Island Girl (19 page)

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Authors: Lynda Simmons

BOOK: Island Girl
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She walked toward me. “Does your mom know you’re out here?” I didn’t answer and she laughed. “I didn’t think so.” She walked in a little circle around me. “This is going to cost you.”
“I don’t have any money.”
She stopped in front of me and poked a finger in my chest. “You still have the cash my father gave you. We can start with that and see where we go from there. All the way to my iPod, I’ll wager.” She looked up at the trees. “Doesn’t that bird ever stop?”
“He’s looking for a mate. He’s singing so a lady mockingbird can find him.”
“A lady mockingbird? What’s wrong with you anyway? You’re like a little kid in an adult’s body.”
“Nothing’s wrong with me. And we’re lucky we heard him because if she comes tonight, he won’t sing in the dark anymore. They’ll start working on a nest and he won’t have time.” I looked up into the tree. “I kind of hope this is the night. I like the idea of a lady mockingbird hearing his love song and setting out to find him. Flying all by herself in the dark, following only the sound of his voice.”
“Are you always this weird?”
I put the flashlight under my chin. “Sometimes I’m worse,” I said in my best Dracula voice. Then I walked around the base of the tree, watching the branches, hoping to spot him again. “Of course, she’d have to come from the city because Benny was pretty sure this is the only mockingbird on the Island this year.” I lowered the light and looked over at Jocelyn. “But what if his song doesn’t travel that far? What if none of the lady mockingbirds in the city can hear him singing? What if no one ever comes for him?”
“You’re ridiculous. Unless he’s as weird as you, he’ll figure out there’s no action here and take his song somewhere else.” She smiled and strolled toward me. “Now, about that money.”
The mockingbird kept on singing and I felt kind of sorry for him because sometimes it takes me a while to figure things out too. But maybe it would be a lucky night for both of us, because I already knew what I had to do! I shone the light in Jocelyn’s face. “We can talk about the money later. But what I’d like to know is how come
you’re
here. And if your dad knows where
you
are?”
“He knows I’m with you. I couldn’t help where you took me. I’m just the little twelve-year-old who was led into the darkness by the crazy woman.” She smiled again. “So where’s the money?”
“Mark sent you to follow me?”
She shrugged. “Not so much sent. Your mother was bugging the crap out of me, ordering me around and writing everything down in a notebook. Has your family always been nuts or is it something you caught by living here?”
“We’re not nuts and my mother writes everything down because she’s had a lot on her mind lately and she doesn’t want to forget anything.”
“If you ask me, she’s losing her mind.”
It was my turn to poke a finger in
her
chest. “Lay off my mom, okay? She had cancer, but she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to worry. She’s okay now, but it took a lot out of her and that’s why she makes notes.” I poked her once more, just because. Then I turned around and shone my light up into the tree again. “You still haven’t told me how you found me here.”
She came up beside me, her eyes following the light as it moved slowly across the branches. “I couldn’t stand your mother another minute, so my dad said I should go and keep you company. Then he said it might be best if we both stayed the night at your house instead of coming back to mine.”
I stared at her. “And my mom agreed?”
“She didn’t say no. So I was on my way to tell you what was going on, and I saw you riding past the bridge. That meant I could either go to your house alone, which had a certain appeal, or I could follow and find out what you were up to. If I’d known you were looking for a bird, I would have stayed back and checked out your room instead. I bet there’s all kinds of secrets in there.” She pointed at a branch to my right. “Is that it?”
I moved the flashlight over the area, but it was just a clump of leaves.
“Stupid bird,” she said, and moved a little to the left, still checking the branches. “How long are you going to keep looking?”
“My mom is probably calling the house already. We should go.” I aimed my light at the path and was heading back to the front of the lighthouse when another bird began to sing. I stopped and told Jocelyn to be quiet. That other bird sang again, and this time my mockingbird answered. I grabbed Jocelyn’s arm. “She’s here! The lady mockingbird is here!”
Sure enough, she started to sing again on the other side of the lighthouse. The male was already on his way, flying past us to meet the lady who had come for him. Jocelyn and I were running to catch up when a cat went by really fast, like something up ahead was about to become dinner.
“Oh no you don’t,” Jocelyn said, and ran faster, but we were too late. By the time we rounded the lighthouse, that cat already had a bird in its mouth. “Wings to go,” Liz would have said, and laughed.
“Drop it!” Jocelyn yelled, clapping her hands as she ran toward the cat. “I said drop it!”
Another bird dive-bombed the cat, Jocelyn kept clapping her hands, and pretty soon the poor thing gave up. Just dropped that bird and ran. But she didn’t go far. I could see her sitting in the bushes, waiting.
“That is so gross,” Jocelyn said, creeping slowly toward the fluttering bird in the grass.
It wasn’t gross, it was nature. There were lots of feral cats on the Island and they had to eat too. But that didn’t stop my stomach from flipping over as we crept a few steps closer.
“Please don’t let it be a mockingbird,” I whispered. “Please don’t let it be a mockingbird.” But I knew even before I shone the light on those soft grey feathers that it was going to be one of them.
I knelt down in the grass while the other mockingbird flew from branch to branch and called to the one on the ground. “She’s still moving,” I said. “Not a lot, but at least a little.”
Jocelyn crouched beside me. “How do you know that’s the lady ...” She started again. “How do you know that’s the female?”
The male started barking, like he’d heard the question and wanted us to know the answer. “It’s her all right,” I said. “And she came all this way just to find him.”
The poor lady mockingbird fluttered again, trying to fly. Above my head, the male started singing his song again, loud and clear, so she’d know he was still there. I couldn’t just leave her there, so I said, “Stay here and watch for the cat,” and I ran behind the lighthouse.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re pishing in the woods again.”
“That would be silly. But I do need something to wrap the bird in, so I’m using these.” I came back around and held up my underwear. Good thing I never started wearing those thongs that Liz gave me. I couldn’t have wrapped a sparrow in one of those.
Jocelyn closed her eyes. “That is truly disgusting.”
“No, it’s necessary.”
I laid the underwear on the grass and smoothed it out. As gently as I could, I rolled the bird into my hands and set her on the soft cloth while the male kept singing and singing.
“You’re taking her home?” Jocelyn asked.
“If I don’t, the cat will come back and finish the job for sure.”
I folded the edges of my panties up and over the brave lady mockingbird, keeping her still and warm. Then I took off my T-shirt, folded it into the basket on the front of my bike, and gently laid the bird in the center. When she was settled, I threw my leg over the bike and looked back at Jocelyn.
“You coming?” I asked.
She nodded and the mockingbird called from the tree beside her.
And I knew they were both right behind me as we raced back to the house.
RUBY
 
The moment I opened my eyes, I knew this was not going to be a good day. Outside the bedroom window, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the familiar drone of the ferry horn assured me I was still on the Island. I just had no idea
where
on the Island.
A bedroom, yes, since I was in a bed, but a quick look around begged the question, whose bed? Naturally, my heart leapt into action, beating harder and faster, ready to take me from concerned to panicked in ten seconds flat.
“Stop it,” I muttered, and sat up straighter. Drew in a long, calming breath and took another, slower, look around. White walls and pine furniture. Ruffled curtains and a dresser lined with photographs of people I didn’t know and places I had never been. No sign on the ceiling, no notes to myself anywhere. My shoulders sagged. Where the hell was I? And who was that lying beside me?
That’s when Big Al stepped into the game, encouraging me and my silly heart to leap up and run, run! Get out of there as fast as I could, screaming all the way for his added enjoyment. Instead, I lay back down and told myself to shut up and stay put. That bugger might be in the driver’s seat, but as long as I could still reach the brake I would not make things easy for him. Right now that meant controlling the panic, giving my heart a chance to slow and my stupid Swiss-cheese brain a moment to clear.
As always, I started by focusing on my breath.
In
, two, three, four.
Out
, two, three, four.
In
, two three four.
Out
, two, three . . . Oh, forget that. I had to know whose head was on the other pillow.
My bed mate’s back was to me, forming a white mountain under the sheet. With shoulders like that, it could have been a female wrestler, but I was pretty sure it was a man. I lifted myself up and peeked over those shoulders. Moved the pillow enough to reveal the back of his head. Then I lay back down and stared at the ceiling. I was in bed with Mark? How could that be?
I ran my hands over my legs, my chest. I wasn’t naked. In fact, I was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I must have crashed here with him, but why? And where was here? This couldn’t be his house. He didn’t live on the Island. He lived in the city somewhere. So whose house was this?
I sat up and took a closer look around for clues. Portable phone and digital alarm on the nightstand. A man’s shirt on the closet doorknob. Large jeans on the floor in front of it. I peeked under the sheet. He was still wearing boxers. Definitely a night without fun for anyone, which struck me as sad.
I drew in another, deeper breath and continued my survey of the room. Huge running shoes by the dresser, a suitcase on the floor beside them . . . That was when a hole opened up in the fog and I knew that this
was
his house. For the summer at least. I remembered him telling me that yesterday. He came to my door. Announced that he was renting a house on the Island and he was going to change my mind about taking care of Big Al.
Hah! One point for Ruby.
Now we know why he’s here,
Big Al whispered in my ear.
But do you know why
you’re
here?
I waited, hoping the fog would clear a little more, but sadly the answer was still clouded and out of reach. One point for the bad guy. Damn.
I could have reached over and poked Mark, asked him straight out what was going on, but I wasn’t ready to do that yet. Yes, he knew about Big Al and the “situation,” but I wasn’t ready to let him or anyone else start remembering my life for me. I wasn’t there yet. And if things went according to plan, I never would be.
I continued my study of the room, looking for clues, anything that might lift the fog a little more. I saw my shoes under the window, my sweater on the back of a wooden chair, and a small canvas carryall tucked underneath. Bright yellow, no zipper, just white handles and a line of black ants snaking up from the bottom, zigzagging across the front and then disappearing over the edge, into the bag.
I hadn’t seen that bag in a very long time, couldn’t even have said with any confidence where I’d stored it. But I would have recognized it anywhere.
I eased out of bed and walked toward the chair. Sank down on the floor and drew the bag into my lap. Ran my fingers over the canvas, the handles, the long line of ants, and remembered everything.
Liz made this bag for me when she was ten. For my birthday. I’d been using my mother’s paisley carryall for years—a perfectly serviceable bag with a skate lace filling in for the drawstring that had snapped long ago. I never thought much about the bag one way or another. Just tossed it over my shoulder and went. I didn’t think anyone even noticed until the day Liz declared it old and disgusting and announced that it was high time I had one of my own.
She was wriggling like a puppy when she presented me with the new one. We immediately dubbed it “the ant bag” and took it everywhere with us after that. Grocery shopping, protest marches, picnics, day trips. There was nowhere that bag didn’t go, including the many sleepovers that Liz attended once she started making friends in the city. Back then, she’d liked having a bit of me around and wasn’t afraid to admit it.
If I hung around long enough, Big Al would make sure I forgot everything about that bag. But on the bright side, I’d also forget the day she no longer wanted anything to do with me or that bag, so he had his good points too, I suppose.

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