Summer by Summer (9 page)

“Still worth trying.” I opened the pack and inspected the contents. It was soaking wet except for one corner. One match head was lighter in color than the others. I carefully removed the match. We gathered the brush, knowing the match may only stay lit a second. Before I could strike it, Summer grabbed my hand and closed her eyes.

“
Please
, God. We need this to work.” Her eyes popped back open and she nodded.

A tiny flame burst, then fizzled out. But an ember dropped and lay glowing on the bits of brush we’d collected. It felt like an eternity before it took, both of us staring down and scared to breathe. Thin lines of smoke curled up, and soon a nice tear-shaped flame emerged.

One small obstacle conquered. But I knew I’d lie awake beside the fire smelling Summer and her fresh scent and wondering what to do to maintain my sanity.

These islands were unforgiving.

Being stuck on one with someone like Summer? Impossible.

Summer

It was still dark when I woke up the first time. I had curled up as close to the fire as I dared. Bray slept on the other side of the flames. He must’ve stoked up the fire because it burned brightly and with more flames than I remembered it having at twilight.

I leaned up on one elbow to look out over the water. It was a shadowy, empty abyss, with waves moving toward us then retreating back into the dark loneliness. I’d always enjoyed the sound of the ocean. But not now. Not here. It was a bitter reminder of where I was. Shipwrecked on an island.

I tried to not question why a search plane hadn’t come. But with the ocean on one side of me forcing cool air up over my body and with the firelight on the other side of me, the question rolled over and over in my head. Where was the rescue plane? Wasn’t it standard to send out a search party when people disappeared on the water? Surely they hadn’t given up on us.

Watching Bray throughout the day, something had become clear. Like me, Bray had expected a rescue team. But as the day wore on, his attitude had shifted from waiting mode to action mode. He’d said tomorrow we’d have to find water. If he was expecting a plane or boat, he would be staying visible on the beach, not venturing deeper into the island. The weight of our situation caused my limbs to tremble. What if . . . what if . . .

I closed off the sob that swelled in my throat. But another followed. Tears sprung to my eyes. I was so thirsty, I wouldn’t have thought tears possible, yet there they were, blurring the golden flame before me, causing the dancing flames to swell. I lay back down and pulled myself into a ball, drawing my knees up to my chest. The ground moved beneath me, gritty sandpaper sticking to my sunburned skin. And this made me cry more. Silent sobs escaped as I lay there, curled in the fetal position, staring at the fire, and listening to the waves.

Bray’s voice interrupted me. “Hey. Summer, what’s wrong?” Groggy words accompanied the sound of him moving. In an instant he was beside me. He stretched out behind me and gently slid his hand down my exposed arm.

But I couldn’t stop the tears. In fact, they increased as if I’d been holding back, and now a great dam burst, allowing my entire body to react. I wasn’t one to cry. I hadn’t cried like this since last summer.

Bray’s hand against me was warm, littered with flecks of sand, but I didn’t mind. There was body heat. I felt as though I had none of my own, and this realization caused more tears.

He whispered against my ear. I sniffed, wishing I could hold it together. “Summer,” he said. “It’s okay.” One of his arms slid very slowly beneath my shoulder. He turned me toward him. Most of his body wasn’t touching mine, just close.

“I’m sorry, Bray.” It was all I could say. All I could manage.

He tucked my head into the hollow of his throat and stroked my hair. “Don’t apologize. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” His words were little more than vibration against my cheek where it rested at his throat. There was strength in his voice.

I sniffed again and tilted to look up at him. In the darkness of only flickering light, his eyes looked black. “I’m stronger than this. I swear.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Pity, maybe? I wasn’t sure. “You don’t have to be strong right now.”

But I did. He didn’t understand. I always had to be strong, because every time I thought I didn’t, the universe proved me wrong. I hated crying. I hated being weak. But that’s exactly how I felt: weak and lost. And all alone, except for a guy who mistakenly thought weakness was somehow okay.

I started to push away from him, but needed my bearings first. I pulled in a deep breath, causing my body to arch. When I did, Bray settled me deeper into his arms. Now, we were touching, and
though every warning signal in my mind should have been going off, all I could do was stay there and accept the body heat he offered while exhaustion and hopelessness took turns on my psyche and my eyelids. Soon I found myself drifting off to sleep, tucked between Bray and the crackling fire.

Bray was already up and on the move when I woke. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to focus on him as he hovered over me like some strange, long-legged bird.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Smiling. He actually had a smile on his face.

“Umm.” No mention of last night when I’d had my little crying fit. For that, I was thankful. I pressed my fingertips beneath my eyes to see if they were puffy.

“You can have coconut or coconut. Either one.” He was proud of himself. I could hear it in his voice.

I stretched and tried to wrestle my hair into some kind of order, but it was useless. “Mmm. Coconut’s my favorite.”

“Good choice!” He passed me and bent to tend the fire. “I was afraid you’d already ordered room service.”

I blinked the sand from my eyelids. “Oh, I did. Eggs, bacon, toast, and hot coffee. You’ll have to cancel the order, though. I’d much rather have coconut.” But my mouth watered at the mention of a real breakfast.

He glanced back at me over his shoulder. A half smile tilted his face, and the wind caught and lifted the hair from his forehead. I’d mustered and he was glad. It wouldn’t do for him to be stranded on an island with a crybaby. He turned back to the fire, and I watched him build it up. Knees bent, hunched over the embers, breaking sticks and laying them just so across the flame.

He really was a great-looking guy. But off the island, we were
people from different worlds, and his included a steady supply of parties. I knew firsthand what kind of havoc that created. What kind of carnage it left in its wake. No matter how well Bray and I got along on the island, nothing changed who he was. And who he was could be lethal to girls like me. I’d lived that once. With Michael. For Michael, I’d put on a smile and gone to the parties with him until I watched him sink bit by bit. At first, Michael didn’t drink at all, then he’d have a couple beers — by the end, he was getting drunk on a regular basis. And I had no power to stop him. But I did stop going with him.

I walked away from Bray to give myself a little space.

“By the way,” he said.

I turned to face him and noticed the tinge of color on his cheeks.

Bray pointed to a spot that had been cleared, a narrow path through the edge of woods. “I made a sort of makeshift bathroom through there.”

“Oh. Thanks.” We really were stranded. No water, little food, no bathroom.

Thankfully, Bray returned to his task, and I dipped my hand into the ocean, drawing up some water to pour over my sand-sticky legs and arms. My throat was raw from being so dry, and all that water was right there in front of me. I scooped a little more into my hand and drew it to my mouth.

His voice stopped me. Deep, rich, as close as it’d been last night when he’d held me while I cried. “I wouldn’t,” he said.

And I knew exactly what he meant. Saltwater would only make me thirstier. I squeezed my lips closed and splashed the water over my face.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Besides, I have something for you to drink.”

I turned to face him. “Water? You found water?” The idea of drinking my fill and letting it roll over my tongue and down my throat caused my heart to pick up beats.

But the smile Bray had been wearing dissipated, and I knew there was no water. He motioned for me to follow him. We passed the fire to a makeshift table and chairs. He’d dragged a couple of large pieces of driftwood to the cooler. On the ground beside lay a pile of fresh coconut husks. Bray held out the coconut to me.

“All that for one coconut?” I pointed to the pile.

“Yeah, it was the size of a beach ball. I cut away layers and layers until I got to this.” He held up the brown, furry ball.

I sat down on my driftwood.

“Careful, it’s open at the top.” I angled the coconut, and sure enough, there was a crack in the center of one of the three indentions. “Tip it up to your mouth. There’s milk inside. It might not be Perrier, but it will help hydrate you.”

Nothing had ever tasted so good. The smooth milk coated my throat and instantly helped with the thirst. Even though some shreds of the husk got into my mouth, I drank the slow droplets and sucked on the coconut to give me more. After drinking most of it, I held it out to him.

“Keep going. You need to drink it all so I can crack it open to get to the meat.” His dive knife was in his hand.

My gaze narrowed on him. “What about you?”

“I already had some. You get the rest.” He concentrated his attention on the knife’s blade.

When I didn’t move, he looked up at me. I pressed it toward him again. “I don’t believe you. Your turn.”

A dimple appeared then disappeared on his cheek. “Fine.” Strong hands tilted it up and he sucked hungrily at the shell. A dribble of milk ran down his face. When he finished, Bray used a large rock to whack the shell until it broke into five pieces. His muscles bulged beneath his T-shirt. Breathless, he handed me a chunk still bearing moisture from the milk. I caught the drip with my lips, and then used my front teeth, chipmunk style, to gnaw at the sweet fruit. My stomach growled at
the first bite. Bray worked his dive knife against his chunk, and when a fat piece fell off in his hand, he held it out to me. I bit in and sighed. “Food,” I said around the white meat. “Actually a mouthful of food.”

He cut another chunk and popped it into his mouth. “I’ll never again complain about eating.”

“You used to complain about eating?”

He shrugged. “No more than anyone else. Just griped about not knowing what I wanted or wishing I was at McDonald’s when I was at Taco Bell.”

My mouth watered. “I love Taco Bell.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Clouds obscured the sun, giving us a few moments of shade. I welcomed it. “What’s our game plan?”

“Water. Shelter. Food. In that order.” He dropped his breakfast on the cooler and used his dive knife to point inland.

A cold chill swept over me. Giant vegetation loomed like guardians of the fortress woods.

“Intimidated?” Bray asked me.

“That would be an understatement.” We’d survived the beach. There was the tiniest measure of confidence here at the water’s edge.

“We have to, Summer. There’s no water —”

“I know, I know.” I dragged a breath and let it hiss from my lips. “I just . . . don’t like bugs and things.”

“No problem. It’s not the bugs you need to worry about. It’s all the animals that eat the bugs.”

My eyes widened.

“I’m kidding. Listen, my dad and I have been hiking in Belize since I was Joshie’s age. It’s not as bad as you think.”

But my heart pounded. “What about the rainforest?”

“There are some pretty big bugs in the rainforest, but there’s no rainforest on this island. At least, I don’t think there is.” He stood and pulled me to my feet. “See that?”

I squinted above the tree line. With the sun shaded, the interior of the island was easier to see. Bray pointed to a spot where a cropping of small green mountains met the sky. I nodded.

“Looks lush there, so I’m thinking there may be fresh water. This is a good-sized island. I have no idea where this island is, exactly, but there’s enough variety of terrain with the rocky section along the ocean, the beach area we’re at now, and the lush interior that I don’t think we’ll have a problem finding more food. Shelter, we’ll have to build unless there’s a cave.”

He must have read the horror on my face, because he instantly redirected.

“We’ll want a shelter close to the beach. So no cave, okay?”

I nodded, trying to wrap my mind around cave dwelling on a deserted island. “But the number-one priority is water, right?”

“Right.” I saw the concern as it crawled into Bray’s eyes. He was wondering if he’d given me too much information all at once. But I could take it. I was strong.

To prove it, I said, “We can only go three days without water. And what was in the coconut is only a smidgen of what we need to replace all we’ve lost roasting in the sun. Plus, the merciless wind from off the water is drying us out externally. Add sweating to that and . . .”

“And we need to find water, pronto.”

I nodded. “Then let’s go.” I sounded brave.

Bray wiped his knife off on his shorts and tucked it into the sheath. He strapped the knife to his thigh. “Not just for diving anymore.”