s cute, right?”

I leaned forward to inspect the box of bracelets the man was presenting to us. The bracelets actually were pretty cute. An elastic string was looped through a series of small wooden balls with a carved charm on one end.

“They are nice,” I agreed. “What do you think, Charlie?”

I turned to look at him, but he still seemed unconvinced.

“No thanks,” he replied flatly. “We’ll keep looking.”

“No problem, no problem,” the vendor nodded. “If you change your mind, come back, okay? I’ll give you a good deal.”

I smiled at the man before leading Charlie further down the street. The further we went, the denser the crowd became as they swarmed around the stalls and little shops. There were a lot of tourists here too, admiring the handcrafted goods and sampling the local street foods.

“He seemed pretty nice,” Charlie commented as we weaved through the throngs of people. “Considering we didn’t actually buy anything.”

“Most people in Jamaica are,” I smiled. “Not all of them, of course. We wouldn’t be here if that were the case. But still, I’d argue that the majority of the people here are fairly kind and welcoming.”

“Sounds pretty nice,” Charlie chuckled. “I’m not surprised so many people head down here to vacation.

“It is nice,” I smiled wistfully. “For the most part, anyway.”

We continued our way through the streets of Kingston, past brightly colored buildings in shades of red and yellow. All along the way, people had products of every kind laid out on blankets and stalls, and there was a joyful, friendly feeling in the air.

Finally, we made it to Orange Street, which was where I suspected that Charlie would find the most suitable option for a gift. Crafts and toys of every kind could be found sprinkled around the area. We spent about an hour walking around the area and looking through the various stalls. The market was so big that one could spend an entire day combing through it, and it could honestly be a little overwhelming.

Just as I thought that, I glanced over at Charlie and noticed that he appeared to be losing his patience. His gaze was flitting from stall to stall as if he wasn’t sure where to look first. No matter how far we walked, the labyrinth of shops never seemed to end, so I understood his frustration. There was so much to see, and there just wasn’t enough time to see it all in the span of just a few hours. Just as it seemed as though Charlie was about to give up though, I saw his eyes light up.

“These are cute,” he noted as he picked a doll up off of a table.

“All handmade,” the woman sitting behind the stall stated proudly. “They’re made of cloth woven right here in Jamaica.”

“It does look nice,” I agreed. It was a ragdoll made entirely of cloth and wearing a traditional Jamaican dress. It felt squishy and soft to the touch.

“I’ll take it,” Charlie decided a little brusquely. I had a feeling that impatience had something to do with his quick decision, but it really was a nice gift for a little girl. In my opinion, it was worlds better than some ugly plastic key chain or tacky souvenir we would have found at the airport or at one of the stores closer to the center of the city.

The woman happily wrapped the doll up with paper before placing it inside of a bag.

“That will be two-thousand,” she chirped as she handed the bag to Charlie.

I frowned as I watched Charlie count the Jamaican currency before handing it over to the woman. I