Young Writers Society

Laska

"It was one thing to make a mistake; it was another thing to keep making it. I knew what happened when you let yourself get close to someone, when you started to believe they loved you: you'd be disappointed. Depend on someone, and you might as well admit you're going to be crushed, because when you really needed them, they wouldn't be there. Either that, or you'd confide in them and you added to their problems. All you ever really had was yourself, and that sort of sucked if you were less than reliable."

(jodi picoult- h.w.c.)

The trees whispered strange words to me as the echoes of Chris' angry stomping drifted farther and farther away. My cheeks were wet with sorrow and the amount of regret going through me at this moment was almost unbearable.

I shook my head, and allowed a laugh to escape my lips; the one thing I was amazing at was fucking things up.

After everything he'd trusted me with, I threw it away for a handful of berries when I wasn't even that hungry?

"Don' take it for gran'ed, baby," the young girls mother mumbled, her long fingers weaving and pulling at the half-made quadrille spread out in her lap; next months outfit, "this life? 'S a luxury, yeah. Don' get no betta' than this, hunny."

I contemplated going the other way he'd gone; taking a walk, getting lost, doing whatever. But I figured that wouldn't make things better. Just as I was standing up to find another way to camp, a crash came from where Chris had disappeared and I thought that, well, maybe it was an animal and I should keep going but what if it was Chris.

Moving in a quick jog, I followed his footsteps until I came to a clearing. At first, I didn't see anything. My eyes were bleary with tears, and the trees looked like shadows-- but then there he was, on his back with a stick roughly shoved into his side; the side that was finally almost healed.

"Fuck," my lips moved, my feet moved, the world moved; everything was moving except for Chris, and his eyes were closed and there was blood and, fuck, this was my fault, "Chris? Chris, oh my god, I'm so sorry."

He didn't do anything; the only way I knew he was still with me was the heavy rising and falling of his chest.

"-'m fine," he slurred, his face scrunched up in pain, "..'m fine." His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and I pushed it out of his eyes before he, suddenly, reached and grabbed my arm; his grip was weak, "No stitches," he was mumbling, and I didn't know if he knew it, but silent tears crept down his cheeks, "No stitches," and after that, he didn't say anything. His grip went limp, and I didn't even stay long enough to make sure he'd landed safely or anything before I took off in the direction of the camp for help.

************

Eddie carried him back, with a drooling Ezzie-- I didn't know if she even realized she'd been staring at the silent mortar.

I'd been sitting in our little hut for quite awhile, placing rusty cans on top of each other and getting pointlessly annoyed when they fell or moved out of place. I was extremely relieved when Ezra wobbled in, looking tired and, well, pregnant. I climbed off of the surface I'd been sitting on, and threw my arms around her, "Is he okay? Is he fine?"

"I stitched him up," the small girl answered with a grin, though she didn't seem very happy to me-- maybe she wasn't currently in the worst mood, but something was weighing her down. Or bothering her. I couldn't tell.

I frowned at her, remembering the words he'd uttered before he fell to the forest floor, "But I thought-"

She cut me off with a stern, "I know. But what else was I supposed to do? He isn't going to like it, but if he was stupid enough to let himself get hurt like that, he has to face up to the consequences."

Well, she was right. I just didn't want her to be. He'd be even more upset, maybe even with me, when he found out they'd stitched him up. I cast my eyes to my feet, and mumble, "As long as he's fine."

"He's with Eddie, resting. You can go see him, just don't bother him too much."

My head snapped up at that, my lips spreading into a grin and my arms going around her small frame. After half a second, I took off out the door, navigating my way to his cot, which is where they had him resting.

The human-sized building was in front of me within minutes, and someone inside was talking. I stepped forward steadily, straining to hear the words leaking from the front door.

"-diot. First you come here making the shots, destroying the land I've come so used to; now you're laying helpless on a mat because of a damn stick," the voice paused and took a breath; they sounded guilty, sad, concerned. I thought Eddie was with Chris, but the voice was too loud and stern to be him; the only man here was that weird Tarzan guy, "to think I was actually starting to warm up to you."

I slid to the ground to wait it out, since I didn't want to be in there with anyone but Chris.

But I think I'd fallen asleep, because by the time the voices stopped, the sun was barely creating light and I wasn't outside on the ground anymore.

Instead, I was on the floor of a cot; not mine. Voices whispered, and the images I'd seen when I was sleeping floated into my mind.

Clips of me prancing through a field with the wind blowing and my mom chasing behind me with a smile fluttered into my mind.

That night, I dreamt of paradises that I'd never be able to see again. I dreamt of soft words, lullabies and the smell of sweet wood burning under out roof in the fireplace. I dreamt of my brother being born after twelve hours of painful labor.

I dreamt of my mothers screaming when no doctor came to our door and I had to help deliver my sibling. I dreamt of the color of my mothers eyes two years later when she was dying of the Dengue Fever.

I dreamt of Chris and my mom and all the screams that I heard when the plane was crashing and people burning, and-

"You awake?" somebody asked, their words startling me.

I sat up and pulled at my hair, then wiped away imaginary things from my face and offered a pretend yawn and said, "Yep. How'd I get in here?"

"Guess Carlisle carried you in," Eddie shrugged at me, his black curls hiding his eyes. "Did you come to talk to Chris last night?"

I shake my head, then stop and nod once, "Yeah, but I guess someone had beat me to it. So I just laid down."

"On the ground?" Eddie frowned at me, "Why didn't you just go back to Ezzie and wait until today?"

"Actually, I don't know," I laugh, "that would've been a better idea, though."

He nods, as if that were obvious (and it was), then nods his head over to the boy who looked half-conscious on the bed.

I leap up, and rush to his side-- with bad breath and nappy hair. One eye was cracked open, and he looked almost okay. Except, he wasn't, and that was my fault.

"Laska," he mumbled, his eye brows furrowing slightly, "I told you no stitches."

I laugh, though it wasn't a joke, and touch his cheek, "I thought you were a goner."

"Yeah, I-" he paused, and clenched his fist for a few seconds, as if waiting for something to pass, "-I don't give up easy."

"Look," I glanced behind me, and Eddie was gone-- I hadn't heard him leave, but I was glad he did, "I'm really sorry, okay? I really shouldn't have gone out there. It was stupid. I'm sorry-" that I lied to you and now you've got another hole in your side. "I won't do it again. I've gotta stop fucking things up."

I didn't know if he was convinced-- I actually wouldn't be surprised if he doubted me. But I wanted him to, because it was the truth.

"Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes in it yet?"

(l.m.m.)

I woke up to a dull ache pulsing in my stomach. It reverberated in my throat, in a way that sort of made me want to vomit. Jolts of pain came up and surprised me out of nowhere, bolting through my abdomen like a sneak-attack. I tried to count the seconds between them, but I always miscounted. Math was futile; numbers were a foreign language to dumb jocks like me.

Everything seemed warm and fuzzy around the edges; the sun filtered lazily through the window. There was someone sitting across from me, and when I opened my eyes all the way, I recognized Laska's long eyelashes and curls that stuck to her face as she slept. She moaned slightly in her sleep, her face flinching.

I sat up. Too fast. I inhaled sharply, and then peeled the blanket away from me. Blood had clotted and dried around the wound. I rubbed it away and pressed my hand against the upper lip of the gash, trying to find the lower edge. I felt the roughness of thread beneath my fingertips. My fingers halted, and I started to panic, rubbing more excess blood away and searching for the break in the skin, but there wasn't any. They stitched me up. Thoughts ran through my head; pictures of the needle that they must've hooked through my skin. Aw, shit, I thought, feeling a web of nausea spread inside my chest.

Just then, Laska started to move again. Holding my side, I stood up, my head spinning wildly, and ambled over to the end of the cot, sitting on the edge of it to face her. My stomach was roiling, and I was uncomfortable as hell.

Laska woke suddenly, her long eyelashes fluttering open to reveal two pretty eyes. I missed being awake; I missed having my eyes open to look at her. Her cheek creased as she saw me, and I wasn't sure if it was a smile or a grimace.

I tried not to wince. I hated being weak. "Hey there, sweetheart," I said, blinking, and then cringing as a river of pain rushed through my abdomen. I hoped she didn't notice that I was hurting, and then I started thinking about things. My face stopped when I started to smile. Am I supposed to be mad at her? I tried hard to remember.

Girls I'd dated in the past always had great memories. They always seemed to remember every single thing I'd done wrong or right. They remembered the exact day we started dating, and counted the weeks until they could say "anniversary". They counted up all the times that I flirted with waitresses, and measured the minutes until I called them up at night, and when I gave them flowers, there was always a glint of assurance behind their seductive looks that I was sure meant, I'll remember that.

They kept their charts and graphs locked up somewhere until they had a chance to unleash all of their ammunition on me . But they did a lot of counting. And while I never saw their journals and Chris-records, I'm sure they had them, because how else would they be able to remember all of that?

Details were always difficult to keep track of for me; I couldn't even remember my own name half the time (or at least that was what my mom told me).

Laska smiled back, but only a little; she looked bashful, or shameful, or both. I couldn't tell. "Hey," she said softly, and groggily clambered to her knees. I expected her to check my injury and mother me like Ezzie always tried to; I was already bracing myself and tensing up all the muscles in my body for the impact of her hand on my stomach.

But instead she reached up and fixed my hair, caressing my face with her hand. "Sorry," she said to me, trying to look me in the eye but not succeeding much, "I was stupid. I'm so sorry, Chris. It's all my fault that--"

"Nah," I interrupted, "Nah. I musta stepped in a hole or something."

"Well, I'm not claiming I pushed you," she corrected, a smile ghosting across her face, "I just shouldn't have lied to you. If I hadn't lied to you, you woulda been fine because you wouldn't have left in the first place, and then--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, calmly. "It's alright. I mean, I was the clumsy dipshit who went falling all over the place in the jungle. Besides, I'm okay. I'm tough." I tried to flex. "Look at these muscles."

"Okay, but I'm still--"

"No, really," I cut in, "look at them." She looked up, suddenly getting that I'd forgiven her, her eyes getting real big. Then I realized what she was doing; she was giving me the I'm in love with you look. I knew all about it. It was the look Andrea Wells used to give me in Physics class. Her eyes would get all big, like they were one of those photographers who kept backing up to capture the entire shot.

Then I suddenly got to thinking, maybe for the first time: What if I'm in love with her back?

I didn't really know how the whole 'being in love' thing worked. I didn't know how you knew that you were in love, or how you knew that it wasn't just a hoax. I'd dated a lot of girls before. I'd liked them all just the same, save for Robbie Peters. (Robbie Peters was a long story.) They were all pretty and a little quirky, and different in some ways, but the relationships all started and ended the same. A make-out session, a few weeks of clingy girl, and then a simple and clean breakup. Usually followed by a week of girl-drama and love-notes delivered by third parties (or map-making to figure out different routes to classes, and/or various skipped lunch periods for hoop-shooting--depending on who broke up with who. Take your pick).

I liked all of them; I took them to movies and brought them along to school dances and kissed them all a lot. But they always seemed to like me a little more than I liked them. I got called sweet and hot and sexy and cute (and one time, prince), while all they ever were was pretty or nice or even, pretty nice, but never anything more.

It always got to the point where I didn't care much anymore; where my interest shifted.

It was confusing for me--almost uncharted territory--to actually be contemplating being in love with another girl. I didn't know what the signs were for that; the signs that I was supposed to give. I could field them, easy. But I couldn't bat to save my life; not when I didn't know which pitches were coming.

But God--she was beautiful and she made my heart beat really fast whenever she touched me, and I couldn't get her smile out of my head. Wasn't that supposed to mean something?

"Are you okay?" Laska was asking me, laying the back of her hand against my forehead.

"Yeah," I said.

Laska started to put her hands near my stomach. I tensed up. She slowed, glancing up at my face; she didn't want to hurt me. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean, look at you--"

"Yeah," I insisted, and then cleared my throat. "Laska--"

"I tried to tell Ezzie," Laska told me, still brushing the blood away from my wound gently. "I tried to tell her that you didn't want stitches, but she got the needle out anyway--"

My mouth got warm, and I tasted metal, and I could feel the bile rising at the back of my throat when she said the word needle. I swallowed it back down, sweating, and said, "Laska, don't. I swear, if I hear about it one more time, I think I'm gonna puke."

Laska nodded, pulling her hands away from me. Her hands hovered around my body, like she was trying to figure out how to pick up an oddly-shaped box. "Right, I'm really sorry, I--"

"D'you wanna do something with me?" I cut in. "Like a date?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and her lips parted. Before she could say anything, I kept talking.

"There's not a pizza joint around here, but there're plenty of other things. We could take a walk, or I could make you a picnic." I shrugged, wondering in a slight internal fluster how a guy made a picnic. She was giving me that look again, and a rush of exhilaration flooded into my heart, making it do all kinds of crazy backflips.

"You'd do that?" she asked, suppressing a smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

"You bet," I told her, poking her in the nose. She dodged my hand, cupping her hands around my face and bringing her lips to mine. I ducked my head a little, kissing her too.

"You're awfully great," I told her between kisses.

"You're awfully cute," she said, running her hand through the back of my hair.

"Is that a yes then?" I asked.

"Hell yes," she said, laughing, and I grinned.

"Well, I'm awfully hungry," I said, stealing another kiss and then standing up, pretending like it didn't feel like someone was stabbing me in my stomach. I quickly stole another kiss, my back foot coming up off the ground when I leaned forward. "I'm gonna go get something to eat."

I was about to walk out of the tent.

"Wait, Chris!" Laska called. "Ezzie said she didn't want you getting out of bed."

"She'll get over it," I told her, shooting her a smile. "So long," I said, winking at her before I stumbled out of the tent.

I walked to the food tent; the tent that we'd basically made the camp-kitchen. I ducked inside, expecting to make off like a thief with a few oranges, but it was only a moment before I heard her voice behind me. "Chris! What the hell? Get back to bed!"

I turned around, just as Ezzie's short, dark-headed figure darted up to me. She slapped me on the shoulder. "Ow," I said. She sighed and crossed her arms, before her bright-green eyes flitted to my injury.

"What're you doing out of bed?" she asked me sternly. She bent over to peer at my stomach, rubbing her fingers gently over the wound.

"I was hungry," I said, flinching away from her hand.

"Idiot," Ezzie muttered, but her eyes softened at the sight of my expression.

"Sorry," I mumbled, because for some reason I felt like I had to say it.

"That's okay," she told me, exhaling. She shook her head. "I just don't want you to tear your stitches."

"Are they?" I asked, a little concern rising up inside me, my own fingers pulling around at my stomach, "Tore up, I mean."

"Stop that," Ezzie chided, taking my hands away. "No, they're fine. For now. As long as you're careful. That means no running around in the jungle. Or doing anything that might require physical exertion of any kind. Got it?"

I laughed at her. "No physical stuff? You're kidding, right?"

"No!" Ezzie said, punching me in the shoulder, her thin eyebrows raising, lips parting. "I'm not kidding, Chris. You have to rest."

"Nah," I started, and then, seeing Ezzie's threatening look, I put my hands up in surrender. "Okay, alright. I'll try."

I grabbed an orange, tossing it up in the air and catching it. "Good," Ezzie said, reaching up and tousling my hair. I gave her my charming good-boy grin, the one I usually reserved for Mom, which made her smile.

"So," I said, walking back over to the fruit baskets and picking out a few oranges. "You got a guy, right? Elvis, like The King, right?"

My back was turned to Ezzie, but I could almost hear the sad smile drowning in her voice. "Yeah," she said, somewhat nostalgically. "I miss him."

I picked at the orange skin. "And, uh, how did you know you were, y'know, in love?"

Ezzie seemed surprised at the question. I was slowly putting oranges into the crook of my elbow. "Well," she began, mindlessly organizing empty baskets. "He used to sing to me. Right before he asked me to--" Ezzie cleared her throat, and there was a silence. I turned around slightly, and one of Ezzie's hands was resting on her stomach, the other one rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Right before he asked me to marry him, he sang to me."

"Yeah?" The image of me singing to Laska flashed in my mind, and I winced. No way. I'd just humiliate myself.

"And he always told me that he loved me. He didn't ever hesitate to say it."

For a second I thought she was going to cry. I hoped she didn't; I had no idea what I'd do. I felt a burst of empathy for her. For a second I just wanted to tell her all about Louis and break down on the spot, but I didn't think I had the emotional capacity for that.

"Hey," I said, going over and putting my arm around her shoulders. "Every day's one day closer to when you find each other, Ez. I promise," I told her, glancing down at her, wiping my mouth and knowing the heaviness of what I was about to say. "I promise you'll get back to him."

Ezzie looked up at me, wiping her eye and breathing in slowly through her nose. "How can you promise?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"I keep promises," I said, sounding confident but wondering if I'd ever kept any promise as big. I felt guilty for making a promise like that; a promise that, deep down, I knew I couldn't keep.

I could tell she didn't believe me, but she let me hug her and hugged me back gently (because she didn't want my stitches to tear). Just then, the sounds of people shouting reached our ears. I let go of Ezzie and jogged out of the tent, Ezzie running after me and chastising me as a bolt of pain shot up through my side. I thought I'd pass out, but instead I looked around to see what the commotion was about.

And then I saw him, standing at the perimeter of the village. He was tall and blonde, ripped and ripped clothing, stubble coating his chin. I hadn't ever seen him before. He was standing there, his hands limp at his sides, eyes widened at the scene before him like a deer in the headlights. I was about to run to him and demand that he tell me where he came from.

But as soon as I saw him, he saw Ezzie. And right away, I knew.

Mein gott, today defines the epitome of 'wild'.

Leaving Alaska last night with the instruction of "don't let him get up, he needs to rest", I made my way back to my hut and let myself pass out on one of the cots.

I awoke with a start, my mind letting me escape from the dark dreams and into the darker reality. I began the day as normal, with a cracking stretch and a groan as I got up and felt pain in my hips. Then I allowed myself to trek to the river with a few of the other girls who were already awake. We bathed calmly, we were used to the cool water and small chat.

After that, it was just a matter of menial tasks to distract myself with. After checking in with Eddy, he requested that I help out with easier chores- checking fruit, the minor cases in the medical tent. I reluctantly agreed, and peeked into the small room designated for the sick and injured.

There were a few cases of sunburn, a girl with food poisoning, and other little things like that to keep me occupied. After I had cleared out my lobby, I traded shifts with Eddie and picked up a basket of fruit. Once I found myself a nice spot on the shade of a tree, I set myself to work, filtering the bad fruit from the edible ones.

I finished that pretty quickly and decided to start on another basket, and as I entered the hut, heading the big, makeshift fruit bins to dump the good ones in, I noticed a tall, handsome boy picking through the oranges.

I had specific instructions- ones that were meant to be followed, damn it! How was Chris going to heal if he's already up and moving around?! That's completely unacceptable. So, I pulled mom card and cleared my throat. "Chris! What the hell? Get back to bed!"

He whipped around, snapped his head up and I locked eyes with him. I was already on him, my basket spilled on the dusty dirt floor, and had my sights set on yanking him back to his bed by his ear, but settled on smacking his shoulder and pouting.

"What are you doing out of bed?" I demanded, looking at him, and then his wound.

He winced, but offered a quick explanation of "I was hungry."

Idiot. I must have said that aloud, because he immediately apologized, and he damn well should have. I'm supposed to be taking care of the sick and injured, and his stubborn ass is preventing me from doing my job!

I sighed. "That's okay. I just don't want you to tear your stitches." Which were a pain, by the way, to put in.

He looked panicked, "Are they?" He reached for the injury, prodding his tan stomach for it. "Tore up, I mean."

I smacked his hands away, quite gracefully too. "Stop that. Theyre fine. For now. As long as you're careful. That means no running around in the jungle. Or doing anything that might require physical exertion of any kind. Got it?"
That also meant 'no sneaking away to work on the secret project, and no showing how affectionate he was for Alaska... Ew.

He chuckled. "No physical stuff? You're kidding, right?"

"No!" With a punch, I was forcefully thinking about how I know he's an absolute macho man and the thought of taking it easy was literally painful, I informed him of how serious I was about his desperate need for rest.

He grinned. "Nah." I shit him a death glare. He surrendered. They always do. "Okay, alright. I'll try."

That was as good as I was going to get. I watched him grab an orange and toss it up into the air. "Good," I said as I ruffled his hair like he was a child. My child. He grinned at me, and I had to smile back.

We chatted a little as he went back to doggingbthroufhbthe oranges. "You got a guy, right? Elvis, like The King, right?"

I smiled sadly. "Yeah," I replied, thinking back to an easier time. When we were together. When we could find each other as easily as picking up a phone. "I miss him."

"And uh, how did you know you were, y'know, in love?"

It startled me. How did I know? It was just a sudden feeling of having someone there who will always have my back. Someone to protect me, even if it's from myself. Or crazy family members. "Well, he used to sing to me. Right before he asked me to-" I was going to cry soon, but I cleared my throat and continued. I put a hand on my belly and pressed, feeling the solidness of the child within me. "Right before he askednkebto marry him, he sang to me."

It was an Elvis song of course. "I'm all shook up, mm, hmm, yeah, yeah." Typical of my El.

"Yeah?" Chris asked, but I didn't hear him all the way. I was too far gone.

"He always told me that he loved me. He didn't ever hesitate to say it." He would often wake me up really late or really early to tell me, "I love you. I miss you."

I smiled grimly, thinking of the chances of me experiencing that again. They were slim to none. Elvis Presley Morgan, my rock, could be breaking somewhere. He could be dead. I swallowed a lump in my throat and held back a choking sob. Chris was suddenly holding me.

"Hey, Every day's one day closer to when you find each other Ez. I promise." What a stupid promise, I thought bitterly. How could you promise that? "I promise you'll get back to him."

"How can you promise?"

He smiled, charming me. "I keep promises."

Of course I couldn't believe thisbof him. It would be the same as me telling him we would get off this island and realize it's all been a dream. I hugged him, thankful for the comfort, but when I opened my mouth to talk to him, there was a commotion outside. Chris bolted, ever quick to react, and I reamed him out for it as I followed.

Words escaped me as my green eyes met with steely gray, and I froze.

Everything else faded away as I stood going in front of the crowd, as he strode toward me with deliberate steps, his muscles riplling beneath his burned skin.

"Ezra Marie Dexter," he gasped, collapsing on his knees in front of me. I knelt down, my hands brushing his long hair from his face, feeling the stubble of his growing beard.

"Elvis Presley Morgan." And then he was sweeping me upnin his arms, laughing, grinning, kissing me. I was crying, too, sobbing as my life became complete again.

"I do believe I asked you to marry me, didn't I?" I swallowed and nodded, breaking down in pure happiness.

After our reunion had settled down, I looked up to notice Chris was still there, smiling. "I told you I keep my promises." As if he's orchestrated it all.

"How did you find me?" I asked, as he pulled his hand from his pocket and held out a chain. It was a standard silver chain, but the charm on it was what really mattered.

'Mom', is what it said. I had lost it when the creep had-
I smiled at him. "You win, then." He smirked, and then remembered something.

"I need your help."

I stared at him questioningly. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Not me. You're going to have to follow, though. Moving her anymore wouldn't be good, I think."

I nodded and looked over at Chris, "Go get Eddie and tell him to bring the kit. We've got an emergency."

He sighed, then turned to run off. I watched for a second and started toward the small well, I was going to need water for the trip. I looked up to see Chris mid-sprint.

"AND DONT YOU DARE STRAIN YOURSELF, MAHONEY."

He deflated a little, looked back at me, and settled into a walking pace, but had a look in his eye that told me he would definitely be straining himself once I was out of earshot. I shooky head and Elvis took my hand. "While we're walking, Ezra, I want to know your story."

I smiled, "I woke up in a cove, and I was all alone for days, maybe a week. Then this beautiful Jamaican Goddess clambered over this thornbush and pull me away from the solitude. There's a lot more of us, you saw the group. We decided that banding together would be the best bet of staying alive. The fruit is mostly good, there are some rotten ones, but they're easily- anyways. People have died. The meat on this island is no good; it makes you crazy. First there was the guy who suddenly attacked another girl and killed her- and then, well- another one, and..." I choked up.

Elvis, as if soothing me was his sole purpose, wrapped his arms around me. "I got your necklace off of a guy who did the same. How did he get it, Ezra?"

I bit my lip- to tell him that I had almost been raped would set him into a rage I'd only ever seen the tiniest fraction of once. Nevertheless, I told him anyways. Of the attack, and then the split-second decision to move HQ to the village, and even of Carlisle helping us.

He shook angrily, but I wrapped him in my arms and asked if he was all shook up, and he sighed deeply and told me it was no time for puns- even good ones. I giggled, and pulled his hand to start up the walking. Eventually, we came upon a space I'd hoped I'd never see again- the plane. Sighing, I followed him through the wreckage and into the small closet I had once squeezed into for the night.

Propped against the door was a girl, but I didn't take in her appearance- just the fact that she was both unconscious and the hole in her stomach. I'm sure the white tank that had been wadded up and used to staunch the blood was his, held on by some vine tied around her frame. I bit my lip and asked him to lay her down for me. He did so immediately, being careful to position her in a way that was easy for me to work and comfortable for her, though she couldn't feel it. I could tell he cared for her a deal, why else would he carry her all the way from wherever he was just to find us so we could save her? Jealousy burned in me, but I set myself to work

Cutting the makeshift bandage off, then using the old bowl of water I had carried with me and a piece ripped off of my own shirt, I started cleaning the wound to the best of my ability. I instructed Elvis to double back to meet up with Chris and Eddie, and although he protested a little, I merely pointed out that I do have a knife on me at all times- thanks to Eddie's insistence.

I was left alone with the girl, who looked so pale and close to death, and I decided I would save her- and then find out who she is.

I looked on, horrified, as the blood-boy tripped into the clearing, swinging his dagger back and forth. My heart jumped into my mouth, and after a moment of stand-still, I realized I was waiting for Mahoney to strut out from behind me and rip blood-boy a new one. He liked playing the hero, and he was perfect for the job. When I came to my senses, my knees were locked, and Ro was tearing off through the underbrush behind me, stumbling over fallen tree branches that had nestled themselves in the dirt, and falling over himself in a terrified hurry.

He darted away like a rabbit, and not wanting to lose him, I ran after him. "Ro!" I called, glancing back behind me, afraid that blood-boy had started chasing after us. Ro slowed eventually as I caught up to him, panting with his hands on his knees. He looked up at me, breathing hard. Are we safe now? he was silently asking me, and I nodded, pulling him into a hug. He didn't flinch away this time; maybe it was because he was too exhausted to expend as much energy doing so.

"It's aright," I told him. "It's aright. He ain't comin' after us, Ro. You don't gotta be worried." Ro didn't say anything, but his knees were a little wobbly, so I sat him down on the nearest log.

"Chris!" she called, a playful smirk on her face as she ran towards the pool. She was wearing a lavender bikini with pale white floral design, and her tan body was more perfect than my first base catches. I stared at her as I stood waist-deep in the shallow end of Brent Bishop's pool, the smell of campfire and chlorine filling my nose. The sun was already down, and Robbia Peters was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

But I just stood there, soaked in my black T-shirt and swim trunks, because the name she called had been Chris's. Not mine.

Robbia leapt into the shallow end, water splashing around her, throwing her arms around Chris's neck. She kissed him, and Chris nipped at her cheek, making her laugh. Feeling jealousy erupt inside me, I yelled, "Yo, no PDA," and jumped on Chris's back, dunking him underwater.

But soon, what started as a dunk contest turned out to be a game of Robbia pushing Chris's shoulders against the side of the pool and saying "Tell me you love me!", so I hopped out of the water. I grabbed a towel and laid it over my shoulder.

"Aw, Gehrig, where you going?" Chris asked me.

"Bathroom," I responded, raising up my towel in his direction. Then I walked around the deck with wet feet, and into Brent's house. A few kids were sitting in the living room, watching television, and I passed them, drying my hair with the towel.

I walked into the kitchen. It was pitch black, so I turned a light on. I stalked over to the counter, feeling stupid, where there was a jar of M&M's. I tried to open the jar, wrestling with the top, but it wouldn't budge. "Damn," I muttered, and was just going to leave the jar, when I saw a silhouette step forward into the dim light of the kitchen.

I expected it to be Chris, but it was Robbia, her dark hair damp and falling in waves over her shoulders, bikini tied around her neck.

"Uh, yo, what's up?" I said, feeling my heart rate speed up. "D'you want a drink or something?"

"No," she said, in that church-bells voice, and then waltzed up to me. "You and Chris are friends, right?" I nodded. She smiled, her full lips curving up. "Louis, right?"

"Yeah," I told her, "You can call me Lou." And then quickly, I added, "Almost everybody does."

"Why're you all alone in here, Lou?" she asked, stepping closer to me. I could see the curves of her breasts, and the pool water sprinkled across her forehead.

"Uh," I said, "I was just, uh." I tossed the jar of M&M's from hand to hand, and I fumbled with it, nearly dropping it. She reached over and steadied my hands. I wanted to tell her that I was a baseball player, and I wouldn't have dropped it, but I didn't want her to leave. Instead I smiled.

She kind of giggled. Then her eyes were on mine, her smile fading. She reached her hand up, tracing her fingers along my jawline. And then, all the sudden, she was leaning forward. Her lips connected with mine, tongue pushing past my teeth. I was startled, and almost jumped, but I couldn't think of anything but her lips moving against mine. I put my hands on her bare skin, pulling her hips to mine.

And then the worst thing that could've happened, happened.

"What the hell is this?" Chris's voice suddenly came from the doorway.

I looked back in the direction of the clearing, worried about Elvis, Jackie, and the others. What if something happened to them? Ro still looked shaken up, and I didn't want to leave him alone. So we sat in silence, catching our breaths.

"You okay?" I asked Ro.

He nodded. I realized how crazy this all was. I was a survivor of a plane crash, and, having lived on an island for a month, was still looking for my dead best friend and taking care of a ten-year-old who didn't talk as a lunatic-murderer did away with my friends in the heart of the jungle.

Taking a deep breath, I ducked my head, remembering what Mama always told me; "Sometimes, God is the only one that can save you."

Holding my hands together and putting them to my lips, I started praying. "Please God," I whispered. "Please let Chris be okay. Thank you for all you've done to get us through this, but please pull Chris through this, too." I was saying it aloud, and when I paused, Ro put his hands on mine, big brown eyes nodding at me before he ducked his head with mine.

"Thank you Lord for everything that you've done for us. Thank you for makin' Ro and me stay safe. Thank you God for..." I continued, and when I said "Amen," Ro's lips silently formed the word.

Then he curled up in my arms, and that's where we sat until we were brave enough to go back.

Chris and I had arrived at Brent Bishop's party together. We parked at the edge of the driveway, and walked around to the back door. Chris was wearing shorts and a white T-shirt, and had his hands in his pockets. He scoffed at my dark-wash jeans, asking who I was trying to impress.

What I didn't tell him was that the girl I was trying to impress was his girlfriend, the one he'd been dating for three weeks.

We strolled into the house together, making an entrance. "Coastin'" by Zion I was playing on the radio, and there were a bunch of kids getting drinks or lounging around on the couches. "Ay, yo, what's up, man, what's up?" I greeted, laughing under the music, slapping hands and doing handshakes with a few guys in the foyer. I started to leave the congregation of guys that had formed around Chris and me.

"Emerson!" Brent called over to me.

"We gotta change these tunes, man," I said, and jounced over to the radio, playing around with the buttons until "Wobble Baby" came on by V.I.C.. "Ohh," I yelled, throwing my hands out, and Chris and I made eye contact, mouths open. We both put our hands out and jumped forwards in unison. We started laughing, doing the line dance as if we'd choreographed it, swiveling our hips and then jumping backwards.

I was rapping along to the words, and we were acting like we were at an eighth grade school dance. We both switched direction at the right times, Chris shaking his head around like he was psyching himself up. People were watching and cheering, and when we finished, Chris yelled, "Give it up for my man Gehrig!" as Robbia Peters walked up to him and kissed him sweetly on the mouth.

And now I'd ruined everything. I knew it, because Chris looked at me like I'd betrayed him; furious, fists clenched, but behind his eyes he was hurt bad by what I'd done. "I said what's this?" he asked again, face contorting in confusion and anger. Robbia was pulling away, stepping back. My lips felt cold without hers on them. I ducked my head, scratching the back of my neck.

"Baby," Robbia said, tearing up upon seeing his face, "I'm sorry, it was just--I was angry, and there were all these other feelings I--"

Chris pursed his lips. "Shut up, Robbie." Robbia was crying, walking over to him and letting her hands fall to his chest. Chris shoved her away, still looking at me over her shoulder. The guilt felt like a heavy weight inside my chest. I couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry, Chris," Robbia persisted, tears streaking her cheeks with mascara. She was beautiful even when she cried, the dimple on her chin quivering, her cheeks blushing.

"Get out," Chris told her. She was about to protest, but Chris's eyes widened, and he screamed, "Get out!" Robbia backed away, her hands covering her face, and then turned to run out of the room.

Then there were only air and ten tiles of the linoleum kitchen floor between us.

Chris made eye contact with me; for a second I thought he'd hit me, or beat my head against the side of the kitchen sink until I couldn't feel my face. There was a long silence, but then he just shook his head at me, before walking away. After Robbia.

It got better after a few days; Chris and Robbia got back together, because he was in love with her, and she was in love with him back. Chris and I didn't talk for a few days; it was an awkward and tense period of our friendship. But Chris never held grudges, and one day he caught my eye across the classroom. He signaled a safe slide with his arms. Your house after school? I nodded to him, and knew we would be okay.

There are things he didn't ever find out about Robbia and me. Things that happened between us after the party. Things that nowadays, I hate myself for. Things that I couldn't help but keep from him back then because I thought that I loved her more than he did.

If he'd known, then he wouldn't have ever talked to me again.

Ro and I eventually went back to the clearing. We stumbled through the trees, me leading the way, and when I saw the aftermath of what must've happened, it took all I had not to throw up. I turned around, stationing myself in front of Ro so he couldn't see past me. "Go back," I got out. "Go back."

Ro shook his head. Instead, I sat him down against a tree facing away from Chelsea's body. "Don't turn around, aright?" I told him, and he obeyed.

Elvis was carrying Jackie's body in his arms; there was blood all over her. Blood was pouring out of Chelsea's throat; she was dead. Dead. I felt sick to my stomach, my face getting hot. Then I saw blood-boy's body, if you could even call it a body. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Lou," Elvis breathed, seeing me standing there, "I found my Ezzie's pendant; I think she might be alive, on the other side of the island. I need to leave, to find her and to get help for Jackie."

"Aright," I said, barely processing his words, my head spinning.

"I'll be back," Elvis said, making eye contact with me and bidding me to stay safe, before he took off through the jungle. After he was gone, there was only silence, accompanied by the cawing of vultures and the stench of dead bodies. Ro was still sitting against the tree, his hands covering his nose, his eyes pink and watering.

If Ezzie's alive, I thought, then Chris might be, too.

I walked over to Ro, pulling my shirt up over my nose. With my free hand, I reached down and pulled him up by the shoulder. "Let's go," I said, the words muffling in my shirt. I walked Ro around the clearing (so he didn't see the bodies) until I could see Elvis's footprints in the mud. We started after him.

Elvis (back and better than ever)

Tired. Never before had I felt the very essence of a word as much as I felt tired. I blinked lazily, letting my eyelids droop for a brief moment with each bat of an eyelash. Ever since we had all been stranded on this god-forsaken island and stumbled upon each other we'd managed to feed ourselves enough and stay mostly out of trouble, but that took up our days. Keeping an eye out for each other, I mean. For whatever reason, basic survival was quite possibly the most difficult thing in the world to achieve and yet it's also the most taken for granted.

With each day that had passed I became more and more desperate, my nights riddled by my own internal ramblings and my feet busied by walking in larger and larger circles each day, torn between needing to find Ezzie and not wanting to stray too far from my haphazardly formed family in case something happened to them. Even when Jackie managed to force me to stay put for a night I could never bring myself to sleep for more than a few hours, because I was being haunted by one very scary thought.

The sound of cicadas and other jungle-dwellers echoed through the night as I walked about, following my systematic circling that I had come up with, each night taking me a little further into the woods. At this point my eyes easily adjusted and my feet were well-adapted to the nooks and crannies of different bits of the jungle, the ghost of my thoughts urging my feet to keep going, and some nights I managed to discover something new. Signs that people had been there, a footprint, and I had even found the plane graveyard a few night prior.

I followed my feet until I heard the sound of waves crashing and as I drew closer and closer to that sound I saw a light peaking through the thick shroud of trees that covered me in darkness. Curious, I stepped quietly towards the light and peered through the brush. I couldn't believe my eyes and had to blink a few times, but each time I opened them I saw the same thing. A fire. Rather, what was so clearly a man-made fire, and around it the shadows of people, and still further what seemed to be...a village. My eyes widened in fear and I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet, and I ran all the way back towards the others.

I had gone back every night since that one and I hadn't told a soul, not even Jackie whom with I shared my every thought, and each night I sat in the same spot and watched, or rather searched for one thing in particular but not daring to get any closer than where I could see them but they couldn't see me. I kept reasoning with myself that they could be dangerous, we didn't know them or what they were capable of, but in truth I couldn't bare to have the hope of Ezzie being there getting crushed if she wasn't. Besides, they really could be dangerous, and there wasn't just me to think about. I couldn't bring the others into a situation we knew nothing about blindly, we had the lame and the children with us!

The sound of rustling leaves made my ears perk and drew me from my own thoughts, my eyes fixating on the figure that was approaching. We were all accounted for, lazing about soaking up the sun, so at the sight of another person every part of me began to tense.

"Who're you?" Jackie cried, her voice wavering, "Where'd you come from?"

I looked him over with distrust, waiting for one wrong move and-

"I like to think," he purred, "that I came from hell."

"Lunatic's got a knife!" Chelsea hissed.

I was up and on my feet before another move could be made, standing up straight and pulling my shoulders back, "Get out of here, we don't want any trouble."

A guttural laugh slipped from his cheshire cat smile as he began to saunter closer, his hand reaching down towards his waist as he sneered, "Oh, there's no trouble, I just came to make friends."

Chelsea scoffed, the roll of her eyes seeping from her words as she accused, "Dude, go touch yourself somewhere else."

Before she could even finish the sentence he was past me in a flash and all I could see was Jackie on the ground and the crazed man hovering over Chelsea. I felt a deep growl forming in my chest as I shot towards them, freezing in my tracks only when I saw the lunatic tauntingly holding his knife over Chelsea's throat, her eyes flicking towards me with horror.

Jackie began to pick herself up and both me and the mad man saw it, his mouth curling upwards at the corners and in that moment I knew.

"Jackie, NO!" I yelled, lunging towards her, finding myself hands and knees on the ground as she had already made her move and was now straddling the lunatic. I looked on in horror as she bloodied her fists against his face, the world around me drowning in a buzz as my eyes trailed towards Chelsea, her once bright green eyes now dulled as she choked for a moment, her mouth gaping on, trying desperately to breath, and suddenly she froze.

I gaped, frozen in fear as I watched Jackie turn the man into a pulp of flesh and blood, taking a moment to snap myself out of it and grab ahold of Jackie, pulling her off of the man.

"Jackie stop, you're better than him!" I pleaded, dragging her away until she began fighting against me and dropped herself to the ground, heaving in attempt to catch her breath. She sat there quietly until she remembered and made her way from the bloody mess of a man towards Chelsea, crawling in crazed way that made her look almost like an animal. A heart shattering scream ran throughout the world and there she sat, stroking Chelsea's hair so hard she must have thought that would bring her back to life. She wouldn't stop, rather maybe she couldn't.

Looking back at the mad man, the gleam of something around his neck caught my eye, drawing me closer to them. As I got closer, however, horror struck my heart as I realized what it was - my darling Ezzie's pendant I had gotten for her. In a flash of anger I tore it off of the man's neck and swung my foot directly into his face, spewing a string of curses at him.

My chest heave and I collected myself and tucked the necklace into my pocket. Ezzie was here. Turning back towards Jackie, the blood on her hands was mingling with the blood still pouring from Chelsea's neck, I watched her and I watched her as she stroked and stroked and my feet carried me towards here before my brain even knew why, and suddenly I was holding her.

"It's okay, my love, it's okay, shhh," Ezzie whispered into my hair, her slender arms wrapping around my arms and torso as best she could, squeezing tightly, "Everything is going to be okay."

And though I had just been in hysterics, unable to breath and crying uncontrollably, my breathing slowed and my crying halted. I later asked Ezzie how she managed that, and her response was so simple and yet in that moment she was the most intelligent person in the world, as she gave a soft little smile and said plainly, "It suppresses the system, calming the person down."

"It's okay, love, it's okay" I whispered, my arms wrapping around her body easily, holding tightly as I littered her forehead with comforting kisses, continuing, "Everything is going to be okay."

Her crying stopped, her breathing slowed, and quickly her eyes faded into sadness. Her eyes fixed in a haze, she pulled herself from my embrace. I watched warily as she moved towards Chelsea, yanking the knife from her throat unseeingly and without remorse, suddenly standing there staring, admiring the red-stained metal.

"Jackie?" I murmured in worry, my brow furrowed, "You there?"

Before I could so much as blink just one more time Jackie pounced, suddenly slashing and slicing at the killer's body, stabbing over and over again even after his maniacal laughter had long since stopped, and in the same swift motion she was suddenly on the ground beside him.

"Jackie!" I screamed, knowing in my head but hoping in my heart that she hadn't just done what I thought she had as I darted towards her, rolling her limp body until the handle of the knife pointed straight up out of her body.

And for a moment all I could do was stare, and in the next I let out a mangled yell as I kicked at the ground, screaming, "Damn it, Jackie!"

Placing one palm against her chest and the other on the handle of the knife, I took a deep breath and swiftly yanked the knife from her stomach and a pool of blood formed. Without even thinking twice about it I tore off my already tattered shirt and created a make-shift bandage, tying it tightly and ignoring the stench of blood and the red that was blossoming through the thin cloth.

Gathering her small body in my arms, I lifted her up, holding her close, and spotted Lou.

"Lou," I stated plainly, my heart pounding and my body itching to start running, "I found my Ezzie's pendant; I think she might be alive, on the other side of the island. I need to leave, to find her and to get help for Jackie."

And I ran as fast as I could, shouting an "I'll be back" over my shoulder as tears welled up in my eyes, barely able to feel her shallow breath against my chest.

"You're gonna be okay, Jackie," I muttered to her, my feet pounding against the jungle floor and taking me over every tree root and around every hole that I had come to know so well, "It's okay, you're gonna be okay."

And I ran towards the one place that had the best chance at helping her, my heart racing and my head pounding as I grew closer, my lungs just about to burst from my chest, and as I grew closer I froze, looking down at a pale Jackie and biting down on my bottom lip hard while trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't waltz in with a dying girl in my arms, because if sh*t got real and I had to get out of there I couldn't afford to be carrying someone and no way in hell would I leave her there.

Making a split second decision, I made my way towards the plane, Jackie's body seeming weightless as I gained a surge of new energy.

***

My only thought was Jackie sitting alone in the mangled plane dying, that one image consuming my thoughts and keeping me from my qualms about marching right into the village so much so that I ran straight from the heavy thick of the jungle into the outskirts of the small village, and almost instantaneously I was met with yelling that made me freeze and look around at the many people before me.

I lowered my gaze and faced my open palms towards them to show I wasn't a threat as a small crowd of people gathered, peaking through my lashes at the faces of unfamiliar people, a sea of mixed emotions, of fear and of protectiveness and of distrust and suddenly I began to regret my decision and began to back away, I never should have come here, I should have-

And then there was green, big, beautiful pools of green that my heart had ached for for over a month and there was nothing else as the entire group of people quieted, or perhaps it was the sound of my own heart singing that drowned them out, but either way it didn't matter. Nothing did.

As if I was in a dream I floated closer to her until we came face to face and when hear green eyes met mine I fell to my knees muttering her name, bringing me eye level to her swollen belly until she knelt before me. I looked on in awe, tracing her every feature and line with my eyes. I had had too many dreams like this only to end up alone in the woods with Jackie to one side and the fire to the other, Ezra still lost to me, and so I was too afraid to reach out, too afraid to touch her and wake up from this dream again.

As if she was reading my hand, she reached out a hand and brushed my now long hair away from my eyes, closing them as her fingers brushing against my cheek and in that moment I almost had to suppress a moan at the sheer joy of knowing her touch once more.

"Elvis Presley Morgan," her honey voice whispered, and with those words everything was whole and I took her into my arms, showering her in kisses while tears spilled from my eyes.

***

The two boys Ezzie had directed I go with trailed me with their eyes as I paced back and forth, the stress of not knowing what was happening killing me. Within the span of a few hours we had lost Chelsea and gotten split up and now Jackie was at risk of dying, too. I simply couldn't take the thought of that - she'd been with me since the raft I was on with Sara got washed up on this island, it was just the two of us before it was all of us and I'd be damned if I let another person die on my watch.

But it wasn't my watch. It was Ezra's now.

I took a deep breath and rubbed my hand over my beard. Looking down at myself, I realized my already torn up shirt was stained with blood and my jeans were threadbare, barely being held together with the amount of holes and tears that were in them. It was no wonder people were wary when they first saw me, I look like deranged! Running my hand through my hair, I tucked the pieces behind my ears in attempt to look a little less disheveled and looked over to the two boys, at a loss as to what to say. All I wanted was for Jackie to be okay and to have Ezzie back in my arms, two things I was so close to and yet so distant from.

It was in that moment that I realized I had in fact felt the very essence of a word even stronger than I had with the word tired. I felt love.

'Laska

"Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses."
(a.l.)

I loved my mother, she was always there for me. She raised me, fed me and did anything she could to keep me and my brother safe and happy. I loved my father because he worked so hard to keep a roof over my family's head. I loved Paynt (most of the time) because he was my brother and I had to.

But how do you tell the difference between "I love you" and "I'm in love with you"?

I had strong feelings for Chris because he was there and he cared for me, but I couldn't decide whether or not I was in love with him. I mean, it was obvious that I really liked him but knowing the simple fact that I'm a teenager, it makes it harder to decide if it's me talking or my hormones.

After he'd left to get something to eat, I couldn't isolate myself-- otherwise I'd start thinking, and eventually I'd be in a bad mood. I stood up quickly, wiped my lips and waltzed out the door.

The sun burned at my skin through the canopy of trees above us, and a breeze somehow managed to wiggle it's way through the forest and beasts lurking until it reached the village-- it was barely strong enough to move a strand of my hair, but it felt nice.

Animals cried in the distant, leaves rustled and it was so peaceful that I couldn't believe we were all stranded on an unknown island that could possibly kill us all.

But then, it wasn't peaceful, because people were screaming and there was an extremely large ape-like human standing outside of the village.

I watched as he surrendered his hands, showing he had nothing in them, then continued to move closer to the crowd until he locked eyes with someone. It took me a moment to trail his eyes to the ones that belonged to the pregnant midget I'd grown to love like a sister; love.

Realization sunk in when I remembered her saying to me, "I miss my blonde haired, blue-eyed Elvis."

I was confused for several seconds, because this guy looked like a grown man and she looked twelve (no offense to the person that created her-- she's not that awful bad). But then he moved his hair from his face, and you could see it-- his youth, I mean. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he was about to cry.

He walked forward until he was in front of her and fell to his knees, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks and falling onto his tattered shirt.

I watched the way they moved, the way she caressed him, the way he lifted her up and kissed her like he hadn't seen her in, well, months. They were in love.

I made a mental note to talk to Ezzie later on.

It seemed like only seconds later when the happy reunion calmed down that his words had grown more serious and he was saying, "I need your help," and after saying a few more things she instructed Chris to get Eddie, then went off in search of something unknown to me after yelling a, "AND DON'T YOU DARE STRAIN YOURSELF, MAHONEY," at the boy I thought I hated, once upon a time. At the boy I was almost sure I loved.

I suppose I'd zoned out for a couple of minutes, because when I blinked and looked back at the moment happening in front of me, nobody was there. With a frown, I turned and left, allowing my feet to move towards what sounded like Chris' voice.

After a minute or two, I found myself standing at the doorway of one of the huts-- Chris was leaning against the wall and Eddie was a couple feet away packing things into a small box.

"So..." I lock eyes with Chris when he turns towards me, "...what's going on?"

Chris shrugs, and I could tell he was in pain-- he was supposed to be laying down right now. I slid over to him, and he put an arm around my waist loosely.

"Ezra said there was an emergency," Eddie answered after a moment, turning towards us with the box in his hand, "So I guess someone's hurt," and with that, he strutted toward the door with the box-- what I assumed was a first aid kit-- clutched in his hand.

"Are you guys going?" I ask, although Eddie was already out the door, and crane my neck to glare at Chris, "You're not going. You've seriously gotta lay down."

"Not gonna happen, sweetheart," Chris shook his head once, "plus, it doesn't hurt that awful bad."

I couldn't help but feel like he was teasing me, but I just looked up at him, "Then I'm going with."

He laughed at that, as if it were a joke, "Yeah, that's not gonna happen, either."

"Bullshit, Chris," I frown, "look, you're hurt. What if I know who this person is? What if it's Chelsea?"

"What if it's Lou?" Chris shoots back, his arm around my waist sliding back to his side. "Look, I care about you. I can't risk you going out there."

"You think I don't care about you? Shit, Chris. You've got a whole in your stomach! You should be more worried about yourself."

He started walking away at that, doing the thing where he dramatically cuts off conversation because he just "can't" right now.

"I'm going," I call after him, "Okay? I'm telling you that now."

He stops walking, and I quickly walk over to where he's standing. His jaw was working, moving back and forth, as if he were trying to calm down. He was angry, in pain and curious as to what was going on. So was I. Except I wasn't in pain.

"I..." I chew at my lip, before saying, "We can't risk you getting even more hurt. I can't risk you getting even more hurt. So please, just stay here?"

He didn't say anything, but wrapped me in his arms and pressed his lips to the top of my head.

I grinned when he pulled away, because it felt better having him approve of something instead of me just doing it-- although, I knew I didn't need his approval.

His lips parted, as if he were going to say something, but then he cleared his throat and leaned his face forward until we were nose-to-nose. His warm breath heated my cheeks, and his chocolate eyes stared into my own.

"I'm not gonna die," I whisper, my lips curving into a smile, "I'll be fine. Eddie's gonna be there. So is Ezzie and Elvis."

He nods slightly, and I have to lift myself up on my toes to press my lips to his. He kisses back after a moment, his arms going around my waist and my hands sliding into his hair.

"You coming, or what?" Eddie says from somewhere behind me, "Elvis is back to take us to the place."

I pull away, only to be pulled back-- his lips worked against mine, and I could feel myself smiling before he finally pulled away.

"Don't let her do anything stupid," Chris says to Eddie, his hands sliding off of my waist, "You hear me, man?"

Eddie nods once, his lips pursed as if he were trying to keep something in his mouth.

Chris kisses me one more time before I wave and follow after Eddie, who was already walking away.

"So, you and Chris official?" Eddie asks after a moment. I glance behind us, and he was still standing there-- I wondered what he was thinking about.

I shrug, "You could say that. What's it matter?"

"Do you love him?" he asks, his words sharp and slightly bitter. I wondered why he was asking this.

"I-" I pause, "I care about him a lot."

"He cared about Saph a lot," Eddie said, the 'crunch, crunch, crunch' of his footsteps staying at a steady pace. "I think he loved her."

"Saph? She's gone. Girl probably got herself killed," I scoff, trying not to get upset about what he'd said.

Chris never talked about her. I didn't even know her personally. I'd never met her. But I'd heard stories and what had happened from the others. I was still confused though, because the way the others described Chris and her was like...they weren't anything serious. Like they were just taking comfort in each other because of everything they'd previously gone through.

I never thought about them actually having something. Or even being in love. I almost wanted to stay in the village, just to question Chris. Then I realized that wouldn't be the best idea.

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Alaska," Eddie added after another minute or two, "I just don't want you to get too invested in him, you know? Things could happen."

"Or things couldn't happen. Like this conversation," I mumble, walking farther away from him. "Thanks for your concern, though."

Elvis took that as his cue to come into view, just a couple feet ahead of us.

"So I take it you're Eddie?" Elvis says, his voice low, then he glances over at me, "And you're the Jamaican Goddess?"

I grin, and nod once, "Ezzie thought the nickname fit."

Elvis nods, then turns back towards the forest, "We should go now. My Ezzie is back in the plane, with...my friend."

"Who is it?" I ask, curious; I'm sure Eddie was too. There had to be someone he missed, that was on the plane with us.

He didn't answer me; I didn't understand why. But I let it go, because I didn't want to bother him. He intimidated me, and that was kind of bad, because the only people who ever had been able to intimidate me were my father and, well, Chris.

"It shouldn't take long to get there," Elvis assured us quietly as he took steady steps further into the thick trees. He seemed eager to get back to Ezra; I could understand why, though. "maybe an hour. Depends on our pace."

Eddie cleared his throat, "So, what's your story?"

Elvis glanced behind him to look at the guy, then shook his head as if he wasn't worthy of the answer.

"Alrighty," I sigh, "this is already fun."

*********

By the time we reached the wreckage, my feet were sore and I had little cuts all up my legs from the thorns we had to walk through.

Something in me stirred. I didn't think I'd ever come back here. I didn't want to. Parts of me were curious as to what happened after the plane exploded, but then again, this was my worst nightmare. This is what I dreamt of every night.

This plane falling was the nightmare that I couldn't get rid of.

The wings of the airplane were craned towards the sky, and the back half of the plane was missing.

Elvis led us inside of a small entrance, until we could distinctly make out the outline of one body-- no, two bodies in the dim lighting.

"We're back, love," Elvis said, his voice quiet; as if he were scared to wake a small child or precious animal. "How's she doing?"

Ezra shakes her head visibly, and mumbles something that sounded like, "-mushrooms are my weak spot," and Elvis nodded as if it made complete sense.

I took another step forward, my eyes locked on the person on the floor; a girl. Her hair was choppy, but past her shoulders, and she was missing her shirt. From where I was standing, you could see liquid glinting in the small filter of light coming from the broken windows along the side of the airplane near her. It was too dark to be water.

From what I could tell, her hair was too dark to be Chelsea's, or even Rachel's. so I inched forward, scared of who it might be.

"Alaska, I don't think you should-"

My eyes found the face of the girl with the puncture wound in her stomach, and it took me several seconds to look past the bruises, dirt, blood and bags under her eyes to actually recognize her.

And when realization hit me, I was shocked. I was angry. I was sad.

It was Jackie.

My mouth fell open, and the only thing that kept me from breaking and crying was the heavy rise and fall of her chest.

"What-" I shake my head, tears threatening to escape as I slid to my knees near her body, "...what happened?"

"She was going to kill herself," Elvis said, his voice hollow and maybe even guilty; he must care about her a lot. I wondered how long they'd been surviving together. "Because-"

Ezra took his hand, as if realizing he was having trouble completing his sentence, then said, "Laska...we can talk about it later, okay? A lot has happened. Let's just figure out one thing at a time."

I nod once, still upset and curious as to why the hell she would try and kill herself.

"I brought the thread, needles and chervil along with the terragon," Eddie said to Ezra-- I wanted to believe that 'shur-vull' and 'tery-gon' weren't actual words, and he actually meant the name Cheryl and the series Eragon.

"You should've brought the fennel. I know you guys found a big bush of that-- it's a good antibiotic, too," Ezra mumbled, taking the box from him and digging around in it till she was content with her findings. "No worries though."

We were there for awhile-- I'd decided not to watch as she worked on Jackie. I felt like I was at a hospital waiting for my loved one to get out of surgery.

I guess it actually kind of was. Except we were on an unknown island with no contact to the outside world.

People were going crazy, middle-school relationships were making their way into the picture (not that I really minded that), the meat was making people want to rip the flesh from others and I was falling in love with someone I never would've dreamt of in the past.

Perfect.

I watched as Laska loped away with Ed, her hands in her pockets, her curls blowing back in the wind as the underbrush crept about her ankles. I couldn't believe she'd convinced me to let her go and stay myself--she had some sort of crazy influence on me, which was kind of annoying but at the same time, intoxicating. I heard Eddie and her talking as they receded further into the distance.

"...love him?" Eddie asked, and I couldn't hear anything Laska said back. Her voice was too quiet. And then Eddie continued, parts of his sentences cut out by the harsh wind. "...about Saph...I think he loved her."

My heart jumped into my throat.

Blue.

I'd spent a month deliberately not thinking about that girl. Pushing her to the back of my mind like guards screened safeties for as long as their running back took to bring the ball to the end zone. I couldn't bear to let her go; I couldn't let the safety tackle the running back. I couldn't have more blood on my conscience, and facing the mere prospect of her death would probably destroy me for good. I wasn't ready for that.

It was easy to convince her to come back with me in the morning. She was defiant at first, but it only took a small while of teasing her; a little kiss and some half-hearted persuasion to get her to come along. I tugged her along by the hand, fingers laced loosely with hers; we walked through the jungle for a good fifteen minutes. Every once in a while our elbows would jostle, and I'd look back at her, her big blue eyes and pretty face, and she'd just smile furtively.

"I gotta take a break," I told her. I sat down on a nearby fallen log, and pretended to be out of breath.

"We're only about a minute away," she said, looking confused. "It's right through this thicket here." She peered around the corner.

"Well, I gotta take a leak," I said, standing up. She kind of smiled at me.

"Okay," she said. I stepped forwards and took her face in my hands roughly, my hand snaking up into her hair, and planting a kiss on her nose. The I let go, catching a glimpse of her blush before I stomped off into the forest.

I got a good distance away before I turned and began to walk in the direction of the beach. I didn't feel bad for leaving her. She had her dad; that's all she wanted.

It was true; bad didn't even begin to explain how awful I felt.

That was the last time I saw her. Right there, in the jungle, where I'd lied to her and then left her in the span of fifteen seconds. I had wondered if she was confused after I left; if she looked around and called out my name. If she was upset that I'd left her, if she'd cried and felt sorry or maybe angry, or maybe nothing at all. I guess I always thought I'd see her again; that she'd wander back into camp and pointedly ignore me, or insist that we needed to talk, or give me some long, drawn out apology.

I didn't even know if she was the one who should be sorry, or if I should be.

But she just never showed up, and for awhile every day was another day that I'd let go by, wondering if she'd come back. Eventually I came to terms with the fact that she wasn't coming back. Part of me was glad; at this point I knew that the most difficult thing in the world would be to face her. I couldn't look in her ocean-blue eyes as they glistened with tears and begged me to tell her why I'd just walk off in the other direction and never look back. I couldn't tell her how many times I did look back.

I couldn't face whatever feelings that I might realize I still had for her once we reunited; distance had never been fair to anybody and it wouldn't be as long as we were here.

I couldn't do a lot of things when it came to Blue. So much so that it seemed like the only thing I could do was try to forget about it.

I had STML, so forgetting--unlike so many other things--was never hard.

"Christopher, right?" a girl piped up from beside me, gently taking my arm. I shrugged her away, but turned to look at her. She was tall, with a wide girth, skin as pale as moonlight, and a big smile. She had some kind of British accent, and she looked vaguely familiar; maybe I had seen her around camp before.

"Just Chris," I told her.

"I'm Mary," she said, her mouth closing. She had pouty lips and almond-shaped eyes. "You probably know who I am; I talk with Eddie sometimes. After those stitches, you should probably lay down, yeah?"

"No," I told her, "I'm not a sick patient."

"And I'm not a nurse," she said. She crossed her arms, sighing. "I was just giving you some friendly advice, that's all."

"Five whole pages of math homework for Jenkins," I remarked remorsefully.

Adrian Simmons tugged on my backpack and clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Mahoney," he said, "With your track record, you'll have at least two ex-girlfriends per hour to cheerlead for you as you do your algebra."

I shoved him away.

"What does that make?" Lou asked. "Ten girlfriends total?" A bunch of the guys broke into laughter, Simmons high-fiving Lou.

"Wrong-o," Daniel Pratt cut in, "by my count it takes Mahoney more than five hours to do his math homework."

"Sorry," Simmons said, "I forgot to count the breaks in between for sex." There was more laughter.

"You're a real riot, Simmons," I retorted, "When's the last time you even had a girlfriend? Amy Parkinson in fifth grade?" Daniel Pratt and Paul Rothschild chortled, and Gehrig put his fist over his mouth.

"Ooh, shit," he said.

"I bet I could get myself a girl right now," Simmons challenged, his face blushing a deep red. Our posse strutted further down the hallway, our backpacks jouncing. We approached the water fountain, where a big girl was bent at the waist, taking a drink.

"Okay," I mumbled to Simmons, looking at the water girl, "how about the foreign exchange girl, huh? I dare you to ask her to prom. Ten bucks says you won't do it." I was laughing as I said it; it was a joke. Who would want to go out with a girl like that?

"That fat piece of lard? No way, man." I wondered if he'd said it a little too loudly, as the girl at the water fountain glanced over at us.

"Mary-never marry," Pratt teased.

"That moose won't ever get the likes of someone like you, Adrian," Rothschild taunted, "Maybe you really oughta ask her out, and get a piece of that big, white--"

Just then, Mary Wetherby turned around from the water fountain, expression contorted right down to a sad pair of pouty lips as tears streamed from her almond eyes, and slapped Paul Rothschild right in the face. You could hear the smack of flesh against flesh resound in the hallway before Mary began to sob and ran away.

"Looks like Paul just lost you a prom date," I commented, knocking Simmons on the shoulder.

I looked at Mary now, who was avoiding my eyes, her eyebrows raised. She'd lost a considerable amount of weight, but even that probably wouldn't have stopped me and the guys from picking on her last year. We were ruthless and cruel, and we thought we were cool, but it was wrong of us to say the things we did. And we all knew it.

My face heated up, and I looked down, wondering if Mary recognized me after all these months. "Lay down," I said suddenly, "Right. I'll do that."

Mary nodded, and was about to leave, when she turned her head back around. "Can I fetch you some blankets?"

"No," I refused, shaking my head. "You don't have to--"

"It's no big deal," she said coolly, smiling in an empty kind of way, still not looking me in the eye. "I'll get you some soup while I'm at it. I always took care of my younger brother when he was sick, so I know a few tricks."

"You really don't have to," I protested.

"What," she said, finally looking at me, "you don't want the foreign exchange girl helping you around? You want to bet me ten bucks I won't do it?"

Shit. I thought maybe she'd forgotten. My tongue was tied, so I was silent. She stepped into the hut adjacent to us, and grabbed a few towels.

"I'm really sorry," I told her, rubbing the back of my hair. "I didn't mean to--I mean, that was last year. I didn't know it'd get so out of control."

"Sure you didn't," she responded with an exhale, but she didn't sound angry. Instead, she led me away from her hut and towards mine. "Well, don't just stand there," she said. "C'mon." And then she strolled on ahead of me.

I walked after her, and when we arrived, took the blankets from her. "Thanks," I told her, feeling guilty. She gave me a calculating stare.

"There's been chatter around the village," she told me. "Chatter about people living on the other side of the island."

My heart jumped. "People?" I coughed out.

"From our plane," she told me, and then gave a small and humorless chuckle, shaking her head. "It's ridiculous, but do you think it could be true?"

I told the truth, and said, "No." I cleared my throat. "No, not really. I mean, if there really were people, wouldn't they have found us by now?"

Her eyes narrowed, and the calculating stare was back, as if she was searching for something that wasn't there.

Then she gave me a hint of a smile. "You're not so bad," she said. "I'll be back with that soup, yeah?" And then, without waiting for a response, she scurried away quickly. I shook my head and threw the blankets onto my cot. I couldn't believe I'd been on the island for over a month, and hadn't even noticed Mary Wetherby.

I flopped down on my bed, nestling my head back into the cushion of my duffel bag. I wondered if there really were people out there; other people from our plane, maybe. I didn't dwell much on that possibility. It was improbable at best. Instead, I sat up, ignoring the dull ache in my stomach, and unzipped my duffel bag. I filtered through my belongings. The empty Gatorade bottle, a half-empty bottle of cologne, a pack of gum (with one piece left) and a few odds-and-ends clothing articles. I pushed things aside, looking for my mesh baseball cap. I took hold of my hooded sweatshirt and yanked it out, and as I did, a bent piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

Confused, I bent over, snatching it up off the ground. When I saw the tear on the edge of the paper, my heart dropped straight down through my chest. I paused, and then continued. I slowly turned it over. It was what I thought it would be. A pang of emotion rushed through me. The photograph I thought I'd lost a long time ago was wilting in my hand.

"Mr. Chris Mahoney," Robbie Peters said in her reporter voice, "do you know you're the most adorable quarterback on the field?" She had just waltzed over to me after the game, wearing her short, royal blue skirt and two tight braids. She put her hands on my chest, fingers curled up; my face was still damp from showering. And there was that pretty smile; the one where her pink lips curved up at the corners, huge hazel eyes glistening under the field lights.

I cleared my throat. "Well, ma'am, that really depends," I said in my sports interviewee voice. She raised an eyebrow as I continued. "Because, there's this pretty girl who sits in seat 3A every game, and I think she might be some awfully good competition." I let her nuzzle her nose into my cheek and kiss me.

"She's not a quarterback, nor is she on the field, Mr. Chris Mahoney," she reminded me, smiling cunningly.

"She is adorable," I said.

"Still, it's a stretch," she replied, laughing. She ran a hand through the back of my hair affectionately. "Are you coming over to my place?"

"No," I said, "you're coming over to mine. I put that leftover pizza in my fridge, remember?"

"And what's life without pizza?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Okay, baby. Anything's good. You call the plays."

Euphoria rushed through my chest at her sports metaphor. My face lit up, and I took her hand. As we walked out of the stadium, Gerald Matthews called over in his reporter voice, "Chris Mahoney, are you getting laid tonight?"

I yelled back, "Well, that really depends," and Robbie pinched me in my side, squealing my name.

We drove back to my place, the AC lights making her skin glow as she fell asleep in the passenger seat. When I pulled in the driveway, night had fallen, and I walked around the car to open Robbie's door, kissing her face until she woke up laughing. She threw her arms around my neck, touching her lips to mine as we fell slightly to the right. We stumbled inside.

I got the pizza out of the fridge and threw it in the oven.

"Don't you want me to reheat it?" Robbie said. "God knows you can't cook, Chris."

"No," I insisted. "This pizza is gonna be a Hail Mary touchdown, right here. You'll see," I told her as I moved the pizza around on the pan. She bid me to keep an eye on the time. I took it out ten minutes later, taking one glance at the underside of the crust and mumbling about how I overthrew the receiver, and Robbie laughed hard as she waved the smoke away from her eyes.

"Guys who can't cook are cute, you know," she told me.

"Don't you think I know that?" I said, coughing and dumping the pizza in the sink. Robbie laughed again, so hard she almost choked on the smoke, but eventually that laugh died down to a fading smile. She slowly folded her arms.

"Chris," she said, sighing.

"What?" I asked, the pizza stone clattering into the sink.

"There's something I need to tell you."

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. Dread dragged my heart down in my chest. This was it, I thought, this was when she told me she had cancer or broke it to me that she wasn't that into me after all. This was when I lost the only girl I thought I might like more than just a little, whereafter I'd have to pretend and say things like 'it's okay' as everything played out. I'd almost been expecting this. Robbie was like a flower; she was too perfect to keep.

"Okay," I said, moving closer to her. "Shoot."

She played with my shirt. "I'm moving," she finally said.

A well of relief built up in my chest. I kind of laughed breathily. "Moving?" I asked. "Well, that's okay."

"Far away," Robbie continued, meeting my eyes. For some reason it looked like she was about to cry. "To Italy."

"It's still okay," I insisted. "People do the long-distance relationship thing all the time--"

"No, Chris," Robbie said, interrupting me, shaking her head, "It's not okay. I can't do that; I can't Skype you and feel like that's enough. We just can't--"

"Yeah we can," I protested.

"No we can't," Robbie said quietly, looking up at me through the tops of her eyes. "Besides," she said, "You know my dad doesn't like you. He doesn't like you, and he told me that I'm getting a new phone, and I can't have your number to text, and--"

"I'll get a new phone," I said.

Robbie shook her head again, but she cupped her hands around my neck and kissed me. "It's okay," she said. "We won't be moving for another month, and until then, you'll have me all to yourself, okay?"

"Just until then?" I asked.

"Chris, I--" She was overwhelmed, and she put a hand to her forehead. "I don't know."

"I love you," I told her in one breath. I didn't know if I meant it, but it felt like I did.

"God, Chris," she said, her eyes wet, and hugged me tight, her face buried in the shoulder of my long-sleeved T-shirt. "I love you, too, okay baby? I just don't know what's gonna happen at this point." I just kept her in my arms, not saying anything much.

"I have an idea," Robbie said, smiling furtively as she pulled away. She reached around in her handbag, and took out her change purse. "Remember that picture we took after your first football game this season?" She pulled out the picture. It was a little crumpled, but not much. I looked at it. We'd been sitting in a booth at Joe's Pizza. I'd been wearing my football warm-up T-shirt, and she was wearing my baseball cap. She was smiling her pretty smile.

Robbie started to rip it in half.

"Wait," I told her, reaching for the photo.

"Don't worry," she assured me. She tore the picture completely down the middle, and gave me her half of the picture. I found myself staring at it, wondering how she could be so perfect. She was staring at my half. I didn't know what she was thinking.

"That way we always have each other," she said.

My heart was beating fast, and for a second, I thought maybe that I'd do something stupid, like cry. The flood of memories was so real and it hit me right in the heart. But I heard a few voices erupt from outside my cabin, so I hastily stuffed the photo in my back pocket and ducked outside.

The sun was sinking down over the horizon, an orange hue setting over the village. Four people were walking along the cobblestone path from the jungle. Elvis was carrying an unconscious girl in his arms, and Ezzie was looking at her over his shoulder. Eddie quickly made his way to the med tent, Elvis following. I saw Laska; she looked like she was going to be sick.

When she spotted me and caught my eye, she ran over to where I was standing, giving me a hug.

"Missed you too," I said, surprised, and hugged her back, my heart still beating fast. "You okay? What happened out there?"

"Ezzie said that she thinks Jackie's stable now, just critical," she said into my chest. "I'm really worried about her."

"That Jackie?" I asked, gesturing to the girl Elvis was carrying into the med tent, Ezzie following close behind.

Laska nodded, pulling away slightly. "She's one of my best friends from school," she said. And then her wide honey-brown eyes looked into mine, her lips parting. "There're other people on the island, Chris. People from our plane." She took my hands.

"You don't know that," I said, shaking my head.

"Elvis told us," Laska insisted, but I couldn't believe it. She sighed and put her hand on my cheek. "How're you holding up?" she asked. "Your face is warm," she said, and then moved her hand down to my chest. "And your heart's racing like crazy."

I just stood there for a moment, feeling her hand on my heartbeat. Finally, I said, "I'm okay," nodding at her. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of a girl over Laska's shoulder. I noticed her because she was staring right at me, standing at the edge of the forest. I squinted, looking closer, seeing her smile prettily before her dark hair swung over her shoulder and she began to walk in the other direction. "Hey!" I yelled after her, starting to jog in that direction. Laska put her hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

"What're you doing?" Laska asked bewilderedly, looking back toward the forest. "Who are you talking to?"

My eyes widened, and I pointed towards where the girl had disappeared. "Did you see her?" I asked Laska loudly.

"Who?"

"That girl! She was standing right over there!" I yelled.

"Calm down," Laska said. "What--"

I pushed past Laska and ran to the place where the girl had disappeared, stepping over a log. Laska bolted after me, shouting at me to stop. I was looking around in a panic, yearning to catch sight of the girl. Laska caught up to me and grabbed my arm. I tried to shake her away, eyes darting from side to side, but all I could see in every direction were trees and other greenery. We were causing a scene; people were staring at us.

"Chris, what're you doing?" Laska asked me, her eyes wide in concern and confusion. I glanced down at myself in defeat; I was bleeding heavily through my shirt. The girl was gone.

I breathed hard. "There was a girl," I said, swallowing. "Standing right here. But she walked away into the forest, and now she's gone."

"There are a bunch of girls coming in and out of camp, Chris," Laska said, slowly and gently, and I could tell she was weirded out by the way I was acting. "It was probably just a girl going to get water or to wash up in the river."

"No," I told her, thinking of Robbie's figure loping away through the jungle, "it wasn't. It couldn't have been."

"What're you talking about?" Alaska asked me.

"Because I know the girl I saw," I said, heart pounding. "And she's dead."

Saph


"Hello," I sing. "To the world. A world I've never seen before!"

Chris snorts and shakes her head, giving me a look over her shoulder.

I ignore her and keep singing. "I said goodbye to my beach and my rocks and that tree, it's time to go out and part-ee!" I giggle at the terrible lyrics. "But now I'm going to see what's at the top of this cliff, and when we get up there my legs will be stiff. Why, oh why? Because Chris has a bony back!"

Chris throws her head up and down, pawing at the rock she's about to step on. I grab a hold of her mane and turn to stare down at the beach below. A strange feeling of trepidation washes over me, and for some reason this view seems familiar. I lift my gaze to stare out at the sparkling blue ocean, spreading out as far as I can see. I've decided I want to leave the beach, to explore the world above. If there is a world above. Maybe I can find my mother, and she can tell me who I am. Chris knows a secret path up the cliff face, so she's taking me. Only I don't think she likes my singing.

"Okay, I'll stop," I pout, and Chris keeps walking up the cliff. I hum under my breath as she climbs, watching as the top of the cliff grows closer and closer.

By the time she reaches the top I'm buzzing with excitement. She crests the edge of the cliff and ... Grass. It's just grass, everywhere. Frowning, I slide off Chris's back and walk up the soft hill to stare around. A grassy plain stretches out before me, water sparkling in the distance.

"Well this is a let down," I huff.

Chris bites my arm and trots off. Cringing, I rub the bite mark and follow after her. She pauses for me to climb onto her back before trotting on. The sparkling water grows closer, turning into a thin stream. Chris stops to have a drink, and I lean over her neck to have a look at the water. It's surface glittering and rippling as it rushes away, through the grass. I catch a glimpse of my reflection, of my tanned skin with a scar along my forehead and down my temple, my ratty brown hair slowly turning blondish, my big blue eyes wide and staring. I look like an owl! Well, I don't, but owls are cool.

When Chris has had enough water, she lifts her head and walks through the stream. I squeal with laughter and throw my hands up as she leaps onto the other side of the bank, shaking her legs, before walking forward. I spot trees ahead, and push her forward. Chris ignores my demands and wanders about. After what seems like an eternity for me of this, I drop to the ground and head for the forest at a steady walk. After a moment Chris joins me, nudging my arm as I walk.

I push her nose away. "Stop it," I growl. "I'm going to the forest whether you like it or not."

Chris stares at me for a second with wide eyes before following behind me slowly. Every now and then she stops and looks around, ears pricked forward. I give her a strange look but don't bother asking her what she's doing, knowing she'll just give me a blank look. Stupid horse, I'm definitely getting a divorce. Hey, that rhymes!

Reaching the forest, I step tentatively between two trees and pause. The sounds are almost alluring, and oddly familiar. I haven't seen any of this before, why do I feel like I've been here before? Turning around, I find that Chris has stopped dead in her tracks, ears flat against her neck, her nose stretched out toward me. I give her an odd look, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I ask her.

She shakes her mane and snorts, taking a step back.

"I'm going in, you can come with me if you want. I don't know if I'll be coming back though," I tell her.

Chris huffs and walks over to me. She gives me a sad look and presses her nose into my chest. My throat closes up as I give her a tight hug, kissing her face. She rubs her head up and down against my chest before turning around and trotting away. Tears prick my eyes as I watch her go, feeling an emptiness in my heart. Now I'm alone, actually alone. I wish I hadn't wanted a divorce! I need her.

Turning back to the forest, I take a deep breath and walk in. The ground is soft beneath my feet, the smell of moulding leaves and different trees hitting my senses. The world is so green here, and cool, a soft breeze ruffling my ratty hair. Birds call, their songs music to my ears. I hear other calls from strange animals, some close by, some far away. A smile spreads across my face as I walk through the jungle.

Time seems to stop. I feel a sense of euphoria wash over me. The cool air sends a shiver down my spine, and I skip forward, racing through the undergrowth. Giggles erupt from my chest, and I leap through some brushes. My foot hits a log and I fall forward, rolling through the leaves. My laughter echoes through the jungle, bouncing off the trees. Pushing myself to my feet, I keep running until I get to a sort of path. I follow it until I get to a strange clearing. It's unnatural, with flattened trees and deep trenches in the dirt, the lines leading to a wrecked plane. Small monkeys run across the top of the plane, chittering amongst themselves.

I sprint as fast as I can toward the remnants of the plane. As I crash through the trees and into the unnatural clearing, all the monkeys look up at me, and snarl.

"Oh shit," I manage through gasping breaths.

I've ... Been here before. I've seen this place. A frown grows on my face as I walk through the clearing. The monkeys atop the plane look at me, chittering and pointing, but they don't move. A feeling of foreboding washes through me, and I run off. I hit the trees and sprint through the undergrowth, ducking and dodging branches, trunks and leaves.

Pausing by a stream, I drop to my knees and dip my hands into the water and pull them to my lips to drink. I fill my cupped hands with water again and splash my face, scrubbing at my skin. I'm breathing hard, my heart pumping in my chest. I feel a wave of panic wash over me, and I sit back.

I hear some yelling. It's faint, and I can't make out what's being said, but I instantly recognise the voice. It's Chris.

"Chris?" I yell. I don't get a response, but the yelling continues. "Chris! Chris I'm over here!" I'm screaming now.

I hear the sound of a large body hitting the leaves behind me and a warm hand claps over my mouth. I tense up, feeling Carlisle's body pressed against my back. Fear shoots through my veins, and my jaw clamps shut.

I lean forward and dry heave, my body convulsing and shuddering. I wrap my arms around my torso, focusing on my breathing. I start counting, and my heart rate goes down. Slowly, I unfurl my arms and push myself to my feet. Shaking myself off, I leap over the stream and keep walking through the jungle.

What just happened? Was that a memory? How long have I known Chris? And who is this strange man? Was I captured? There is more go Saph Beach's story, although I don't know if I want to find out. Instead, I'm going to keep exploring, see what I can –

A snort behind me makes me jump in alarm. I spin around to find Chris looking around worriedly. Her ears are swiveling about, and her nostrils are flared. With a small cry of relief, I throw my arms around her neck and bury my face in her mane.

"Oh thank goodness," I mutter. "Please stay with me."

Chris nudges me and starts walking. I skip ahead to keep an eye out for any danger. I trust Chris can defend herself, but she seems so fidgety and worried, so I'm going to be her protector. I give her a reassuring look over my shoulder, and she lowers her head, gaze fixated on me.

We walk for what seems like ages, the sounds of the jungle almost deafening. Suddenly the birds stop singing, and all I can hear are the cries in the distance and the wind rustling in the trees. I stop, tilting my head to the side, body frozen in place, as I listen intently.

And then I hear them. Voices. Two voices. My heart starts pounding in my chest. I push Chris behind a bush and creep forward. Peering behind a tree I see two figures walking through the jungle. My eyes bug out of my head at the sight of them. Tao boys, just walking around like me. I wonder if they know who they are. I turn back to Chris, who's looking at me with her head down and ears drooping, like she wants me to come back.

"I'll be right back," I whisper, and skirt around the trees.

I get a glimpse of their faces and trip over a tree root. I cry out in shock and fall flat on my face. I roll onto my back and start giggling. A rustling sound above me cuts my giggles off and I look up to find a handsome, dark skinned boy looking down at me curiously.

"Uhm ... Hi," I wave meekly at him.

"Do I know you?" He asks me, his accent very different to mine.

"Do you?" I ask.

Laska

"Turn your pages to page 344," Mrs. Kane instructed, her shoulder-length blonde hair sweeping to the right, "let's discuss the Industrial Revolution."

Jordan Clay cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, "The Industrial Revolution was the cause of the Grocery Market Crash, also known as Black Friday, and-"

"Wrong," Kane sighed, through her lips curled up in an amused smile, "this specific event is the movement in which machines changed people's way of life as well as their methods of manufacture. About the time of the American Revolution, the people of England..."

As her voice trailed off, the dark-skinned beside him nudged his side and offered a charming smirk, "I think I like your version more."

Jordan grins back, the small gap between his two front teeth adding onto his character, "I think everyone does."

"Except for Kane," the girls snickers, her painted nails skimming the sides of his desk, "she-"

"Remember at the beginning of this semester, when I read everyone the rules of my class?" Mrs. Kane's voice cut in from behind the two, "Would the class like to go over them again?"

The choir of teenagers spoke in unison, "No, Mrs. Kane."

And with a satisfied smirk, her heels 'click, click, clicked' back up to the front of the classroom.

"Someone's got a bug up her ass," Jordan snorted after her loud voice was speaking over everything. "Hey, Alaska- theory; we should skip class tomorrow."

"That's not a theory," Alaska laughed, her hair bouncing as she did.

"Sure it is," he said matter-o-factly, "a theory is when you state something you want to do with a pretty girl."

"I don't think that's right," the girl laughs louder, but nods, "but, okay. It's a deal."

Jordan Clay. I hadn't thought about his...since the crash, really. Had he even survived it? He'd been on the trip.

"You're-" crazy, I was going to say, but stopped myself. "Chris, you're bleeding. You look terrible. You need to lay down, okay?"

Not to mention the fact that we just found out there's other people on the island.

"No, Alaska, you don't understand," his voice was persistent as he glanced around at our surroundings again; why had I never realized how alike he and Jordan looked? "It was her. But she's dead. She died."

"Look," I frowned, touching his cheek, pushing the thought away for the moment, "there was nobody there. You've got to be seeing things. And even if someone were, again, it was probably just a girl from the village that had distinctive features. Would you please just calm down?"

He didn't; his lips curled in a way only he could pull off, and he pretended to be calm for a moment. Then he shook his head, as if pretending everything was okay was impossible. But then he blinked again, and gave up.

It was amazing how he could go through so many emotions and decisions in a span of 5 seconds. It was also amazing how he could think about so much as once, like Jordan.

"Listen," I mumble and let my hand fall until it reached his fingers, "why don't we get things together for that picnic, yeah? It'll take your mind off of this. Maybe we can talk more about it later, when you're calm and feel up to getting things off your chest."

He seemed resistant; his eyes kept flitting back to the woods, scanning for any sign of the ghost he'd seen, but nothing was there and he had to know it. After a moment, he laced his fingers with mine and nodded. I remembered the way J.C.'s hand fit in mine, the way he looked at me, the way we were. It was more like a middle school relationship, now that I thought about it, but he was still my first boyfriend and I still thought about him.

The people who had gathered wandered off, whispering things like, "What a leader", "-girl in the woods my ass" and my favorite, "I wonder if we should try those worms today."

Together, Chris and I walked to the food tent; he called it the 'camp-kitchen', and that was okay because pretty much everyone started calling it that because of him. Along the way, he didn't really say anything and I respected that. Although, the silence was disturbing. Back then, it was never quiet with J.C. He always had something to say, always had something to joke about, never had anything to be silent about. I loved it, most of the time.

"Did you know-" I pause, and glance over at him, "did you know Jordan Clay?"

Chris shrugs, his eyes never leaving the pile of mangoes in front of us, "I'm bad with names."

He actually was bad with names. I pursed my lips, and lifted one of the yellowish-orange fruits up to my mouth, "That's okay."

"Was he important to you?" Chris asks and I lift my eyes to look at him before taking a bite from the ripe fruit.

Shrugging, I swallow and answer with, "He used to be. I just wanted to know if you knew him."

"What, was he your friend of something?" Chris asked, though I couldn't tell if he was asking because he was generally curious or because he just wanted to fill the room with something other than the smell of mixed foods.

"We dated," I answer quickly, taking another bite of my mango afterwards.

"Oh," Chris clears his throat, and glances at me; I still couldn't tell if he cared. Probably not. "Cool."

I nod and after we take a few of more selections of fruits, we snag a blanket from my hut and take off. I had no clue where we were going-- he said he had a place in mind, so I was just following him while chomping down on my mango.

Still, as we walked through the woods, he was looking around; as if someone were out here, hiding from us. As if the person he thought he'd seen earlier were actually here. As if they were going to pop out of nowhere and say, "Surprise! I'm not actually dead, so let's rejoice."

I was kind of doing the same, except with the people that were supposedly sharing the island with us; other people from the crash. How had we not found them? Heard them? Seen some kind of sign from them?

After several minutes of walking, Chris stopped and looked ahead of us; it was a big clearing, with pink flowers floating to the ground and grass greener than spinach growing beneath the trees. The view was gorgeous.

Perfect for a picnic, I thought.

There was a yelp and a rustling of the underbrush, and when I pushed aside the leaves to see what was making all the racket, I nearly jumped out of my skin. A girl was laying there on her back, giggling like a five-year-old. Ro's eyes widened at her, and he peered over to get a closer look, before stepping back further behind me. Her eyes were blue like the ocean, but they were a little foggy, as if she was in a constant state of reminiscence. Her hair was a chocolate brown, and splayed about her face as she laid in the grass. She looked a little out of it. Either way, she was one of the prettiest girls I'd ever seen.

"Uhm...hi," she said, waving lazily and a little bashfully.

I furrowed my brow. Ro was still looking on from behind my left arm. "Do I know you?" I asked.

"Do you?" She had some kind of accent. Australian, unmistakably.

"Uh, I dunno," I said. "I guess not." Then I offered her my hand, and she stared at it before grabbing my wrist and allowing me to help her up. "What're you doin' out here?" I asked, firing off questions. "Are you hurt? What's your name? Did you come on the plane?"

"I'm Saph Beach," she chirped.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Saph Beach," she annunciated for me. Then she cocked her hip to the side. "I mean, that's not my real name." She laughed nervously. "At least, I don't think so. It's just kind of fitting, yeah?"

"You don't know your real name?" I asked doubtfully. This girl's gotta have some sorta head injury.

"No," she sang, "I don't know who I am." Then she peered at me, almost suspiciously. "Do you know who you are?"

This girl's totally crazy, I thought.

I narrowed my eyes. "Lou Emerson," I told her, holding out my hand to shake. Then I gestured to Roman, who was still standing in my shadow. "And this is Ro."

"And what're you doing out here, on the island?" she asked, taking my hand and shaking it limply, before allowing her gaze to linger on Ro.

I scratched the back of my neck. "Trying to find my friend," I said. And then, a thought suddenly popped into my head. My eyes brightened. "Hey--d'you think you would've seen 'im?"

Saph chuckled. "I'm guessing not." She bit back her smile when she saw the disappointment on my face. "Sorry," she added. Then her eyes flitted back behind her. "Hold on," she muttered, "I'll be right back. I just need to get Chris."

It took me a moment to process, to realize that she'd said "Chris".

My heart jumped into my throat.

Maybe she knows where Chris is.

"Hold up!" I yelled, stumbling after her, Ro following after me blindly. "Hold up," I shouted again, "did you just say 'Chris'?"

Saph looked back at me, halting slightly. "What, d'you know her?" she asked.

My heart plummeted at the word "her" and I kicked at the ground. "Oh," I said. "Nah, guess I don't." Saph looked curious now, and turned to face me, crossing her arms.

"Why'd you get so weird when I said her name, then?" she asked.

"I got a friend named Chris, too," I told her with a hint of disappointment and reluctance. I was tired of getting my hopes up only for them to be destroyed.

"Well, I bet yours isn't a horse," she chuckled, and then pushed her way past web-like branches and into a clearing.

A horse? "Huh?" I asked dumbly, before I stepped through after her. And then what she said made sense as the sight of a beautiful, sleek black horse met my eyes. The horse whinnied softly when Saph walked over and put a hand out to stroke its mane. My mouth was agape. The oddest thing of it all was that the horse looked strangely familiar.

And then I recalled the scene before breakfast earlier today, when the random horse had strolled into our campsite before galloping away. Before Chelsea died; before Jackie tried to commit suicide; before Elvis left with her in his arms.

My stomach churned.

The horse snorted and reared back slightly, causing Ro to halt in his advance. "'s okay," I said to him. "You wanna pet her?"

"You can ride her if you want," Saph told Ro eagerly. Ro shook his head, crossing his arms as if he was closing in on himself. "Are you sure?" Saph asked, smiling gently at him. "She's actually quite nice once you get to know her."

Ro shook his head again.

"Don't take it personal," I mumbled to Saph. "He just ain't talkin'." I could tell Ro heard me, because he frowned and ambled over to pick at the tree bark on a birch nearby. When Saph just nodded in response, running her hand over the horse's back, I cleared my throat. "So how long you been in the jungle?"

Saph looked up at the canopy dreamily. "About an hour," she said. "I just started traveling from the beach." Saph cocked her head to the side as the horse narrowed its dark eyes. "I like the beach, but it's just so hot. Isn't it, Chris?"

It was disturbing how she called the horse Chris. I didn't like it, but I couldn't really tell her to stop.

"What happened to you when the plane crashed?" I asked her. "Did you get separated from the rest of us?"

Saph turned to look at me, meeting my gaze and furrowing her brow. "Plane?"

"Yeah, the plane," I repeated, but she only looked at me blankly. Thoughts began rushing through my head: What if she wasn't on the plane? "Were you on the plane?" I asked her sternly, as if I was demanding to know.

"I don't know what happened to me!" Saph insisted, tossing her arms up. "How would I know anything about any plane?" She suddenly appeared upset and indignant, and began to toy at the ground with her foot. "For all I know, I've lived here on this island for my whole life," she muttered.

I averted my eyes and hung my head. I figured maybe she'd gotten a concussion after the plane crash; I suddenly felt guilty for bringing up the past. It was equally painful for everybody. When she saw my expression, she lowered her head to look up into my eyes. "So, there was a plane crash here?" she questioned curiously. "How did it happen?"

"Before we talk," I told her, "we should keep walking. I'm following someone's footprints, and I don't want the mud dryin' up or the path disappearing. Y'get me?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear, and bit her lip. "And what if I don't want to come along?"

"If you come with me, you won't be alone," I told her, because I figured that was as good advocacy as any. She looked at me for a moment, contemplating.

"Alright," she agreed, though I could tell she was suspicious of my motives, but she patted the horse's side. "C'mon Chris," she cooed. "Wouldn't want to leave you behind."

I rubbed my right hand on my left elbow, looking away. "You don't have to bring the horse, y'know. I mean, hell, it could probably just stay here--"

"I'm bringing her," Saph cut in defiantly, and with emotion. "I love her and she's coming with me. You can't stop me from bringing her."

I slowly put my hands up in surrender. "I'm not tryin' to stop you, I just--"

"I'm bringing her," she repeated.

"Aright," I stressed. Then I called, "C'mon Ro." Ro stumbled over to me, and soon enough, we were on our way. I explained to Saph how I'd been talking to Chris before the plane crashed, and how waking up in the middle of the ocean felt like I was being resurrected from the dead. I told her how I met Jackie, Ro, Elvis, and eventually Chelsea, and somehow was able to tell her about what happened to the rest of them. She listened through all of it, and it felt so good to finally have someone to talk to that would talk back. Not to mention the fact that that someone was a hot Australian girl who blushed every time I said something remotely funny or nice.

What did I do to deserve this? I silently asked God.

We were twelve years old. It was two months before Mama would disappear, and Chris was standing by the front pew of our church in his khakis and white button-up. His mother was talking with the priest outside the church door; if we listened close we could hear them discussing Chris's and my upcoming communion. Otherwise, we were alone.

"You can't tell anyone that Mom's making me do this," Chris told me.

"I ain't gonna tell no one nothin'," I said, crossing my arms at the back of the church. I started to walk down the aisle.

"It's not fair," Chris said, playing with his hair and scowling. "Just because I can play a note or two doesn't mean she should make Mr. Peters teach me the pipe organ."

"Don't forget the choir, choir boy," I teased him.

"Shut up, Gherig," he retorted.

"What, don't you like to be a diva, choir boy?" I asked, and started to dance my way to him, moving my arms and kicking my legs out.

"You try being in the choir, and tell me how you like it," he grumbled. I ruffled his hair, and he got me in a head lock (it was the only fighting tactic he knew) and we wrestled around before Mrs. M poked her head back in the door and saw us.

"Boys!" she yelled, "This is a church, for goodness sake!" Whereupon he let me go and we pushed each other around before Mrs. M drove us both home. We rapped to Kanye in the backseat. Later that night, when Chris was brushing his teeth, I heard Mrs. M on the phone with the same priest from earlier. They were talking about confession, at least I thought so, because she kept saying "God won't save me for this". I didn't know where Mr. M was; I never did.

I fantasized about a secret palace he lived in in the bedroom, where he'd sit up all day watching ESPN and smoking cigarettes. I secretly envied him for never having to deal with the stress of everyday life. At the same time, I envied Chris for having a father who was somewhat available. Chris talked about his dad sometimes, but only sparingly, and always just nonchalantly thrown into the middle of a story (Chris liked to tell those). The last time I remembered Chris talking about his Dad, he was saying something like, "--and then Dad came outside and asked if I wanted Chinese, and I said--"

I almost hoped to hear more about him. Deep down, maybe I wished that he could be my new dad, and I could just forget about the old one. Because that's what people were supposed to do about the past, right? Weren't they just supposed to forget about it?

"What's your Chris like?" Saph was asking me.

I shrugged, and stuck with the description I'd been using since what felt like the dawn of time. "Tall, swoopy hair, real dreamy." Each time I had to say it took a piece of me away; it was like I was describing a missing person to the police. I already knew he was dead, but I kept on because maybe I thought that talking about him would bring him back to life.

We stepped through the underbrush and into a small clearing, with pink flowers settling over the ground.

I was eleven years old, standing by my seventh grade locker, and he was like a whirlwind, a one-man parade traipsing down the hallway with a jouncing backpack. He came up behind my locker, and gave me a bone-crushing side-hug.

"That was a heck of a play last night at the game," he said.

"Thanks!" I felt a rush of euphoria at the compliment. "Who're you?" I asked, not knowing his name.

"Mahoney," he told me, "Chris Mahoney."

I laughed, and clocked his baseball cap. I was proud of myself for getting the reference. "Like James Bond!" I said, sure that he'd like me more once I said it. From the look on his face, it seemed like he did. That made me happy. "I'm Lou."

"Like Lou Gehrig?" he asked, dimple flashing in his cheek, mouth agape.

I grinned. "Yeah, like Lou Gehrig."

The bell rang, and Chris gave me a messy handshake, accompanied with a smile. "See you around, Gehrig," he called over his shoulder as he bounced away.

From that moment, I knew I'd never be friendless again.

The horse snorted and stepped backwards, and Saph tried to restrain her. But I wasn't paying any attention; I was squinting at the two people who were sitting in the middle of the clearing. There was a dark-skinned girl pocketing something and and then there was a guy.

"Are those--" I began to ask Saph, about to finish with "--people?", but then I recognized him, the boy in the middle of the clearing who'd just met my eye like he'd just witnessed the last play of the Packers Superbowl. My breath left my chest, and my legs almost collapsed beneath me when I stepped towards him.

It was Chris.

In third grade, I met Jordan Clay, and right away I knew that we couldn't be friends.

We were too alike, and everyone knew that if two people were too similar, their personalities tended to clash. Whenever I called out a joke, J.C. acted like I took the words right out of his mouth. We had the same tastes in humor, and we had a lot of the same quirks, if you could call them that. He was pretty much a mirror image, if you didn't count the fact that I was (clearly) better at sports and (clearly) had better abs.

After elementary school, I stopped seeing him around. One day in the eleventh grade, I caught sight of him in the back of Chemistry class and I honestly thought he was me. I hated him for awhile; for some reason couldn't bring myself to like anyone who reminded me of myself.

You could imagine the shock I felt when Laska told me they went out.

The first thing I thought was, I guess we have the same taste in girls, too. I had a bunch of jokes and digs lined up, right away. But uncharacteristically (I usually just loved to blurt out everything that came to mind), I didn't say any of it.

My head was crowded with a muddle of confusion. I was trying to figure out what J.C. and I had that Laska liked so much, and at the same time I was still shaken up from seeing Robbie in the jungle. Christ, I probably looked crazy, but I swore that I'd seen her.

I tried to clear my head. All my thoughts were no good.

"Gorgeous," Laska exhaled.

"Me?" I asked her, and she scoffed, pinching my arm.

"No, the view, you dip. This is perfect," Laska admired, breathless, looking at the view. The lapel of her shirt blew in the wind. She licked her fingers and tossed the mango pit into the bushes behind us. I kept looking at her; she was just so perfect.

"Y'know," I said, as if in deep thought as I surveyed the meadow, "there are a lot of things that a boy and a girl can do in a place like this." I turned to her and raised my eyebrow suggestively.

"Like have a picnic," Laska said, crossing her arms against her stomach.

I stepped closer to her, touching my tongue to my upper lip. "Picnic could have many definitions," I told her.

"Like what, Mr. Webster?" Laska asked, her face flushing, a smile growing on her face.

"Well," I said, cocking my head to the side slightly, "either we can sit down and eat, or--" I leaned forward so my lips were brushing against hers.

"Or?" she asked, playing with the lower hem of my shirt.

"Or--"

"Or what?" Laska mumbled, cutting in, the words falling off her lips as she caught my mouth quickly with hers.

"Or we can take all our clothes off," I told her all at once in a low voice, "and see what happens." She laughed lightly, playfully, smiling to expose the whites of her teeth. She put her soft cheek close to mine, kissing my ear, and then my jawline, sending shivers up my spine.

"I say we vote," I murmured. I could feel her breath on my face as I brushed her shirt off of her shoulder and kissed her neck. "All in favor of option two, say I love you."

She put her hands up under my shirt. "I--," she said, but hesitated when her hand brushed over the thread of my stitches.

"Huh?" I asked, and then nibbled her bottom lip, before letting go again. "Couldn't quite hear that." I tightened my grip around her waist, pulling her closer. She giggled, not able to help it.

Then she looked into my eyes, smiling prettily, filtering her fingers through the back of my hair. "I love you," she said, her brown eyes glistening.

"Say it again," I told her, feeling my heart rush, but instead she just kissed me on the lips, so I pressed my lips back against hers with equal intensity, hands roaming over her body, loving her back.

~*~

I bent slightly at the waist, pulling my shirt back on over my head. Sunbeams trickled through the canopy, casting light shadows in the clearing. Pink flowers fluttered to the ground. Laska was laying on her back on the blanket, looking up at the sky, her hair fanned out under her head. Her shirt was pulled around her torso, exposing her stomach.

I was hungry, so I strolled to the nearest banana tree, and wedged my foot between two branches, swiftly pulling myself up. I expected a "Chris, don't do that, you'll tear your stitches," but thankfully didn't get any. When I began my descent, I had a bunch of bananas in my hand. I was about to step to the next branch, when I caught sight of a huge spider crawling out of the bunch and towards my arm.

"Jesus Christ!" I yelled in surprise, dropping the bananas, and jumping to the ground, landing on my feet but stumbling away from the tree. The spider skittered away. "Jesus Christ," I muttered under my breath, exhaling and brushing off my shirt, "Jesus Christ."

Laska was laughing at me once she saw I was alright. "Tough guy's afraid of a little spider, huh?" she asked.

"I was just a little startled, that's all," I said, kicking at the bananas and then quickly pulling them apart. Thankfully, there weren't anymore spiders. "And he dodges the linebacker!" I whisper-yelled before ducking my head and jumping onto the blanket, taking one of the bananas and handing Laska the rest. The pain in my stomach suddenly came back, but I pretended it didn't.

"C'mere," Laska said to me, reaching over and putting her hand on my elbow. I rolled over and crawled above her, one hand on either side of her head, and planted a kiss on her mouth. Then I rolled onto my back again. Laska laid her head on my chest.

I cleared my throat. "So," I said. "I bet you have a lot of stories to tell about this Jason Gray guy. Care to share?"

"Jordan Clay," Alaska corrected, even though, of course, I knew what his name was to begin with. "And okay," she relented, cuddling into me. "But only after you tell me about the dead girl you saw in the jungle."

Sensing the sarcasm, I became defensive. "I swear I saw her."

"Okay," Laska said. "Who was she, then?"

I cleared my throat, and paused, thinking. Then I said, "There was this girl who used to hang around me about a year ago. Robbie Peters. Real sweet girl. It was just a fling at first, but then we started to be, y'know, more serious. But after a few months, her daddy got a job in Italy, so she told me she was moving." I exhaled through my mouth. I tried not to care about what I was saying. Laska didn't say anything. "So one day, a few weeks later, I heard from my best friend that he'd heard that Robbie left on a plane for Italy. Didn't even say goodbye."

She made a guttural noise in her throat, and then after a moment, she replied. "You said before that she was dead," Laska reminded me.

"She is," I told her, trying my best to appear nonchalant. "Next day, it was all over the news. The plane went missing. Musta crashed somewhere."

Laska didn't say much, and sighed, shifting a little. Finally, she asked me, "What did she look like?"

"Real pretty," I said, dimple flashing in my cheek. I reached around in my pocket for the photograph. "Hold on, I--"

Alaska sat up in a flash, her eyes widening in surprise. "You have a picture of her? Right now?"

My eyebrows jumped. "It was just in my duffel bag--I found it earlier--and I didn't wanna just, y'know, throw it away, so--"

"You're carrying around a picture of a dead girl in your pocket, Chris," Laska said sternly, catching my eye, her eyebrows raised. "I mean, isn't that bordering on obsessive?" She took the picture from me gently, and was staring at it.

"It's not obsessive," I argued. "I just found it in my duffel bag this morning." I sat up, trying to get a glance of the picture over her shoulder. "Jeez, Tex, it's not like I'm in love with her anymore." Laska rose her eyes to look in my direction. Her expression twisted.

"What?" I asked. And then I realized that she wasn't looking at me; she was looking over my shoulder. I followed her gaze and turned around. The sight of three people and what looked to be a mutant horse walking in our direction caught me by surprise. My mouth started to form the words of some kind of joke--"It looks like the reinforcements have arrived"--but they didn't make it past my lips.

My heart stopped in my chest, because that was Blue, and that--

That was unmistakably Louis Emerson.

A rush of emotions flooded into me, overflowing, and I was standing up, and Laska was asking me something, but I couldn't pay her any attention. "That's Lou," I was muttering, and then, my voice shaking, I called out, "That you, Gehrig?" I almost thought that I was crazy; that it was Robbie all over again.

But heat rose to my cheeks, and once I saw his face and his tattered Braves cap, I ran to him, not even feeling my legs. He took a step towards me, and he was shaking his head in disbelief, his hands over his face. I could see his shoulders shaking, and I put my arms around him roughly, hugging him tight. He was crying, and my eyes were wet. "I thought you was dead, man," he told me into my neck, words slurred in his tears, "I thought you was dead."

He clapped me on the back, and stepped back a little, wiping his eyes. I started to smile.

But then I couldn't hold it back, and I covered my mouth with my hand. My eyes squinted up, and my chest got tight, and I started to cry.

"Aw, shit, man," Lou said, and pulled me back in for a hug. But my arms just hung limp as I cried over his shoulder, right hand covering my mouth.

"I thought I could do it without you," I said into my hand, sobbing, still in disbelief. "I thought I could do it without you, but I can't."

Gehrig held the back of my head, kissing my hair once, and when I pulled back my nose was pink and I was sheepish, but I had my best friend back, and that's all that mattered.

Mark

I couldn't trust anyone. If I had told a single person that the plane had been sabotaged, they would have all pointed their fingers at me, after being done with laughing at me, that is. And last time I'd checked, I didn't particularly want to get lynched.

But someone had done it; someone I knew. And I had to figure out who it was. Time was passing, people were dying; maybe the person responsible was still out there, trying to finish the job.

I had to be stealthy about it, but I wasn't invisible. And I wasn't nearly as charming as Chris Mahoney, so I and my three dozen head injuries decided to take things slow.

At first, I thought I knew who it was: Jesus Jaeger. There were rumors that he had been mixed up in some Satanist sect, sacrificing snails to the devil and whatnot. Once, I even caught him eat a live toad: he bit its head off and mumbled something to himself as he chewed it. He said it was a blessing for an exam. He failed the year.

I knew that I had the wrong guy when I saw his blown-up arm, his pentagram tattoo still soaked into his wrist. His hand was holding his eye drops – he said that staring into the fires of hell for too long made his eyes go dry, but really, he just wore contact lenses. Guess he's where he wants to be now: in hell, biting off the heads of evil toads who deserved it.

So, next, I turned to Chelsea. I was so convinced that it was her. She always gave me these weird looks, like she wanted to slap me in the face with a spur. I even had a dream that she did. And now, she's face-spurring some other poor bastard, right next to Toad Jesus.

That Carlisle, though. I will dance when I find his body! I was hiding behind a bush like I always do when I observe people. And he was passing by, whistling some Elvis song that my neighbor used to listen to whenever I was trying to sleep. He stopped right in front of my bush, and farted almost straight into my face. I swear, he knew I was there. He wasn't on the plane with us, and he was a bit too old to have been the person next to me, but I still had my suspicions. And most importantly: I had my revenge.

Every night for four days I snuck to his food while he was away, and put some of Jesus's eye drops in his dinner. He threw up every time. I felt bad for doing it, so I stopped. Also, I had run out of eye drops. Still, I kept the bottle in the inside pocket of my jacket.

Time was passing by, and people were dropping like flies. I had another suspect, and he was a big one.

Chris Mahoney.

It had to be him. It all made sense: he was the calmest of all when the plane crashed. He was always in the center of it when something happened. He had become the leader so he can keep track of everyone more easily. Being the charming and popular guy that he was, he could have easily gained access to the plane before it took off, and rigged it to blow. As for why, maybe he had some personal beef with someone, or maybe he wanted to put everyone in danger so he could save them and be a hero. Or, maybe he was just crazy.

I had to know more.

So, I followed him. Every time he was alone, every time he excused himself or found a reason to be away from people, I was there to see it happen. I was there to watch him make a mistake, and give himself away. I was there when he set that crazy meathead loose. Though, sometimes I saw a little bit too much, like when he was taking a leak, or when he was with that girl, Alaska.

It was a normal day, all things considered, until the most suspicious thing happened. He got scared by a spider when he tried to climb a tree. He fell off almost immediately.

He was afraid of a predator, the very thing he himself was. So, I could only deduce that in being afraid of the spider, he was afraid of himself as well. He was afraid of what he might do, of what would happen if he got caught, of how much more he could mess up. And mess up he did: he had made the plane crash, and his escape plan had failed. He was afraid of trusting himself, of entangling himself more and more in the web of his own design.

But I needed proof. So, I watched, and I waited. As Chris and Alaska talked, the spider scuttled to my feet. I didn't want to make any noise, so I didn't move. The spider crawled on my foot, and onto my laces. I twitched my toes, and the creature fled into a hole under the green bush I was hiding behind. It was scared of me. The predator was scared of me. It was then that I knew: the culprit would be scared of me too.

I heard some voices. I cocked my head to see who it was through the leaves. The jungle did my bidding, and didn't let me get seen. It was Lou Emerson, Sapphire and the kid who didn't talk.

I watched Chris as they had their reunion. He started smiling. He had them right where he wanted them. But then he cried. Maybe he was having second thoughts. Or maybe he was feeling guilty for what he had already done. Or maybe, he was crying for what he was about to do. I had to stop him.

But I didn't even have a plan A, let alone a plan B. So, when Chris made eye contact with me after rubbing his eyes, I didn't know what to do. If I started running, he would suspect that I knew. I was no Chris Mahoney, but to get out of this one, I had to be.

"Good morning!" I said and yawned forcefully. "What a beautiful day!" I already knew I was doing poorly. I got up, twigs snapping beneath my feet. I stretched a little – I didn't have to pretend that I needed to stretch after all that sitting – and I walked up to the group.

"Have you been sleeping there this whole time?" Alaska furrowed her brows and glanced at Chris.

"Er, yeah!" I nodded. "Well, not the whole time. I was sleeping over there at first," I pointed behind me, at a puddle between two shrubs. "But there were too many flies, and you know how annoying flies can be."

"So, where's your gear?" Chris asked, still wiping his eyes. This guy knew what he was doing. "It's gonna rain soon. You should pack it up. You can come with us if you want."

Go with him? So he could fucking slit my throat in my sleep!? He wanted to keep me close. He was afraid of me, just like the spider. "Sure," I said. "I think I've spent enough time by myself. Also: no gear. Equipment's a little scarce this part of the world."

"Mar...cello, right?" Sapphire asked reluctantly.

"Mark, but yeah, close enough," I said and nodded with my eyebrows raised. "Saph," I uttered to let her know that I knew her name. "I like your h…" I stopped myself from talking. How could I have known that it was her horse unless I had been watching her? "…hair. It goes well with your… eyes." I awkwardly finished my sentence and threw my gaze to the ground. I was no Chris Mahoney, but at least I'd saved it.

Chris placed his hand on his stitches. "Well, Mark, we should get going." I didn't know where they were taking me, but I agreed to walk with them.

"So," I cleared my throat as we advanced through the jungle. "What would you guys be doing right now if you weren't stuck on this fragging island?"

"I don't know: eating?" Chris smiled and so did everyone else. I could have used a good sandwich, so I smiled, too.

Ro stood still, closed his fists and started swinging them back and forth on either side of his torso.

"Skiing, huh?" Lou showed his teeth with another smile. "I'd probably be walking my dog. I was planning on getting one as soon as we got back. Guess that's gonna have to wait now."

"I'd be skydiving," I said. Everyone's smiles left their faces as they either stared at me, or at the ground. "Have you guys ever used a parachute? What about you, Chris?" I looked at him to see his reaction. He was starting at me, his mouth half-open, like there was something he wanted to get off his chest. But it wasn't the expression I was looking for.

"I don't know about you," Lou said, "but I'm never flying on a plane again. Next time, I'm taking a boat."

"Oh, come on," I replied. "Planes are safer than cars. Besides, what are the odds that it happens again?" I made eye contact with Chris as I asked.

Lou scratched his head. "All I know is that planes are complicated, man. All it takes is one thing being out of place for the whole damned thing to come right back down."

"Yeah, you're right." I nodded. "You're absolutely right. It can all come down just like that. Especially if it has help, right Chris?"

"What is that supposed to mean!?" Chris sharply asked.

I took a deep breath. "I don't know, Chris, you tell me."

"What's your problem, dude!?" Chris walked closer to me. "I punched you one time," he angrily spoke. "And now what, I took the whole plane down? It's all my fault? Do you want me to apologize? Is that it? Well, I'm not going to. You were being a dick then, and you're being a dick now."

"Maybe you should take a walk," Lou whispered in my ear.

Chris sighed and placed his palm on his forehead. "No, it's okay. We're all having a rough time. Just walk at the back for a while," he said to me. I slowed down my pace, and I walked with Saph, Ro and Laska as the two friends started their catching up ahead of us.

"Don't look at me," Saph shrugged. "I've got no idea what the heck is going on." She knew I had done something wrong, but she smiled from her sapphire eyes anyway. They really did go well with her hair.

"I like your h…" I stopped myself again. I had already said 'hair', and it was already too awkward the first time. "I like your horse. She's cool." Both our brains had been stirred like a pot of soup. Maybe she could get how I was feeling.

"I like her, too," she said.

I didn't know what to think. It wasn't the reaction I had been expecting. Chris was supposed to be defensive, he was supposed to give himself away. It wasn't him. And if word of what I'd said got out, the real culprit would know that I was looking for them. I was in more danger than ever.

I had to stick with a group. And since everyone else I had cleared was dead, Chris was the only one I could trust.

Well, I could trust Carlisle, but he farted at me. Fuck that guy.

Saph

It seems too much, being alone for so long and suddenly surrounded by people. One of them even knows my name! That Mark guy, who gives me a fleeting smile whenever I look at him. And now there are two Chris's. It's way to confusing, and my head is starting to hurt. And I'm clearly out of my depth here.

Turning to my horse, Chris, I give her a pained look, which seems to catch the attention of the other girl. She watches me through narrowed eyes, like I'm some kind of anomaly that shouldn't even exist. What the hell is up with that anyway? Did I know these people? Do I? No I don't, so they can just leave me alone.

My gaze turns back to Lou and the other Chris walking ahead. Lou seems to be the only person I can talk to here. And he seems comfortable enough to talk to me too. Leaving my Chris's side, I bound over to Lou and match pace with the two boys. They both look at me, Lou with a welcoming smile, Chris with an almost unreadable expression, like he doesn't know what to think of me.

"Hey, how's it hanging?" I ask Lou.

"It's pretty good," he chuckles and slings an arm playfully around Chris's shoulders. "Ain't it, Chris?"

"Yeah," he nods slowly, looking away from me.

"So um ... Where are we going?" I ask.

Lou shrugs and removes his arm from Chris's shoulder. I really like the colour of Lou's skin. It's such a wonderful colour, and gives his skin a smooth look. Almost like Chris's sleek, black coat. But I'm not going to admit that to Lou, he'll think I'm nuts. Oh jeez, he probably already does, with how we met. And I talk to a horse. Is that normal? I don't think normal people complain about wanting a divorce with their horse.

"Back to the village, probably," Chris mutters.

"Village?" I tilt my head to the side, and the memory of shopping with my mother comes to mind. "Oh, you wouldn't happen to know a woman with my accent, would you? She's really tall with dark brown hair and light green eyes. She usually goes by the name 'Mum'."

"Can't say I know her," Lou seems confused by my question.

"She's not on the island," Chris says quietly. "None of our parents are. Well, except ..." He pauses and shakes his head. "Blue, are you feeling okay?"

"Who's Blue?" I tilt my head to the side.

"You?" Chris offers.

"Oh, well I'm fine, very confused and I think I have a headache, I don't actually know where I am, or who I am for that matter," I shrug. "But apart from that I feel fine."

"That's the complete opposite of fine," Chris snaps.

"Hey man, chill," Lou gives Chris a concerned look.

"I don't feel sad," I murmur. "Doesn't that constitute for fine?"

"Why aren't you stuttering?" Chris blurts out.

I stop walking, which makes Lou and Chris stop walking, coincidentally causing everyone else to stop walking. I stare at Chris in total confusion, concern growing.

"I ... I have S-S-Social Anxiety Disord-d-der," I stammer. "And it makes me act oddly. I c-c-can't interact with people, and I can't d-d-do a lot of the things normal people c-c-can do. I freak out easily and I'm considered to be very f-f-fragile."

"Is that ... Is that why you stutter?" Carlisle asks.

"Yeah, w-w-w-w-w ... W-w-w-w ..." I can't get the word out, my stutter is so bad. I just settle for a meek, "Yeah."

Pain sears through my head. What is happening? I fall to my knees and cry out. I can hear people's voices above me, but they sound muffled and really far away. I find myself giggling at the strange sounds, before I lose consciousness.

**********

"How much farther do we have to walk, man? My arms are gettin' tired."

Lou's voice is really close by. And two somethings are wrapped under my legs and around my back. My head is resting on a harder something, and I'm pressed against a warm something. It takes me a moment to realise the two somethings holding me are arms, the hard something must be a shoulder, and the warm something is a chest.

Cautiously, I lift my head and come nose to nose with Lou. We stare at each other in silence for a long time, a blush crawling up my cheeks. I drop my gaze, eyes landing on his lips, curled into a half smile. I quickly look away to find that I'm being carried through the forest. My Chris is nowhere to be seen, but the other Chris is walking ahead with the other girl, talking quietly to each other. The Mark guy is behind them, casting glances everywhere as he walks, like he's waiting for something to happen. Ro is walking behind Lou, eyes cast at the ground.

"What happened?" I whisper.

"What do ya mean?" Lou whispers back.

"Why are you carrying me?" I look at him again, trying to fight the blush crawling up my neck.

"Well, one minute you seemed fine, the next you were on the ground, and then you just passed out," he shrugs, the movement jolting me. "I'm carryin' you to Chris and Alaska's village."

"Oh," I murmur. A part of me wants to be put down so I can walk myself, because it's strange being carried. Another part of me likes being this close to Lou. I'm going to go with being put down, I think. "Well I'm awake now, so I guess you can put me down."

"Right, yeah, 'course," he chuckles and stops, placing me on the ground. "Do ya feel okay?"

"I guess," I frown and walk beside him. "A bit fuzzy in the head, but okay."

He nods and silence stretches between us. I look around, and again notice there isn't a tall, black mare following us. I turn to Lou who seems caught up in his own thoughts.

"Where's Chris?" I ask.

He winces and looks at me. "Over there," he points ahead, where Chris and the other girl are.

"I mean my horse," I deadpan.

"Oh, right," he chews on his lower lip. "When you fainted she kinda freaked out and ran off. I dunno where she is, sorry."

I look at the ground and frown. Chris wouldn't just leave me like that. Unless she believes I'll be safe with these people. But she didn't seem to like the other Chris. I glance around at everyone again, my gaze lingering on Lou. Maybe I'm missing something. It would make some sense. But I can look at what I do know.

So this village that we're going to isn't my home, and my mother isn't there. But it seems as if others are there. My name may actually be a little more important than I first thought, and I'm starting to think that the wreckage of the plane I saw has something to do with the crash Lou asked me about. There's also a strange man that I know, or knew, but I don't know if anyone else knows him. I'm also starting to wonder if maybe the 'Chris' in my memories wasn't Chris the horse, who might not actually be 'Chris the horse', but in fact just a horse. In which case the only person I can really trust is Lou, but even still, what if he knows something about me that I don't, and he's using it to his advantage? He doesn't seem like the kind of person that would do that, but still. And that Mark guy, who knows my name. Maybe I should ask him some questions. Maybe he can tell me a thing or two.

Looking at Mark, I watch him walk over to a tree, stare at it, before walking off, muttering under his breath. Maybe I shouldn't trust Mark, he seems very strange. Pretty cheap coming from me, who is like, Strange Central, but still. Is it smart for weirdos to band together? Probably not. You need weirdos and sensible people to band together, and Lou really seems like the sensible type.

Or maybe it's because I think he's cute. Jeez, what's wrong with me? I barely know the guy! I mean sure he's good looking, but so is Chris. Actually, come to think of it, Chris is really good looking. But he seems to have a thing with that other girl, so I'll pretend he isn't. Ro is kinda cute too, and Mark has some attractive features. There we go, all the guys are attractive. So no, I don't think Lou is a great person to team up with because I think he's cute.

"You a'right, Saph?" Lou's voice snaps me from my thoughts.

I nod, smiling, as I blush furiously. "Yeah, just letting my mind wander," I admit.

"What about?" He asks curiously.

"Uhm ..." I quickly look at the ground and then back at Lou. "Dirt? Yeah, dirt."

"Right," he looks away, chuckling. "Must be some pretty sweet dirt if you're thinkin' that hard 'bout it, then."

"Well, you can get all different colours of dirt, from grey to brown to black to red," I find myself defending my lie. "And dirt can be soil, clay or mud, and did you know some animals eat clay to help with their digestive systems."

"Wow," Lou laughs a little. "You know a lot about dirt."

"Oh my, that makes me really boring and weird, doesn't it?" I bite my lip.

"I wouldn't say boring, but weird, yeah," he nods. "But the good kind, y'know?"

"Yeah," I grin at him before letting silence stretch between us again.

Laska

"Jealousy is a mental cancer."

(b.c.f.)

I couldn't help it. Ever since the 'Saph' girl, Lou, Ro and Mark came from nowhere, something was bothering me. Something was pushing at the back of my head, pestering me, telling me that I needed to say something to the girl that used to have the hots for Chris.

There was a point in time where I wouldn't have cared because boys were just side things, and what I really needed was good grades and a positive attitude. But living on an unknown island with a former player could change someone.

I'd had enough when the brown-headed idiot "fainted"-- she was clearly playing the victim because she wanted Chris to pay attention to her.

"Ahem," I clear my throat-- Lou had just put Saph down, and they were chatting quietly. Chris was next to me, his lips permanently spread into a smile because of the reunion with his brother/best friend. "Chris?"

Another thing that'd been bothering me-- he called her Blue. Why would he call her that?

I've got to be overthinking this.

"Yeah, Laska?" Chris' voice asks, shaky with excitement and something that sounded like anticipation.

I was going to embarrass myself. I'd seem clingy or jealous. But how was I supposed to get answers if I didn't ask questions?

"Do..." I pause, and glance at him quickly-- I couldn't. He was happy. I couldn't ruin the mood he was in because I couldn't get over the fact that he used to, according to Ed, love the girl behind us. "How much longer do you think it'll take? To get to camp, I mean."

He shrugs, and slings an arm over my shoulder, "Shouldn't take much longer. We'll be back before the sun sets."

I nod, and let my fingers skim the edge of the picture in my pocket; a picture of a ghost, a stranger, a girl that used to love the guy next to me.

"There was this one time," I lick my lips, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, "Jordan had come over to my Pa's place. He said he was over to help with the project we were working on for Science class."

"Don't worry," he laughed, his smooth voice echoing off of the barren walls; the previous pictures that had hung there were lost to old faces and frayed memories, too painful for the family of three to look at everyday, "Nice place."

"He's really strict," Alaska whines, pulling his arm towards the stairs, "I just want to avoid conflict. And interaction. With him."

"Laska, he's really not that bad," Jordan rolls his eyes, his hazel orbs reflecting the dim lights that lit up the halls. "You overreact about things that don't matter."

"I-"

Before her words could escape her lips, the pre-teen she lived with rounded the corner, his lips pursed and arms crossed, "Alaska Faleb Rein."

Jordan's lips cracked into a smile, and he slid an arm around Alaska's shoulders, "Well, hey there little man. Been a while, don'cha think?"

"Whacha doin' in my house, man?" his voice came out as a squeak, but he still puffed out his chest and flared his nostrils, trying to intimidate the 5'9 teenager in front of him, "Why you with my sister?"

"We're studying," Jordan smiled lopsidedly, his hair flopping to the side, "for Chemistry."

Paynt raised his thick brows, the small area of acne in the middle of his forehead rising slightly, "Downstairs. You can sit at the table, and if either of you do anything other than studying, then you-" he points an accusing finger at Jordan, "mister, are gone."

"You're adorable," Jordan laughed, and raised his free hand to ruffle the boys tangled black hair, "You know that, buddy?"

Before Jordan's fingers could even touch one of Paynt's dead-ends, his arm was twisted around his back and Paynt's leg was pinning Jordan's right leg to the bare wall.

The Jamaican Princess couldn't help but laugh-- she'd forgotten to tell J.C. that Paynt was ranked level 6 in Judo. He even had a red belt.

"He's out the door at 6, young lady," Paynt said sternly, as if he had complete control over the situation. "Understand?"

"God, I miss him," I whisper, the memory slithering to the back of my head to rest until I decided to think of it again, "he was so protective and caring. I wish I would've given him a better goodbye."

"What do you mean?" Chris says after a moment, his fingers reaching up to flick one of my curls, "We're going home, Laska."

I scratch at my chin, trying to convince myself of that-- it didn't work. There was no hope. I'd never see Paynt again. Or dad.

"Look at me," Chris said, his voice low but demanding-- I let my eyes trail to him chocolate ones, "We're getting off of this island."

I nod, not wanting to contradict him or annoy him or anything. We stared at each other until he leaned close enough to press his lips to mine.

I swore I could feel intruding eyes on us, the people following us thinking, "Are they really making out in the middle of a forest, on an island that killed half of their friends?" I smiled and pulled away, which led to Chris pinching my side.

We continued walking, our fingers linked loosely and voices quiet as we cracked jokes and shared short stories about past memories that meant nothing now.

"Ah, man," I giggle after he finished talking. The feeling I got when he talked to me, touched me, made me feel anything really, it was amazing. It was different. I loved it. I loved this. "I love you."

Chris was quiet, and I didn't regret saying it because I'd said it before. After a moment, he mumbled, "I know," and pulled me closer to him as we strode through the worn trail.

"Sometimes it's only in the ecstasy of unrepressed movement that we may enter the stillness of our authentic selves. In such sacred moments, the world seems to be in step. This is why the idea of finding love across the dance floor endures-- symbolizing that, when we know the true rhythm of our heart, we know the other."
(alexandra katehakis-- m.o.i: daily reflections on emotional and erotic intelligence)

Saph ran her fingers through her long, brown hair, bright blue eyes flitting to me. I smiled at her, almost having forgotten what it felt like to smile at somebody like that. Chris glanced over at me from where he was walking up ahead with his girl (Alaska, I thought her name was--it figured that when I finally did find Chris, he'd be getting busy with a girl). Chris smiled boyishly when he caught my eye, dimple in his cheek. I grinned back. A rush of euphoria surged through my chest; I was still in disbelief. It felt like I was dreaming; Chris is here and not dead and we're in this together.

A minute later, the pack of kids slowed slightly due to a hinderance up ahead. Chris was taking a long step over a wide log, and when I stepped through the thicket after him, my eyes widened.

There was a large grouping of houses, separated by cobblestone pathways and fire pits with people to light them as the sun started to set. It was a village; the huts looked close to real, and the people smiled when you looked at them.

I blinked, an overwhelming feeling flooding into me, one of relief; everything was going to be okay, regardless of what happened. I reached back, offering a hand to help Saph through the underbrush. She took it, lending a quiet "thanks" and a smile. I didn't let go of her hand for a moment. Eventually, she let her fingers slip away, eyes narrowing at the village, like it existed in a memory she couldn't quite place.

Ro leapt over the log and stumbled into me, small hand bracing against my back. I reached an arm back to pull him beside me, coaxing his head into my hand, giving him a hug. He accepted it, eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

Up ahead, in the dim lighting of the evening, Chris was walking backwards in a shuffle. It reminded me of his signature fadeaway when we played 21 on his driveway. "Okay, folks," he called in his fake tour guide voice. "Over here, we have the med tent, where people get healed when they're injured."

"Unless the injured people are Chris, in which case they go running around in the jungle," the Alaska mumbled.

Chris pretended to laugh before his expression changed to stone-cold serious. He poked Alaska in the stomach playfully, and she yelped. "I didn't ask for comments, Miss." Before she could try to tickle him back, he leapt back, gesturing to the tent on the other side of him and raising his voice to address the rest of us. "This is the camp kitchen, where there's stuff to eat"--he pointed further up ahead--"and these are our very own free on-campus housing, where ya'll'll be sleeping."

I was still ogling the food tent. Suddenly, I realized how hungry I was.

"Yo, Gehrig, you wanna bunk with me? Conmigo? You-me roomies?" He gestured between us, eyebrows raised.

My head snapped up to meet his eye. I smiled. "Heeell yeah," I said, stepping forward and boisterously pulling him into a bro-hug. I could instantly smell his cologne--Chris has cologne?

"Gettin' rowdy," Chris said, ruffling my hair. Then he cleared his throat, looking at Saph. His brown eyes lowered and he blinked. "Uh, Blue," he said, a little too loudly, "We could have a few more people double up, and then you and Jackie can room together when she's, y'know, alive and everything."

I would've said that it seemed like Chris knew Saph, but he was the best at coming up with nicknames on the spot. My heart jumped at the mention of Jackie; I wanted to see her and make sure she was okay. But somehow I felt like I couldn't let Chris out of my sight; for the first time in months, we were back together, and I didn't want him to disappear the next time I took my eye off him.

It took Saph a moment to realize that Chris was addressing her. Clearly, she wasn't familiar with the nickname. "Who's Jackie?" Saph asked finally, blue eyes widening, biting her nail.

"The chick who's bleeding out in the med tent." Chris jabbed a finger in that direction.

People had started to gather around us, presumably surprised by the new additions to their camp. Ro looked around at them quizzically. Their voices were mingling, and the firelight flickered across their faces in the near-darkness. Chris stood a little taller, raising his voice to answer their unspoken queries.

"Yo!" Chris yelled, stepping backwards. A shadow fell over his face. "Listen up!" Everyone's chatter quieted slightly. Saph switched from foot to foot, and glanced at me. I smiled at her. Alaska rubbed her hands over her shoulders as the breeze flew by. "I'll cut straight to the chase, alright? There're people on the other side of the island. People from our plane."

Immediately, there was an uproar. A chorus of "What?"'s and "How?"'s filled the air as people demanded to know exactly who had survived and how.

"Hey, shut up!" Chris yelled. Yet again, they heeded his command. I could say I was surprised they listened to a word he said, but Chris had always had a way about him that made people believe what he said. There was some kind of invisible field of energy about him that made his presence feel taller and more important. Maybe it was a quarterback thing. "Tomorrow, a group of people are gonna head on over to where the other group's at, and we're gonna rendezvous back here at the village."

The cool air made goosebumps shoot up my arms, my T-shirt sleeves rustling in the wind. "After that," Chris said, his voice big, "we're gonna finish the raft, and we're gonna work on getting the hell off this island, whaddaya think, fellas?" There were some shaky laughs, hindered by shivering. I whooped, loudly, and Chris whooped more loudly, and there were more laughs, a few more people joining in and howling through their hands.

After the crowd dispersed, Chris was talking with a few other girls from camp. He motioned me over as they were walking away. I had my arm around Ro, and Saph tagged along behind me. "Those girls I was just talking to said they'll move their stuff tonight, so you can move into their hut," Chris told Saph, refusing to look her in the eye.

Saph gave a nervous smile. "Thank you," she told him, and even in the darkness, I could catch sight of her blush.

"No problem," Chris said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I'll walk her home," I offered.

"Well, that'd be real helpful if you knew where the hell you were going," Chris told me, cocking his head.

"Oh, right, right," I said, rubbing my hand over my lips, realizing he was right. Chris clapped me on the shoulder.

He laughed. "I'm just joshing you," he told me. "Actually, Blue, your house's right over there. Third one down from ours." He pointed out the hut.

"Am I gonna be alone?" Saph asked, sounding slightly hesitant, and maybe even anxious. I felt a little guilty.

"Yeah," Chris replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"Hey, look at the bright side," I told her. "Worst case, if you're feelin' upset or scared, we're only three doors down." Saph and I made eye contact, and she smiled furtively. Then, to my surprise, she hugged me quickly. She pulled away before I could think to hug back, brushing her hair from her face.

"Thanks, Lou," she said, chewing on her lip. She gave me another fleeting smile before she turned to walk away. There was a look on Chris's face; he seemed a little deterred by the affection Saph gave me.

Alaska was waiting for Chris, teetering on the edge of the group, arms folded, shoulders scrunched. Chris snapped out of his funk and took two strides to meet her, wrapping her up in a hug. She said something like, "You're warm," and Chris laughed, mumbling something in return. Ro and I awkwardly stood about six feet away from them. After a moment, Alaska gave Chris a kiss before she strolled away to the outside of what Chris called the "med tent", where two people stood talking. One of them was a brutish, muscular guy, and the other looked like she was pregnant. There's a pregnant girl on the island? I raised an eyebrow and shook my head. We're in so deep. I wondered when she was due. Who was going to deliver the baby. How we were going to take care of a baby on the island.

Stop thinking so much.

Seconds later, Chris appeared back by my side. The three of us started walking, Chris's hands still shoved in his jeans pockets. "So," he said, sounding a little bothered, "what's up with you and Blue? You got the hots for her?" He masked whatever negativity he was formerly exuding with a smile.

"I dunno," I told him, scratching my neck.

"Well, she sure got the hots for you," he told me, hair at the nape of his neck blowing in the wind.

"You mind if Ro lives with us?" I inquired suddenly, realizing I hadn't even thought to ask before. Immediately catching the subject-change, Chris gave me a look, eyebrows turning up, lips curling in a half-smile. You can't use my own bullshit against me, it said. But he let it go.

"Ro?" Chris questioned, and bent his torso to see around to my other side, where Ro was practically stuck to my hip. Ro's eyes rose to meet Chris's, unfazed. Chris grinned. "Sure thing, Red Rover can room with us. But only if he knows the secret code." Chris mimed shooting a basketball.

Ro's brow furrowed. "Chris," I remonstrated.

"I'm just kidding," he inflected, and then reached across me to knock Ro's chin. "What's mine is yours, alright big man?"

A ghost of a smile passed over Ro's complexion. "Yeeah, there we go," I said with a grin, "there we go." Ro's smile grew bigger as I jostled him with my arm.

"What's up with little Ro?" Chris mumbled in my ear.

"Lost his brother," I told him quietly, "hasn't talked in a month." Chris nodded, accepting my explanation without protest, and said nothing more about it.

We had arrived at the hut, and Chris stumbled through the doorway, ruffling his own hair. There was a soft dirt floor, and two dirty cots inside--one of which was covered with Chris's stuff; his duffel bag, a Packers sweatshirt, and a blanket. Chris caught my eye and tossed me the blanket. I snagged it in my hands. Ro and I watched as Chris began to take the duffel bag and sweatshirt off of his cot.

He threw it on the floor.

It took me a second to realize what he was doing. "Hell no," I said. "You're not sleeping on the floor, man, I--"

"'s okay," he insisted. I shook my head, but he continued. "I've slept in a bed for the past thirty nights. I think I could stand a few hours sleeping on the floor."

I knew he wouldn't give up, so I exhaled, patting Chris's back. "You're a good man."

"Don't mention it," he said, but I knew he liked for me to say it. Ro climbed into one of the cots, curling up on his side. I put the blanket over his shoulders, tucking it around him like a cocoon. I wasn't sure if that was how people tucked their kids in, but Ro seemed comfortable. He eyes drooped shut almost immediately, and his breathing slowed.

"Where's Ree?" I asked Chris. He was facing away from me, but he turned completely around, absent-mindedly folding his sweatshirt. He shook his head, nose scrunching up a little.

"No," was all he said.

Something lurched inside my chest. I remembered when Chris and I used to come home late at night, and Rian would be waiting for us in the living room, wearing her purple pajama set. "Lou, your baseball hat's crooked!" she yelled one night, before she rushed into the foyer and turned it the right way. Then she'd pat my face. "It's good now." I'd smile and Chris would say, "Get," pretending to kick her and playfully shoving her away.

"Aw, God," I breathed, and pulled him into a hug. He didn't hug back, just clutched his sweatshirt tight and stared at the wall behind me. His neck was sweating a little. "I'm sorry," I told him, and he shrugged in my arms. I let him go.

"Tomorrow we're gonna have to talk about all that's happened," he told me, lip shaking a little. He licked his lips, hazel eyes darting back and forth between mine. "Alright, Gehrig?"

"Alright, bro, alright," I said, blinking. Then I clapped him on the shoulder. "I missed your sorry ass."

He laughed, and I was relieved that he did. "I'm just glad to have my first baseman back," he told me.