I glance up every few strokes and make sure I’m not heading off in the wrong direction, but then the raft is there and Easton and Sam are yanking me from the water.
I’m searching for something light-hearted to say, but I’ve got nothing when Calvin smirks at me. “If you were getting too warm, you could have just spoken up.”
Sam’s glaring at me. “Damn, Zane, that scared the shit out of me.”
“Me too.” I sit in the middle row of seats and look over at the chick and hens.
Easton sits down next to me and leans over, too. “They’re fine. Maybe a little confused as to why the ground is shaking.”
“Chickens? They’re too fucking stupid to know that the ground isn’t supposed to shake,” Calvin says.
“Right, well, no more shaking.” My attention is caught by a flash to the side. The sun’s beating down on a long white sand beach around the corner.
Calvin slows the boat. “Damn, that’s pretty.” He glances over at Sam and then to me. “You want to take a look or head back to camp?”
“I think we’re pushing our luck,” Sam says.
But I counter with, “Sure, I’m good, and now we know the current around the edge of the island makes for some crazy waves.” It’s something I should already have thought of.
Is it weird I’m just as happy knowing that the little chicks didn’t die as myself? I’ll have to figure it out. But then no. That’s something I can do with Haley later. With my head in her lap, her fingers caressing my ear. A wave—no, no more waves—a sensation of calmness fills me.
“You sure?” Calvin holds my eyes. I know for certain he wants to check it out. He always wants to explore.
“Down a little and back?” I suggest. The sun’s hanging lower.
We all turn to Sam, and he shrugs and points to the beach. “Ten minutes and then we go back and get the WaveRunner.” Sam tosses me a life jacket.
I put it on without comment. The trip to the beach has the sun in our eyes but the wind at our backs.
“Damn.” Calvin’s voice trails out behind us. “I think that’s more orchard.”
“It’s the effing motherload.” Easton points.
We’re off the tender and have it tied up to a solid post of what must have been a dock a long time ago. And it goes without saying that with so much food available and visible from the shoreline, the pirates must either have access to a port or an island rich enough in food that they don’t give a hoot about what’s here. Because bloody hell?
“Ten minutes. Let’s take as much as we can but no more than what can last.” Sam’s got the machete in his hand.
I grab the shovel. I’m going to play whack-a-mole with some low-hanging coconuts.
We end up with one huge bunch of bananas the size of Calvin’s torso, and the bottom of the tender is littered with coconuts. There’s a bunch of Pepper’s fruit here too and even afew mangos and papayas—we haven’t seen any papayas on the island before. I fill my shirt with them.
Easton’s approaching the boat with his arms loaded down with more mangos.
“That’s got to be it. Any more and we’re going to be overweight,” I say.
“Agreed,” Sam says. He holds the line, waiting for the rest of us to gingerly hop in.
Calvin takes it slow around the corner, and I’m not a fool—I hold on for my life this time. I’m not ready for another dunk.
It takes longer than any of us like getting the WaveRunner hooked to the back of the tender, and when we slowly pull into the home beach, the sun isn’t going down—it’s down. We pull in with twilight at our backs.
Penny’s the first to greet us, then Haley runs out onto the beach. Her arms are crossed over her breast, her stew face firmly in place. Dante’s behind her, and she drops her arms, her mask too. She runs toward the boat.
And when she comes closer, I can see it. Her face is puffy and her eyes are red. And my heart sinks. We did her wrong. So wrong. I don’t have anyone to blame. This morning was awkward, and I think we all wanted to run away. Run away with our excuses instead of facing the things we need to.
“Oh, Little Bird.” I hop out of the tender. Calvin’s still motoring it in, but I don’t give a fuck. I pick her up and hold her head to my chest. “We shouldn’t have gone and made you worry.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. And . . .”
