“The wind?”
“The wind! The wind has died down, up at the cliffs. I threw some snaps over the edge, and the wind didn’t catch them. They fell.”
“Fell where?” asked Ben.
“All the way. Down. To the water.”
“Ohhhh,” said Ben slowly. “Oh. Well, that’s no good.” He looked thoughtful, like he was taking in what she’d just told him, turning it over in his mind. “If that’s true, we need to be sure the littles don’t go up there without us, ever. Or until things fix themselves.”
“Yes,” said Jinny. “In fact, maybe nobody should go up there. Ever. It didn’t feel . . . safe. Not even for me.”
“I wonder what’s going on,” said Ben, eyeing her carefully. “First the sky changed, and the mist seems thinner. Now this.”
“See!” shouted Jinny. “See! I’m not crazy. I’m not imagining it all. Something has changed.” She looked at Ben’s even gaze, knowing what he was finally realizing. That this was her fault. She wished he’d just say it, get it over with.
“Well,” said Ben. “It’s good to know, but we can’t do much about it right now, can we? So let’s get to work on these candies. The kids will be excited.” He turned around, busied himself in the kitchen. “Why don’t you chop the nuts?”
Jinny paused for a moment, waiting to see if that was really all he was going to say. How could he not make the connection, blame her? She would blame someone if she could, that was for sure. But Ben didn’t. He wasn’t a blaming person. Ben was nice. He wasn’t going to get upset, and he wasn’t going to scold Jinny, and he wasn’t going to notice that the world was ending. He was just going to make some nice candies for the kids.
It made Jinny want to scream. But she didn’t. She got to work on the nuts.
24
Snake in the Grass
The next day, after a thin lunch of crabs and sorrel salad, Jinny shared the platter of candies. “Hey, look, everyone. Sweets!” Though her own excitement felt false, it cheered her some to hear the cries of surprise and pleasure, and to feel the grubby, grabbing hands reaching toward her. At the other end of the table, Ben smiled warmly.
But Ess’s eyes widened as Jinny came to her with the candies. “Where’s mama?” she asked.
“Huh?” said Jinny, setting down the platter.
“Mama?” Ess pointed at Jinny’s bare wrist.
“Oh,” said Jinny. “I . . . I don’t know. It must have fallen off, back in our cabin. Why don’t we finish lunch, and then I’ll go put mama back on. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Ess. But her eyes barely left Jinny’s wrist during the meal. And Jinny’s hopes that the girl might forget the bracelet altogether faded when Ess swallowed her last bite and immediately hopped down from her spot on the bench. She said, “Now we’ll find mama.”
“Sure,” said Jinny. “Of course we’ll look.” She followed Ess up the path.
Mama was not in the sleeping cabin, in the bed, or under it. She wasn’t in the book or wishing cabin. As the search continued, Ess’s eyes seemd to grow in her face, and her mouth tightened into a thin horizontal line. She didn’t speak a word, and Jinny wondered the whole time about all the things the girl wasn’t saying. It wasn’t like Ess to be so quiet. As the two of them walked up and down the beach in painful silence, Ess periodically stopped to root in the sand with a dirty foot, but it did no good. There was no sign of mama.
When they returned to the kitchen, Ben asked, “No luck?”
Ess only shook her head, her face still masklike. The sight broke Jinny’s heart.
“Did you maybe lose it up at the cliffs yesterday?” asked Eevie, who was standing at the table scraping the honey from the candy platter with a finger. “Have you looked there?”
Ess looked up and broke her silence. “The cliffs?”
“Thanks, Eevie,” said Jinny through gritted teeth. “That’s a big help.”
“Let’s go!” Ess shouted.
“You know,” offered Ben, “it’s been drizzly on and off the last few days. Maybe it would be better to wait until tomorrow. When it’s sunny. You don’t want to get stuck up at the cliffs in the rain, do you? It’ll be slippery. Maybe you should wait.”
Ess shook her head. “No. What if it rains, and mama is lost in the mud?”
“No, Ben’s right. That’s a good idea,” agreed Jinny. “Let’s wait until tomorrow. Don’t you agree, Eevie? Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
Eevie shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”
Jinny wanted to strangle her, but she turned to smile at Ess as convincingly as she could. “Ess, let’s wait a day. In the morning it’ll be sunny and fine, and I’ll go up there and find mama for sure. I promise, okay?”
“No,” Ess said, and shook her head. “Now, today.”
“Come on.” Ben tried to help. “Mama isn’t going to go anywhere. If it’s there now, it’ll be there later. Right?”
“No!” Ess shouted suddenly. “No, no, no!”
Like an echo, Loo shouted too. “No, no, no!” Jinny wasn’t sure he even understood what was happening. He just liked to yell.
Everyone looked at Jinny, to see what she’d do. Ess had never, in all those sleeps, behaved quite like this. “Ess,” Jinny begged, “please, understand—it’s not a safe day for the cliffs.”
“Mama!” Ess cried, and burst into tears. “I want mama and you don’t care about mama, and I gave mama to you and you lost her and everything is bad now.”
Jinny tried to go to her, to hold her. But Ess pushed her away and pummeled Jinny’s chest with her bony arms.
“Ow! Look, Ess,” Jinny snapped, holding the the girl at arm’s length. “You can’t just do whatever you feel like whenever you want to. You can’t hit me, and you can’t tell me what to do. I’m the Elder, and you’re my Care. Do you understand me?”
Ess looked up at Jinny, suddenly motionless and silent. She didn’t nod. But she stared Jinny in the eyes, her mouth lightly open, as if there was something she wanted to say but wouldn’t.
Jinny continued, in the new firm voice she’d somehow found inside herself. “It’s going to rain again soon, and it’s late in the day already. It doesn’t make any sense to go now. I’ll take you tomorrow, and that’s going to have to be good enough. Got it?”
Ess’s mouth snapped shut. She stared at Jinny. “I got it,” she said softly. Then she turned and began to walk away, head down, toward the path past the kitchen.
“Hey. Wait, where are you going?” Jinny called after her in a gentler voice.
“I hafta go wish,” Ess called over her shoulder. “Okay? Am I allowed to wish?”
“Sure,” said Jinny, staring after her. “Of course you are. And I’ll walk down the beach a little ways, look for mama some more there. Okay?”
Ess nodded silently, her back still turned, as she headed up the path, alone.
Jinny spent the next hour combing the beach, with Loo running ahead on the dunes. She knew mama wasn’t there. She didn’t think she’d even walked down the beach this direction since Ess had given the bracelet to her, but she wanted to walk, to stretch and think. She only wished Loo had stayed behind. She couldn’t think with him there—he was too distracting, with his constant yells and bellows.
When she got back, she handed Loo off to Ben, who was chopping something green in the kitchen, and then headed for her cabin. It would be nice, after the rough afternoon, to spend a little time with Ess, alone. Ess deserved it, and Jinny could use a hug herself. She needed to feel like things were okay again. She would close her eyes and bury her face in Ess’s hair, and everything would feel better.
But Ess wasn’t in their cabin. She wasn’t in the book cabin either. Jinny stood on the ridge and shouted for her. “Ess?” There was no answer, so she ran down the path to the beach. Then she doubled back to the kitchen, shouting, “Ben. Joon. Tell me you’ve seen Ess? Please!”
Jinny only meant to take Joon. Joon, who ran faster and climbed better than anyone else. But nobody
wanted to stay behind when they realized Ess was missing, so somehow Jinny found herself at the head of a herd. They trampled together up the path above the cabins, heading for the prairie. Ben carried Loo on his shoulders. They called Ess’s name as they marched. All their voices, high and low, soft and loud, mingling together. Ess! Rain began to fall, faint but cold, and nobody said a word, not even Eevie.
Jinny prayed the whole way up the sandy path, past the cabins, and along the stream: Not the cliffs, not the cliffs, not the cliffs. We need to find her before the cliffs. But she knew. Deep in her gut, she knew. Over and over she remembered her handful of snaps, falling through the wind, hurtling down the sheer rock face into the churning, bashing water far below.
And she remembered another day too—Ess joyfully tossing her thin body up into the billowing breeze, laughing into the sunlight, and trusting it. She remembered her words to the little girl: “The cliffs won’t let you fall,” she had said. Jinny’s stomach roiled as she put these memories together. She ran faster and panted. Not. The. Cliffs.
Ess wasn’t near the swink bushes, or taking cover from the rain in the trees where the hens liked to sleep. She wasn’t making clover chains. But when Jinny stepped out of the high grasses of the prairie, into the hilly mounds of boulders at the base of the cliffs, she looked up into the sky and saw a shape moving against the rock.
Jinny shouted. “There!”
Everyone stopped to follow her gaze, and together they all found a black head of hair bobbing above them, above the sea of grass, climbing the boulders, halfway up and moving fast.
“Ess!” Jinny shouted, as her voice broke with relief, and she began to run again. “Ess!”
Ess heard the voice in the wind, whipped her head around, and saw Jinny, but she didn’t wave or respond, only kept on climbing. Jinny sprinted toward her, the others following, until they were all standing at the base of the boulders, peering up at Ess, a shape against the stone.
“I’m going to throttle that girl,” shouted Eevie. “I’m soaking wet already.”
“Shut up, Eevie,” said Ben. Jinny turned to him in surprise. She had never heard words like that come from his mouth. Eevie looked stunned too. Ben shrugged and, in a gentler voice, added, “There’s a time and place for everything.”
“Why don’t we just give her a minute?” offered Nat sensibly. “She’s sure to get tired and come down, isn’t she?”
But Jinny couldn’t wait. She couldn’t do nothing. The rocks would be slick in the rain, and Ess was so clumsy. She pulled herself up onto the first boulder and shouted, “Please, come back here, Ess!”
When Ess saw Jinny climbing up behind her, she shot the older girl an angry look, turned back around, began to climb faster.
“I bet she’s afraid she’s in trouble,” said Oz.
“Is she in trouble?” asked Jak.
“She should be,” grumbled Eevie, with a careful glance at Ben.
Beside her, Loo let out a catlike growl. “Tubble!” he shouted.
“No, she’s not in trouble, and she’s not afraid,” said Jinny sadly. “She’s mad. At me.”
With her hands on the dirty wet boulders just above her head, Jinny squinted into the cloudy sky. She was itching to climb, but when she hoisted herself up onto the next rock, she felt it shift slightly under her weight. The boulders had always been sturdy, before. But Jinny wasn’t sure what might happen anymore. Even on a good day, without rain, Ess tended to topple. So Jinny forced herself to stand still and called out, “Ess! Come down, please!” Her voice cracked, and she had to work to keep from crying.
As Ess scrambled up the next boulder, Jinny began to shake. If Ess slipped and fell, Jinny was sure she could snap a bone or crack her skull. Or worse. What was worse?
Jinny longed to do something. She needed to grab hold of Ess, needed to stroke her tangled hair, clutch her thin shoulder. “I said come down here, and I mean it!” she screamed up at Ess. But the girl kept climbing.
A few minutes later, Ess ran out of boulders. When she reached the very top, she pivoted, slowly reaching her arms out for balance. “Mama . . . isn’t . . . here . . . ,” she cried. She sounded angry, but at least she was talking now.
“Come down, Ess!” shouted Jinny. She tried to sound warm. “I’m not mad anymore. Don’t you be mad either. Please come down.”
“When I find mama!”
“She isn’t there,” said Jinny. “I didn’t go up that way.” She added, “Please.”
Ess looked down at Jinny. She didn’t reply.
“I’ll find mama for you,” called Jinny, “I swear. Just come here.”
Ess stared down at Jinny, and Jinny waited, miserable, until another voice behind her called out, “Ess! Ess, please come back!” Jinny had never heard Sam yell in his life. He wasn’t sniffling, and he wasn’t quiet. “You need to come down!” he shouted. “Please? I miss you!”
As Jinny watched, Ess seemed to consider. She tilted her head and peered down the boulders at the boy.
“Yes!” called Jinny. “Yes, come down for Sam, Ess!” she cried. “Sam is worried.”
“Don’t be worried, Sam!” shouted Ess. “I’m okay. See?” Then she turned and began to lower herself down the boulder she’d just climbed, sliding on her belly.
Jinny took a deep shuddering breath. Relief.
But a moment later, Ess shouted. “Oh, no! I can’t, Jinny!” Still clinging to the top boulder, she was too short to touch the rock below with her toes.
“You can do it,” said Jinny. “Just drop. It’s only a few inches.”
From below, Loo piped up. “Loo climb too!”
Jinny ignored him.
Then Eevie shouted, “You got up there yourself. Now get yourself down.”
“Shut up, Eevie!” chorused several voices.
“Jinny?” cried Ess, still hanging from her boulder. “My hands are tired.” Her voice shook. “I’m scared now.”
“It’s okay,” said Jinny, beginning to climb in earnest now. “I’m coming.”
Below her, the others waited, but they didn’t matter now. Not to Jinny. The sunrise shapes and the winds didn’t matter either. Only Ess. Only this moment. All Jinny could hear was Ess, calling for her. All she could see was the shape of her girl, suspended in the rain and against the rock. “I’m coming, Ess,” she called out. “Hang on. You’re doing great.”
“Okay, Jinny!” Ess called out. “Okay, I’m hanging!” She began to cry.
“Ess,” called Jinny weakly as she climbed, “just wait there. Don’t move.”
Ess waited, and Jinny began to climb surely and quickly. After the first few boulders, she turned to look down and saw the others below, their eyes trained on her. All but Loo, who’d wandered off a ways, to hunt something in the high grass nearby. Jinny watched him jump in the grass a moment, then turned and reached for the next bit of rock above her head. She didn’t have time for Loo right now, or anyone below. She couldn’t care about anything else—just the boulders beneath her shaking fingers, the girl stranded on them, and her own tired body. Only one direction mattered—up.
At last Jinny reached the top, reached Ess. She raised her hands to grip Ess around the waist, and felt the girl fall limply into her grasp. Then Jinny lowered herself to sitting, to rest, with Ess in her lap, and felt a warm rush of calm all though her. She loved the sturdy boulder beneath her dearly. She loved the cold rain. She loved holding Ess, and sitting a moment. She loved everything. “You’re okay,” she said. “Even without mama. Okay?”
“Okay,” Ess said, nodding, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She leaned back into Jinny.
“And you will never run away like that again, will you?”
Ess shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Jinny smiled at that, gave the girl a squeeze, and then looked down and waved to the faces far below her. “We’re coming down!” she shouted. “Everything is fine! Everything is—”
And then she realized something—that in the huddle o
f kids below, Loo was nowhere to be seen. Jinny cast her glance in every direction and couldn’t find him. She’d seen him only a moment before, hadn’t she?
“Hey, Ben,” she shouted down. “Can you see—”
Then.
A scream.
An earsplitting scream. A piercing cry from somewhere close, in the grass. Terror. Loo only screamed once, high and long and loud.
Jinny frantically scanned the ground below her, but in the rain and the dull cloudy light, she couldn’t find the boy anywhere in sight. She could only hear his fear ringing in the air. The others were bustling now, hunting for him, but she was his Elder. He was her Care.
“Ess?” said Jinny, lifting the girl from her lap, and rising. “We need to—”
“Go!” said Ess, looking shocked and wet and cold. “Go to Loo, Jinny! Go!” With a quick nod, Jinny turned and dived—half running, half tumbling down the boulders.
By the time Jinny reached Loo, the others had formed a circle around him. But nobody was moving. Nobody was touching him. Everyone was frozen. Afraid. Silent. The only thing that made a sound was the rain.
Loo sat on the ground in the high grass, legs spread wide. In between them, the snake stretched up, vertical, as though it had sprouted there, grown as a seed from the earth and now impossibly tall. Its mouth was open in a tense yawn. Its teeth were needles. And it made a strange rattling sound Jinny had never heard before. Like a warning, or an end.
Loo was motionless. His face gone white. His eyes closed. Nobody moved. It was as though they’d all been painted into a picture. Drawn on a flat white stone. The moment lasted forever.
Or it took no time at all. A flicker, a second. It was hard to know. The snake stared, its tongue a thin, quick flame. Its taut silence had spread to all of them. Nobody spoke. Loo was a statue. Jinny wondered how long this could last. And what could she do? What should she not do?
Orphan Island Page 18
