And yet, Jesus Christ, it hurt. Not that he figured I’d broken the plates—that would be kind of cool, actually—but that I’d do it behind his back, with another man. After we’d joked about it repeatedly. It was our thing. Like Life Savers.
Our thing! Damn, Amy, get a grip. Jamie Orcutt was a liar, a manipulator, and a jerk. And I didn’t really know anything about him. I didn’t trust him; he didn’t trust me. Malcolm had been right. It was stupid for us to think of getting involved, given our long-standing mutual dislike. At least with George, we’d always been friendly. Now there was a guy you could have a casual affair with.
Poe wasn’t fling material.
I leaned my head against the wood and took several long, deep breaths, but the pain in my chest didn’t diminish one iota.
Crap. At this rate, I was going to need another entire Spring Break to get over the heartbreak of this one.
After a while I saw a figure making his way up the beach, but due to the angle of the sun, I couldn’t see him until he’d gotten close enough to speak.
“Hey,” Darren said. “What are you doing out here all alone?”
“Just thinking,” I said, hoping my eyes didn’t look too puffy.
He nodded. “Mind if I join you?”
Yes, I thought, but then I remembered the time I’d ditched him to go off hiking with Poe. Remembered what he was dealing with at home. Thought that maybe his little sister wasn’t the only one missing their housekeeper.
“Sure,” I said, and scooted over to give him room to sit between the roots.
He sat and pulled off his backpack. “Bit of drama back at the camp, huh?” He yanked out a Tupperware container filled with a few more of those cupcakes from lunch and a bottle of electric blue sports drink.
“You know I can’t talk about that,” I said with a rueful smile.
He rolled his eyes. “Please. No one was being really quiet about it.”
“True,” I said. I pointed at the sweets. “Gonna share those?” He held the container out to me and I took one. “Thanks. I didn’t get a chance to have dessert at lunch.” I took a big bite. Wow, it was sweet. He uncapped his drink bottle. “Are you going for a blue theme today?” I asked him, pointing at the energy drink.
He shrugged. “Something like that. Maybe I’ll go to Eli after all.”
I laughed and kept munching the cupcake. It really was too sugary and rich for my taste, but I couldn’t very well not finish it after he’d shared with me. “So, how have you been liking The Count of Monte Cristo?”
“Pretty good. Drink?” I nodded and took the bottle. The cloying taste had made me thirsty. “Makes me want to find a buried treasure, that’s for sure.”
“I know, can you imagine?” I took a huge swig.
“What would you do with a treasure like that?”
“Just what the count did,” I said. “Take revenge on anyone who ever wronged me.” Maybe I’d start with Poe. Or Felicity.
“Oh, you don’t need a treasure to do that,” Darren said.
I giggled. “Experienced in the ways of revenge, are you?”
He smiled. “I try.” We talked about the book for a few minutes more. Darren was a smart cookie. His grasp of literature was pretty well developed for a kid in the early years of high school.
Even the energy drink was too sweet. What I wouldn’t give for some regular water. It was like the more I drank, the thirstier I got. “You know,” I said, “if you’re going to be trapped somewhere, there are worse places than an island in Florida.” Oh, wow. Had I said that out loud?
“Oh, yeah?” Darren said. “Name one.”
“Connecticut in February’s pretty sucky.”
“Anyplace is pretty sucky when you live with two parents who don’t speak to you about what’s going on.”
I stared at him. It was, quite possibly, the most vulnerable statement he’d ever made to me. “Darren, I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t be getting involved, but if you need to—”
He looked away. “Forget it,” he said. “Is that the boat from the skit?”
“Yeah, it must be where Ben and Demetria pulled it up last night.”
“You didn’t get sick, though,” Darren said, abruptly.
I shook my head. “How do you know that?”
He smiled again. “I know all kinds of secrets.”
“Like what?” I laughed again. This kid could actually be kind of charming if he tried.
“Like what they were saying about you in the tomb just now.”
The words took a few seconds to sink into my brain. “How do you know…that?” I repeated, dumbly.
“There are ways into the tomb other than the front door,” was all he said. “I told you, I’ve been here for a while. I’ve seen it all.”
“And you were…” I blinked. The light was starting to hurt my eyes. “Listening?”
“Yep. I listen to a lot of things.”
“What did they say?” I asked, but at that moment, I wasn’t sure I cared. The sun had become too warm, the sand too bright. Where were my sunglasses? Why didn’t I care more?
“That you were the one to break the plates.” He dropped his voice. “But I know that’s not true.”
And for the third time, I pushed the words out, and this time each syllable was a struggle. “How do you know that?”
“Because I did it.”
19. The Other Island
When I opened my eyes, it was dark out. I was lying on my side in the sand, back to a log, mouth filled with cotton balls.
Okay, not that last part, but man, it felt that way. My mind screamed for water. I tried to put a hand to my head, and discovered the following:
1) My hands were bound behind my back.
2) My feet were tied together with thick rope.
3) Every muscle in my body ached.
I shoved myself into a sitting position and my head began pounding so hard I almost lost my cookies into my own lap.
“You’re awake,” said a voice on my left. “Thank God. I was really worried.”
Very gingerly, I turned my head toward the voice, but I saw little more than shapes in the dark. “Darren?”
“Yeah,” he said. “How do you feel? You’ve been out for hours.”
“What happened to us? Where are we?”
“The other island,” he said. The direction of his voice changed, as if he was looking out at our surroundings. “This is where those people have been camping.”
“Are they here? What…happened? I can’t…” Oh God, what had happened to me? I felt like I was covered in bruises. I wanted to throw up. I’d never been so thirsty in my life.
“Shhh,” he whispered, his voice closer now. “Stop talking.”
Okay, think. Forget the pounding in your head. We’d been kidnapped. We’d been kidnapped by insane, violent, paranoid conspiracy theorists who thought that we were responsible for all the evils of the world. And Darren was just a kid, pretriarch or not.
“How did we get here?” I whispered back.
“The boat. You don’t remember?”
I shook my head, and was rewarded with even more acute pain. It felt like my skull was being crushed between two sharp stones. Had they come up behind us on the beach and hit me over the head? I wished I could feel around for bumps or cuts. I slowly tilted my head toward my shoulder, and felt like the contents were sloshing out of my temple. My hair, crusted with something chunky and smelly, pressed against my cheek. Oh, no. Vomit.
“I can’t remember anything. How many of them were there?” All of a sudden, even worse fears clawed their way into my muddled mind. Darren said I’d been out for hours. Plenty enough time for them to—bile rose in my throat, and I remembered Brandon’s words from long ago.
Stop overthinking.
There was no time to be afraid, or freak out about what had already happened. We needed to get out of here. I needed to keep Darren and me as safe as possible until we were rescued. Surely the Diggers would have noticed by now that I was gone. Even if Darren’s own parents didn’t much worry about his whereabouts, my friends would expect me to be back by evening. It wasn’t that big of an island, and I’d never been one for wandering around after dark. Except, that’s exactly what I’d been doing the past few days, wasn’t it? At least, that was the story I’d let the Diggirls believe while I made out with Poe.