The cliff had arisen out of the ocean, first a pointy speck, then a pointy dot, then a pointy bump. The entire time they approached, Plum offered Marlowe and Sofia encouragement, along the lines of “We’re almost there” and “Oh, look, I can see palm trees now” and “I see the dock!”
“I will never own a blue bucket for the rest of my life,” Marlowe proclaimed shakily. The harbor waters were suddenly smooth, like landing on a runway.
At least compared with the open ocean.
The dock was fairly short. A speaker somewhere blasted music—bass-heavy club hits. A small white canopy stood at the end of the dock. Beyond it, a large white-and-blue-striped tent was set up on the rocky beach.
But it was completely abandoned. Where were all the people?
While the others were gratefully disembarking from the boat, and while Jude Romeo was helping the captain lift the suitcases out of the cargo area . . .
Plum couldn’t help it; she took a picture—and a short video—of the blue bucket, and the boat, with the ocean behind them. She posted the photo on both the Pyre Signs app and Instagram. She typed a caption: That wasn’t quite the triumphant entry we expected. #PyreFest She added a big puke emoji and a laughing GIF.
She added the same text to the video and put it on TikTok, with an emotional ballad playing over it.
Should she have posted their puke bucket?
Probably not.
Was it something Peach would post?
Definitely not.
But was it still funny, hilariously so, and true?
Absolutely yes.
Plum laughed as the first few likes started coming in.
“Welcome.” A British man’s voice, burnished smooth like a fine mahogany, carried over the music.
Plum put her phone in her back pocket and squinted at the tent.
The man’s voice continued. “To Pyre Festival.”
“Yeah!” Jude cheered. His voice was different than before. A new demeanor suddenly took over his whole posture: he slouched, swooped one hand at his inner leg, and scrubbed his floppy hair with the other.
“Yeah, oh my God.” His accent was different, too. Like a famous rapper or DJ being interviewed. A performance of himself as someone else.
“Pyre Festival! Ohmygoooood.” Jude shook his head in a humble, amazed, can-you-believe-it move that looked as fake as his voice sounded. “Pyre Festival!” He did a little whoop-whoop move, punching the air in time with two quick jumps. “Can you believe it? Whoa.” The boy leaned from side to side, his hands coming together, then opening out, then coming back together again.
“Pyre Festival, the place to be!” Jude cycled back to the whoop-whoop move.
Did he think someone was filming? The change was startling.
“Pyre Festival, by the creators of Pyre Signs,” the British voice continued. But the person’s voice was almost completely flat, especially compared with Jude’s.
“Where is he?” Sofia murmured the question so only Plum could hear it.
Plum shook her head. “I can’t see him from here. Let’s go find him.”
“First let me text Krystal.” Sofia rapidly tapped on her phone, letting her older sister know that they’d arrived on Little Esau safely.
“Ready,” Sofia said. “Let’s go to the festival!”
Marlowe still held Plum’s arm. She nodded emphatically.
“The sooner I get to dry land, the better.”
They headed toward the beach and the tent.