Orphan Island

by Laurel Snyder

  Then the sun was fully up and the sky was a perfect blue, pale and calm, a mirror reflection of the sea below. Now it was morning, and the birds were awake and calling to one another over the lapping surf on the beach. Ess grinned happily, flashing tiny white teeth.

  Jinny grinned back. She hadn’t really seen Ess smile yet. It was a relief to know she could. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard, having a Care.

  “You don’t have that kind of sunrise where you come from, huh?” Jinny asked, reaching over to pat down a tuft of curls that was sticking straight up from the girl’s head.

  Ess shook her head emphatically.

  “Yeah, it’s like that every day. Or anyway, it’s just a little different every day. I don’t know why that happens, or how. But isn’t it terrific?”

  Ess bounced lightly on her toes. “Ess,” she lisped.

  “Okay, come on,” said Jinny. “I’ll show you everything. Let’s get moving. I don’t even know where to start. I guess right here?” She stretched out an arm and motioned at the line of eight weathered wooden buildings. “These are our sleeping cabins. They’re all alike, pretty much.”

  The sleeping cabins sat on the curved sandy path that ran along the ridge above the dunes that fringed the beach. Each with a single window, like an unblinking eye, gazing out to sea. The grass surrounding the cabins was short and prickly, and pale pink crabs skittered at their feet, each the size of a fingertip. When she noticed them, Ess dropped to the sand.

  “Dis?” she asked, pointing. “Whah dis?”

  “Those are scuttles,” Jinny explained. “They don’t bite or pinch. But they’ll come into your cabin when it gets really hot out. Then you have to sweep them out with a broom, or you’ll step on them in the night, when you aren’t looking, and that hurts.” Ess didn’t seem to be listening very well. She was busy trying to set a scuttle on her nose. The scuttle didn’t want to sit.

  “When I was about your age, Deen tried to drop one of those down my tunic.” Jinny smiled at the memory. “So I popped him good on the nose, and he never tried that again. Sometimes, you just have to pop people. You know?”

  Ess stared up at her very seriously, as if considering this important lesson, and Jinny found herself thinking that this probably wasn’t the sort of advice Elders were supposed to pass on. Even if it was true.

  “Okay then, moving on,” she said, looking up at the three small buildings on the next ridge, just uphill from the sleeping cabins. She could show Ess the storehouse and book cabin later, but she figured the girl might need the wishing cabin right away. “Come on,” she said, pointing. “Next I’ll show you where to wish.”

  “Wiss?” Ess looked confused.

  “Over here,” said Jinny. She hiked up the path, opened the cabin door, and pointed to a basket on the floor that sat beside the wooden box that was the wishing hole. “Those leaves are for wiping. And if you take the second-to-last one, you need to gather more. I’ll show you where to pick them. There’s only one kind we use for this, and you don’t want to make a mistake about that, trust me.”

  Ess didn’t reply, but she nodded and reached immediately for the knob.

  Jinny had a thought. “You don’t . . . erm . . . need my help, do you? With wishing?”

  Ess turned back to look at Jinny, shook her head in a proud way, and then trotted into the dark cabin and closed the door behind her.

  “I guess you had to go,” muttered Jinny. She felt relieved at the realization that there were some things Ess could do for herself.

  When Ess had finished, Jinny took a quick turn herself. Then the two girls ran back down along the path, past the sleeping cabins and over the dunes to the beach below. As they made their way, Jinny pointed out the fishing nets and crab pots that hung off the side of the tiny dock in the cove, and the outdoor kitchen in the center of the camp, with its metal roof that overhung the cookstove, food safe, sink, and cupboards, as well as a large block of wood used for chopping. Just beyond the overhang of the roof were the long wooden dinner table and benches, the well, and the fire circle. Both girls took a minute to splash warm water on their hands and faces from the kettle, which had been sitting on the fading cookstove embers all night.

  Watching the little girl wash up, Jinny couldn’t help thinking about how absolutely new she was to all this. Jinny would have to show her everything—the beach that stretched on forever, wrapping around to the other side of the island. There were tide pools over there, full of bright petalfish, the watery flower creatures that shrank when they were touched. In the shallow water beyond the rocks there were sea stars too, a field of their strange bumpy bodies. Jinny would take Ess up the dunes and into the lush green center of the island, full of fruit trees, berry bushes, chickens, and the stream. She’d introduce her to the prairie, with its high grasses, beehives, and the colony of cats nobody could seem to gentle. And she’d take her up through the boulders to the cliffs, where the winds rushed. It was nice there. Ess could look out over the sea from above, watch the birds nest in the rocks.

  That had been Deen’s favorite thing of all. To watch the seabirds. “I wonder where they go,” he used to say. And then the two of them would try to imagine it. . . .

  Deen.

  She shook her head, as if she could clear it that way, fling off the unwanted thoughts—the fact that he wouldn’t be at breakfast, cracking nuts for Sam to eat, and he wouldn’t be around to walk with her later and collect driftwood for the fire. He wouldn’t be anywhere. Never again. He was out there now, wherever there was. Away.

  Maybe where the seabirds went.

  4

  Having a Care

  Jinny started for the metal food safe in the outdoor kitchen. “Come on, Ess,” she called briskly over her shoulder. “There’s got to be something left to eat from yesterday’s fetch.”

  Ess followed eagerly, and it turned out they were in luck. Right away, Jinny found some chicken eggs in the bottom of the wire basket, and a few ripe plomms too. Normally, Ben was in charge of the cooking, as Joon was in charge of the fire, and Oz and Jak handled the fishing. But Jinny could roast an egg on her own. She sliced the soft, fuzzy plomms into quarters on the big wooden chopping block. She built the cook fire back up with dried dune grass, then added fresh wood in a rough pyramid shape. Once the stove was roaring, she set the eggs and wedges of fruit on top, and sat to wait.

  Ess watched all this with huge eyes that followed Jinny everywhere. She missed nothing. When Jinny leaned over to poke at the fruit and make sure nothing burned, Ess leaned beside her and asked. “What dis?”

  “What’s what?” said Jinny.

  The girl pointed to the plomms. “What dis?”

  “Oh. Those are plomms.”

  Ess’s forehead wrinkled, staring at the large, red, fuzzy fruits. “Bomms?”

  “Plomms. They’re good. They’re like—I don’t know. Plomms are like plomms. They’re sweet and soft on the inside, and fuzzy outside. You’ll love them. I promise. They grow on trees up past the prairie. I’ll show you later. Didn’t you have plomms? Where you came from?”

  Ess shook her head.

  Then Jinny had a thought. “Hey, what’s it like,” she asked, “where you came from?”

  Ess shrugged and then stretched her arms up as tall as they would go. “Big!” she said. But before she could add anything more, there was a crazy loud pop from the stove, and Ess screamed and covered her head.

  Jinny leaped up too, shouting. “Oh! Oh! My fault! I forgot to prick the eggs. Watch out. Get down. Now!”

  Whizzzz. Pop! Pow! All the eggs were exploding. Jinny and Ess dropped to the sand and put their arms over their faces until the bits of shell stopped blistering the air around them.

  When Jinny looked up again, Ben was standing beside her, laughing, still in his sleeping shift. “What made you think you could make breakfast, Jinny?” he asked.

  All around her, the other kids stood in a circle now, grinning. Even Sam, who trailed behind the others, wore a quiet smile, t
hough his eyes were red rimmed.

  Only Eevie didn’t smile. “Thanks a lot, Jinny. You woke us up.” Her quick fingers darted in and out, braiding the long hair that draped over one shoulder. Eevie was particular about her hair.

  Jinny ignored her. “Ess was hungry,” she said to Ben.

  “Ess?” asked Oz, grinning. “That’s her name? Ess?”

  “Yeah, Ess,” answered Jinny. “What’s so funny about Ess, Oz?”

  Oz laughed. “Nothing, I guess!” He leaned over and stuck out a hand to shake. “Welcome to the island, Ess!”

  Beside Oz, Jak stuck out his hand too. “Welcome, Ess,” he echoed. This was no surprise. Jak generally did whatever Oz did, ten seconds behind the older boy. They were two boats apart in age but otherwise nearly identical.

  Ess stared at the hands stuck out in front of her face. She didn’t seem to know what to do with them. She waited, confused. After a moment, she decided to stick out her own little hand alongside the other two, as though this was the way people greeted each other on the island. Hand extended, she looked up at the boys for approval. They grinned, and Jinny tried not to laugh. “Ess,” she said, “this is everyone. Everyone, this is Ess.”

  Ess looked around cautiously. She didn’t say anything, but she seemed interested in the faces smiling down at her.

  “That’s Sam,” said Jinny, pointing. “He’s just a year older than you. Isn’t that nice? Just one boat. You guys can play together!” Ess nodded hesitantly as Jinny continued. “Then, let’s see . . . next in line is Nat, with the very short hair. She’s quiet, kind of like you. And supersmart.” Nat gave a gentle wave and smiled at Ess. Ess couldn’t help smiling back. It was hard not to smile at Nat.

  “After that,” said Jinny, “is Jak, who you already met, with the ripped pants, as usual.” Jak laughed. “And then Eevie is beside him. I’m sure she plans to be decent today, right Eevie?”

  Eevie rolled her eyes skyward. “I’m always decent.”

  “Then Oz comes next. He’s a bigger version of Jak, as you can see, and even louder.” Oz snorted when she said that. “Joon is over there. She knows how to do everything fast.” Joon waved. “And Ben is next in line. He’s helpful. If you ever need something and I’m not around, ask Ben. He’s the Elder-in-training now, right, Ben?” Ben nodded. “Then there’s me, last of all. Because I’m oldest. That’s all of us. Got it?”

  Ess didn’t answer Jinny, just peered around slowly, studying the huddle of interested faces. Of course she didn’t get it all, thought Jinny. There was too much to get. But she was trying.

  Ben smiled. “Now that you’ve met everyone, Ess, how would you like some real breakfast?”

  Ess nodded again with a shy smile. “Ess,” she whispered.

  “Good!” said Ben, turning to the fire.

  “Hey, don’t I get credit for trying, at least?” Jinny asked Ben. “I made eggs, didn’t I?”

  Ben laughed. “You made a mess, is what you made. Now, get to work, Jinny. We need more firewood. Go.”

  “Hey!” said Jinny. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m the Elder, remember?”

  “Gosh, she’s going to be just unbearable now, isn’t she?” said Eevie to nobody in particular. Jinny ignored the comment.

  “Even so,” said Ben, “I don’t think anyone wants you in charge of the kitchen, Jinny.” The others laughed, and he shouted pleasantly, “All of you, get to your chores, or I’m not cooking!”

  Like clockwork, everyone ran to their morning tasks. Nat and Eevie set the long wooden table with pewter plates and cups, forks and spoons. Oz and Jak headed loudly to the well to haul up a pitcher of cold water. And long-legged Joon ran off on an emergency fetch, to get replacement eggs from the chickens.

  Jinny tried to nudge Ess off somewhere so that she could do her firewood duty without the tiny girl slowing her down. She pointed to where Sam was helping to sweep the scuttles out from under the dining table with a twig broom. Unfortunately, Ess wasn’t interested in sweeping, or Sam. She insisted on following close behind Jinny. As she moved along the beach, Jinny couldn’t help noticing what a funny run Ess had. She was so thin, it was almost like her body couldn’t quite hold up her big head, like she wasn’t balanced quite right. Ess ran like she was throwing herself forward, arms flailing. She tipped over a lot. It was hard not to smile, watching her tilt.

  When they were all gathered again by the fire, Ben scrambled some eggs and picked a few choice sprigs from the herb garden. In no time, the nine children were eating a fine omelet and the sweet roasted plomms. Using both hands, Ess gobbled up every bite. “Umm.”

  “Ugh, Cares!” exclaimed Eevie, watching Ess lick her fingertips. “Can’t she even use a spoon yet?”

  Jinny glared across the table. “Ess can eat any way she pleases, and it’s none of your concern. Got it? Besides, you were a Care yourself, just a few years back.”

  Eevie stuck out her tongue in reply and added, “They were long years, and I’m naturally neat. Anyway, you’re not the boss of everyone, Jinny. It doesn’t have to be your way all the time, you know.”

  Jinny managed not to respond.

  At the end of breakfast, when Eevie reached out to snatch the last plomm from the platter, Oz shouted, “Hey, no way!” and slapped at her hand. Then he grabbed the piece of fruit and jammed it in his mouth before anyone had a chance at it.

  “Hey!” said Eevie. “I had it first!”

  “You already had three,” said Oz, talking through a visible mouthful of chewed fruit.

  “Ugh!” said Eevie. “You’re terrible. And I did not have three. I had two!”

  “Oh, well then,” said Oz, pretending to pull the half-chewed fruit from his mouth. “You want this one back?”

  Eevie shot him a disgusted look. “You’re a disaster. As usual.”

  “Am I? Am I really?” Oz asked. “Well then, I should clean myself up.” He leaned over to wipe his chin on her shoulder.

  “Ugh, Oz!” shouted Eevie, shoving him with an elbow. But when she did, it was Ess, not Oz, who toppled off the bench.

  “Hey!” called Ben from the other end of the table, rising slightly so he could see better. “What just happened? Where’s the new girl?”

  Jinny peered under the table, to where Ess was sitting in a ball, her thin arms wrapped around her legs. “You okay?” Jinny whispered.

  Ess nodded but didn’t move.

  Jinny sighed and called out, “She’s okay, I think.” Then she peered back down at Ess again. “They’re just being goofs,” she whispered. “But you stay down here as long as you want. Okay?”

  Ess nodded again, but she still looked worried. Jinny wasn’t sure what to do at first, but then she had an idea. “You know what?” she said. “How about if I join you?” She slipped under the table herself and scooched across to sit beside Ess. Jinny had to hunch, cramped, her head tilted sideways beneath the wooden planks. “Well, hi,” she whispered at Ess. “Fancy meeting you here.” She reached out and gave the girl a poke in the ribs.

  With her head at such a funny angle, Jinny couldn’t see very well, but she could hear it when Ess began to laugh. A breathy, uncontrollable sound. Heh-heh-heh.

  Jinny glanced around as best she could, at all the legs, the dirty bare feet of different sizes, hanging off the benches on either side of the table. It was familiar, this sight, safe. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d done this, but a memory welled up in her. A physical sensation of what it had been like to be little. It had been nice. So why did she feel sad, remembering?

  “I think this is going to be nice—you and me,” Jinny whispered. She couldn’t keep the ragged edge from her voice when she added, “Don’t you think so too?” Jinny reached out and squeezed the girl’s knee.

  “Ess!” came the small but cheerful reply. Then a hand found Jinny’s and patted it, as if Ess was the one cheering her, and not the other way around.

  5

  Lose Your Shoes

  After breakfast was over and
the plates had been scrubbed with sand and rinsed with warm water in the big metal tub that served as a sink, Jinny waved good-bye to the others and pulled Ess off down the beach—not as far around the island as the tide pools, but still a long way. The two girls walked until they couldn’t see the cove anymore, or the camp and cabins, to where a dead tree stuck up out of the sand, smooth and white like a bone. At the base of the tree was a huge sandy mound. There, Jinny stopped walking.

  “What dis?” asked Ess, poking the mound with a finger. She squinted up at Jinny, curious.

  “This is where you lose your shoes,” Jinny said.

  “Sooze?” said Ess.

  “Yep, shoes,” said Jinny, pointing at the girl’s feet. “I’m not sure why, but we all do it. It’s like an initiation. We put our shoes here when we first arrive. It’s the way it’s always been, since the beginning of the island, I guess. You give up your shoes, and then your feet will get nice and tough and strong like mine, and you’ll be able to walk anywhere. Even on the rocks. Even in the tide pools—and they’re sharp!”

  Ess leaned over and touched the tips of her shoes. “Sooze. Ess sooze,” she insisted.

  “Has to be done,” said Jinny with a quick shake of her head. “Come on now.” She leaned over to tug at the laces of the wet, sandy cloth shoes, but Ess gave a cry. “No sooze. Ess sooze. Mama sooze.”

  Jinny stood back and stared at the girl. She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d never heard of a kid not wanting to give up her shoes before. Deen certainly hadn’t mentioned Sam doing it. What was she supposed to do now? Should she grab the kid and just yank them off her feet? That didn’t sound very nice. Or should she let her keep them? Did it really matter if Ess kept her shoes? What difference could it possibly make?