Lost: The Novels

by Catherine Hapka

  Jason shrugged, looking sullen. “Chill, spaz girl. I was just kidding around. She knows that.”

  Daisy sighed and stood up, gathering her things. “Come on, Dexter,” she said. “I’m getting sick of swimming.”

  Two hours later, all five of them were dressed for dinner and in a much better mood. Whatever tension and hard feelings had afflicted the Wards earlier apparently had been forgotten by everyone except Dexter. Daisy, Jason, and their parents chatted and joked around easily as they entered a candlelit seafood restaurant just a couple of blocks from their hotel. They were seated immediately at a private table in a pleasant garden courtyard out back.

  “So,” Mr. Ward said abruptly, turning to address Dexter. “How’s the psychology business these days, young man?”

  Even though Mr. Ward had been nothing but nice, he still made Dexter feel uncomfortable. It was as if the two of them were always speaking slightly different languages—or at least different dialects. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he felt that way, but he couldn’t seem to shake it, and it always left him feeling a bit off-kilter when Mr. Ward spoke to him.

  “Just fine, sir,” Dexter said politely. “I’m really enjoying the psych class I’m taking this semester. My professor is pretty cool, too. He was just telling me I should think about grad school, maybe going into research or something.”

  “That’s fine,” Mr. Ward said, tucking his napkin in his lap. “But if you do it, make sure you get into the corporate side. You don’t want to get stuck in the academic ghetto. You’re a smart kid—you deserve to live a comfortable life.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” Daisy, who had been listening, rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Dexter. He thinks everything outside of Wall Street is some kind of ghetto.”

  Dexter smiled uncomfortably as the others chuckled knowingly. He was starting to think that his impression during that first dinner had been right—Mr. Ward’s constant references to money still reminded him of Aunt Paula, even though the two of them were worlds apart in every other way.

  Mr. Ward waved away a fly that was buzzing around him, then glanced across the table at his son. “Too bad Jason didn’t seem to inherit my interest in business,” he commented. “If he’d had his way, he’d be playing the guitar in some dive bar right now and living at the YMCA.”

  Jason snorted. “Give it a rest, Dad,” he said irritably. “You won, okay? I’m working for your company. So quit with the guilt trip already.”

  “Enough arguing, everyone.” Mrs. Ward’s voice was as soft as ever, but her tone was forceful nonetheless. “We’re supposed to be having a nice, relaxing vacation. Now let’s talk about something pleasant, shall we?”

  The others didn’t resist as she started chatting about their sightseeing plans for the next day. For the rest of the meal they discussed that and other innocuous topics. Later, as the senior Wards went back to the hotel bar for a drink and Jason wandered off in search of a video arcade, Dexter and Daisy took a private stroll through the evening streets of Sydney. It was a warm evening with just a hint of a breeze, and Dexter almost immediately felt himself relaxing.

  “This is nice,” Daisy murmured after a moment.

  “Yeah.” Dexter glanced around, enjoying the feel of the slight breeze off the harbor. “Sydney’s a pretty cool place. But it’s weird…” He trailed off thoughtfully.

  “What?” she said. “You mean the architecture and stuff?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, sort of,” he said. “But that’s just it. Every time we walk around a corner and see that famous opera house, or go into a store that’s playing didgeridoo music, or overhear people talking in that Aussie accent, it feels really foreign and exotic. But then other times, like this…” He waved a hand at the quiet streets around them—“We could be in any city, anywhere in the world. At least that’s how it feels, you know?”

  She smiled. “Sure,” she said. “I know what you mean.”

  Dexter was still thinking. “Maybe cities are sort of like people that way. They may look different on the outside, but they have a lot in common underneath.”

  “Ooh, deep,” she teased. “Did you learn that in Psych class?”

  Dexter blushed and grinned. “Maybe,” he teased back.

  They walked on in friendly silence for a moment. Suddenly Dexter found himself wishing that the moment could stretch on and on, maybe forever. He and Daisy could just stay there, together and happy and smiling and understanding each other. But almost before the thought came, he realized with a pang of regret that it couldn’t be. Soon, all too soon, they would be returning to the cares of school and daily life and family…

  “By the way, I—I like your family,” he said, breaking the silence. “At first I was pretty intimidated by them, because they seemed so perfect. But then I found out you guys argue and stuff, just like everybody else.”

  Daisy glanced over at him. “Of course we do,” she said. “What did you think? I mean, we are just like everyone else.”

  “Yeah…” Suddenly, walking along with her through the quiet, moonlit streets of that strange-yet-familiar city, Dexter was overcome with the almost irresistible urge just to blurt out the truth.

  I need to tell her sometime, he thought. This SuperDexter stuff is working for now. But it can’t go on forever.

  “Anyway, I can’t wait to meet your family,” she said, pressing up against him and smiling up at him. “I want to figure out exactly where you got that handsome face and adorable personality from. Maybe we can pop into New York sometime before the end of term and have dinner with them or something.”

  He smiled weakly. “Yeah,” he said, realizing the moment for truth had just drifted past like dry leaves in the evening breeze. “That sounds like fun.”

  On Mr. and Mrs. Ward’s last evening before they flew to Japan, Mr. Ward pulled Dexter aside after dinner at the hotel restaurant. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment, son,” he said in his usual commanding manner. “My wife and I will be leaving Sydney soon, and you and I haven’t really had a chance to talk. You know—man to man.”

  Dexter flinched. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Of course,” he replied.

  The two of them paused while Daisy, Jason, and Mrs. Ward walked on ahead across the lobby. Dexter pasted a polite half-smile on his face and waited, bracing himself for more difficult questions about himself and his background.

  Instead Mr. Ward started rambling on about his own life. He talked about growing up all over the world as the son of a diplomat, about his college days, and then his successful career in high finance.

  “You see where I’m going with this, don’t you, my boy?” he said, glancing quizzically at Dexter.

  “Um…” Dexter wasn’t sure what to say.

  Fortunately, Mr. Ward barely paused before continuing. “So you know the reason I did it all?” he said. “The money, the comfortable house…It was for my family. For Alicia, and later for Jason and Daisy. They mean the world to me, Dexter. And that’s why I want to give them the world.”

  Dexter still had no idea how to respond. “That’s—great, sir,” he said uncertainly. “I’m sure they appreciate that.”

  The man nodded and clapped Dexter on the shoulder. “Yes. And that’s why I appreciate you, young man,” he said. “I like seeing you with Daisy. I can tell you have a good head on your shoulders, and that you’re going places. You remind me a little of myself at your age. And I know you’ll take care of Daisy just as I always have. I just wanted to tell you that.”

  “Thanks,” Dexter said uneasily. He could tell that Mr. Ward was a little drunk—once again, he’d had several glasses of wine with dinner. But his words still rang true to form.

  It all comes back to money with him, Dexter realized with a sinking feeling in his gut. That’s just who he is…and it’s how Daisy was raised. Mr. Ward would never be able to accept the real me. And maybe I’m kidding myself to think that Daisy ever could, either.

  19

  FOR A FEW MINUT
ES Dexter wasn’t sure if the near-constant moans and groans he heard were coming from himself or not. It was all he could do to stay conscious and focus on swallowing the cool sips of water someone kept giving him. He was lying flat on his back on the sand a few yards from one of the signal fires. Opening his eyes with some effort, he stared up at the expanse of sky overhead. It was just melting from deep blue into a darker twilight gray, and the stars appeared to be blinking on one by one as he watched.

  “Here you go, Dex.” Arzt’s concerned face came into view, blocking the stars as he peered down at him. He put the water bottle to Dexter’s lips. “Try to take another few swallows. Jack says it’s the only thing that will help.”

  Dexter lifted his head and did as Arzt said. The water tasted good, and even those few sips cleared his head a little more. After a moment he felt good enough to sit up.

  “Ugh,” he said, putting a hand to his throbbing head. “Thanks, man. I guess the heat really wasted me this time.” He heard another shout of pain, and this time was pretty sure it hadn’t come from him. “Is that the shrapnel guy?”

  Arzt grimaced. “Yeah. I’m starting to think that whatever Jack’s doing for him, it ain’t working.”

  There was another loud groan. Dexter shuddered and sucked down another mouthful of water, trying not to listen.

  When he glanced around the beach, he could tell most of the people there were doing the same. Claire and Charlie were standing together near one of the other fires, their backs turned toward the infirmary tent. Boone and Shannon had been coming over occasionally to see how Dexter was doing since bringing him back to camp. They were spending the rest of their time wandering around nearby, talking to each other in low voices and occasionally shooting anxious glances toward the tent. Sayid was standing alone a little ways away, staring straight toward the source of the groans with worry in his eyes.

  Then Dexter saw one person who didn’t seem to be paying any attention at all to the noises. George was hurrying toward him with a smile on his broad, ruddy face. He was carrying a dark, battered-looking suitcase, which was no surprise—he had assigned himself the task of gathering all the luggage he could find on the first day, and was still keeping himself busy finding scattered bits and pieces in the jungle and farther down the beach.

  “Dexter!” he called out. “There you are, buddy. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “You found me,” Dexter said with a weary smile as the man reached him. “What’s up?”

  “This look familiar?” George held up the dark suitcase.

  Once the firelight illuminated it, Dexter gasped. “That looks like mine!” he cried. “I can’t believe you found it—I’d pretty much given up.”

  George shrugged. “Was hoping it might be yours,” he said. “I wasn’t sure—see, the tag here on the handle says ‘Dexter Stubbs,’ but I figured, how many Dexters could there be on this island?”

  Dexter froze. The last puzzle piece had just fallen into place in his mind with a reverberating thud.

  “Dexter Stubbs?” Arzt said, his voice seeming to echo across the beach. Or perhaps that was only in Dexter’s head…“So is your name Dexter Cross, or Dexter Stubbs?”

  “I—” Dexter’s throat had gone dry again, but this time he was sure no amount of water would help. The truth was all flooding back now, so sharp and real that he could hardly believe he hadn’t remembered sooner. “I—I guess that’s my real name. Dexter Stubbs.”

  Dexter squeezed his eyes shut. Now that the truth was out, he wasn’t sure he could stand it. It was no wonder he’d tried to forget it all. No wonder he’d tried to wipe the slate clean and start anew on this island.

  When he opened his eyes, Boone was rubbing his chin, looking stunned. Arzt and George were staring at Dexter with naked curiosity. Out of the corner of his eye, Dexter could see Shannon wandering toward them. Charlie and Claire were looking his way, too, as if wondering what all the commotion was about.

  He glanced helplessly at Arzt. Was that suspicion and distrust he saw in his eyes?

  Suddenly unable to bear the shame of it all, Dexter pushed himself to his feet. His head spun woozily, but he ignored it.

  “Excuse me,” he muttered, his face hot with humiliation. “I—I’ve got to go.”

  Not looking at anyone, he raced away up the beach. A few people called out his name, but he didn’t slow down even when he reached the jungle. He kept running, pushing his way blindly through the near-darkness, tripping on roots but hardly feeling the pain. The groans of the dying man seemed to follow him, echoing inside his head to match his mood.

  I didn’t know how good I had it, he thought bleakly, crashing through a thick stand of bamboo. If only I still had the amnesia. Then maybe I could still believe in that better life I invented for myself. Maybe I could lose myself in the fantasy of SuperDexter, at least for a little while longer…

  20

  DEXTER CLOSED HIS EYES, losing himself in the loud, pulsing music of the Sydney club. He was vaguely aware of Daisy dancing beside him, her blond hair damp with sweat and her face blissfully happy.

  “Yo, dude!” Jason shouted suddenly in Dexter’s ear, causing his eyes to fly open. “This place rocks, doesn’t it?”

  Dexter grinned and gave him a thumbs-up, not bothering to try to make himself heard over the pounding blast of the oversized speakers. It was their last night in Sydney, and at first Dexter had been annoyed at Jason’s insistence that they all go clubbing. He’d been picturing a much quieter, more romantic evening featuring himself and Daisy; perhaps a nice dinner, followed by a look out over the city from the observation deck of the Sydney Tower.

  But he’d soon realized that wasn’t going to happen, and since Daisy had seemed excited at the chance to go dancing, Dexter had given in without a fight. And he’d even discovered a silver lining—Jason was a lot easier to take after five or six drinks. Or maybe it was seven. He’d stopped keeping track after a while. What difference did it make? He could sleep it off on the long flight home the next day.

  Daisy leaned up against him, standing on tiptoes to speak into his ear. “This is fun!” she shouted. “I can’t believe we have to leave tomorrow. Back to the real world!”

  Dexter nodded and planted a kiss on her sweat-dampened cheek. “At least we’ll always have Sydney!” he shouted back with a grin.

  She giggled, though he couldn’t hear it over the music. Be right back, she mouthed, gesturing toward the restrooms and then pushing her way through the crowd.

  He watched her until she disappeared from view, then glanced around at the throngs of fashionably dressed young people bumping and grinding all around him. With a flash of pride, he realized that nobody watching would ever be able to guess that he hadn’t been born into this world, or that he couldn’t even have afforded the cover charge to get into a club like this just a year earlier.

  His gaze shifted to the mirrored back wall. Locking onto his own eyes, he felt his smile fade slightly. For a long, breathless moment the noise of the club faded in his mind, and all he could do was stare at his own reflection. Was it a trick of the light, some weird reflection of the mirrored disco ball that cast that moody shadow over his face or made his eyes look so dark and troubled? He drifted a little closer, but nothing changed. The eyes looking back at him were watchful and deceptive and eerily unfamiliar…

  “I’m back!” Daisy appeared at his side, shattering his intense focus on his own face. She jumped up and down, grinning eagerly. “Come on!” she shouted breathlessly, gesturing toward the exit. “Let’s grab Jase and go find some new fun!”

  A few minutes later the three of them were walking down the street outside. Dexter’s head was still pounding with the echoes of the overly loud music but the relatively cool night air was a relief after the stuffy, smoky atmosphere inside the club.

  “What are we going to do now?” Jason’s voice sounded louder than ever as it echoed off the darkened buildings and bounced its way down the deserted street. It was very
late, and there was no one else in sight.

  Daisy clung to Dexter’s arm, her whole body seeming to vibrate with energy. “Should we try that other club that girl told us about?” she asked. “It sounded fun.”

  “Do you remember where it was?” Dexter asked, stifling a yawn. The effects of those drinks were wearing off quickly, and exhaustion was settling over him like a cloak. “I don’t.”

  “It was supposed to be just around the corner from that last place,” Jason said. “Let’s just walk a little farther and…Hey. Check out this guy.”

  Dexter followed Jason’s gaze and saw a lean young man coming toward them. He was dressed in a ragged pair of shorts and a T-shirt that looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a year. His dirty feet were shoved into a pair of faded flip-flops that were at least a couple of sizes too small, and he was holding a straw hat in one hand.

  “G’day, mates,” the young man said when he got a little closer. “Help a fella out?” He held out his hat hopefully.

  Jason shot Dexter an evil grin. “That all depends,” he said, cracking his knuckles and taking a step closer to the panhandler. “What are you willing to do for it? Hmm?”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble, mate,” the panhandler said, lifting both his hands in surrender. “If you don’t have any coin to spare, I’ll go on my way.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a much better idea,” Jason agreed with a smirk. “Why don’t you take your reeking, worthless hide out of our way now, so we can get back to our pleasant evening?”

  Dexter winced at Jason’s comment. What right did he have to be so rude just because this guy didn’t happen to be born rich like him?

  “Knock it off, man,” he told Jason sharply. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled bill, suddenly overcome with the weird feeling that he was acting out some vaguely recalled scene from The Prince and the Pauper. “Here you go, man. Sorry I don’t have any—”

  “Dexter!” Daisy shrieked. “Look out!”