coincidence that the stream is well away from the latrine,” I told Mrs. Campbell, but she didn’t respond.
“Do you think w-we are going to get r-r-r-r-rescued, Bonnie?” Hope looks vulnerable without her glasses, like a blind owl.
“Yeah, sure we are, Hope. Now that the wind has dropped they’ll send a boat.”
Hope doesn’t look convinced. “I wish I hadn’t b-broken m-my glasses,” she says. “I can’t see a thing. It’s like living in a thick m-mist.”
“Have you always worn them?”
“Since I was very little. M-m-mom says she’s going to get m-me contact lenses soon. And she’s going to getm-my t-t-t-t-teeth fixed. But Dad says why b-b-b-b-bother? It w-w-w-w-won’t make me look any m-m-m-more human. Is this shirt clean enough, do you think?”
We hang the clothes across a fallen palm trunk and turn when we hear happy shrieking.
I can’t believe my eyes. May, Arlene, and Mrs. Campbell are skinny-dipping in the fishing pool. They’ve done nothing to help all morning. And then I realize there’s no fire—they’ve allowed it to go out. They come up the beach, naked. I’m embarrassed but also very angry.
“Mrs. Campbell, shouldn’t we keep the fire burning as a marker for anyone coming to rescue us?”
She throws herself down on the sand, ignoring me once again. I march over to her and stand with my hands on my hips, looking down at her.
“Shut up, Bonnie MacDonald. You’re so bossy,” May says, stretching out close to Mrs. Campbell.
“Oh, they’ll find us now that the weather’s improved,” Mrs. Campbell mumbles and rolls a cigarette. I can’t remember ever feeling this angry before: She’s wasting matches now.
“Your cigarette smells funny, Mrs. Campbell.”
“Herbal,” she says, sucking in deeply.
Oh yeah, right, herbal. Pull the other one.
I don’t trust myself to speak and walk away. Jas looks at me, her eyes asking me what’s happened, but I shake my headand drop cross-legged onto the sand, my head in my hands.
The day crawls on. No one comes. We don’t see any boats, planes, or helicopters. When I suggest a hunt for more provisions, only Jas says yes. No one else wants to come. All the others do is swim and muck about. It’s as if they are on holiday. It’s as if Sandy hasn’t died, or the boatman. As if Natalie isn’t seriously sick. As if we aren’t stuck here until someone finds us.
Hope mopes on her own, the only girl with all her clothes on, though she looks far too hot.
“Coming?” I ask, but she shakes her head.
“Then keep an eye on Natalie, will you?”
Hope nods and moves closer to where Natalie is lying.
“It’s one thing the juniors acting as if nothing’s happened, but you’d expect Mrs. Campbell and the others to act responsibly,” I grumble.
“In denial,” says Jas. “All in denial.” (Her mother’s a psychologist.)
“But think about it, Jas. Who knows we’re here? No one. If the boatman had made it home it would be different, but there are hundreds, well, dozens of islands. How will they know where to find us?”
“We haven’t seen any boats or planes today.” For once Jas can’t look on the bright side. “Why? Why aren’t theyeven looking for us? Something awful must have happened at the base.”
We look at each other. Has there been an air strike?
Or was the storm so bad the base was flooded or destroyed?
“What’s that tree? Is it a mango?” I ask.
“Yes, look, fresh fruit!” Jas responds.
We gather the fallen fruit, braving the wasps and flies, and eat. Sweetness explodes in my mouth. I suddenly start crying; I don’t know why. Jas puts her arm around me and we sob together.
I’ve found out why Mrs. Campbell has given up any pretense of being responsible. For a start, she had two bottles of whiskey with her, not one, and she’s nearly finished the second one. I add this information to the list in my journal. I don’t know what made me look in her backpack. Well, that’s not true. I was
“Do you think w-we are going to get r-r-r-r-rescued, Bonnie?” Hope looks vulnerable without her glasses, like a blind owl.
“Yeah, sure we are, Hope. Now that the wind has dropped they’ll send a boat.”
Hope doesn’t look convinced. “I wish I hadn’t b-broken m-my glasses,” she says. “I can’t see a thing. It’s like living in a thick m-mist.”
“Have you always worn them?”
“Since I was very little. M-m-mom says she’s going to get m-me contact lenses soon. And she’s going to getm-my t-t-t-t-teeth fixed. But Dad says why b-b-b-b-bother? It w-w-w-w-won’t make me look any m-m-m-more human. Is this shirt clean enough, do you think?”
We hang the clothes across a fallen palm trunk and turn when we hear happy shrieking.
I can’t believe my eyes. May, Arlene, and Mrs. Campbell are skinny-dipping in the fishing pool. They’ve done nothing to help all morning. And then I realize there’s no fire—they’ve allowed it to go out. They come up the beach, naked. I’m embarrassed but also very angry.
“Mrs. Campbell, shouldn’t we keep the fire burning as a marker for anyone coming to rescue us?”
She throws herself down on the sand, ignoring me once again. I march over to her and stand with my hands on my hips, looking down at her.
“Shut up, Bonnie MacDonald. You’re so bossy,” May says, stretching out close to Mrs. Campbell.
“Oh, they’ll find us now that the weather’s improved,” Mrs. Campbell mumbles and rolls a cigarette. I can’t remember ever feeling this angry before: She’s wasting matches now.
“Your cigarette smells funny, Mrs. Campbell.”
“Herbal,” she says, sucking in deeply.
Oh yeah, right, herbal. Pull the other one.
I don’t trust myself to speak and walk away. Jas looks at me, her eyes asking me what’s happened, but I shake my headand drop cross-legged onto the sand, my head in my hands.
The day crawls on. No one comes. We don’t see any boats, planes, or helicopters. When I suggest a hunt for more provisions, only Jas says yes. No one else wants to come. All the others do is swim and muck about. It’s as if they are on holiday. It’s as if Sandy hasn’t died, or the boatman. As if Natalie isn’t seriously sick. As if we aren’t stuck here until someone finds us.
Hope mopes on her own, the only girl with all her clothes on, though she looks far too hot.
“Coming?” I ask, but she shakes her head.
“Then keep an eye on Natalie, will you?”
Hope nods and moves closer to where Natalie is lying.
“It’s one thing the juniors acting as if nothing’s happened, but you’d expect Mrs. Campbell and the others to act responsibly,” I grumble.
“In denial,” says Jas. “All in denial.” (Her mother’s a psychologist.)
“But think about it, Jas. Who knows we’re here? No one. If the boatman had made it home it would be different, but there are hundreds, well, dozens of islands. How will they know where to find us?”
“We haven’t seen any boats or planes today.” For once Jas can’t look on the bright side. “Why? Why aren’t theyeven looking for us? Something awful must have happened at the base.”
We look at each other. Has there been an air strike?
Or was the storm so bad the base was flooded or destroyed?
“What’s that tree? Is it a mango?” I ask.
“Yes, look, fresh fruit!” Jas responds.
We gather the fallen fruit, braving the wasps and flies, and eat. Sweetness explodes in my mouth. I suddenly start crying; I don’t know why. Jas puts her arm around me and we sob together.
I’ve found out why Mrs. Campbell has given up any pretense of being responsible. For a start, she had two bottles of whiskey with her, not one, and she’s nearly finished the second one. I add this information to the list in my journal. I don’t know what made me look in her backpack. Well, that’s not true. I was
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