They all fell silent as I stepped across the threshold. One was a youngish, darker-skinned man, another a youngish woman with a cool, natural Afro, and a third an older woman with lighter skin, colorful beads in her braids, and wearing an oversize T-shirt I swore I’d seen on sale at the Gap. They sat on folding chairs around a small register. A radio tinkled between them, playing, of all things, Britney Spears. I’d been expecting Bob Marley, but now I realized (wincing internally) that of course Mylans would listen to any music genre, just like Americans did.
The man half rose from his chair, looking me over. “You need some water?”
I offered a wobbly smile. “H-how’d you guess?”
That got some chuckles. Then the woman said, “Fridge in the back. It’s not ice cold, but—”
“I don’t mind,” I interrupted. “Water is water.”
The man grinned. “I like your attitude.”
The door chimes rang behind me, and a few more people walked in. They were most definitely from the Solstice Festival, too. A few wore Birkenstocks and Lululemon gear. Others had quilted Chanel purses looped over their shoulders and eyelash extensions. A tanned, muscled guy didn’t bother wearing a shirt. The locals gave them friendly-enough smiles, but I noticed they didn’t continue with their conversation.
A girl in a bikini wrinkled her nose at a bunch of bananas on the shelf where I was standing. “Why are they so weird looking?” she whispered to her friends.
“Um?” I said carefully. “They’re actually not bananas. They’re plantains. They’re really good fried.” My mother always bought a bunch when we managed to make it over to the grocery a few miles from our house. (And I absolutely loved the bags of plantain chips you could sometimes find at a bodega, if you searched hard enough.)
The girl blinked hard as though I’d spoken in Swedish. Then she turned away, giggling, and wafted to another part of the store.
I could feel the Mylans at the register watching me as I shuffled toward the fridge cases and extracted several bottles of Poland Spring, downing nearly a whole one right there on the spot. I reached back in to grab a few for Elena, then put it back. Let her get her own.
I couldn’t believe she’d tricked me. It was clear she’d known about Steve for a while … but hadn’t mentioned it to me because she knew I wouldn’t have come if I’d known he was going, too. But what about all that stuff she’d told me about badly wanting me to come? Was that true, or did she want me along because I was her responsible friend … and that was the only way her dad would buy the tickets?
Did she even realize how much I’d put at risk to come? Maybe not. Maybe she wasn’t thinking about me at all.
Melancholy overwhelmed me, coupled with an intense jolt of homesickness. I plopped my bottle of water on the checkout counter, but then Plantain Girl cut in front of me, piling water, sodas, candy, and other random snacks next to the register. “Do you have Wi-Fi service?” she demanded of the shopkeepers.
The woman with the Afro shook her head as she started punching in the prices for the girl’s stuff. “Sorry, no.”
“But you know what Wi-Fi is, right?” the girl pressed. “Internet service? Cell phones? Do you have that, in this country?”
Her buddy nudged her and said, sotto voce, “Piper, they probably don’t. They probably, like, ride goats to work.”
My mouth dropped open. Goats to work?
The woman at the register scanned the girl’s items as if she hadn’t heard a word they’d said. “Twenty-two fifty,” she said. The girl passed her American dollars; the woman gave her change in what I presumed was Mylan currency. Plantain Girl looked at it like it was Monopoly money. “What the hell is this?”
When they left, I shot the woman a mortified smile. “I-I’m so sorry about them.”
“They friends of yours?” the woman asked.
“No! Of course not! They were so rude, and…”
“Barrier Reef one oh one,” the man murmured, cutting me off.
“What?” I asked.
“Of course we have Wi-Fi.” The man rolled his eyes. “The password is starfish five five one four. Please don’t pass it around, okay?”
“I … thank you,” I said, flattered that he had deemed me trustworthy—and nothing like Plantain Girl.
The older lady in the oversize T-shirt eyed me pityingly. “Poor dear, coming all the way here for this sham of a music festival. I hope you didn’t spend your life’s savings.”
I looked up in surprise. “What do you mean ‘sham’?”
She smiled cryptically. The younger woman eyed her with warning, as if to say, Let it go. She waved her hand. “I’ll just say this. They made it out like you were coming to the Four Seasons. When in fact, what they’ve built for you is more like…” She glanced at the others, looking for a comparison.
“A roach motel?”
She smiled. “Something like that.”
Then, after a beat, she dropped a can of bug spray into my plastic bag. “You’re going to need this in your tent tonight. They’re not kidding about the biting flies.”
“Thanks,” I said. Then I held up my phone, which I’d unearthed from my pocket. “And thanks for the Wi-Fi password, too.”
In the doorway, I uncapped the second water bottle and drained its contents practically in one swallow. Then I tapped the Wi-Fi icon on my phone. Sure enough, the Barrier Reef router appeared as the only available connection. Making sure no one was looking over my shoulder, I typed in the password. I was astounded when the little triangle in the corner lit up with a signal. I had a feeling it would take my phone a while to download all my messages—I dreaded what I’d be getting from my parents—but I didn’t want to wait. I dashed off a quick text to them saying I was in Myla and perfectly fine. Then I wrote to Hayden. Got here. A little different than I expected, but I’ll deal. Elena screwed me, though. And met Zack Frazier … but not quite impressed. Miss you!
I sent it off before I could second-guess the miss you. Too much too soon? Suddenly I felt someone looming over me. It was Plantain Girl. “Are you using your phone?” she brayed. “Do you have Wi-Fi? Is there a signal?”
A few more heads popped up. All at once, I felt like a crust of bread on the beach, at the mercy of a flock of hungry seagulls above. I didn’t want to betray the storeowner’s trust, so I dropped my phone back in my pocket. “Nah, just looking at photos. No signal anywhere.”
The girl scowled, then slumped away. I was dying to pull out my phone again and read the texts that had come in … but there was just no way. Besides, I felt a little guilty not sharing. What if someone here had an emergency and needed to reach the outside world?
At the edge of the festival site, a few guys in Solstice board shorts were hauling something out of a truck that must have appeared while I was in the shop. I squinted hard. They were unloading what looked like tents.
“They’re military huts, in case you’re wondering.”
I turned and saw a fit, ruddy-cheeked guy with dark, shiny hair, and keen, intelligent eyes wearing a red shirt that read EVEREST on the front. Like me, he held a bottle of water and bug spray from the shop. “So not tents, exactly,” he went on, “but not four-star hotel rooms, either.” He twisted his mouth. “And believe it or not, those are the suites that cost more.”
“Hmm,” I said. “A lot of people are going to be disappointed.”
“Not me.” He shrugged. “I’m used to camping out.”
“Me too,” I admitted. “I think it’s kind of peaceful to sleep outdoors, actually.”
“Same.” He extended his hand. “Eric Jedry.”
“Adri Sanchez,” I said, smiling.
“I’m from Maryland. You?”
“Atlanta.” My eyes flicked to the tents again. Was it me, or did they look sort of flimsy? And how could there possibly be enough of them to accommodate everyone?
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Eric said, as though reading my mind. “A lot of festivals like this come together at the la
st minute. And hey, even if it’s not what it was advertised as, this island still rocks.”
I looked around. “It is beautiful here.”
“Right? There are some pretty cool places to rock-climb around here—I’m into that sort of thing. I’ve heard the beaches are awesome, too—though a lot of them tough to get to. That one nearest us? It’s got a killer rip tide.”
I nodded. That explained why no one was swimming, anyway.
“Or maybe you’re here for the music?” He eyed the Lavender T-shirt I was wearing. “Not every band is going to cancel.” He arched his back and looked at the sky, which was a brilliant, cloudless blue. “Now that we’re here, we just have to make the best of it, you know?”
I downed the rest of my water and wiped my mouth. I liked Eric’s attitude. We were on a tropical island full of mystery and wonder. We could make this a miserable three days, or we could make it an adventure. And suddenly I realized how to tailor it to be my kind of adventure.
Eric tossed his bottle into a large trash barrel. “You want to do some rock climbing this afternoon? Nobody from my group is interested, but you’d be in good hands. And I’m not drunk—I promise.”
I laughed. “I can tell you’re not.” He wasn’t slurring his words. Then I gazed back at some of the people wandering out of the shop; one girl was walking in big, crooked steps. Someone else was throwing up into a bush, her friend holding back her hair. A couple of brilliant-colored birds skittered away to avoid her projectile puke. “Thanks anyway,” I added. “It sounds fun, but I have something else I want to do.”
Eric nodded, looking a little disappointed. “I’m going to head out, then.” He peeled off his red T-shirt and tucked it into the waistband of his shorts. On his muscled back was a small tattoo of a mountain peak. “See ya around, Adri. Maybe on Lavender’s boat, huh?”
“I hope so,” I said … though not quite as certain as I’d been before. In fact, I wasn’t even sure Lavender’s boat was here.
But I wanted to find out. That was what I was going to do with my time on this island: not get drunk, not watch Elena and Steve grope each other, and not panic like everyone else because Solstice was a hot mess and no one was getting the five-star treatment they’d expected. I was going to do some reporting. I was going to figure out what was real about this festival—and what wasn’t—and turn it into a story.
* * *
I don’t know if it was because there was no cell service (that they knew of) and people weren’t afraid of me leaking anything, or if they were as bewildered as I was and just wanted to share their concerns, but it wasn’t hard to round up people in Solstice gear to get their take on the situation. I didn’t tell anyone I was low-key reporting on this; I was afraid they’d run for the hills. Just that I was a curious, sober, non-whiny member of the crowd.
Adam, a short, muscular guy, explained that the festival was stashing everyone’s bags in the trailers because they wanted to keep them dry in case a storm came. “Oh, that’s cool,” I said brightly. “What do you have planned for the people if it storms?”
Adam just shrugged. “Everyone should have brought ponchos, boots. It’s hurricane season.”
I thought of the list of items the Solstice website had told us to bring. There was a vague mention of perhaps considering an umbrella, but certainly not head-to-toe rain gear. Then again, maybe we all should have read up on the island’s climate. Adam added, “It rained at your Woodstock concert in 1969, and you people can’t stop talking about how great that was.”
I stared at him evenly. “So true! But also? Woodstock was free.”
Faith, a small, muscular girl with a Simone Biles vibe about her, had a walkie-talkie on her belt that wouldn’t stop blaring. I tried to ask her some general questions—was she from this island? Had she lived here all her life? She was terse with me, but I persisted and finally wore her down. “We will be getting more porta-potties in by six p.m. tonight,” she reported about the bathroom situation.
“Oh, great!” I cried. “And … how about better bathrooms? Like, ones with real plumbing and soap?” I prayed my phone, which was lodged in my pocket, was picking up my voice.
“And what about the ecological footprint this concert is making on the grounds?” I asked next, after Faith had mumbled a nonanswer about the bathrooms. “How are you planning to deal with the mess everyone leaves behind once they leave? All the extra boat fuel in the water? Any plant or habitat damage from hikers and campers?”
Faith frowned. “I don’t handle that stuff. Also, who are you again?”
And then there was Stuart, a bulky guy with a shaved head who looked like he’d just gotten out of the military. I found him by the food trunk, unpacking boxes marked with a popular food-distribution logo. “What’s in those boxes?” I asked.
“Food.” He opened the box and showed me bags of Doritos, packages of Oreos, and plastic-wrapped cheese sandwiches.
I took a picture of the contents. “This is all awesome, but the website said there was going to be sushi—which, totally fine if there isn’t. But my friend can’t eat dairy. You’ll have something for her, right?”
“Talk to the boss,” Stuart said cheerfully. “I just unload it.”
Just then someone pushed through the crowd and put his hand on Stuart’s arm. “What’s going on, Stuart?” The guy was tall, had a square jaw, expressive eyebrows, warm brown skin, and sharp, dark eyes. I guessed he was probably in his early twenties. He’d be cute, I thought, if he weren’t so damn angry. Something about him screamed that he was in charge.
“Oh, hey, Paul.” Stuart suddenly looked nervous. “Just … you know…”
But Paul was glaring—at me. “I’ve seen you around, asking a lot of questions, keeping the staff from doing their jobs. Can you tone it down?”
“Are you the boss?” I asked brightly, avoiding his question.
“I’m the local team leader.” Paul’s frown deepened. “Trying to keep all of you guys safe and happy. But if you keep interrupting my staff, they can’t get work done.”
“I’m just curious,” I said. I gestured around the site. “Is there security here? Clean drinking water? Do you have medical facilities?”
“That’s what you’ve been asking my people?” Paul looked offended. “If their island is civilized? Most of the people on my team are from Myla, you know. They’re island people, born and bred—and proud of this place.” He gritted his teeth like he wanted to say more, but then just mumbled under his breath, “Rich kids.”
I blinked. “I-I’m not a rich kid!” I empathized with this guy. I’d been in shoes like his before. At the diner, I grumbled under my breath about the spoiled private school and college students who expected things to be handed to them, who never said thank you, who complained because their pancakes had a little bit too much powdered sugar and they were going to exceed their calorie count for the day.
At the same time, I wasn’t going to let him dodge my questions. I placed my hands on my hips and eyed Paul. “I never meant to insult your island. I’m sorry. It’s beautiful here. The Mylans I’ve met are lovely. What I’m asking about, instead, is this festival. The ads for this state that this is supposed to be a resortlike experience. Just because most people here had enough money to make this trip doesn’t mean Zack Frazier has free rein to trick them.”
At Zack Frazier’s name, Paul’s eyebrows shot up. But then his expression snapped back to annoyance. “I don’t have time for this.” He turned and stomped away.
A whistle blew, and I stared into the crowd. Someone let out a drunken cheer. The line for the food truck was so long that Solstice workers were handing out wrapped sandwiches to the people at the end. People wrinkled their noses, but they had to be hungry, because they pawed at the Reynolds Wrap and ate the things in only a few bites.
When I searched the sky, I was surprised to see that the sun was low in the trees. When had that happened? Soon enough, we’d all need a place to sleep. Where were the tents? Where was the
organization? I was certain it wasn’t this island’s fault. It was the person running this circus. Zack Frazier.
“Adri? Adri!”
Elena emerged from a crowd playing beer pong. She’d taken off her jacket and tied it around her waist, and I noticed she was no longer dragging her suitcase. “Thank God!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around me. “I was so worried! And with no cell service, I couldn’t call, and…” She looked at me, her eyes big and wide. “Where were you all this time?”
“I…” I felt my anger dissipate. Elena really did look worried. And I certainly had a lot to tell her.
I breathed in, about to get into my hours of reporting, when suddenly Steve appeared behind her and wrapped his arms around Elena in a bear hug. “Gotcha!” he squealed.
“Oh, you!” Elena squirmed and twisted around for a kiss.
I turned away, an oily feeling spreading through me. Elena grabbed my hand. “C’mon, Adri. We need to find shelter—it’s supposed to storm.”
“Where?” I grumbled, shooting daggers at Steve.
Elena grinned excitedly. “Steve pulled some strings for us … and we’re invited onto the yacht where Zack Frazier is staying! Can you believe?”
I rolled my jaw. No. There was no possible way I was getting on a boat with that guy.
Elena seemed to sense my disgust. She grabbed my hand. “Adri, please,” she begged. “I don’t want to go alone.”
I studied her face. She was right. Just because I was pissed at Elena didn’t mean I could send her onto a yacht with a bunch of grown men by herself. Who was to say Steve would watch out for her? Still, I glanced around at the festival site. This was great news for us, but what about everyone else? I felt like a hypocrite. A fraud.
But Steve was already pulling my friend away. Elena glanced back at me, her eyes pleading. Slowly, reluctantly, I followed her.
BREAKING NEWS: Blankface, one of the headliners of the Solstice Festival, pulls out of performing due to “poor performance site conditions.” Is Zack Frazier in too deep?
Solstice Page 7
