Lost At Sea (Sweet Valley High Book 56)

by Francine Pascal

  With a frustrated bellow, the bear spun around on its paws and lumbered off into the trees in the opposite direction.

  "C'mon, Egbert, let's get out of here!" Jessica shouted. But Winston still didn't move. He was shaking like a leaf, his eyes as wide as saucers.

  Jessica grabbed his arm and gave it a tug. Winston stumbled forward, in a daze. Taking Winston's hand and holding it tightly in hers, Jessica led the way in an out-and-out sprint down the hillside.

  The rainstorm rattled the palm-leaf walls of the shelter, but inside it had stayed warm and dry so far, Jessica had collapsed on the makeshift sofa on her side of the vine curtain and was now wringing the water out of her dripping hair. Winston, in the meantime, had slunk into his own side without saying a word to Jessica.

  Once she had caught her breath and gotten over the shock of encountering the bear, Jessica began to feel hungry again. The rain was still falling steadily; it could last for hours. One thing was for sure, she couldn't get any wetter. She might as well make another trip to the orange grove. A few oranges would tide her over for a while at least, she decided.

  "Hey, Winston!" she called. There was no answer. Jessica peered through the vines. She could see Winston, sitting with his back to her and his shoulders slumped forward dejectedly.

  "Winston, do you want to walk with me to the orange trees and get a snack?" She tried to make a joke, hoping to lift his spirits. "I hear they're having a rainy-day special—all you can eat for free!"

  He still didn't answer. If anything, Winston's shoulders had slumped down even further. It was as if he were trying to sink right into the sand and disappear.

  Then it struck Jessica: Winston was probably still scared. He was afraid to go back into the woods and run into another bear!

  For a few seconds Jessica fought to stifle a giggle. Some he-man! she thought, recalling how Winston's bravado had vanished in the face of the bear. Then the urge to laugh passed, and Jessica felt guilty. She had been as frightened as Winston, only she'd had the presence of mind to get out of there. And Winston had been so sweet and thoughtful all day. He had shared his food with her that morning, even though she had acted like a snob.

  The least I can do is share something with him, she decided.

  Jessica got to her feet. "Winston, I'm going out anyway. I don't mind the rain. I'll bring you back some oranges."

  "I don't want any," Winston grunted, still not looking in her direction.

  "But you've got to be starving," Jessica argued. "Seriously, it's no problem. I can use a palm leaf to carry them and bring back a whole bunch."

  "I can't take anything from you," Winston said in a low, mournful voice. He heaved a big sigh. "I don't deserve anything. I dropped all our food and firewood and your shirt. I ran away from the bear. I'm a failure."

  "Winston!" Jessica exclaimed. She barged through the vines into his half of the shelter. "Don't be an idiot!"

  "Well it's true, isn't it?" Winston faced Jessica, an embarrassed expression on his face. "I acted like a big coward. I'm a failure," he repeated.

  Jessica shook her head vigorously, her wet hair swinging. "I can't believe you!" She sat down on the palm fronds next to Winston and gave his arm a shake. "Just because you made one mistake—and, believe me, I wasn't exactly running up to give that bear a hug myself!—that doesn't mean you're a failure."

  "It doesn't?" Winston sounded as if he would like to be convinced.

  "No way. You know perfectly well that if it hadn't been for you, I'd be sitting out there in the rain waiting for the rescuers." She flashed Winston a teasing smile. "I might still have the shirt that you dropped over the cliff, but that's about all I'd have! Without you, I wouldn't have known the first thing to do."

  "You really mean that?" Winston mumbled.

  "Do I ever," Jessica said sincerely. "I'd be hungry, wet, lonely, and scared. You took charge, and we got something done. I really admire that."

  Winston sat up a little straighter. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it self-consciously. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." Now that Jessica knew Winston was feeling better about himself, she couldn't resist kidding him a little bit. "But, Winston, you should have seen your face up on the hill just now!" She doubled over, unable to suppress her pent-up laughter any longer. "You looked like an extra in The Night of the Living Dead!"

  Winston didn't laugh along with her. Instead, he looked hurt. Jessica stopped giggling and gently put a hand on Winston's arm. "Sorry, Winston. I didn't mean that. I was just trying to be funny. I guess I should leave that department to you, huh?"

  Winston cracked a weak smile. "I guess so."

  They sat for a few minutes in silence, listening to the patter of raindrops on the roof. Then Winston cleared his throat. "Um, thanks, Jessica," he said, somewhat shyly. "Thanks for cheering me up."

  "Hey, it was nothing." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "And besides, I meant every word I said. I do admire you."

  Winston shook his head with a disbelieving smile. "You know, if anyone had ever told me I'd hear Jessica Wakefield say something like that to me, I'd have thought they were crazy!"

  Jessica laughed. "Am I all that bad?" she asked.

  "Well . . ." Winston hesitated. "I've got to admit, I always thought you were sort of, well, uh, a little bit of a snob."

  Jessica raised one eyebrow and gave Winston a furious look. But she knew she couldn't really get mad at him. It might sting a little, but he was telling the truth. "Well," she said, deciding that if it was time for true confessions, she could at least get a lick in, "I always thought you were a complete goon!"

  Winston chuckled. "You've got me there," he confessed. "I'm guilty as charged. But, you know, it's not always a barrel of laughs being the class clown." Jessica groaned at the joke, but Winston continued. "I mean, it's like any label, I guess. I'm the class clown so I always have to do something funny. I have a reputation to live up to, you know? And sometimes I know I go overboard with it." Winston looked to Jessica for confirmation. "Like yesterday, on the field trip. I was driving you crazy playing pranks on you, wasn't I?"

  Jessica nodded. "But now that I think about it, I was mostly annoyed because you kept getting in my way when I was trying to flirt with Ken," she admitted. "If it hadn't been for that, maybe I'd have had a better sense of humor about it!" She twisted a strand of damp hair around her index finger. "Well, I guess we've learned something about each other, huh?"

  "You bet." Winston leaned back against the rocks, his hands deep in his pockets. Neither of them spoke, but Jessica knew his thoughts were running along the same lines as hers. She had found out that Winston had a strong side as well as a silly one. Maybe he had panicked at the sight of the bear, but he was still generous, responsible, and forgiving. She could tell that he had come to appreciate her, too. And she had a feeling that when—or was it if?—they returned to Sweet Valley High, their relationship would never be quite the same.

  Without a word, Winston slipped his arm around Jessica's slender shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. Side by side, they settled back on the palm leaves to wait out the storm.

  Eleven

  The rain stopped just before sunset, not a moment too soon for Jessica. She and Winston had played every game they could think of: twenty questions, truth or dare, charades. Truth or dare had led to an in-depth conversation about the social life at Sweet Valley High, which in turn had led to an onset of major-league moping by Winston, who missed his girlfriend, Maria.

  "What if we're never rescued?" Winston moaned. "Maria will find someone else. I always knew she was too good for a geek like me. I always knew it was just a matter of time before some huge, handsome football player came along and stole her right out from under my nose."

  "Oh, shut up, Winston." Jessica was feeling less than sympathetic. Her newfound affection for Winston was already eroding as his whining continued. In truth, Jessica was mostly irritated because Winston had started her thinking about her own family and friends. F
or the first time, she felt depressed.

  Jessica and Winston emerged from their shelter to find a calmer ocean and a breathtaking purple, scarlet, and orange sky. After setting up a fishing pole made out of a branch, some string, and a safety pin from the emergency kit, Winston settled down on the beach to construct the world's biggest sand castle. Jessica knew she should make an attempt to rustle up some food as well, but she didn't have the strength. Instead, she wandered lazily along the shore, looking for pretty shells that might have been washed up by the storm.

  The island was unbelievably peaceful. The birds had started singing again, and their music was the only sound to be heard beyond the lapping of the waves and the rustling of the palms in the gentle breeze. Jessica sighed. The air smelled rain-fresh, and the island looked like something out of a cruise ship brochure.

  So how come I feel like crying? Jessica thought as she sat down on a big piece of driftwood at the far end of the beach. She leaned her elbows on her knees, rested her chin in her hands, and stared out at the sea. She had only been a castaway for roughly twenty-four hours, but it felt like months. Sure, she was getting along fine with Winston. Who'd have thought he would turn out to be such a good traveling companion? And she had missed a day of school and her tan was a shade darker than it had been yesterday.

  But they still hadn't been rescued. They hadn't even seen a boat anywhere near the island. And Jessica wasn't looking forward to spending another night there, even though she had a nice dry shelter to sleep in. At the moment what she wanted more than anything else in the world was to curl up in her very own bed at home.

  Jessica half shut her eyes, squinting at the sinking sun. What if she was stuck there forever? What if, despite what Winston said, the island was uncharted and the rescuers never found it? Jessica pictured herself twenty years from now, still dressed in the same ragged bandeau and pair of shorts, with snarled hair down to her feet. How was she supposed to shave her legs and brush her teeth? She imagined growing old with Winston, who would look like Rip Van Winkle after twenty years of solitude, his beard reaching all the way to his knobby knees. "Ugh!" Jessica exclaimed out loud, wrinkling her nose in disgust. What a fate!

  She would never see her family again. Elizabeth and Steven would grow up and leave home. Steven would marry Cara, and Elizabeth would marry Jeffrey. And Jessica, simply by virtue of being a castaway, would be deprived of her right to be maid of honor at both ceremonies. Ken Matthews would date some other girl, forgetting Jessica Wakefield ever existed. She would never get to be a senior at Sweet Valley High—she'd miss all the fun of graduation!

  All of a sudden Jessica missed her family and friends so much, it hurt. Lila, Cara, Amy . . . At that moment she even would have been glad to see Enid Rollins, her twin's best friend.

  "I'll never shop at the Valley Mall again," Jessica wailed to herself. "All the new European fashions will come in at Lisette's, and I won't be there to buy them! I'll be wearing palm leaves while Lila wears the latest Italian leather outfits. It's not fair!"

  Jessica sniffled, enjoying the new activity of feeling sorry for herself. I'll never get to dance with Ken Matthews or anyone else at the Beach Disco again as long as I live. No more greasy fries and double-chocolate shakes at the Dairi Burger. Some other girl will take over as co-captain of the cheerleaders and change all the great cheers I made up. I won't get invited to the next bash Lila throws at Fowler Crest. Since I'm not there to share it, Liz'll have the car all to herself and Mom and Dad will probably give her my bedroom, too. They'll spoil her to death—they'll probably double her allowance!

  This last was too much for Jessica. A tear of self-pity squeezed out of one eye and rolled slowly down her cheek. She had to face the horrible truth: The best years of her life were going to be wasted on an island in the middle of nowhere with Winston Egbert!

  Feeling tragic and deprived, Jessica picked a twig off the sand and ran it through her hair like a comb. At that moment she felt as if she'd be willing to do just about anything if it would guarantee her an immediate airlift off the island. If she was rescued, she was convinced she would be a changed person. "I'll be nicer if I get rescued, I promise," she said out loud, as if taking a vow. "I'll develop the other side of me that Winston's been talking about." Jessica figured she had already gotten a head start on being nicer. She had become friends with Winston, after all. She was proud of that achievement. It sure wouldn't have happened if they hadn't been shipwrecked together.

  She continued bargaining. "I'll make my bed every day and keep my room clean. I'll offer to do the dinner dishes more often, instead of always leaving them for Liz. I'll get a part-time job and start saving up money for college so Mom and Dad won't have to foot the whole bill. I'll—"

  Jessica's plans were interrupted by a whirring sound in the distance. She stood up and stared out to sea, straining her eyes. A black dot appeared in the sky and grew larger. It was a helicopter, heading right toward the island!

  "Winston, look!" Jessica squealed, springing down the beach and waving her arms. "It's a helicopter! It's the rescuers. We've got to signal them!"

  Winston abandoned his sand castle with a triumphant whoop. "Yahoo!" he hollered, jumping up and down. "This way, Mr. Chopper! Come and get us!"

  As the helicopter approached the island it dropped ever lower. Jessica and Winston were both screaming at the top of their lungs and doing every sort of attention-getting acrobatic maneuver they could think of. Now they could see the lettering on the side of the helicopter—U.S. Coast Guard—and the pilot could clearly see them. He waved a hand, and Jessica waved back.

  Hey, he looks sort of cute, she thought for a second. But she wouldn't have cared if Dr. Frankenstein's monster were flying the helicopter. Only one thing mattered: She was rescued!

  Twelve

  "Here we are, folks!" the pilot announced as the helicopter touched down on the landing strip at the Coast Guard station. "You're home."

  Jessica had borrowed a comb from the cute pilot to work on her hair so she wouldn't be totally hideous when she arrived on the mainland. She wanted to look like a castaway, sure, but a glamorous castaway.

  Now she was extra glad she had gone to the trouble of fixing her hair. Winston, who was sitting behind her in the helicopter, grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. "Jess, look!" he yelped with excitement. "There are about a hundred reporters out there waiting to hear our story!"

  Jessica peered through the thick glass window. Sure enough, several men and women carrying news cameras and microphones were gathered on the runway, braving the wind created by the helicopter's propeller in order to be on hand when Jessica and Winston arrived. The pilot had radioed ahead to say he'd found the two missing teenagers.

  Jessica felt a thrill of pleasure. She and Winston were heroes! Their pictures were going to be plastered on the front page of every newspaper around! They'd probably be the top story on the evening news! Then the invitations to appear on talk shows would roll in. She would be interviewed by Oprah Winfrey, Barbara Walters, maybe even the 60 Minutes team.

  "Maybe we should get lost at sea every week, Winston!" Jessica suggested, winking at him.

  Two Coast Guard officers had crossed the runway to meet the newly arrived helicopter. "I'm dropping you off here," the pilot explained. "That pair will protect you from the reporters, and your families should be here any minute now."

  Winston gave the pilot a brisk salute. "Thank you very much for rescuing us, sir," he said formally.

  Jessica leaned forward and kissed the pilot on the cheek. "Thanks a million," she echoed, batting her eyelashes admiringly. "They should give you a medal or something. I'll never forget this."

  The pilot grinned. "Ditto. So long, kids!"

  The helicopter door swung open, and hands reached up to help Jessica and Winston step out. Bending over at the waist, Jessica scurried with the others out of range of the helicopter's propeller. She felt like she was in a movie, or a TV show at least.

  The reporters
didn't waste a moment. They started calling out questions as soon as Jessica and Winston straightened up. "How did you manage to get to the island without a lifeboat?" "Do you realize Outermost Island is the farthest piece of land from the coast and that beyond it is the open ocean?" "What did you do for food and shelter?" "Did you expect to be rescued?"

  Jessica waved a hand imperiously. "One question at a time, please," she requested with the air of someone who gave interviews every day of her life.

  "How did you make it to Outermost Island after your lifeboat capsized?" asked a tall man whose microphone read WSCN.

  The question was addressed to Jessica and Winston both, but Jessica didn't give Winston a chance to open his mouth. "Well, it wasn't easy, let me tell you!" she informed the audience. She tossed her hair dramatically over one tanned shoulder. "First of all, I was completely thrown from the lifeboat with no chance to get back in it. Then my life jacket was ripped right off my body not long afterward. The waves were at least twenty feet high!"

  There were oohs and ahs of interest and amazement. Jessica had to restrain herself from purring with satisfaction. "What did you do? Were you scared? Did you think you would drown?" one woman called out.

  "Not for a minute," Jessica declared. "Although the waves were incredibly treacherous and I knew I was miles from anywhere, I also knew I was a pretty good swimmer. So I just started swimming."

  "How long would you estimate it took you to swim to Outermost Island?" the first reporter pressed her.

  "Oh, hours." It had seemed like hours, Jessica thought, feeling justified in her exaggeration. "I swam every stroke I could think of—crawl, side, breast, you name it. I alternated to preserve my strength. At one point I thought I saw a school of sharks!" That was an outright lie, but it was worth it to hear the reporters gasp. "Fortunately I spotted land just then," Jessica added, relieving their suspense. "I crawled up onto the beach just as the sharks were closing in."