125
end over end, out into the water. When it was thrust back again, I bent down and grabbed it.
One of my favorite books in middle school was Island of the Blue Dolphins. In it, an Indian girl named Karana marked her time on a deserted island using a shell and a smooth plank of wood. Maybe that was why I had grabbed this piece of driftwood that was now tucked under my arm. Maybe my subconscious had been thinking about Karana.
I clutched the shell and walked a little ways up the beach. Then I sat down in the sand, took a deep breath, and cut a long, white line into the wood. One morning. My first morning on the island. Hopefully it would be my last.
In a good way, of course.
I sat back on my elbows and watched the water, looking for Upton's sailboat or Noelle's father's cruiser or anything, really. Anything that could save me. When I got off this island and found out who had paid those men to kill me, I was going to make sure they rotted in hell. I would tell my story five thousand times, testify in court, do whatever the hell I had to do to ensure they were locked up for a long, longtime. Forever wouldn't be long enough.
And then I was going to make sure I never took anything for granted again. I was going to graduate from Easton with the highest honors and go to Harvard. I was going to kick ass in college and have fun with friends and take risks and say yes to everything. Except vacations to the Caribbean. That ship had definitely sailed.
And I was going to eat. All the time. I was going to get big and fat
126
and be full, full, full all the time. I imagined what my first meal back on St. Barths would be. The burgers at Shutters were pretty damn good. That was what I wanted. A burger and fries and a chocolate milk shake. Maybe ten of them.
My stomach growled angrily and I put my hand over my abdomen as if I could somehow soothe it.
Please, just let Upton come for me today, I thought, looking down at the white line in the plank. Please. I just want to go home.
But he didn't come. No one did.
127
MEAT EATER
The rain came out of nowhere. At least I think it did. I was sleeping on the beach, curled up in a ball at the edge of the tree line, when suddenly I was being pelted with ten thousand zinging, stinging drops of ice-cold water. I woke up, gathered my things in my arms, and stumbled into the jungle in a state of semiconscious, panicked confusion.
The sky was gray, meaning it was morning. My third morning. When I found someplace to settle, I was going to have to carve another line in my plank of wood. If I found someplace to settle. Gold water slithered down my back, and I looked around the forest for some kind of shelter. The drops were less fierce under the cover of the trees, but I was still getting soaked. I took a few tentative steps forward, my bare feet crunching over sand and leaves and twigs. The underbrush was so thick and scraggly that I couldn't even see my feet. It would be so easy to step on something sharp--a shell or a rock. Or worse, some kind
128
of odd, poisonous bug or snake or spider. The thought sent dread slicing through me and suddenly I was afraid to move. I stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of the driving rain hitting the waxy leaves, wondering what kind of animals might be watching me at this very moment. Might be sizing me up for their breakfast.
I heard a rustle and whirled around. Abranchbehind me swayed as if something had just leapt off of it. My heart catapulted to my throat. Another rustle sounded, this time to my left. I turned, but didn't see anything. Something skittered across my foot.
I yelped in terror and jumped about three feet in the air.
Thunder rumbled overhead and the rain came down even harder. I stared helplessly at the trees, tears welling in my eyes. I had two choices. Find a tree to hide out under, or go back out to the beach and be pounded by the elements.
I took a deep breath.
"You're just imagining things," I told myself, rounding my shoulders and adjusting my meager belongings in my arms. What was it my father had always told me when I was little and terrified by the spiders in our basement?
"They're more afraid of you than you are of them."
Right. Anything that was living on this little island was going to be afraid of me. After all, it was pretty clear they didn't get a lot of human visitors around here. To them I'd be a giant, freakish monster. Hope-fully.
There was a blinding flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder so fierce the ground shook. Just like that, I was on the move.
129
A few minutes of careful hiking and I came to a small, circular patch of land filled with soft, knee-high plants. The area was surrounded by large trees. One of them had thick, heavily vegetated branches, and the ground beneath it looked dry compared to the mud in which my bare feet were now mired. I ducked under the branches and sat down with my back against the trunk, then let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. It was perfectly dry under the canopy of branches. I wrapped my arms around my shivering self and smiled slightly.
See? I could do this. I could survive.