by Sara Saedi
She wished it was safe to pick Hopper’s brain about the message on his finger. Maybe it referenced something from their shared past in foster care, or maybe it was just something totally arbitrary he’d scribbled down out of boredom. Quiet at the Punchbowl could be the title of a book or the name of a new band that Wylie had never heard of. It could mean anything.
“You seem pensive,” Hopper said.
“I’m just tired,” Wylie lied.
“Let’s go to the fake Clearing,” Hopper suggested. “We can hang out together before everyone else piles in and we’re tailed by nurses and orderlies all night. Let’s have some fun for a change.”
They weren’t technically allowed to leave the dining hall until everyone was finished with their meals, but Wylie didn’t care. This place couldn’t get much worse, and she wasn’t going to live in fear of getting disciplined by the likes of Olivia or Nurse Conway. There was no harm in taking a private flight with Hopper before everyone else bombarded them.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Wylie caught Phinn staring at them as they made their way out of the room, and took mild pleasure in the look of longing and jealousy on his face. Good, Wylie thought. It was only fair that he felt some of the hurt, too.
“I feel like swimming,” Hopper announced when they reached the lagoon.
A few orderlies stood at their usual posts, but none of them seemed alarmed by their presence. Maybe they wanted to give them an opportunity to have a little fun, too.
“In that?” Wylie asked, pointing to the concrete tub they were supposed to pretend was a lagoon. The high chlorine content made it smell like a public swimming pool that had seen a lot of action.
“We can close our eyes and pretend we’re on the island,” he said.
“Not even Dr. Seuss had that good of an imagination,” Wylie joked.
But it felt good to go for a dip in the water, even if it was laced with chemicals to keep it clean. The cold liquid loosened Wylie’s sore muscles, and when she floated on her back, the palm trees obscured the mounted fans and cameras that made it obvious they were confined to an indoor space. Hopper floated past her on his back, and their arms touched as they drifted next to each other. It was peaceful here. It was always peaceful with Hopper.
“I feel like an awful person,” Hopper confessed.
“Why?”
“I’ve been sharing a bungalow with Bandit. I didn’t know he was so far gone. I had no idea he was going to try to kill himself.”
Bandit’s eighteenth birthday had taken them by surprise. He hadn’t told anyone his days were numbered until it was too late. Wylie had observed his behavior before the night he’d jumped off the deck, and though he seemed more reserved than usual, she never would have guessed he was suicidal.
“Everyone’s depressed,” she told Hopper. “It’s impossible to know which one of us has hit rock bottom when we’re all so close to it.”
“Yeah, but I’m living with the guy.”
Wylie placed her hands on Hopper’s face and made sure he was looking right at her. She wanted him to pay attention.
“You can’t rescue everyone, Hopper,” she said.
The waterfall crashed down behind them. Wylie knew a switch operated it, because she never heard it at night when they went to sleep. The conversation was getting too heavy, and Wylie wanted to give Hopper a laugh. She pushed him into the waterfall and dunked him beneath it. He managed to grab her legs and pull her down with him. She opened her eyes under water and saw him wading in front of her with a smile on his face. She wished they could break through the surface and magically find themselves back in the real lagoon and in the real Clearing. Hopper went up for air first and Wylie followed. None of the orderlies could see them behind the waterfall, but it was only a matter of minutes before they stepped into the lagoon to make sure they weren’t doing anything illicit. Just the other night, they’d dragged a partially dressed Micah and Tinka out from behind it.
“What?” Wylie asked, as Hopper stared at her.
“Nothing,” he replied.
He was going to kiss her. Wylie could feel it. She wanted to let him. She wanted to feel like a normal teenager for five minutes. She wanted one thing to be happy about, even if it complicated their friendship or ruined it completely. The end was always painful, after all.
Quiet at the punchbowl.
The words suddenly had new meaning as Hopper moved his face toward hers. She abruptly pulled back, startled by her own revelation.
A punchbowl was a type of waterfall. Wylie knew this because a couple years ago, her mom and dad had gotten into an argument over the locale of their next family vacation. Wylie’s mom wanted to fly to Paris and Wylie’s dad wanted to go to Punch Bowl Falls in Oregon. None of them had even heard of Punch Bowl Falls. Wylie had Googled it and read that it was responsible for the waterfall classification of a “punchbowl,” which described a current that descends in a constricted form and spreads out into a wider pool. Now Wylie realized why her father wanted so badly to visit it. Punch Bowl Falls reminded him of the lagoon and the island. But Maura had won the argument and they’d gone to Paris instead.
Dr. Jay was trying to tell them there was one area in BioLark where they could speak without being recorded or eavesdropped on. It’s quiet at the punchbowl.
“We can say anything we want here,” Wylie exclaimed. “We can come up with a plan. Lola’s not going to have her baby here. We’re going to find a way out.”
“Wylie, stop. They’re listening, remember? They’re always listening.”
“Not here, they’re not,” Wylie said.
The waterfall was their safe harbor. And Wylie planned to use it to set them free.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
old habits die hard
phinn tried to examine his shoulder blades in the mirror, but glimpsing the reflection of his torn-up flesh made him dizzy and lightheaded. His body was starting to build up a high tolerance to rahat pills, and the constant throbbing from the cuts and burns Nurse Conway had inflicted on his back was increasing in intensity. The experiments were allegedly supposed to test out the effectiveness of the medication, but Phinn wondered if they were actually just an elaborate excuse to torture him. He blinked a few times to focus his vision and study the state of his wounds. Some were healing, but others bubbled over with pus and blood. Once the scars settled in, his skin would look like an abstract painting. He was glad the BioLark staff had used his back as their canvas instead of his chest or his face. Right now, he wished that Olivia had also harvested dava plants, so that their cooling agents would help quiet the burning sensation.
“It’s infected,” Tinka said, as she entered the bungalow and interrupted his private pity party.
Her straw-colored hair was wet from what was probably another make out session with Micah near the waterfall. The pixie cut she usually sported had grown out to frame her face with ringlets that were currently drizzling water on their bungalow floor. In all the years they’d known each other, Phinn had never realized she had curly hair. The signature scowl that he’d always thought was just the natural state of her face was now replaced with a permanent smile. He was glad to witness this new version of Tinka. She gave him hope that in time a person could change.
“Can you help me put the ointment on?” Phinn asked.
“I guess,” Tinka mumbled.
Nurse Conway had left them a tube of antibiotic cream and told them to use it regularly to avoid infection. Phinn had been ignoring his advice because he’d been desperate to feel the pain. He’d been desperate to feel anything. The steady cocktail of meds made him sleepwalk through the days. As long as they were in a fog, they’d never be able to figure out an exit strategy.
“Ouch,” he blurted. The light touch of Tinka’s fingertips made his pain sing like a death growl.
“Sorry,” Tinka replied. “I’ll try to b
e gentle.”
He wasn’t sure why, out of everyone, Tinka was still nice to him. Maybe it was out of habit. Phinn had done wrong by her over and over again, and she’d always forgiven him. Maybe she just didn’t know how to stay mad at him. Their history book had its fair share of conflict, but there were also passages of reprieve. After their parents had died, he slept on the floor of Tinka’s bungalow for years because she was too afraid to sleep alone. It was strange now to remember a time when Tinka was afraid of anything.
“You’re the only one who doesn’t ignore me around these parts,” Phinn pointed out.
“We’re sharing a bungalow. It’s kind of hard to ignore you.”
“But you volunteered to sleep here. You didn’t have to do that.”
Phinn felt a cool breeze against his wounds. Tinka was gently blowing on them.
“I don’t hate you,” she said. “What you did to Lola was a new low. It was more than I thought you were ever capable of. I can’t even be ten feet away from Hopper without wanting to bury myself alive after what we put him through. But Micah’s the best thing that ever happened to me. If you weren’t so demented and crazy, he wouldn’t exist. And he would have never come to the island. So I’m grateful to you for that.”
Phinn nodded. He remembered sitting next to Micah on the rooftop in Brooklyn, as he sulked into his flask and stared at his phone. They’d exchanged a few words, but Micah hadn’t seemed interested in making a new friend. In the brief time they spent together, Phinn was struck by how much the boy reminded him of Tinka. He was he glad he’d recruited someone who loved her the way she deserved to be loved. Someone who could be everything to her that he couldn’t. And yet, it hurt to see her so happy. Phinn had no one left who loved him like that.
“How’d you get out of skipping the evening’s festivities?” Tinka asked.
“I told Olivia I wasn’t feeling well,” Phinn admitted.
He knew it was a lame excuse considering none of them felt well, but he needed one night to hide in his bungalow. His heart might collapse from watching Maz and Lola laugh and coo as they felt their baby kick. The other night, he’d heard them giggling over fake baby name suggestions like Woodmeg or Chipney. During happier times with Wylie, he’d imagined what it might be like to have children together, how they’d be much better parents than the ones Phinn had.
“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Tinka said. “I think Olivia actually thinks we like her. She got up on stage again to sing with Bailey. Ugh. She’s such an elder.”
It was surprising how little Olivia had changed since her teen years. She used to love singing to Phinn when she lived on the island.
“I almost forgot,” Tinka lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “Wylie wants you to meet her in the waterfall tomorrow night.”
The pain must have been playing tricks on his hearing.
“Is this some elaborate prank?” Phinn asked. “Are you guys looking for more ways to make a fool of me?”
“Nope.”
Wylie and Phinn hadn’t spoken since her arrival, but Phinn figured she had a few festering emotions to purge. Maybe Olivia had prescribed her primal therapy, and Phinn was the person she wanted to direct her vitriol at. He slowly put his shirt on and let the ointment seep into the abrasions. Tonight he would have to sleep on his stomach, but hopefully, by morning, the aching would subside. He was wrong to think he wanted to feel it. To be numb was a far better way to function.
* * *
The following day moved at an excruciating pace. Phinn had mentally prepared himself for every terrible insult Wylie would sling his way. He wasn’t surprised to be the first one to show up at their meeting spot. The water was lukewarm, but at least it cleared away the sweat gathering at his brow. The lagoon shifted around him as Wylie approached. He turned to face her.
All his preparation was useless. There were dark circles under Wylie’s eyes and her hair looked like she hadn’t brushed it in days. Her lips were cracked and dry, and a trail of acne was scattered across her forehead. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” she said.
“Thanks for asking.”
He took a step toward her, but she was quick to move away from him
“I have a plan to get us out of here,” Wylie confessed.
He placed his index finger to his lips to signal to Wylie to stop talking. After their failed prison break, he knew there were probably bugs installed across every inch of the place.
“It’s okay,” Wylie said. “They can’t hear us here. I have a plan, but I can’t do it without you.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Seduce Olivia,” Wylie responded, flatly. “She’s desperate for your approval and we need her distracted for as long as possible.”
Wylie was calm. She seemed utterly indifferent to Phinn. He felt everything when he was around her: the entire gamut of human emotions, backward and forward. And it was clear she felt less than nothing.
“You want me to seduce Olivia?” he echoed.
“It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”
Phinn cocked his head and struggled to stop himself from smiling. Wylie wasn’t indifferent at all. How could she be when she clearly resented the hell out of him?
“So I’ve been told,” Phinn replied. “When do you suggest I do this?”
“Tomorrow night at your therapy session. Keep her away from her office and the Clearing for as long as you can.”
Phinn finally had a chance to redeem himself. He would dole out the right compliments and chuckle when Olivia said anything remotely funny. He would fool a woman who hated him into thinking he was worthy of her affection. But he didn’t want to agree to the plan right away and cut his meeting with Wylie short.
“I don’t think Olivia will—”
“Get your hands off me!”
The voice that cut him off was muffled through the crashing sounds of the waterfall, but it was clearly Lola’s, loud and frantic enough to send them hurrying back to the Clearing. Lola was kicking and flailing as two orderlies picked her up and laid her down on a stretcher. They strapped her arms and legs to the gurney as she continued to beg them to let her go.
“Calm down!” Olivia demanded. “Stress is bad for the baby.”
“What are you doing to her?” Wylie yelled.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but her last set of blood work showed an abnormality. We have to run more tests. If she stops putting up a fight, we won’t have to keep her strapped to the bed,” Olivia explained.
“She’s scared to be alone with you,” Wylie argued. “Let me come with her.”
Phinn let out a heavy sigh, shook his head, and turned to Olivia.
“The woman’s trying to do her job, Wylie,” he said. “For the love of God, why don’t you stop inserting yourself into other people’s lives.”
Olivia gave him a confused look, but didn’t bother to question his motives.
“Thank you, Phinn,” she said. “But I’d never deprive someone of moral support. Maz, you can come with us.”
Lola quieted down once Maz placed his hand on her forehead, and stayed in step with the orderlies and Olivia as they carted her away. Phinn kept his eyes fixed on them, certain that Olivia wouldn’t be able to help herself and not look back.
5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
Olivia glanced over her shoulder and Phinn gave her his best alluring grin. He swore he caught her smiling before she turned back around.
Wylie was right. This was what he was good at.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
trust issues
“you seem perky this evening,” Olivia observed.
“I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“Interesting,” Olivia said, as she scribbled down something on her notepad. �
��What brought about the change?”
Phinn shrugged casually. “I guess I finally accepted that I’m never going back to the island. Even if you decided your research was complete and that we were a burden to you here, I would have to live in exile. They hate me.”
“With good reason,” Olivia was quick to add.
“Yes. With good reason. But living here is the best alternative. It looks exactly like home.”
Phinn noticed an instant shift in Olivia’s posture. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. He could only imagine the amount of money and resources she’d poured into building her own version of Minor Island.
“I tried so hard make it look authentic. I would have preferred to study you in your natural habitat, but I knew that wasn’t possible. The last thing I needed was to get the life choked out of me by parvaz vines.”
Phinn made sure to hang on her every word, while Olivia listed off her grand plans for BioLark. She’d recently enlisted the same landscaper who’d designed the Clearing to help create their own parvaz field. She wished it could be as vast as the one on the island, but at least it would be big enough for picnics and midnight strolls.
“We’re going to plant our own willow tree,” she said, excitedly.
The flowers they’d genetically modified didn’t make the same pop-pop sounds they were famous for back home, but Olivia was going to install hidden speakers beneath the vines to replicate the tone.
“That’s so awesome,” Phinn proclaimed.
He leaned in and scratched the scar in his eyebrow. Olivia looked away for a fleeting moment until she changed her mind and held his gaze.
“Did Wylie tell you about the night she flew away from the island?” Phinn asked.
“She doesn’t tell me much of anything.”
“She fell into the ocean,” Phinn confessed. “She was so eager to get away from me that she was willing to risk her life to do it.”
Phinn went on, hoping Olivia would take his bait.
