Spirits of Ash and Foam (13 page)

A few yards away, Marina leaned into Rain and whispered, “I'm kind of embarrassed. You must think I'm like a slut or something.”

Charlie, curious enough to risk his brother's wrath, simultaneously whispered to Hank, “Dude, isn't she dating Ramon?”

“No,” whispered Rain, “I'd never…”

“She told me she dumped him,” Hank said, trying not to sound guilty.

“It's just…” Marina paused, either to gather her thoughts or to pick up a suitable marshmallow stick. “Ramon was nice enough, and he's cute. But kinda…”

“Isn't he like one of your best friends?” Charlie asked.

“Brain-dead,” Rain offered.

“Totally,” Hank acknowledged. “But, dude, have you
seen
her?”

Marina offered up an embarrassed shrug. “Pretty much.”

Charlie glanced over at the two girls, though it was unclear—even in his own mind—which he was referring to when he whispered, “Yeah.”

“And Hank's better?” Rain asked. She wasn't exactly Hank's biggest fan due to the way he treated Charlie.

Hank ripped open the bag of marshmallows and poked three each onto the two bent wire hangers he had brought along. “I'll make it up to Ramon,” he said under his breath. “He's into Linda Wheeler now, anyway. She's more his speed.”

Marina looked at Hank and sighed. “Oh, he's better. And there's the other part. I mean, look at him. He makes me melt.”

“You mean, like
fast
?” Charlie asked, not sure if Hank was being clever.

Rain picked up a stick and glanced over at the Brothers Dauphin. She supposed Hank was good-looking, but he wasn't kind—or loyal. Not like Charlie. She couldn't ever imagine melting over Hank. “If you say so.”

Hank punched Charlie on the arm. “Dude, shut up.”

“Trust me,” Marina said. Then she turned from the boys to smile at Rain. “Baby brother's cute, too.”

“Ow,” Charlie said, rubbing his arm.

Rain was about to explain that Charlie wasn't the baby of the Dauphin family, but Marina was already walking away. So, armed with sticks, the girls rejoined the guys. Hank made Charlie hand a wire hanger to Marina, who handed Charlie the stick she'd found. Hank held up the bag of marshmallows, and Rain and Charlie each took one and poked their sticks through them.

While the marshmallows roasted, and while poor 'Bastian found himself longing for one the way he'd never longed for a marshmallow in his life, Hank put his arm around Marina. She settled in against him but turned toward Rain again. “I meant to ask …
How are you doing
?” Marina's voice was loaded with enough sympathy that Rain was briefly baffled by the question.

Then it hit her.
She's asking about 'Bastian
. The last time Rain and Marina had spoken, Rain was still mourning her late grandfather, unaware he was still hanging around as the Dark Man. Marina had actually been pretty great for someone who was more or less a stranger. (She lived two islands over, on Malas Almas.) She truly seemed to understand how Rain was feeling at the time, probably because Marina had lost her own sister recently. Now, of course, Rain was entirely over anything that resembled grief. She looked across at 'Bastian, who was currently focused on levitating himself cross-legged up and down, up and down. She smiled and said, “I'm good,” and left it at that.

Marina didn't push it. She changed the subject, more or less. “So are you at least keeping busy?”

Rain chuckled. “You could say that.”

Charlie rolled his eyes.

Marina's left eyebrow inched upward. “Meaning?”

Rain looked across the fire at the brown-skinned girl. Their eyes met. In that instant, Rain wanted to tell her everything.
Meaning I'm the Searcher! And the Healer! I have this mystic quest that's
so
important that every single person on the Ghosts should get on board or get out of the way!

Both Charlie and 'Bastian leaned forward to stare at Rain. Though the idea seemed ridiculous, both
knew
she was on the verge of spilling. Although the possible repercussions were impossibly vague in his head, Charlie started to panic a little and cleared his throat loudly.

It did the trick. Rain exhaled profoundly, pulled the gooey marshmallow off the stick, and shoved the hot, sticky confection into her mouth, as if only its goopiness could stop her from revealing the crazy truth. “Meaning,” she said while chewing the hot mess, “I'm busy eating marshmallows.” She looked away, feeling strangely guilty that she had, in effect, lied to Marina. Particularly guilty since the eighteen-year-old had always been so open and honest with her. As a consolation prize, she considered inviting Marina to go with them to Miranda's place tomorrow. But that wouldn't do either. For one thing, it really wasn't her invitation to extend. For another, no matter how sympathetic Marina seemed, she was still a senior.
No way she'd want to hang with four eighth graders. Even with the hot tub option.

By now, Charlie had relaxed, the crisis having passed. Swallowing his first marshmallow, he reached for the bag in front of his brother. Hank shot him a look.
Dude, enough's enough!
Charlie looked from Hank to Marina, who was now resting her head on his shoulder, and got the message.

He threw his marshmallow stick on the fire and stood up. “Well, we should be going. School night.”

Rain looked at him confused. 'Bastian shook his head, wondering just a bit at Rain's obliviousness. He rose to his feet and said with some volume, “Rain, I think Hank and Marina would like to be alone.”

Rain looked over at Marina, who pretty much
was
“melting” into Hank, then practically jumped to her feet. “Yeah, of course. I mean. School night. We need to go!”

“You don't have to,” Marina said, though she was looking into Hank's eyes when she said it.

“Yeah, stay,” Hank said, appreciating Marina's gaze and feeling safe enough to lie.

“No, we'll go,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, we'll go,” Rain said.

“Then go,”'Bastian said.

So our three heroes fled the N.T.Z., each lost in her or his own private desires.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE OTHER HALF LIVES

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 12

Miranda Guerrero, daughter of the C.E.O. of Sycorax Inc., led Renée, Charlieand Rain onto the company-owned, company-operated Sycorax Ferry, needlessly flashing a pass to a ticket taker, who knew exactly whose daughter Miranda was. Rain asked, “Why do you even take the ferry? Don't you have a chauffer?”

Miranda made a face. “I don't want Ariel taking me everywhere. It would be weird. I take the ferry to be normal.”

Rain and Charlie rolled their eyes in sync; they couldn't help it. Even Renée, who was—when she chose—more expert at concealing her thoughts, had to look away. There was nothing normal about taking the Sycorax Ferry home
to
Sycorax Island. There was nothing normal about living on Sycorax, about being the daughter of the man who also employed an easy third of the Keys' adult population. There was nothing normal about being the richest eighth-grade girl in the Caribbean.

That was why Renée had decided to play a
long
game. To find her moment and wait for it. Miranda was not going to be the victim of just another prank. No clothes stolen from her locker. No Stinky Spray substituted for her perfume. Renée had her mother to think of and couldn't do anything that might blow back and cause Linéa Jackson to lose her job as a fruit inspector at the Sycorax cannery.

But it was more than that. Striking Little Miss Guerrero off her Sugar-List would be the summit, the pinnacle, the apotheosis. Miranda's humiliation would have to be perfect. It would have to be
sublime.
Renée could afford to be patient. Of course, maintaining that patience would be a little harder with regard to Rain and Charlie. Neither deserved any special consideration … except for this: Miranda liked them both. So for now, Renée would be on her best behavior around all three. At least, there was the small consolation of being able to torture Rain and Charlie by reminding them of the inevitable. Renée smiled at Charlie and said, “Beautiful day. Wouldn't you agree, Sugar?”

Charlie forced a smile. Still, he wasn't sorry Renée and Miranda were around. Their presence removed some of the crushing pressure of being alone with his crush. (Or of being alone with his crush and 'Bastian, which honestly didn't feel much different most of the time.) Even now, as the sea breeze played with a wisp of hair that had escaped Rain's thick braid, Charlie had to fight the impulse to reach out and tuck it behind her ear; he had to fight the impulse to hold her hand. Or worse.

Rain's thoughts were somewhere else entirely. Without explanation, she took off up the stairs.

They all watched her go. To Miranda, Rain was still an enigma, difficult to read and so essentially self-sufficient that even Charlie often appeared to be little more than an accessory. It made Miranda feel bad for him, as he stared after Rain like a puppy. Miranda tried to offer a distraction. “So, did you bring your suit?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, I'm ready for the Jacuzzi.” Then he swallowed hard. Hot-tubbing it with Rain, Miranda and Renée was something like a wish fulfilled.
Assuming my head doesn't explode.

On the upper deck, Rain ran up to the pilot's cabin and—ignoring the
DO NOT DISTURB THE PILOT
sign—knocked on the door. Old Joe Charone, the ferryman, opened it for her, and she slipped inside.

“How you doin', Sweetie?” he asked. Old Joe had been 'Bastian Bohique's best friend. They had flown together during World War II, and Joe had that same photograph of the
Island Belle
hanging on the bulkhead behind him. But Joe had been injured during their last mission over Germany and had missed their final, fatal flight, which had killed the
Belle
's eight other crewmen. He had also missed last Sunday's ghost flight, which had finally laid the Eight to rest. So unlike 'Bastian and the others, Joe had no closure. For Old Joe, he was the lone survivor with all the accompanying guilt. He didn't even have the benefit of a ghostly 'Bastian's company, and Rain could tell from those four short words of greeting that he was still grieving, still hurting, still deeply soul-sick.

So she did what she could. “I'm feeling a little better,” she said and touched her left hand to his right. She watched the Healer snake on the
zemi
flare with a golden light that raced down her arm and leapt from her hand to his before vanishing under his sleeve. Then she watched as he took a breath, straightened his back, and smiled at her warmly. Same as with her mom and dad. The Healer might not always remove the wound, but it sure helped with the symptoms.

“You know, I'm feeling a little better too,” he said and meant it. “Must be seeing your shining face, Sweetie.”

Isaac Naborías, who was a few yards away on the upper deck, was also feeling better. Not better enough to change his mind or ask for his job back. But Jimmy Kwan had called to tell Isaac his last paycheck was waiting for him, so Isaac was heading back to Sycorax to pick the check up in person and say a proper good-bye to everyone.

His cheek twitched. He checked his watch. It was three thirty in the afternoon, and sunset wasn't until seven twenty-nine. (He knew. He had checked.)
I just have to be off that island before dark.
Nervously, he scratched and scratched and scratched at his many, many, many mosquito bites.

As they approached the Sycorax dock, Joe shooed Rain out of his cabin, and she descended to rejoin her little tribe. Once the ferry stopped moving, the air became quite still. The dock smelled of diesel fuel, saltwater and fish.

They disembarked. Miranda took the lead again with Renée by her side and Charlie following. Rain hesitated. A brush-played snare drum and a bass guitar provided her current mental soundtrack, sneaky and slinky. She slipped past Charlie to tap Miranda on the shoulder, saying, “Hey, could you show us where the guy died?”

Miranda looked uncomfortable. “Wouldn't you rather go swimming?”

“I just want a look,” Rain said. She glanced at Charlie for support.

He got the message. “Yeah, it'd be cool.”

Miranda looked at Renée, who shrugged. She was a little curious too.

Five minutes later, they were standing beside the excavation, looking across to the cave entrance opposite. Rain scanned the area, mostly checking for landmarks, not really hoping to find anything
zemi
-ish out in plain sight—and not really
wanting
to find something with Miranda and Renée in tow. She pointed toward the cave. “That's where the body was?”

Miranda nodded. “That's what my dad said.”

“Okay, we can go,” Rain said.

Charlie gaped at her. “Don't you want to look around?”

Rain scrunched her face impatiently. “
Now?
No.”

Ah
. Charlie understood.
Now, no. After sunset, definitely.

Rain shifted gears with genuine enthusiasm. “Let's hit that hot tub!”

A relieved Miranda led them rapidly toward her home. She was pretty sure her father wouldn't approve of their little detour and was glad to be back on track. Minutes later, she and Renée were walking up the front steps. Charlie and Rain paused to stare.

Renée smirked inwardly. She knew exactly how they felt, how
she
had felt on Monday when first laying eyes on the place. She had just been better able to hide it.

Miranda lived in the old manor house, originally built by the slaveholding plantation owners of the
isla.
The clean white structure had been thoroughly renovated and modernized by men working for Miranda's father, but it still possessed a certain antebellum charm and grandeur, if you liked that sort of thing. In its day, it had been constructed to impress and intimidate. Tthe latter effect was certainly still in force for Rain and Charlie. They instantly felt out of place and uncomfortable, even unworthy. It wasn't a pleasant sensation. Charlie started to feel hostile toward Miranda, though he knew that was unfair. Rain fought the impulse to check the soles of her shoes to make sure she didn't track anything inside. Spotting a mat at the front door she could make use of, she grabbed Charlie by the T-shirt to pull him up the stairs.
Strength in numbers, right?