Package after package I opened and gave it the sniff test. By the time I was through, I felt sick to my stomach. There wasn’t anything I could recognize or want to eat. Not even a frozen pizza.
My stomach rumbled again. Okay, so maybe I won’t die of boredom here. It’ll be starvation!
Then I remembered the bread that Lovie brought over. There was still half a loaf left. I sliced off a big piece and wrapped it in a paper napkin. Not trusting the milk, I poured water from the filter into a tall glass. Then I climbed back up to the loft with my loot. I lay back in bed, clicked off the lamp, and nibbled my bread while staring out the window, watching low clouds drift by in the moonlit sky.
My thoughts shifted to my dad lying in a hospital bed. Even though we were hundreds of miles apart, we were both lying under the same moon, the same stars. I wondered if he could see the night sky. If he was hungry. If he was hurting. Or if he was even thinking of me.
I’m not ashamed to admit I prayed that night too.
* * *
“Breakfast,” Honey hollered from downstairs.
“Oh boy,” I muttered under my breath. The only thing worse than the tropical depression was Honey’s food supply.
I rolled out of bed, made my way down the ladder, and plopped down on a wooden stool in front of the kitchen island, brushing away old food crumbs where I rested my arms.
“Morning, Jake,” Honey said.
She was still in her pajamas and slippers, like I was. My mom and dad always had me rise, wash, and dress before I showed up for breakfast. “Shipshape,” my mom liked to say. Being in the military, they didn’t lounge around much in their pj’s.
Honey stood peering into the fridge, though I couldn’t imagine how she knew what was inside all those foil-wrapped containers.
“I guess I fell asleep early last night and plumb missed dinner. I’m sorry,” Honey said. “I could do that when I lived alone, but now I have to think of you, isn’t that right? A growing boy has to eat.” She handed me a container of orange juice. “I reckon I wasn’t feeling myself.”
“Were you sick?” I asked, pouring juice into a glass.
“Oh, the rainy weather just got me down. But the sun’s out now, right?” she said more cheerfully. “I’m making scrambled eggs. Want some?”
I glanced past her to see that she was using the fresh eggs Lovie dropped off the other day.
“Yes, please. And may I have a slice of that bread Lovie brought over too?”
“Help yourself,” she said, pouring the whisked eggs into the hot pan. “That loaf of bread is disappearing fast.”
I didn’t reply as I cut two slices of bread and popped them in the toaster. I watched Honey as she opened a small plastic container from the fridge and sniffed it. “This one smells like ham. I think.” She held it out. “Want some?” she asked.
“No thanks,” I replied quickly. Not eating that.
That fridge was a time machine. As far as I could tell, almost everything in the kitchen was expired, smelled bad, or was as withered as an unwrapped mummy.
“Want some milk?” Honey asked, pulling out a carton.
“Uh, Honey, the milk is past the sell-by date.”
Honey waved her hand and said, “Oh, don’t you know those dates are just a suggestion? This milk has got a lot of life still in it.”
Like bacteria, I thought with a grimace. “No thanks. I’m good with orange juice.”
“Eggs are ready,” Honey said, sliding the plate across the countertop. “Want some shredded cheese on it?”
I remembered watching her slice green fuzz off the cheese block.
“Just plain, please.”
She handed me the plate and I dove into the eggs. When I was done, I spotted a sheet of paper on the counter that had my name on it. I pulled it close.
“What’s this?”
“That’s your list of chores,” Honey said. “You have to help out while you’re here.”
Chores? Wasn’t going to your grandma’s house supposed to be a treat?
“First and most important, I need you to fetch our drinking water,” she said.
“From a well?” I asked.
“Not quite,” she answered with a chuckle. Honey grabbed her coffee mug and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Jake,” she began in that voice that told me she was going to explain a lot. “Here on the island, we’re very green.” She saw me smirk and shook her head. “You know what that means. We care for the nature around us and try to live with it instead of ruling over it. What’s good for the island comes first. Not people. We do what we can to protect the island. That’s why you won’t see cars here, or golf courses. That’s why we never use pesticides. When we fish, we only catch what we can eat in one meal. We let nature show itself off, the way the good Lord intended. We recycle, of course. Try not to use single-use plastic. You know those plastic water bottles everyone buys by the case? They’re littering our world. We don’t allow them on the island.”
Honey took a gulp from her coffee mug and continued. “Now to your chores. You’ll be in charge of taking out the trash and recycling. And you’ll be the one to fetch the water for drinking. The water from my faucet is perfectly fine,” she told me. “But we also have a fancy filtration system here. The drinking water from it tastes so good!” She pointed at a large, empty water jug on the floor. “That there is the water container. Your job is to fill it up over at the Nature Center building whenever it gets low. And while you’re out, you can check my mailbox and pick up my newspaper from the ferry dock. It’s all right in the same neck of the woods.”
I made a face staring at the chores list but didn’t say anything.
“You’ll have to take the golf cart, of course.”
My head shot up. “The golf cart?”
Honey smiled. “I left the keys in the ignition.”
“Can I go after breakfast?” I was so ready to get out of the house.
“There’s a map of the island in the cart. Basically, the road is one big circle. It’s tough to get lost. That should make getting around a breeze.”
I slid off from the stool, eager to get dressed for my day.
“One more thing,” she called out, waving me closer. “It’s an assignment. Kind of like summer homework.”
Just when things were looking up. “What kind of homework?” I asked cautiously.
“The fun kind. When your daddy was a kid, he’d be out the door after his chores lickety-split and stay outside all day. He only came home to eat. And everywhere he went, he had this with him.”
Honey let her hand slide across the cover of a small brown book, then placed it on the counter. I leaned closer for a better look. It looked like it was made of leather, worn and soft with age. On the cover, painted in a kid’s handwriting beside a yellow flower, were the words ERIC POTTER.
I ran my finger across my father’s name with awe. “What is it?”
“His childhood diary. Oops! I mean journal,” Honey chuckled. “Your daddy would get madder than a hornet when I called it his diary.” She gently tapped it with her fingers. “It’s yours now.” She turned and began putting our breakfast plates in the sink.
I reached out to pick up the journal. The leather was so worn it felt buttery in my hands.
“Your daddy explored every square inch of this island. He wrote down things he did and drew pictures of things he saw. He was quite the young naturalist. I think that helped prepare him for the Special Forces.” Honey opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a black-and-white composition notebook. It was the kind I used in school.
“This is for you. It’s not as fancy as your dad’s, but it’ll do. Fill in the pages with notes all about your time here on the island.”
I took it in my hands, feeling uncertain. “Like what?”
She shrugged. “A naturalist observes and listens. See, if you go outside and make a lot of noise, all the critters will run from you. But if you walk out quiet and respectful, maybe sit down a
spell, if you’re lucky, maybe an animal will come out of hiding near you. A butterfly might flutter by. A bird will land. Write down what you see and hear. It doesn’t have to be good. No one even has to look at it. Not if you don’t want. This is for you.”
“Can I draw?”
“Of course! It’s yours to do with what you will. I want you to explore the great outdoors. Drives me batty how kids these days stay cooped up, rotting their brains on those cell phones and playing video games all the time. Oh Jake, there are adventures to be had, mysteries to be uncovered.” She jabbed her index finger to indicate the door. “Now go on. You’re wasting daylight!”
CHAPTER 5
Cat and Mouse
Courage is taking action in the face of fear.
MAP OF THE ISLAND? CHECK.
Key in ignition? On.
Reverse switch. Ready!
I squeezed the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and slowly backed out of the open area beneath Honey’s house. Looking way up at the house, I could see how she came up with that nickname, the Bird’s Nest. I spotted the big round window of my room.
The island was so different from base life. On the base, there were small fenced yards and no big trees. Nothing like the jungle of tall, swaying pines, palmettos, and ancient oak trees here.
Honey’s driveway was littered with broken limbs and piles of pine needles, cones, and leaves blown off from the storm. There was no way I’d get the cart out. “This is some vacation,” I muttered as I found the rake. I spent a good half hour sweeping the dirt driveway clear of the minefield of debris. Once I was done, the cart easily made it out to the main dirt road. I did a lot of stopping and starting until I got used to the accelerator and brake pedals.
Being alone on the narrow, muddy road was both exciting and scary. Both sides were lined with deep thickets of trees, dark and mysterious. If anything happened to me out here, would anyone even notice? Suddenly a blur of movement caught my eye from the woods. I slowed to a stop. Just steps away from the road I spotted a deer and her white-spotted baby fawn almost hidden behind the leaves. The mother deer locked eyes with me. I held my breath. She was so close, I could see the muscles in her chest flex. Then with a single leap, she disappeared into the safety of the forest, her fawn following her on spindly legs. The last I saw of them were their white tails flashing.
Mental note: Write that down in the notebook.
Time to be on my way. I pushed the accelerator down, but strangely, the cart only sputtered at half speed. It began slowing down by the minute, even though I had the pedal pressed all the way to the floorboard. Then it just stopped.
My heart hammered fast. Now what? Honey didn’t go over the part about what to do if a golf cart breaks down. Could I push it back to the house? I shook my head. I wasn’t that strong. There wasn’t a person or a house in sight on the path. I sighed. I had no choice but to walk.
On foot, the island seemed even larger and more looming. Trees towered over me, making me feel so small… so alone. I didn’t have to imagine being on a jungle expedition anymore. I was doing it! All my senses were on high alert. My eyes searched the trees. My ears heard every crunch, squish, and snap.
The forest awakened with sounds. Camouflaged frogs croaked throaty songs in the pine-needle-covered floor. Birds hidden high in the branches called out to one another. I recognized the sharp whistles of the red cardinal and the long songs of a mockingbird.
Around a bend, a lone wooden swing bench overlooked a small pond. Curious, I walked through the tall grasses to check it out. Gnats buzzed by my ears and mosquitoes attacked everywhere. I swatted them, but they kept biting.
Mental note: Use bug spray.
The trees opened to reveal a small pond. The water was the color of iced tea. Sunlight danced on the water and I saw the puffy white clouds reflected. A big limb of an old, twisted tree leaned far over the water’s edge. Its slender branches looked like long fingers dipping beneath the dark water. And all over the tree sat at least a dozen of the biggest white birds I’d ever seen.
Some of the birds were as tall as little kids! And they were weird-looking. Their heads had no feathers, just wrinkly, leathery skin that made them look prehistoric. My fingers itched to draw them, like my dad did in his journal. While I watched, a few more glided in for a landing. Their long white wings fanned out like an airplane. It made me think of Mom and how she piloted massive cargo planes, smooth and easy, like these birds.
Sweat stung my eyes and mosquitoes buzzed. I retreated to the main path, swatting bugs away like a helicopter. I spied one long white feather on the ground and, surprised, picked it up. There was the faint black tip. I carried it back to draw later.
I hadn’t gone far when the sound of sticks snapping in the woods just behind me stopped me dead in my tracks. I held my breath to listen, ready to run. The noises were so loud, they had to come from a big animal. I waited, but didn’t hear them again, so I started walking again. A little faster. My senses were now on high alert.
Then I heard it again! The hairs on my arms prickled. Something is following me!
I racked my brain. What did Honey say about the animals on the island? Some were not so friendly—alligators, foxes, bears. I imagined being chased by gnashing teeth. What if something attacks me? How can I defend myself? I felt defenseless and alone, like a mouse being hunted by a cat.
My heart beat faster as I looked for a big stick to defend myself. Nothing. I grabbed a big pinecone. I could throw it as a distraction if I needed to make a run for it.
I began walking again, faster this time. Once again, the crackling of twigs and rustling of leaves sounded. What if it’s Big Al? I wondered. Honey said gators could run fast. If I got attacked, or eaten alive…who was going to even know?
I remembered being scared in the woods once during a camping trip with my dad. We were asleep in the tent when loud hoots and shrieks woke me up. Dad told me, “When you feel scared, remember that courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is taking action in the face of fear.”
Together we peeked out the tent flap. A fat raccoon was sniffing around our campfire. “So ferocious,” Dad said. We had a good laugh that night.
I knew what I had to do. My muscles pulsed with adrenaline. I stopped and spun around, lifting my arms wide.
“Raaaaawr!” I growled as loud as I could, like a wild animal. “Get outta here!” I hurled my pinecone toward the sound.
A voice yelled back from the woods. “Ow! Stop!”
I froze, shocked.
It was another kid. And he was wearing very familiar bold blue Nike sneakers. The boy from the ferry. He stepped out from the tree line onto the path, rubbing his shoulder. “Hey, stop with the pinecones. Those things hurt,” he complained. Then with a laugh he added, “You’ve got a good arm.”
“Were you following me?” I demanded.
He glanced downward and shrugged.
“Well, it wasn’t cool. I thought you were Big Al or something.”
His eyes shot up at me. “Who’s Big Al?”
“A gator. Only the biggest one on the island.”
His eyebrows raised. “Did you know that the American alligator is one of only two alligator species in the world?”
“No. I didn’t think about that when I was worried he’d eat me.”
“Yeah,” the boy replied with a laugh, stepping closer. It broke the tension. “When they’re young, alligators eat mostly insects and small fish. Adult alligators go after fish, snakes, turtles, birds, and small mammals.”
“You know, we are small mammals.…”
He shrugged and grinned. “So yeah, maybe he would eat you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You sure know a lot about gators. Are they your favorite animal or something?”
“No, I just like cool facts.”
“Here’s a fact: It wasn’t cool that you followed me like that.”
He kicked a pebble in the road, then looked back at me. “Yeah. Sorry.”
> “Why were you following me?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to follow some animal tracks. I think they were fox tracks. Or maybe a coyote. Anyway, when I saw you walking, I got curious and decided to track you instead. Why’d you ditch your golf cart?”
This time I shrugged. “It broke down. I don’t know why.”
“Was it plugged in before you left your house?”
“Plugged in?”
“Yeah. You’ve got to recharge the cart after every time you use it.”
Honey didn’t tell me that part. “It’s probably a dead battery, then,” I said. “I’ve got to walk for help.”
“Want some company?”
He looked like he was as lonely on this island as I was. “Sure. My name’s Jake Potter.” I stuck out my hand. “Jake.”
He took my hand. “I’m Macon Allen Simmons. But you can call me Macon.”
We took off together along the dirt road, jumping over puddles, throwing sticks and pinecones into the woods. It didn’t feel so lonely out here with someone by my side.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“I’m from Atlanta.”
“I’m from New Jersey. I’m staying with my grandma this summer.”
“All summer? Cool. Me too.”
We both smiled. Finally, my summer was looking up.
“How’d you get stuck here?” I asked him.
“My mom’s having a baby and the doctor said she needed to rest. So we came out here. My mom grew up not far from here. They bought a house for vacations. My dad’s going back and forth to Atlanta because of his job. He’s a lawyer. He told me I had to help out around the house a lot more.”
I smirked. “Yeah, I got that line too.”
The Islanders Page 3
