I was just waking from a nap. “Sure,” I replied groggily.
“Good,” said Dawn. She immediately rolled over and fell asleep.
That was when I felt Jamie’s forehead.
“Oh, good,” I said aloud. “Much cooler.”
Jamie was sleeping peacefully. He hadn’t cried out in several hours. Maybe the worst was over. And maybe, just maybe, you really could flush a virus out of someone. After all, he’d drunk two whole bottles of water and had been to the bathroom about six times.
I tiptoed to the cave entrance. The sky was still gray, but I could see that it was gray with looming clouds as well as with dawn. Great, I thought. Another storm was coming. We needed another storm like we needed extra feet.
“Claudia?” whispered Becca from her nest.
“Yeah?” I knelt beside her.
“Is Jamie okay?”
“He’s much better. Don’t worry about him. Are you okay?” I had taken one of Becca’s hands, and it was freezing.
“Just a little cold,” said Becca. “I think I’ll go back to sleep.”
“Sorry about the blanket,” I told her.
“That’s okay. Jamie needs it.”
Becca nestled under the leaves and fell asleep.
For the next hour, I puttered around the cave. We had been careful to keep our trash in one place so we wouldn’t litter the island. I actually neatened our trash! I bet even Mary Anne’s tidy, precise father has never neatened trash. Then I stoked the fire again, thought about escaping from the island, and checked Jamie. He was still cooler than last night. I didn’t think his temperature was normal, but it wasn’t anything to be too concerned about.
About an hour later, everyone began to get up.
The first words out of Jeff’s mouth were, “I don’t believe it. It’s Monday. This is one of my days off from school and look how I’m spending it.”
“Yeah, some vacation,” grumbled Haley. She sat up and brushed leaves out of her hair, but she missed one. It was sitting on top of her head.
Becca burst into giggles. She pointed at Haley’s head. But Haley’s only response was to swat the leaf angrily away.
Jeff, who had rarely complained since we landed on “Nine O’Clock Island,” now said, “And besides missing my vacation, I’m freezing. This cave is like a refrigerator.”
“I’ll add some stuff to the fire,” I told him quickly.
“Add our bed,” grumbled Jeff. “It’s useless. We might as well be sleeping on the floor. The leaves don’t do a thing.”
“I will not add your bed to the fire,” I told him. “Maybe we can figure out a way to make it more comfortable.”
That made Becca start to cry.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her. I put my arm across her shoulder.
“You mean we’re still going to be here tonight? We’re going to need this bed again?”
Oops. “No,” I answered. “I mean, maybe. We don’t know. But just in case.”
Becca nodded, sniffling.
“Well, who’s hungry?” I asked.
Of course, Becca, Haley, and I were starving. We hadn’t eaten since our lunchtime candy bars. Worse than that, we were thirsty.
“Couldn’t we have just a little of Jamie’s water?” begged Haley.
“I’d like to let you have some, but it’s gone,” I told her. “He finished it a couple of hours ago. For what it’s worth, he seems better.”
Becca actually began to wring her hands. “But what are we going to drink? People need liquids. I know that from science class. And the juice boxes and everything are gone!”
“I know. I thought about that.”
“Can we drink ocean water?” asked Haley.
“Absolutely not,” I told her. “It’s full of salt. But we can collect rainwater. Look outside. It’s going to storm again.”
“What will we collect it in?” asked Becca sensibly.
“Can you really drink rainwater?” asked Haley.
“Sure you can drink it. And you can collect it in, um, in …”
“We’ll rig up something,” Jeff said.
“Oh, wait a sec. We aren’t thinking!” exclaimed Haley. “We can drink coconut milk! I’ve seen that in lots of movies. All you do is climb the coconut tree, pick the coconut, punch holes in the end, and there you go. Coconut milk to drink. I think that would be better than rainwater.”
I glanced at Jeff, who shrugged. Finally I said, “Haley, this — this isn’t a desert island. There are no coconuts in Connecticut. I promise you.”
“But there might be coconut trees on this island. We don’t know where we are. Can Becca and I please, please, please go get some coconuts?”
“Well … all right. But stay around here. Try to keep the cave in sight. And don’t go near the water. And for heaven’s sake come back if you get too cold. We don’t want any other patients on our hands.”
“Okay!” The girls ran off excitedly.
Jeff and I grinned at each other.
“Well, I’m going fishing,” said Jeff. “I’ll try to catch a whole lot of fish. You know Becca and Haley won’t find any coconuts, and they might just be hungry enough to eat some fish.”
“Even I might eat fish,” I said, my stomach rumbling. “As long as I don’t have to look at them first.”
“I’ll cover their heads,” said Jeff as he set off.
The cave was quiet for the next hour. Dawn and Jamie slept. I got bored. Very bored. And worried. How were we going to get rescued? And where were we? How far could we have drifted? Were we off the coast of Massachusetts now? Or New York? Or were we way out to sea? I had no idea which direction the storm had blown us. If only the weather would clear. That would help the searchers and us. On the other hand, we needed the rain for drinking water.
Rain! I better think of some way to collect it.
Now what would hold water? I looked over our few possessions. Only the plastic tarps seemed like good possibilities. But they were flat. We needed a container. And then I had an idea. (I felt like Kristy, who is always getting good ideas.) I left the cave, found four sturdy sticks, stuck them in the sand in front of the cave, and tied one corner of a tarp to each stick. The tarp sagged nicely in the middle. It would hold plenty of water.
I was quite pleased with myself, since I am not noted for my problem-solving abilities.
When I returned to the cave, Dawn was awake.
“What’s going on?” she asked, sitting up.
I told her about my rain-catching idea, and that Jeff was out fishing and the girls were out looking for coconuts.
Dawn smiled. Then she leaned over, peered at Jamie, and felt his forehead. “Well, he seems better,” she said.
“I know.”
At that moment, we heard the patter of rain outside the cave. In moments, Becca, Haley, and Jeff all reappeared. They were wet and chilly, and the girls, of course, had not found any coconuts. But Jeff was carrying quite a few fish.
“Good job!” I said to him. Then I added cheerfully, “Is everyone ready for a fish fry this morning?”
The girls looked dubious. “Are you going to eat fish?” Becca asked me.
“I sure am. As long as I don’t have to look — Jeff, keep those things away from me!” I cried, as Jeff teased me with the fish.
Jeff and Dawn prepared the fish, and I looked out the cave entrance at my water collector. “It’s working!” I announced. “We’ll have water — as long as the tarp doesn’t get too full and collapse the sticks.”
A little while later, every one of us except Jamie sat down to a breakfast of fish. The girls picked at it at first, but soon they were eating hungrily. I was, too.
“You know,” said Becca, “this isn’t so bad. It tastes a little like …”
“Chicken?” suggested Haley.
“No. I guess it just tastes like fish.”
“Well, when you’re really hungry, anything will do,” I said.
“Even rattlesnake meat?” asked Jeff.
“Grubs?” asked Becca.
“No!” I cried. I was glad to see everyone laughing, though. We were more apt to pull through this thing if we kept our spirits up.
By the time breakfast was over, the sun was peeking through the clouds, and Jeff, Becca, and Haley ventured outside again. When they were gone, Dawn and I looked at each other. Dawn was frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“The kids may be in good moods,” she said, “but you do realize that we’re in a critical situation, don’t you? I mean, we can’t live on fish and rainwater forever. And Jamie needs a doctor.”
“I know,” I said. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding.
“How far from Stoneybrook do you think we are?”
“I just don’t have any idea. And,” I went on, anticipating her next question, “I don’t know if they’re still searching for us. They probably think we’ve all drowned.”
“Claudia!”
“Well, they probably do. But that shouldn’t prevent us from trying to be rescued. There must be some way to attract attention to ourselves.”
“A fire?”
“Too dangerous.”
“We could still try to escape. We could build a raft.”
“No way,” I said.
“Got any better ideas?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then, we’ll just have to keep thinking.”
That was one difficult letter to write. I felt as if I were telling off my father, and that’s something kids aren’t supposed to do. At least, it was something this kid isn’t supposed to do. I hoped I had said enough nice things in the letter to make up for the not-so-nice things.
* * *
I was supposed to stay in New York until five o’clock Monday afternoon, but when I woke up on Monday morning, I knew I couldn’t stand it there a second longer. I had to get back to Stoneybrook and help search for my friends. I knew they hadn’t been found yet because I’d spoken to Kristy on Sunday and I’d said, “If they’re found, call me right away, no matter what time it is.”
“Even if it’s two o’clock in the morning?” Kristy had asked.
“Even then. I don’t care if the phone does wake up my father.”
“We-ell …” said Kristy.
“Please. Promise me.”
“Okay. I promise.”
I knew Kristy would keep a promise. And she hadn’t called me. Plus, I hadn’t seen anything about a rescue on the news.
That does it, I thought, when I woke up at seven-thirty on Sunday. I’m going home as soon as I can. No matter what Dad says.
Well, of course, Dad didn’t like the idea a bit. That was when we had our fight. Dad watched me throwing stuff in my suitcase and he said, “This was supposed to be a three-day weekend, Stacey.”
“Oh, and I guess my friends were supposed to get lost at sea on this three-day weekend? It’s not like they chose to get lost just to mess up your weekend with me.”
“Anastasia!”
“Dad, you are not being fair. If two of your friends were lost — one of them your best friend — wouldn’t you want to search for them? Or would you just kick back and say, ‘Hey, it’s my weekend. Don’t ruin it.’”
“Young lady —” Dad began. Then he stopped. “You really want to leave?”
“Yes. I want to get back to Stoneybrook and help search. Everyone else is helping. I feel like a spoiled brat here in the city, going to plays and eating in restaurants. My friends are — Well, who knows what they’re doing. I bet they aren’t having fun or eating good food, though.”
Dad shrugged. “If you want to go, go.”
So I did. I finished packing my suitcase, got into a cab, and rode to the train station. But I felt horrible. I think I’d wanted Dad to say he was sorry. But he hadn’t. I was just leaving him all hurt and everything. Of course, I hadn’t apologized to him.
So I had written that letter to Dad. I hoped it would help us to make up. As soon as I finished the letter, I tucked it into my backpack to mail later, and tried to forget about New York.
It was time to concentrate on Stoneybrook.
Not much happened during the rest of the ride. I tried to read, but couldn’t. I found myself urging the train along instead. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, I said in my head to the rhythm of the wheels flying down the tracks.
At last, the train pulled into the Stoneybrook station. I was already standing by the door with my backpack and my suitcase, ready to get off. And that was when I realized something. I hadn’t called Mom from New York. She was expecting me around dinnertime that evening.
“Darn,” I said, as I stepped onto the platform. This was what I got for fighting with Dad and —
“Stacey?”
“Mom?” I couldn’t believe it! “How did you know I was on this train?” I asked her.
“Your father called me right after you left the apartment.”
“Oh. So I guess you know about our fight.”
“I know your father’s side of it. Come on,” said Mom, putting her arm around me and taking the backpack, which I was struggling with. “Why don’t you tell me your side on the way home?”
“Can I tell it to you on the way to the community center?” I replied. “I want to go straight there and help search.”
“Of course,” said Mom. So I told her the story as we drove through town.
“I wrote him a letter,” I added, as we arrived at the center.
Mom parked the car, but neither of us got out.
“Do you want to tell me about the letter?” asked my mother.
“I’ll do better than that,” I said. “You can read it.” I searched through my backpack for the book I’d stuck the letter in. “Here it is.” I handed it to Mom. Mom read it and sighed.
“What? Are you mad at me, too?” I asked.
“No,” said Mom, but she bent her head over and rested it on her fingertips like she does sometimes when she’s angry.
“You are! You are mad!” I exclaimed.
And some stupid WATL reporter chose that moment to stick her microphone through the car window and ask, “Friends of the missing?”
I was stunned. Since I’d been away for the weekend, I had no idea what was going on at the community center. Now I took a look around. The parking lot was overflowing. Mom wasn’t even parked in an actual space, because there weren’t any. She’d just pulled up near the door to the center. I saw a couple of WATL vans, a helicopter hovering over the beach near the dock, and a lot of boats.
“What?” I said, searching the face of the reporter. “Are we friends of the missing?”
“Yes,” said the reporter.
“I am,” I replied.
“Well, how do you feel, knowing that your friends are gone?”
“I feel terrible!” I cried. “What did you expect? I feel —”
Mom cut me short. She put an end to the interview by hitting the button that makes all the windows in the car roll up. The reporter had to act quickly to get her microphone out before it got squished by the window.
“Mom!” I exclaimed. Then I paused. “Thanks,” I said.
We both began to laugh.
“Honey,” said my mother, “I’m not angry. Really I’m not. At least not with you. I think I’m angry at myself, though. And maybe at your father. We don’t mean to put you in the middle of things, but if we do … then we should stop. I promise we’ll try harder.”
“Thanks,” I said. I looked out the window. “Whoa. I wonder what’s going on.” There was a flurry of activity among the news reporters. They were all running for the center. “Maybe there’s some news!” I exclaimed. “Come on, Mom!”
We dashed inside, even though our car wasn’t properly parked. And the first person I saw in that crowded room was Kristy.
“Stacey!” she cried.
“Kristy!”
We hugged quickly.
Then I said,
“What happened? What’s going on?” at the same time that Kristy said, “You’re home early!”
“I know. I’ll explain later,” I told her. “But what is this?”
Kristy sighed. “I don’t know what to make of this news, but one of the search boats found an empty sailboat early this morning. It’s Claudia’s. They checked the numbers on the boat. There’s no question about it. The boat is in good condition, but it’s completely empty. I mean, even the food and supplies are missing.”
“An empty boat,” I repeated slowly.
Kristy nodded.
“No hole or anything?”
“Nope. It was just floating along.”
At that point we heard a newscaster say to a tired-looking searcher, “You say there were no signs of a struggle on board?”
“A struggle?” said Kristy. “What do they think happened? That pirates raided the sailboat?” Kristy looked furious.
“Never mind,” I said to her.
“Hey, you guys!”
Mallory ran up to us then.
“We heard the news,” said Kristy before Mallory could go on.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” said Mal. “Mom and Dad and the triplets and Nicky and Vanessa are here. We’re ready to go searching again. Who wants to come with us?”
I don’t know why, exactly, but for some reason, instead of answering Mal, I burst into tears.
“Stacey?” said my mother from behind me.
“They found one of the sailboats this morning,” I said sort of hysterically. “It was empty. That can’t be a good sign!”
“Oh, Stace,” said Mom. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
I almost went with her. But at the last moment I turned around. “Wait,” I said. “I want to search after all. That’s why I came home, isn’t it? To search?”
“How many times have you been out on a boat?” Mom wanted to know. “Other than a cruise ship.”
“Almost none. But I have to go. And Mal says they have room for me.”
“We-ell …”
Mom had softened. “See you later!” I called to her.
I ran back to Kristy and Mallory and the rest of the Pikes. “Is there still room for me?” I asked.
Baby-Sitters' Island Adventure Page 8
