Chapter Nine #2
We pile fronds around the fire and sit on them. It’s undeniably soothing, having its light as the sun sinks below the horizon. We eat cashews and cooked, skewered red peppers in its glow, the orange light dancing across us all.
I clear my throat.
“Jules,” I say. “I’ll share a lean-to with you if you don’t mind. You’re still on concussion watch.”
Darren is in the middle of putting a cashew into his mouth. His eyes dart up and catch on mine. I see a spark of temper, plain as day. I know immediately this is what was hidden in his voice earlier. Something, I suspect, that Jules didn’t miss.
“I’m fine with that,” Jules agrees.
Mathieu, sitting at Jules’s side, chimes in. “I’m keeping an eye on you too. Do you mind?”
Jules meets Mathieu’s eyes. Both seem unable to help a smile at the prolonged contact, and Mathieu starts leaning in. I’m not sure he realises.
“Sure,” Jules says.
Aside from Seán, I don’t think anyone clocks Darren’s irritation; they’re preoccupied with their own aches and pains.
“Will that be enough to keep the fire going all night?” Charles asks, looking to our stack of firewood on the edge of the clearing, protected by a shelter Seán and I quickly put together before the light faded.
“Plenty,” Seán says.
It’s completely dark now. Everyone’s done eating, yet nobody makes any move to go.
From people’s faces, I think everyone’s ready to turn in, but nobody really wants to lie down in the lean-tos, wanting instead the comfort of the flames.
I’m no different. With Seán at my side, it almost feels like I’m on a regular camping trip.
I can almost pretend the responsibility falls on Seán’s dad’s shoulders and not mine.
The temperature drops. A rain shower is coming soon. That will drive everyone inside.
“Seán, can you go over the insects you want us to look out for again?” Jules asks.
Seán nods. “Anyone who’s trekking through the jungle, keep your eye out for spiders. Most aren’t dangerous, but there are a few venomous varieties, and a bite could be painful. With the rain, there might be giant centipedes coming out of burrows, and those are venomous too.”
“Do they have orange legs?” Jules asks. “I saw one when collecting—watching Mathieu collect banana leaves yesterday.”
I stare. Jules doesn’t return my look. He projects I-am-innocent, and I haven’t a clue how because he’s the opposite. Mathieu looks between the two of us and grins.
“They do. Okay, so we have giant centipedes to look out for. There are snakes. I’ve seen a few racers, nothing venomous, but I’m going to keep this simple: look where you’re stepping, and if you see one, just turn around and go back.
You’ll find vipers and cobras on the bigger islands, and to be safe, we should assume there are some here too.
” Seán gestures to the ocean. “When you’re washing, be careful going into the water.
Shuffle your feet in the sand, that way you won’t accidentally step on a stingray, and keep an eye out for jellyfish. ”
Darren leans back on his palms. “Thanks, Jules. Glad we decided to have this talk just before going to bed. I’m going to imagine spiders crawling over me all night.”
“I’m pretty sure those are real bugs you feel.” Willow rubs her arms. “Those sand bugs near-as killed me last night. It seems a little better here.”
“The smoke will help with keeping the bugs away too,” Seán says.
“What do we do if we get bitten by a snake? Or a black widow?” Darren asks.
An uncomfortable air settles over the group, everyone drawing their own sobering conclusions.
I see the question hits somewhere vulnerable, and perhaps it hits hard because of how tired everyone is.
Nobody has talked about how potentially devastating our situation could turn out to be.
Maybe because we survived the shipwreck, there’s a feeling like all we have to do is get through a few days of discomfort, and we’ll be rescued.
Discomfort is not the same thing as danger.
“Then Cillian or I will swim to the yacht and radio for help,” Jules says.
Several heads pop up, including Seán’s.
“The yacht is way out there,” Mary says.
“It is, and we don’t have any idea what the currents are like, so that’s only in a worst-case scenario,” Jules explains.
“Being stranded on an island isn’t worst-case?” Darren asks.
“Not when we have two capable guides and a huge supply of food.”
“Mary can’t walk, and she’s got a huge gash where a big chunk of glass was stuck in her arm. Seán can’t use his right arm.”
“And I have a concussion and whiplash. We’re getting on with it.”
The heavens abruptly open up, stopping the argument in its tracks.
I act quickly, getting Jules into the shelter before he’s drenched.
I exchange a look with Seán, and he steps in to direct Darren to the lean-to with Willow and Yasop.
My dislike for the man has solidified into immovable stone.
Mathieu darts in after us, nudging Jules into the middle.
Jules’s jaw is set, and he has an angry look in his eyes. He lies down, rigid. I lie down next to him, sensing that I need to say something, but I need a moment to figure out what.
“I didn’t mean to get everyone thinking about bugs just before going to sleep.” There’s a shrill note in Jules’s voice. “I just thought that, with everything that’s going on, it probably slipped people’s minds and a reminder would be good.”
“A reminder was a good idea,” I say.
On Jules’s other side, Mathieu nods. “I think so too. Don’t worry, Darren is just being grumpy.”
Jules tenses further at the mention of Darren. Instinctively, I reach out, finding Jules’s hand in the low light. I cover it with mine and squeeze. His fingers are cold.
Mathieu rolls onto his side, scooting until he’s pressed right up against Jules. “What did you do for your Iconography presentation?” he asks.
“Echo and Narcissus.”
“Will you tell me about it? And I’ll tell you mine? I did Dante’s Inferno.”
Jules makes a noise of agreement. I relax as they discuss their final year projects, Jules’s soft Irish accent as pleasant on the ears as the charming lilt of Mathieu’s French accent.
A shiver passes through Jules, and Mathieu reaches over to me, takes a firm hold of my leg, and pulls.
I could easily resist, but I go with it, letting him guide my leg over Jules’s and Mathieu’s thighs.
It leaves my chest flush against Jules’s side. I’m a lot closer to them than I was to Yasop and Willow. I spent last night with my back to them, never once considering closing the gap. But here, I’m more than willing to use my body if it means keeping them warm.
“We were meant to be landing in Dublin today,” Jules says quietly. His voice draws me out of my doze.
“My parents are probably freaking out that they can’t get hold of me,” Mathieu says.
I’m instantly fully awake. Seán and I missed something stupidly obvious.
We estimated a week at most before we were reported missing.
I didn’t catch the flawed logic because I’d be dead ten years before my parents started wondering where I was.
Even though I have Seán, I tend to forget that not everyone is like that.
“Darren forwarded you the email I sent?” Jules checks.
“The one for ‘parents and others’? He did, and I sent it on to my parents.”
“You made an email for parents about this trip?” I ask.
“Just contact information for the places we’d be staying and what days we’d be there in case of an emergency.
Not that I thought we’d have an emergency.
Willow’s granddad is sick and is in hospital, so I was putting that together for her, in case they needed to contact her.
I figured I should just send it on to everyone while I was at it. ”
Jules is some sort of angel. “Brilliant.”
Mathieu makes a similar appreciative sound. “Jules is the best at planning. I was so happy when you invited me.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. “That was Darren. I didn’t know you were coming till you stepped onto the yacht.”
There’s a second where I think things are about to get awkward. It’s much easier to get your feelings hurt when you haven’t slept well in three days.
“I can’t say I didn’t guess that.” Mathieu sounds more accepting than hurt. “But I am not one to let an opportunity pass me by.”