I catch his eyes, and it’s like they’re open for the first time and he finally sees past all that anger and remorse masking his vision. With a slight nod, Jude squeezes his eyes shut. His face twisting in pure pain, he drops his head into Charlie’s mane, Jude’s broad, bare shoulders and back quaking. I can only imagine the expression gracing the smeared lion on his chest now, and briefly find myself caught up in whether lions weep.
Turning back to Shiloh and all the commotion—the backdrop to weeping lions and golden curls and singing angels—I kneel next to Duke. His chest quivers as Shiloh sops up blood and Tommy pours water over the wound. I scoop ointment from the shell, then slather the coconut oil-herb concoction onto a non-bloodied strip of cotton T-shirt and tenderly place it over Duke’s wounds.
Shiloh and I share a look. It isn’t one of friendship or forgiveness, defeat or hatred, but one of mutual understanding—differences aside, we’ve got to work together.
Her gaze set back on Duke, Shiloh’s forehead is lined in concern. “Can you help us carry him inside?” she asks all of us and none of us in a far-off, un-Shiloh voice.
Jude stays outside with Bug and Charlie while the rest of us head to the cave.
With Shiloh leading the way, holding the bandages steady, Will, Lewis, Noah, and Tommy carry Duke into the cave.
They’re careful, taking slow steps as Duke goes in and out of consciousness. Once inside, they settle him near the fire, wrapping his body in the makeshift blanket Lewis and I had been under for so many days. Shiloh settles next to Duke, and Henry lays flat on the ground near the fire. Tommy lifts Henry’s head, making a pillow for him with a piece of clothing.
No one says a word, but all our minds toss like riptides, the questions and concerns palpable. Despite the silence, what now? fills the cave.
“I’m gonna check on Jude,” Lewis breaks the stillness. Will gives him a manly pat on the back before he leaves.
Shiloh, Noah, and Tommy stare up at Will and me, and I can’t help fall back into old habits. The sense we’re invading their side of the island, their home, takes over and I instinctively back away.
But Will turns his head toward me, that wild, lively green of his eye reminding me things have changed.
Stepping forward, I make up the distance and then some. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” I say. “First, we need to allow our injured friends to heal and we…” I look to Will. “We need to tend to the kids, address Tilly’s death properly. Have a ceremony. Something.” I choke the last word out because it’s not nearly enough.
Shiloh nods, her mossy eyes glazed over. “Okay,” she whispers, staring back to Duke.
“Okay,” I say back.
When Will and I leave the cave, we stumble upon a sweet and somber scene.
Jude lies on his back on the ground, forearm shading his eyes from the sun, one leg up, the other stretched out flat. Next to Jude is Lewis, who’s wringing a wet piece of material over a cut in Jude’s knee. Charlie’s head rests on Jude’s stomach, and Bug, doll tucked under her arm, is curled in a ball on the other side. They’re like a pile of puppies.
But…
That doll. Bug didn’t have it before. I glance to Will from the corner of my eyes. “Where’d the doll come from?” I whisper.
“Bug insisted on bringing it along but dropped it at some point. Jude had run back to get it right before… Well, before.”
I nod, inhaling deeply, still in shock, everything in fast motion or stuck at a standstill on this messed-up island.
But as I take in the scene before me, the pile of puppies, Will nudging his way into the huddle, there’s a tiny spark of hope fluttering at just the right pace.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Conch and the Horn
Will blows the conch shell. Whoo. Whoo.
Shiloh blows the King’s horn. Pha-ooh. Pha-ooh.
It’s haunting and beautiful as the two sounds come together as one in tragedy.
There was no point in searching for Tilly’s remains. It wasn’t even discussed, the sheer thought too horrible. Too raw. Too much to bear. Besides, the side of the mountain had a hole in it. Tilly had turned to golden dust like the angelic being she was. At least, that’s what we’d all collectively, though silently, agreed upon.
Two hollowed coconuts surrounded by flowers and torches are set like a centerpiece before us on the beach. Etched in one is an ornate “T,” the other a strong, solid “D.”
Duke is still alive, but barely. Shiloh filled us in when her, Tommy, Noah, and Henry surprised us by showing up on the beach, horn in hand. They told us this will be a remembrance of sorts, a prayer for their leader, their friend.
One by one, we approach.
Each of us stuffs a scrap of tree bark or leaf or whatever we could find to write a message on into Tilly’s island-made shrine.
No one says a word.
I’m first to put a message in. I wrote five words across a leaf in charcoal. “Tilly: Nurturer. Loved. Too soon.” They seem insignificant. Not nearly enough.
I walk up, drop to my knees, and cry for Tilly. Sweet, sweet Tilly who welcomed me with open arms from day one, confided in me, and believed in me when no one else did. She had the biggest of hearts. So big, that in the end, she sacrificed it for all of us. And I have a feeling she wouldn’t change a thing.
A hand comes to rest on my shoulder. It’s Will. He bends down, puts his piece of bark in, pauses, then stands, helping me up along the way.
Everyone else says their silent good-byes. Lewis and Jude go up one by one, setting their messages for Tilly in the coconut, taking a moment of silence. When Jude rises to walk away, he pauses, placing his hand on the coconut. He bows his head, mumbles something under his breath, and then, sniffing, wipes his face with his hands.
The little Lions are quiet, eyes down, drawing pictures in the sand with sticks. They get it, but they don’t.
The Panthers’ ritual is quieter. Quicker. Less emotional, though their sadness is evident. Shiloh lacks her usual sass. Tommy, Henry, and Noah stand tall and still. There are no whoops. No whees.
At one point, I notice Will watching them, eyes glistening, and I’d do anything to know what he’s thinking. No one else cries for Duke, and that makes me cry. Because, damn it, the guy never had a chance. He’s me in so many ways. So maybe I’m really crying for both of us.
Will and Shiloh cork the coconuts with makeshift stoppers so they’ll float. Then they throw our symbolic friends out to sea.
We stand in a long line and watch until the coconuts are tiny brown dots.
I glance from side to side.
How did we get here? Just hours before we were at war. And now? It’s like reality has finally set in. Like we’ve realized this thing, this island, is in control. And it’s so much bigger than us kids—because that’s all we are. Kids.
And we best stick together. Right?
“Let’s take the rest of the day to regroup and meet up in the morning.” I hear myself blurt out. Shiloh glances over at me from the corner of her eye.
“Sounds good,” she says. “But you’ll need to come to us, because of Duke, if he’s still…”
“Of course,” I answer and Will takes my hand, squeezing it. I’m still unsure as to which version of Will I know. Which is the truth? Am I holding the bully’s hand or the hand of the boy I’ve come to trust?
I accept the warmth. The closeness. But eventually I let go.
When my Lion family fled our home, they found shelter within the cove of another cave-tree. It isn’t nearly as grand as the original, but it’s shelter and they brought most of our belongings and equipment. They left the minute after I’d shown up with the Panthers at their doorstep. Tilly had insisted.
“I kept telling her we needed to stay a few days in case you or Lewis came looking for us.” Will huffs air out his nose. “The bomb hit that night.” He pushes the wood around the fire with his spear. “That ‘gut feeling’ of hers was always right.” Will does his airy laugh, but it’s heavy wi
th sadness, regret.
We’re all there, gathered around a fire—together, but not truly—each of us lost in our own emotions and thoughts. Jude comically, yet sweetly, attempts taming Bug’s hair for the night like he’s grasping for a distraction while Charlie keeps pulling Bug’s attention—and head—away in a game of tic-tac-toe on the sandy floor.
It’s as if nothing’s changed. But everything has. The grand cave-tree is gone. Our Tilly is gone. Will isn’t the same person I thought he was.
How is it life does this? Right when you get comfortable with one thing, everything sweeps out from under you. You move across the country. Walk through a corn maze onto an island. A friend dies.
Life is brutal. A total asshole, like the sheep.
I miss Tawny. And Lucky. My parents. Sweet Tilly…
But I can’t do this. Not now. I have a war to mend. An island to beat. It feels like an outrageously tall order—like I’m at the bottom of that craggy mountain again, staring up at it. God, how it towers over me. Just as tears collect in my eyes and my throat tightens, Will takes my hand.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
I sniff the tears back, clear my head, and nod.
Will leads me outside. It’s a beautiful night, the moon close to the full circle it was when I arrived.
He sits on the ground against a tree. I stand in front of him, arms crossed. He pats the ground next to him and stares up at me with what I can only compare to Lucky’s heart-shattering puppy-dog eyes.
Be strong, Olive.
I sit but keep my emotions on lock-down. Because I don’t know this Will person, do I?
“I should have been honest—with everyone…” He breathes deeply. “But especially you.”
I don’t respond. Just stare. Waiting. Staying strong. Hoping there’s more.
Will leans back against the tree. “I didn’t know any different. It doesn’t excuse or justify what I did, but it’s the truth. My mother was young when she had me, and my father was one of a long line of men she’d been with. She couldn’t handle her own life, much less a baby added to it. She left me with my grandmother one afternoon and never came back. My grandmother was a saint and did the best she could until she got sick. My grandfather had died years before.”
There’s truth and sadness to his words, but also a steely strength like he can’t quite tear down that wall.
“Then I went to a great aunt who never wanted me. I stayed with her until I was thirteen and started getting into trouble. She shipped me off to her son, my uncle, in Dallas. He tried to beat me into obedience, but that only made me more rebellious. Angrier. Hateful and spiteful.
“One evening, he took me out for a long drive and a soda, then dropped me off on the doorstep of a children’s home in Hillings. They were expecting me.” His voice breaks from emotion. The first crack I’ve seen in that great iron barrier of his. I want to hear the rest, but also, I don’t.
“Will, you don’t have to—”
“No, I do. I owe it to you. To them.” He motions to the cave-tree. “I owe you all so much more. More than I can ever give.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “From the children’s home, I was shuffled from family to family. No one wanted me. No one could handle me. I don’t blame them. I didn’t want to be around myself.” He stares up into the tree, thinking God knows what. “Pretty soon, I didn’t care if anyone wanted me, and I started taking it out on Duke—David. A couple of guys used to tease him and before I knew it, I’d become the ring-leader, upping the ante each time. Poor kid never knew what hit him.” He sighs and digs his fingers into the ground. “I was a monster. A torn-up, sad, mean, punk of a kid.”
Will peers over at me with that green eye. It’s filled with tears. The steel melting one drop at a time. “I’m not that kid anymore.” A tear falls. It’s silver in the moonlight. “Coming here? It was a blessing and a curse for me. Those first few years I spent here alone after losing my eye? They were hell and I deserved every minute of it. I found myself during that time, Olive.” He looks at me. “I know it sounds stupid, but there’s no other way to explain it. I settled my demons. I forgave my mother and father. My grandmother for dying. My uncle for abandoning me when I needed someone most.” He sighs, gazes up at the stars, then back at me. “This island gave me new life. I got to start over here. I got to do better. Take care of people. Be good.” He glances away into the forest. “All I ever wanted was to be good, to be loved. I just didn’t know how.”
What was once an iron fortress now has a tiny space carved out of it. And it’s just big enough for me to squeeze through. I put my hand on his. Will laces his fingers in mine, then speaks to our hands. “Funny… David and I—we aren’t so different after all. We both found ourselves on this island—found something to believe in. I hope I get the chance to tell him. I’d roam this island forever, making it up to him, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He wipes his cheek with the backside of his hand. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or trust me again, but I needed you to know.”
Both our heads are down, staring at our hands. He’s rubbing his thumb over mine, and I wonder if his vision is as blurred as mine. If our hands appear as one fleshy blob to him, too.
I squeeze, then let go and stand up. I walk away. Will doesn’t say a word or move.
I’m not sure how long I walk or where I go, but at some point, it hits me and I see how connected we all are. Will, Duke, me, the Trio. God, like this island, it is so much bigger than us. We’re just kids tripping our way through a really screwed-up world.
I find myself walking back up to where I left Will, but he’s not there. He’s coming out of the cave-tree, hands terrorizing his hair.
I stop.
He strides right up to me.
“I talked to them, told them everything,” Will says, voice straining to get the words out.
“And?”
“And, it went better than I thought it would. Trust has definitely been broken, but I’m so lucky. I don’t know how I found such amazing, forgiving people. I don’t deserve it. None of it.”
“Yes, you do. Everyone does.”
He glances away, pain in his face.
“Will?”
He nods.
“I’m so sorry.”
He whips his head back around to me, face wrecked with emotion, brow furrowed. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Don’t you see?” I crouch to the ground, pulling him down with me. Knees to knees, we stare at one another. “You’re a result of your situation, just like Duke was a result of the bullying. Just like we’re all products of this cruel island.”
Will reaches across and smooths the shaved side of my hair. “Products…” His voice is low, quiet.
“Yeah. It sucks,” I say, a small, airy, Will-like laugh escaping me.
“It does suck.” He smiles his crooked smile and puts his hand to my chin, urging my face toward his.
“But, the beauty is, we can change. I truly believe we can turn this all around. Make things right.” His stare burns into me, part doubt, part intrigue. “Charlie went from a terrified kid to a fighter. Bug, a little girl who didn’t speak a word of English to a precocious chatterbox. Tilly, running from bombs to heroically facing one head-on.”
“And David went from a poor, frightened kid to a warmongering ‘king,’” Will says, expression heavy with hopelessness.
“Yeah, well, he still has time. You changed.”
“I did.” He shakes his head like he still doesn’t believe it. “And what of Olive Gagmuehler?” He turns the tables.
I glance away because it’s my name. That name. “What of Olive Gagmuehler?” I repeat him, the dreaded two words sneaking out in a whisper, knot lodged in my throat, stomach squeezed into a tight ball.
“The girl who ran from her life through a maze, then stumbled onto an island, and into a pig trap. Olive Gagmuehler, who never smiles a real smile.”
My eyes dart to his like I’ve been caught.
“She’s cha
nged,” Will says.
“I suppose she has.”
“Suppose? She definitely has. Her hair’s grown out—you can hardly tell it was ever shaved. She’s defended herself and her friends. She climbed a mountain. Kept a sick boy alive. Managed to get six strangers to fall in love with her. She’s somehow brought two groups of kids who were set to blow each other up just yesterday, together. And that smile? I swear I’ve seen glimpses of it.” He traces my lips with his finger.
My stomach stretches out of its ball and squirms up into my ribs. I blush. Thank God it’s dark.
“You’re well on your way, Olive Gagmuehler.” Will takes my other hand and pulls me in, resting his forehead against mine. Those emotions I had on lock-down break free and I place my hands on the sides of his face, running my fingers across his jaw, down his neck. His nose brushes against mine, my eyelashes graze his eye patch, and our lips touch.
This kiss is different.
It’s truth. No secrets. No expectations. It’s pure and honest and warm and beautiful.
We lie back on the ground, Will on his back, me facing him. I stare at him, noticing how his eye color is more metallic in the moonlight. He plays with my hair. We kiss some more. I put my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, thinking on his silver-green moonlit eye.
“The moon is almost where it was when I showed up here that night—however long ago,” I admit.
“Twenty-eight days.”
I smile. It’s almost real.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Egg Hunt
The next morning, I’m up before the sun, determined to take on Tilly’s duties. First order of business? Breakfast.
I leave a quiet, warm, and sleepy cave-tree to find the dawning day is cool, the sun just rising over the horizon. Now knowing what is safe to eat and what isn’t, it’s no trouble collecting roots and fruit. But I’d love to make something special. If I could only find a wild chicken. What I wouldn’t do for scrambled eggs. They’d all go wild over it.
I look toward the budding sun and decide I’ve got some extra time to search. I’ve seen chickens before, but they’re surprisingly quick and total jerks if you try picking them up. Eggs, though… Tilly had managed to snag some from time to time.
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