My thoughts exactly.
I stare in awe at the destruction. What if it had hit the cave-tree? We’d be crackling cinders, too, right now.
And I know Will’s thinking a similar thought because he clears his throat, rubs his forehead, then rakes his fingers through his hair. “Too close. Way too close.” Stepping toward the crater, he searches the ground. “One—” He walks a few more feet, pointing. “Two—” Then he moves to the other side of the crater. “Three, maybe four.” He stares across the space at me. I’m confused. “They’re tying the bombs together for more power. There are too many pieces here for this to be only one. Damn it!” He hits one of the sad trees. It cracks in response.
I take timid steps to where Will stands. His head is down and his hand rests against the injured tree.
I lift my arm so my palm hovers over his shoulder where warmth radiates off him like heat from an oven. I let it fall. First, the tips of my fingers graze him, but slowly the rest follows until my entire hand makes contact. He shivers under my touch, glancing at me.
“I’m sorry,” is all I get out.
“No. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m partially to blame.” Again, my stomach wrenches.
“We don’t know he’s dead,” Will says, his voice barely above a whisper.
I shake my head, dropping it toward the burned ground.
He sighs. “All right, if I’m being honest, he’s probably dead.”
I remove my hand. My legs instant Jell-O, I sit right there at the edge of the explosion.
Will sits across from me. “Hey, you did what you had to do.” He picks up my hand and caresses my palm, leaving tiny sparks of static with each touch.
Still staring at the ground, tracing shapes in the sooty sand with my free hand, first the knot comes, then the stinging, then the tears. Despite my defying them, they plunk down my chin and into my lap. If I wipe my face, he’ll notice. If I don’t do anything, he’ll notice. But does it matter? I’ve killed a boy. Taken a life. Oh my God. In doing such a horribly, terrible thing, am I no better than the Trio? I can name a number of times their stunts could have gone wrong and ended me.
More tears. There’s also a whimpering waiting in my throat that I refuse to release.
“Olive?” I don’t look up but keep making spirals with my finger. “I want you to listen to me. If you hadn’t defended yourself, both you and Bug would be dead. I’m sure of it.” It’s true. At least, I think it is. Or I need to believe it is. “They’d been watching us. Taunting us. Those wildlings had been sent to either capture or kill any of us, and it was going to be you and Bug that day.” He drops my hand back into my lap then lifts my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing my eyes to his. “I’m sure of it.”
I have no choice but to stare through blurry tears. Will’s beautiful, with his one mysteriously wonderful sage eye, the way his hair is ridiculously messy but also, somehow, so very tantalizing. I barely know anything of him except that he means to take care of everyone in that cave-tree, me included, with all he has. Tears fall more quickly, surely trailing hideous streaks down my dirty face. I’m more a mess than ever, yet more alive. The wrenching in my stomach turns to a flutter.
I decide to tell him. Because, honesty, right? And maybe if I give him something from my soul, he’ll return the favor.
Maybe.
“While we’re being honest—” I sniff, wiping my eyes. He removes his hand from my chin, an intrigued look on his face. “I was running from something, someone.” Will raises his eyebrows, leaning back onto his hands in the ash. “I was running from my stupid life and one of three girls who have tortured me the past six years.” My fingers go to the side of my head, above my ear.
“They did that,” he states, matter of fact because he already knew.
I nod. “And so much more.” The little sob escapes my throat.
He shakes his head. “Why? I can’t see any reason—”
“My name. It all started with my ridiculous name.”
“What’s wrong with Olive?”
And the way he says it, so innocently, as if it’s a good name, a pretty name, and not a disgusting disgrace, several more tears fall from my eyes, each one a horrible memory I’ve been holding down.
“Well, it’s not just my first name. My full name… My full name is…” Somehow I’ve avoided saying it out loud since standing in front of my new fifth-grade class the year we moved to Texas. “Olive… Maxi… Gagmuehler.” With more tears comes a last sob, a long sob, the one that’s been clenched around my gut for so long it’s become a part of me.
Will stares at me, brow knit, my hurt reflecting in his face, his expression. “Olive?”
I raise my eyebrows in response, still reveling in what I’ve done, what I’ve said, and shocked I don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed over it. Shocked I haven’t run away yet.
“It’s a great name—unique—and who doesn’t love olives?” He smiles a crooked smile— it was a risky joke. “But it is only a name. You’re so much more.” His eyes meet mine and my cheeks prickle with heat.
And that’s it, isn’t it? So simple. So plain to see sitting in soot and surrounded by broken burning trees. It’s only a name. Three words I answer to. One of them, Olive, which apparently, everyone loves.
Now I’m smiling a crooked smile, too, a small laugh replacing the place those sobs were dwelling, new tears—tears of relief—slipping down my cheeks.
Actions beyond my control, I lean over and wrap my arms around his neck, like Bug would. “Thank you,” I whisper in his ear.
I feel his arms around my waist, warm, strong, holding me. He releases a long sigh as if he’s been craving this embrace for ages.
Pulling back so I can see his face, it’s glaringly apparent how close we are.
Will glances away, then back. Leaning forward, his breath still hinting of mint, our lips linger a fraction of a second apart before he kisses me.
Somehow, I gasp and kiss him back at the same time.
My heart beats into my neck, my ears, I memorize everything about the moment: the mixed smell of burned earth and mint leaves, Will’s nose barely against mine, the way his eye patch grazes my forehead, the dizziness in my mind, his lips, slightly dry, how they scratch against mine in a pleasingly delightful way.
Abruptly, like a cold splash of water to the face, he pulls away. Too quickly. Too cold. As if an animal fleeing danger, Will scurries several feet away from me.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. There’s a rule. My rule,” he says, head shaking no.
“Rule?”
“After Jude and Annabel, I promised myself, if ever, I mean, I’d never allow…”
Seeing him so frazzled is unnerving. I think I get what he’s saying, but it’s coming out in fragments, and I’m having trouble filling in the holes. I open my mouth to plead he slow down when a horrible noise steals my words with a long, drawn-out, ear-piercing, pha-ooh.
And it doesn’t stop with one billow. The King’s howling horn is set on repeat. Growing louder. Nearer.
Will stands, squinting in the direction of the sound. “Too close.”
Chapter Seventeen
The King of the island
I hold my breath. I don’t mean to, but my lungs refuse to let go of that last stitch of air.
Will’s lunged forward so he’s in front of me, and my head is buried between his shoulder blades. He reaches his arm behind and around my side, protective—or more likely, worried—I’ll do something stupid like run, which I was ready to do before he jumped in my way. “Just be quiet. Still. Whatever happens, do not go home.” He speaks in a screechy whisper through his teeth.
I nod my head into his back and his shirt smells of the smoky forest.
It’s then I hear footsteps shuffling the sand and ground plants.
Will’s arm tightens around me.
He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his blade. It clicks.
The
footsteps get louder until one final pha-ooh sounds, causing birds and other small creatures to flee the trees.
Then, silence. Total silence, and I wonder if the sound of the horn, the blasts, have stricken me deaf. I can’t even hear Will breathing, but feel his back moving up and down.
Barely, so slowly it’s painful, I peek around Will. One, two, three guys stand in a sort of arrow formation on the other side of the crater. The shirtless one in front grips the horn: Duke. He has two black lines smudged under each eye, and his hair is light, cut close to his scalp. He laughs. It’s a high-pitched cackle, like a hyena. The hyena arches his back but doesn’t take his eyes off Will.
Will urges me back behind him.
I finally breathe. Slow, long breaths squeak up my throat and out my mouth, narrowly avoiding hyperventilation.
“Well?” Will shouts. My entire body jumps.
The hyena laughter is joined by a couple of lower, approving chuckles. I peek around to the other side of Will, to get a closer look. The two boys flanking the hyena are strong, steady. They almost seem to hold Duke up. One has black hair and a soft, surprisingly trustworthy face. The other is blond with a defined jaw, his face showing harder lines.
This can’t be good in any way possible.
I’m pushed back again.
Duke stops laughing. “William. William Matheson. Long time no see. Pun intended.”
Will’s body stiffens. “What do you want, Duke? Or, since we’re being so proper, David Nathaniel Alperstein, the third.”
And I thought my name was a mouthful.
I peek around just in time to see Duke sigh out his nose. And we make eye contact. “Whatcha hiding? New recruit?” He sneers.
But the expression disappears when the guy to the hyena’s right—the one with the trustworthy face and tan skin—smiles, deep dimples showing in his cheeks, then leans over, whispering something in Duke’s ear.
“Ha! Boy, did we luck out!”
“Enough! Why are you here and what’s with the bombs? The horn?” Will’s slowly backing us away, but with each step, the Panthers close in to compensate, trailing the edge of the Mini Cooper hole.
I stumble over my feet, trying to keep an eye on Duke and not fall into the burned crater. He’s still watching me, not Will, and I notice he has a scar on his chest loosely resembling the letter P.
“We’re just here to get what’s rightfully ours. Eye for an eye and all.” Duke laughs, shaking his head. “I’d expected more of you, old friend, or don’t you remember? I warned you about the horn, what would happen. I thought you’d be more prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” We’re moving faster now and I think Will’s trying to keep Duke talking while we find a way out of this.
“War—the ultimate war over this island. The King and his army of Panthers are coming for you.”
“Oh yeah, that. So this is your great army?”
Jesus, what is he doing?
Duke sneers again. “No. This is your one warning and, like I said, we’ve come to retrieve something that belongs to us.”
The talking works, in that nothing’s happened, but we aren’t getting any farther away. With every few steps we take, they only close farther in on us.
“And what’s that?” Will asks, and I swear the weirdo’s smiling.
More steps back.
“Oh, come off it. Don’t act stupid. We want the girl, of course. She killed Jack!”
A sharp gasp gets stuck in my throat.
“Not a chance.”
More steps.
“Come now! Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on her?” Duke takes in a heaving breath. “How’s this… You give her up without a fight, and we’ll give you one week to prepare for battle.”
Three more steps. I swear I hear water in the distance.
“How’s this… I give her up”—Will squeezes my side with his hand—“and you tell me how you’re making the bombs.”
Duke’s quiet, considering the offer. Then he spits at the ground. “No deal!”
His bodyguards pull out what must be smaller versions of the coconut bombs, balls of packed mud with wicks sticking out of the tops like large, brown cherries.
We take one large step back.
I feel the edge of something under my heels. Glancing over my shoulder, I nearly scream. We’re standing on a cliff hanging over a wide pool of water, a series of falls showering far below. If I let go, I fall.
To my death.
With cat-like claws, I wrap both my arms around Will’s waist. I catch Duke’s eyes widen then narrow.
“Now!” Duke yells.
Dimples and Strong Jaw Guy light their makeshift grenades.
Will turns and faces me. “Hold on, I’ve got you.”
He shoves his body weight into mine.
The mud cherries, all ablaze, fly toward us as we jump over the side.
We fall like anchors or feathers, I’m not sure which because the sensation is so utterly foreign.
I hear someone scream above us.
And I want to scream.
But I can’t breathe.
And I don’t want to die.
But all I do is hold on to the body falling with me.
Two loud pops go off.
We hit.
As one, wrapped around each other, straight like pencils, Will and I enter the water with a loud clap and a splash. My skin is on fire as if I’ve gone through a window. All I want is to keep falling deep down into the cool pool until the burn goes away. But Will’s got his arm around my chest, pulling me to the surface.
We rise out of the water and gasp for air, spitting and coughing. I kick my legs and Will pulls me toward the bank and solid ground. With my eyes set on the sky, the silhouettes of three blurry figures lean over the cliff.
Then, in a blink, they’re gone. Working to get to the side of the pool takes forever. The faster I kick my legs, the farther away the rocks and sand seem.
Finally, my hands grip slippery stone. Will gets out first, then helps me up. We collapse in a heap. Flat on our backs, we pant from exhaustion, sucking in air and coughing out water. “You…all right?” he asks.
I nod, unable to speak. Several deep breaths later it hits me. I sit up, lightheaded. “They’ll find us. We have to get out of here!” I mean to shout it, but it comes out in a huskier version of my voice, my throat raw from coughing.
“Shhh. It’s okay, they’ve gone back. If I know anything about Duke, he’s not going to risk running into more of us without his full army.”
As if on cue, the King’s horn sounds from a distance away.
“See? Already headed back up their mountain but had to get the final word in.” Will raises up onto one elbow, his body facing mine. He raises his eyebrows, his jaw soft, giving a convincing and comforting look.
I glance away. Aside from the shock my body’s still in and the welts and bruises forming beneath my soaked clothes, my head is on fire. Begging to boil over, about to explode like a homemade mud-cherry grenade, my mind roils on information overload: explosions, confessions, tears, kisses, rules, King’s, horns, cliff dives.
I take a deep breath. Because, what now? I listen. In this moment, it’s quiet as if nothing’s happened, as if we’ve been lying here in the sand for hours, enjoying the shade of the trees, the breeze off the water, one another’s company.
But reality hits me, jerking me out of the small daydream I’d allowed myself.
This is no leisurely afternoon. There’s a cave-tree full of kids who are probably freaking out, bombs raining down on us without warning, and the bullies want me as a consolation prize, or more, a sacrificial symbol.
Eye for an eye.
“What are you thinking about?” Will asks, studying my face. The way he stares, I swear he’s trying to see my thoughts through my eyes.
I shake my head. “Too much.”
“I understand.” He looks at the falls, his jaw flexing, forehead creasing from the glint of the sun in his eye. “
I used to come here. A lot. Back when I was alone. This was my place and that jump…” He looks up at the cliff.
“Yeah, about that… How did you know you weren’t plunging us to our deaths?”
He cracks a slight smile but turns back to serious like it had been an accident. “The water’s deep. Though I’ll admit, the impact can give a good bite.”
I rub the outsides of my arms, cringing.
Will glances down at me, features uncharacteristically soft, apologetic. “Sorry about that. But it was our only out. I’ve jumped from that same spot more times than I can recall. I knew, without a doubt, it was safe.”
Something in his sage eye, the tiny flecks of gold and darker, deeper moss green, staring down on me like constellations, lets me know this is Will being honest. But…
“Why?” I ask. I can’t imagine anyone voluntarily making that jump. Ever.
Setting his sight back up toward the cliff, he trails the falls down to the pool. “A story for another time.”
Oh no. He’s not getting away with that. Not after what I confessed earlier. I turn my body into his, leaning up onto my elbow, squeezing my face to hold back the cries of pain bubbling in my chest because my skin must literally be on fire. “Hey. I shared. Your turn.” I strain to get the words out, putting on my best I’m fine face as he glances a suspicious eye down at me.
“We should get you back. Plus, the others must be in hysterics wondering what’s going on.”
“I’m-al-right.” I breathe the words out in one string. “And I’m sure Jude and Tilly have everyone under control.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting, refusing to let him off the hook. If I have to lie here all day, I’ll do it. It’s not like I have someplace to be.
“Fine, but I’m giving you the short version and then we’ve gotta get back.” He snips the end of his sentence off.
I nod, satisfied I’ve worn him down.
Will inhales deeply. He looks away again. “You have to put yourself in my shoes. I’d been here so long, lost my eye, on my own aside from the person who took it from me. I was starving. Soaked from weeks of nonstop rain. I was hopeless, Olive. Dying emotionally, physically. I was halfway gone and quickly unraveling.
“I awoke beneath the same trees I’d been sleeping under each night, but they’d long stopped providing cover. The rain had gotten too heavy and the large flat leaves that had acted as shelter were water-logged and limp, doing nothing for me. I sat up and looked at my palms. My skin was translucent, saturated, and beginning to tear away. I took off my shoes and my feet were the same, nothing but sad, pruned skin. In that moment, at the sight of my feet, I decided I wasn’t going to be here anymore. I stood up and walked away. I had no idea where to go, but I walked until my feet bled and I ended up there.” He motions to the cliff with his head. “The ledge was slippery, the earth breaking off in clumps, falling down into the pool below. It was perfect. With my toes sinking into the muddy edge, barely hanging on, I said three words… Please help me. To whom or what, I’ll never know. Maybe to the sun—I’d been cursing her for days for not showing face. Then, I fell forward.” He shifts his sight over at me, then back at the water. “I hit the water at a bad angle, not perfectly straight like we did, but sideways. The impact should have killed me. And I thought it had. I sank like a rock, deep into that never-ending pool. I gave myself up, let go, but something pulled me to the surface.
The Castaways Page 9
