by Becky Wicks
Already the sun is lowering ahead of us. Yellow streaks are splashed across the sky, making the ocean orange. It’s so damn remote here that the only things we can hear when everyone stops talking are the waves and the rustling palm trees. I’ve seen a lot of the U.S, but there’s nothing there like this that I’ve ever seen. Not even in Hawaii.
Alyssa helps Mia arrange the cooking pots. Jaxx and Mike fetch the flint to try to make the fire. ‘Get the insect repellent!’ Stephanie shouts after them as they wander off towards the necessities box, just behind the tree line.
The production team gathered us up before we left and told us that the necessities box would be located by the well – the only place we’re allowed to drink water from on the island. In the box are bottles of insect repellent, sunscreen, condoms, flint, feminine hygiene products and contact lens solution. This stuff is never shown or talked about in the edits but I’m guessing a bunch of bitten up, scratching and sunburnt people wouldn’t make for very good TV.
‘Is anyone experienced in lighting fires?’ the hippy chick, Journey asks as the breeze picks up her crazy-long hair.
I wait for someone - anyone - to step forward. No one does. ‘Did you get the tinder?’ I say eventually and Punk’s eyebrows raise as I kneel on the sand in my jeans. I know he sees me as some kind of leader already, ever since he handed me the spear on the raft. He seems like a nice kid, too. He’ll be good to keep on my side.
‘Tinder? I have the app on my iPhone!’ Stephanie laughs, twizzling her guitar necklace.
Journey looks confused. ‘Wait - there’s an app for lighting a fire now?’
‘No! It’s a dating app! You swipe people…’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sorry. Here – I got all this.’ Journey points to an assortment of coconut husks she’s laid by the sticks and seaweed. Behind her at the makeshift cooking station I can see Alyssa laughing as she pours rice from one of the sacks into a giant pot and Mia pours the well water in after her. I notice how Alyssa laughs with her whole body, not just her mouth. The cameras love her. I avert my eyes as she catches me looking. Damn.
Stephanie’s brow furrows to my side. ‘I never learned how to build a fire,’ she tells us quietly, watching as I reach for the sticks. They all look on as I construct an A-fame with three of the bigger branches and layer smaller ones around it in the sand. The camera guy scurries over for a close-up the instant I reach for the tinder.
‘You have to make a birds nest shape with it, see?’ I say, molding the wiry coconut fur into a round shape and denting the middle with my thumbs.
‘Why?’ Stephanie asks, watching my hands move.
‘The middle bit holds the magnesium from the flint,’ comes a voice. ‘You have to scrape it in, that’s what starts the fire.’ Alyssa. She’s beside me now, dropping to the sand in her rolled-up pants. She still hasn’t taken her shirt off, but she’s tied it up around her waist in a knot and her midriff is glistening. I notice the milky white of her stomach, the indent of her bellybutton above her pants as she starts to arrange more sticks around the frame I’ve made.
‘Help me,’ she orders Stephanie, who sets to work instantly. 'We're lucky they gave us this. Would've taken days with just sticks and rocks for friction.' I sit back and Alyssa shrugs when she sees my raised eyebrows.
‘I camped out with Jack and Noah a lot,’ she says, ‘in the national parks, in Colorado. You’re not allowed to make fires in all of them but we had enough practice in their yard with all kinds of things. We almost set fire to their tree house once,’ she grins. ‘Not a good day. Here, may I?’
She gestures for me to give her the birds nest and then takes the flint and steel knife from Mike, who’s handing them out to her now with a look of amusement on his grouchy face. I realize what she’s just said. ‘Colorado?’ I say. ‘I thought you were from New York?’
‘What? No, I’ve lived in Boulder my whole life!’ she tells me. ‘Why did you think I lived in New York?’
‘I thought I saw you…’ I start. I shut my mouth. I’m not about to say I saw her there on the cover of In Touch, but I guess I just assumed she’d be based there or L.A, or anywhere but Boulder. I guess I assumed a lot about Alyssa.
Jaxx sits down, watches her intently as she starts scraping bits of the flint from the block, straight into the birds nest. ‘You had coconuts in Colorado?’ he asks and Shan rolls his eyes.
‘You can use a bunch of stuff for tinder,’ Alyssa replies without looking up. For a moment we all just watch her scraping, scraping, scraping and building a silver pile and I try to bring back a memory of my father doing the same, over five years ago.
I know he must have done this, back somewhere in Virginia. We camped for a month straight when we tackled some of the Appalachian Trail, fighting off the yellow jackets and chiggers, trying to live off Snickers bars and Ramen but burning up to six thousand calories a day as we hiked with all our gear. I left the entire food sack once to outwit a black bear coming at our asses. That’s how I know bears like freeze dried noodles… some of them.
A flurry in the corner of my eye pulls my attention away from Alyssa’s hands. Stephanie’s grabbed the insect repellent and she’s spraying herself everywhere. Mike’s on his feet, grabbing her arm. ‘Are you crazy, child, do that over by the water!’
‘Yes, dad,’ she mocks.
‘Well, do you want to burn the whole camp down?’
‘There’s no fire!’ Stephanie reminds him, just as a huge spark flies off the block Alyssa’s holding and sets the magnesium powder in the coconut nest alight. Alyssa falls back against me. I spring up and my hands grip her forearms from behind.
‘Woman make fire!’ Shan yells out, jumping up, batting his fists to his chest like a caveman and everyone claps and whoops noisily. I have to hand it to her – I’m impressed. And my hands are still on her arms.
I release her and she kneels forward again, places the blazing nest carefully under the A-frame. The twigs start to catch. I shuffle in to blow on them, just as she does the same. For a second stray strands of her hair brush my face before we both retract sharply.
‘Nice work, B-list,’ Jaxx grins, settling down on the sand. He’s tied his bandana around his head now, too. His bare chest is streaked with dirt and scratched already from our building efforts.
‘B-list?’ Alyssa cocks an eyebrow at him, swipes a hand across her forehead. Firelight is dancing in her eyes.
‘Well, you’re not A-list, but you’re not Z-list, are you?’ he answers, scratching at a sand fly bite. ‘Oh, I don’t mean to be offensive, I’ve just seen you on the TV with that Peter Pan singer and all? I’m guessing you’re somewhere in the middle. Maybe you’re more of an M-list.’
‘Look who learned his alphabet,’ Shan says, folding his arms. ‘Did you bring Elmo with you, Abercrombie?’
Alyssa stands up again to bring the cooking pot over to the fire. I half expect her to slap Jaxx across the face on the way past but she doesn’t even look pissed. ‘Who says I’m not starting my own list?’ she says.
She stirs the pot as Mia sits down in our circle, but on the way back, she starts shuffling out of her pants on the spot.
Shan claps his hands. ‘Is it orgy time already?’
‘Sorry, but I’m dying in here,’ she says. ‘I need to do something with these.’
‘Want me to help?’ He gets to his feet. ‘Would’ve been easier with my scissors…’
‘Yeah, anything, seriously.’ She’s out of the pants now, standing in some purple lace panties with the shirt still tied around her waist. I try not to stare because I know the jock is, but I can’t help running my eyes up her long, lean legs in the firelight, right up to where the creases of her ass cheeks meet the tops of her thighs. Damn.
‘We can make some cute shorts with these, island style,’ Shan says, studying them thoughtfully like a tailor. ‘Shame though, Calvin Klein – what are these worth exactly?’
‘Doesn’t matter. TJ Maxx sale.�
�
‘Ok… well, shorter the better then, with that ass,’ he says, reaching out and pretending to slap it as she jumps away laughing. I have to agree.
11
Alyssa
Hot hands on my skin, grappling for my bikini bottoms, pulling them aside. Hot lips on my neck, fingers coarse with sand. My breath ragged, gasping. ‘Sebastian,’ I mouth.
I reach my hands up to his face, his hair, but he’s different now. He’s a silhouette against the sun blazing hard behind him. He’s quiet and his skin feels different, hot. His chest is wider, his arms are bigger, his head is smooth. He locks me beneath him on the towel with one leg over my lower body, pressing himself against me hard, kissing my neck and down to my stomach. I can feel every inch of him, but I still can’t see his face.
‘Sebastian?’ I say again, squinting against the sun. He pulls my naked chest even harder to his sticky flesh, goes to kiss me again; one big hand behind my head, the other on my thigh. But behind him a white bird soars above us in a blue sky, just as a green snake slithers past to my side and almost slides over my legs. I shriek at the bright red tail tip and try to sit up, but the hand pins me down by one shoulder till I’m flat against the sand.
‘Let me go!’ I yell. This isn’t normal. But I see it now, branded across his rock-like bicep. The lion tattoo.
I bolt upright in the shelter. Sweat is gluing my shirt to my body along with several leaves. Mia’s to my left, snoring like a sledgehammer and I squint in the half-light across the row of bodies, all sleeping soundly. I fall back down on my mound of sand, run my mind back over my dream, untie the bandana from my hair. What was that?
My heart’s still racing, my mouth tastes nasty. My arms are itching like mad, like they're on fire. I’m dying for water and my stomach’s growling. I know I won’t go back to sleep.
I crawl out of the shelter on all fours, trying not to wake anyone with any sudden movements. The sun’s rising. A streak of orange is blazing like coals against a blue-grey horizon and the ocean is totally flat beneath it. For a second it smacks me once again just where I am. So surreal. I look down at my arms - they're covered in sand fly bites.
I cross my arms around myself, trying not to scratch, walk to the side of the shelter and find the containers of water we filled from the well last night. I swig back at least half a can. It feels good. Trust Sebastian to come back to me uninvited – on his terms as usual. I walk barefoot across the sand, but as well as him, something else keeps on bugging me; something I can’t put my finger on as the dream fades.
On the way to the rocks at the end of the beach I tear off my clothes, toss everything to the ground. I know I’m probably on a hidden camera somewhere but standing in my purple lace underwear I’m ten degrees cooler already so, really, I’m going to have to deal with it. It’s not my best set, but it’s definitely not my worst.
I climb up onto a pitted black rock, look out at the sparkling ocean. A crab scuttles out of my way as I step to the edge and jump into the clear water. Instantly my feet touch sand, but I propel myself off the rocks, out to where it’s deeper, swimming hard and fast towards a darker shade of blue. I feel better already. It’s been years since I opened my eyes underwater. For a second as I put my head down, the feeling of it shocks my eyeballs, but right away I see a school of brightly colored yellow and blue striped fish, swimming around a reef. Wow! So beautiful.
I follow them with my eyes, suck a lungful of air and dive a little deeper. Ahead of me I can see where the pink and white coral and anemone drops down into the deep, deep darkness. Are there sharks down here? Sharks live in Indonesia, right?
A long, sharp object darts past me, inches from my face and rockets straight through a fish. A cloud of red colors the ocean. What the hell!?
I shoot to the top again, gasping, kicking my legs out. I spin around but there’s nothing, no one. I put my head back down and there he is; a figure shooting towards me from the deep, holding the spear with the fish on it like a weapon. I kick backwards automatically but his face is rising in front of mine now – two bright eyes behind a mask. I kick again in shock and the coral scrapes me instantly.
‘Careful!’ Joshua yells, holding the spear up above him in one hand and reaching for me quickly with the other. ‘It’s sharp, don’t get it in you!’
‘Too late,’ I snap, wincing with the pain as it sears through my ankle. I ball my legs up into myself as he shoves the mask up onto his head, swims around me quickly and snakes my waist from behind. ‘Don’t move,’ he orders, ‘keep your legs up,’ and in two seconds flat my back’s pressed against his chest and he’s kicking us both away from the reef.
I’m more than aware of his vice-like arm brushing the bottom of my breasts through my stupid bra but all I can do is let him guide us over to where two large, flat rocks are poking out above the water. The wound stings like crazy with the salt. God, I’m an idiot. ‘I saw the coral, I’m sorry,’ I say, ‘you just… you came from out of nowhere, merman!’
‘Here,’ he says guiding me to the first rock. ‘There’s a natural step underneath, see? Can you make it up?’ He releases his arm from around me and throws the spear with the fish on it onto the rock. ‘Do what I do,’ he instructs, finding his footing with ease and hoisting himself up on braced triceps.
I clamber to follow him. For a second I think I’m going to fall – the wet rock is slippery under my hands and adrenaline is making me shake, but my fingers take hold and I grip on as hard as I can. Joshua's on the rock now, leaning down. He reaches under my arms, lifts me effortlessly towards him. I sink instantly to my knees but he shifts so I’m resting on his thighs now and not the sharp, jagged surface.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks, taking my shoulders. I nod, aware of the warmth of his flesh against mine as I put my hands against his chest to balance myself. I meet his eyes. They’re round with concern. They’re the most sensational colors too - shades of brown with flecks of green dancing through them.
‘I’m OK,’ I say quickly, catching my breath, pulling my hands back.
‘Let me see,’ he says now, guiding me down slowly to the rock and shifting back to check my ankle. The blood is trickling in a thin red line. My foot looks small in his big hands. I note the fine black hairs on his arms; the ocean drops tracing down his olive face as he looks me over; the camera guy paddling towards us furiously on a kayak now from the shore.
‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, turning my foot slightly.
‘It’s not too bad.’
‘I don’t think you got anything in it.’ He places my ankle carefully back down, pulls the mask off his head and sits down. ‘You should clean it up fast, though. You know, there’s this weird disease some divers get if they scrape against coral. They can start to turn into a reef.’
‘Whatever!’
‘It’s true.’ He picks up the spear again. His face is straight but as I frown at him he smiles, motions to my ankle. ‘The spores start to grow under the skin – they form new coral.’
‘Not in me they don’t,’ I say, ‘I have heels to wear. I can’t be feeding fish from my feet.’
He laughs, pulls the fish free from the spear. The lion on his strained bicep stares at me as he moves and my breath catches again. That’s what I forgot from my dream. Sebastian turned into Joshua, kissing me like a maniac on the sand. My cheeks start to blaze and it’s got nothing to do with the stinging, or the rising sun.
‘How come you’re up so early?’ he’s saying now, oblivious, leaning back on his elbows and closing his eyes to the sky. I want to stretch out too, but I’m painfully aware that I’m just in my underwear and that the kayak with the camera guy is circling like Jaws painted yellow.
‘I had a dream,’ I say.
‘Was it a nightmare?’
‘Not all of it.’ I trace the lines of him quickly, the cut of his shoulders and torso, the dark but fine line of hair from his belly button down to the top of his black boxers. The underwear situation is kind of hilarious right now but he
’s beautiful.
God.
I circle my arms around my knees, looking out at the nearest island and beyond it to the infinite nothing. ‘How long have you been spearfishing?’ I ask. I’m dying to know exactly how see-through my bra and panties really are, now that they’re drenched. I’m guessing they’re pretty X-rated but he’s still got his eyes shut.
‘Since I was about ten years old,’ he says into the sun that’s now higher, and hot. ‘My uncle took me to -’ He trails off, furrows his brow, opens his eyes and looks back down at the fish. ‘Someplace in Montana I think. He competed in the USA World Spear fishing Championships three years straight. He won twice… maybe all three. So, what was your dream about?’
I realize I’m staring at him again; from his face to the lion tattoo. ‘There was a white bird,’ I say quickly, ‘flying above me on the beach. And a green snake.’
‘A snake?’ he says. ‘Was it attacking you?’
‘No, why? You know what it means?’
‘Snakes are considered sneaky, right?’ He sits up again, mirrors me with his arms around his knees. He has a few sand fly bites, too.
‘I guess.’
‘So, in dreams they represent something in your life that you fear. They can also symbolize an enemy or a potential threat.’
‘What about the white bird?’
‘Freedom,’ he says, looking straight into my eyes.
‘Freedom.’
He nods thoughtfully. ‘I’d say your dream was telling you that even though you’ve freed yourself from something, you have a whole new heap of shit to worry about right now. Don’t get too complacent, M-lister.’ He raises his dark eyebrows at me with a slight smile.
