CHAPTER FOURTEEN
C al
Water swishes around my calves and ankles. Schools of fish dart around my feet, clearly baffled by my presence. How do people normally approach this island?
Jason and I drag the jet ski onto the shore.
My shoes are probably destroyed. Maybe I’ll buy some flip-flops. There better be a gift shop here.
I move my feet toward the pearl-white shore, then collapse onto the soft sand.
My white pants are soaked. They’re tight and uncomfortable, and I really, really wish I was wearing swim trunks like Jason.
Jason is currently hollering and whooping in happiness at the heavens. He flings himself onto the beach, spreading his arms wide. For a moment, I think he’s going to start making sand angels or something.
He doesn’t.
But his smile is super wide, so unlike how I picture him, and I give a strangled laugh.
“We made it, Cal.”
“We sure did.” I tear off my shoes and hold them in my hands. The sand is hot beneath my toes, but I don’t care.
I move toward him, and Jason’s face pales. Too late, I remember we’re not friends anymore. Just because Jason didn’t leave me stranded in the middle of the Pacific doesn’t mean he’s a great guy.
My recollections of him as are marred by my then-crush on him. I liked the way he looked. I liked the way the light settled on his blond hair. He was an athlete even then, and baby gay me liked it. He didn’t scowl as much then.
I hate the way his breath sputters when I come close, and I hate the way he averts his gaze, jerking his head to peer at the well, completely, boring sand.
Though I guess sand isn’t boring when you’re worried you won’t see it again.
I march past him, in case he thought I was going to sit beside him or something. He was angled awkwardly away from me on the jet ski, as if he thought I was contaminated.
It’s fine.
Absolutely fine.
I kissed the wrong guy when I was sixteen. I can survive this awkwardness.
There’s no hotel or house or anything on this beach, so I decide to look around until I find who actually lives here.
But maybe their resort is super fancy. Birds caw. There’s no well-groomed path. No neat boardwalk swept twice a day by trusty staff.
The grove becomes thicker, and more jungle-like, and I frown. I put on my wet shoes and sludge through muddy ground packed with fallen leaves and weeds and what I think are insect corpses as wet palm leaves and vines lash at my soggy attire.
Is this island uninhabited?
No way.
Surely not.
It’s gorgeous. Someone must live here.
But I consider how hard it was to reach this island.
Maybe some islands are uninhabited. Wasn’t Castaway filmed near here? I saw the advertisements for a ferry to the island where it was filmed.
I won’t panic.
Panicking is something for other people to do. Not me. Not now.
I’m not a high schooler realizing I’m gay. I’m not a high schooler realizing I’m way more into my friend than my other classmates would find socially acceptable.
No, everything is completely fine.
I won’t freak out because I don’t immediately see signs of civilization. I probably should have explored the beach more, and I didn’t, because I’ve had enough with Jason’s sulky expressions and sulkier sighs.
I march on. Finally, light appears through the trees.
This is it. This is a house... hopefully. Instead, I stare at a different, rockier beach. It’s equally desolate, and the gnawing pain in my chest grows.
I stare at the ocean and its vast expanse of waves.
It’s beautiful, but the happiness that normally fills me when I look at a beautiful sight doesn’t come.
“Cal!” A booming voice interrupts my thoughts.
I turn around, and there is Jason, thudding behind me. His skin is rosy, and yes, he’s definitely going to have a sunburn. He glares at me. “You left.”
“I was trying to find civilization so we can leave!”
“Did you find it? Where is it?”
My skin heats. “Well, no. Not yet.”
Jason gives an exasperated huff. “I’ll find it.”
“I can find it!”
“You’re...” He lowers his gaze. His sunglasses are firmly on, but I shiver like he’s undressing me with his eyes. “Indecent.”
“I’m not.”
“Your pants are see-through! And clinging.”
“So?”
“You can’t knock on someone’s door like that!”
I look down. Then blush. “Oh. Sorry.”
Jason’s chin is higher than before. “It’s okay. Just sit. I’ll, uh, find a telephone. I’ll get someone from the hotel to pick us up. Don’t worry, Cal.”
“That sounds expensive. Maybe there’s a ferry.”
“I’ve got it,” he blurts. “For both of us. Don’t worry.”
“But—”
“Your shoes are soaking, Cal!”
“They’re soggy.”
“So dry them in the sun.”
I open my mouth to protest, but think better of it. They’re definitely soggy.
Jason swirls around and marches away. I set my shoes on the sand, then find some shade.
Gentle waves glide against the shore, each movement so tender so as to make me wonder how I could ever have been afraid.
But fear still grips me. Because swaying palm trees and blooming frangipani and sand so soft and pale I can imagine it existing only on clouds in heaven, don’t equal civilization.
Hibiscus and bougainvillea and bird of paradise may be a feast for the eyes but do little for the belly.
My throat remains parched, and I lower myself slowly, as if the slightest exertion might increase my thirst.
Finally, Jason returns.
His steps are slower.
“Well?”
His face is grim.
And I know.
“There’s nothing?” I ask.
“Looks like it.”
I stare at the ocean. “I don’t want to be here.”
“You shouldn’t have followed me.”
“I wish your morals extended to other things too.”
His face pales. “I’m sorry, Cal.”
“We have bigger problems,” I say, and he nods at the horizon, because I’m totally right.