THE BOY STEPPED CLOSER TO the strangers. “You’re here! You’re here! I’ve been by myself for so—”
“This place is awesome,” Kyle said.
“Oh, here?” The boy followed Kyle’s gaze past him and out to the ocean. “I guess. But it’s—”
“Can we go in the lighthouse?” Kyle headed toward it.
“Yeah, but . . .” The boy pointed toward the other island. To where he wanted to go. “I really need to get ho—”
“No, Kyle.” Nate placed the cooler on the ground and lifted the lid.
The boy was relieved, but Kyle stopped and turned back to the older boy. “Why not?”
“Because we’re fishing.”
Fishing? They hadn’t come for him? The boy put his hands in his pocket, felt the piece of fabric.
“Hey,” he said, “you’re here to take me away, right?”
“They’re not going to take you with them.”
“Shhh!” The boy bent his head, hoping the strangers didn’t hear. “I mean, can you take me home or to that bigger island?”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Shut up,” the boy said through clenched teeth.
He glanced at the strangers. Had they heard? He didn’t want them to see him talking to himself. They could think he was weird and leave him here. Alone. Again.
“Fishing first, then we can do whatever you want,” Nate said.
The boy smiled. They would take him. They would! “Okay.” He nodded. “Fishing first.”
He hoped fishing wouldn’t take long.
Nate pulled a small red box out of the cooler and clicked its latch. Placing it on the ground, he picked out rolls of wire; some kind of shiny, fishy-looking things; and an even smaller cardboard box.
“Where are we going to fish? From the beach?” Kyle kicked a Doritos bag on the ground.
“Not from down there. It’s too shallow, doofus.” Ricky opened the cooler and grabbed a Coke can.
“You’re the doofus.”
“You’re the doofus,” Ricky imitated. He pulled the tab of the Coke. Pshhhtt.
“Hey, don’t have those now. They’re for after,” said Nate.
“Who cares about after? I’m thirsty now.” Ricky gulped from the can.
A drink sounded so good. The boy lifted his hand. “Can I have one?”
“I’m hungry,” Kyle said. He flipped open the cooler lid. “I want a sandwich.”
Sandwiches? The boy’s stomach grumbled. “Can I have a sandwich? I haven’t eaten since . . . well, yesterday.”
Nate shut the lid again. “We’re not eating now. Fishing first.”
The boy frowned. Maybe the strangers didn’t realize how long he’d been on this island. He wondered what kind of sandwiches they had. Turkey? Ham? Peanut butter? His mouth watered. “I just—”
“So where are we going to fish then?” Kyle interrupted.
The boy shut his mouth and shot an exasperated look at the owl. The strangers were rude. But they had brought the boats, so he had to be nice. The owl seemed to agree, cocking its head.
Nate pointed to the cliff on the north side of the lighthouse. “On the ledge out over the water. Wait till you see. It’s the best spot for fishing.”
Kyle peered in the direction Nate was pointing. “Better than the pier?”
Ricky laughed. “Way better than the pier.”
“Hey, it’s flat with rocks over there,” Kyle said, continuing to look around. “Why didn’t we pull the boats up there?”
“Was climbing the root really that hard?” Ricky laughed.
“I just mean—”
“There are too many rocks around the lighthouse, and the current is too strong,” Nate said.
“Duh,” Ricky said. “That’s why there’s a lighthouse.”
Nate glared at him. “It’s easier to get the boats on that little beach and climb up. Ricky, where are the rods?”
“I left them by the root,” Ricky said.
“They won’t do us any good over there.” Nate shook his head.
“All right, all right. I’ll get them,” Ricky said. “Keep your pants on.”
The boy slumped on the ground. What was taking so long? Couldn’t they see he wanted to go?
“They don’t like you.”
“That’s silly,” the boy whispered. “They don’t know me. How can they not like me?”
“They think you’re weird. Only weird boys get lost on an island.”
“I’m not weird.”
“What’s that noise?” said Kyle.
The boy shut his mouth.
“What noise?” Nate looked up from the red box.
“From over there.” Kyle pointed at the Green Wall.
The boy spun toward the trees. Was it the Wolf? It must have come back. He didn’t want it to hurt his rescuers.
He jumped up. “Don’t go near there! There’s a giant Wolf inside. It tried to eat me, but I scared it off.”
“They’re not going to believe you scared a Wolf.”
“But I did!” The boy clapped his hands over his mouth. He had said that too loud.
Ricky started laughing, and the boy hung his head.
“That’s the duppies,” Ricky said.
“Duppies?” Kyle’s eyes grew wide. “You mean like ghosts?”
“That’s why it’s called Duppy Island,” Ricky said. “The whole place is haunted.”
The boy shook his head. “The Wolf’s not a ghost. It’s real.”
But nobody paid attention to him.
“Hoo,” the owl said, and the boy nodded. If he showed the strangers, maybe they’d take him home. “Look here.” He waved for them to follow him. “Here’s where I beat the Wolf. Right here.” He pointed to the gashes in the sandy grass where the beast’s claws had dug into the dirt. “See? And it did this to my leg and my shoulder.” He showed them the scrapes, which had started to ache. “Then the Wolf ran off through there.”
He stepped closer to the Green Wall, pointing in the direction he’d last seen the beast.
HIIIIIIISSSSSSS.
The boy stepped away again. “There’s that thing too.”
Kyle started walking toward him but stopped when Nate stood up.
“What did you do with the hooks, Ricky?”
Ricky rolled his eyes. “They’re right there.”
“No, they’re not. I’ve been through everything. I told you to put them in the box.”
“I did!” Ricky strode to the red box. He picked it up and dumped the contents onto the ground.
Nate threw his arms in the air. “Why’d you do that?”
“You can see everything better this way,” Ricky said.
“It’ll get all unorganized.” Nate knelt by the pile of wires and lures. “I still don’t see the hooks.”
Ricky sighed. He knelt down too, spreading out the tackle.
“Where are the hooks?” Ricky ran his fingers through his hair.
“I asked you to do one thing. That’s it.” Nate shook his head.
“I got the food,” Ricky said.
“We don’t need food to fish. We need hooks!” Nate’s voice was angry.
The boy kept quiet. He glanced at Kyle, who was also standing a few feet away, watching the older boys argue.
“We can’t fish now,” Nate said.
“Come on,” Ricky said. “We can do something. Just put the lures on.”
“We can’t catch anything without a hook.” Nate sounded exasperated. “The lure just lures. The fish aren’t going to hold on to the line on their own.”
Tendrils of hope swelled in the boy’s chest. If they weren’t going to fish, maybe they could eat. Then go to the other island.
“Keep wishing.”
The boy pinched his thigh, trying to shut up the bully, but the pain just made him wince.
“We’ve got to go,” Nate said.
Finally! The boy straightened. Did he have everything? The square of fabric? He checked his pocket. It was still there.
He smiled up at the owl, and his new friend stared back at him. He’d miss the owl, but he’d be with his family soon.
He was ready.
“We can get the hooks and come back,” Ricky said.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Kyle said.
Nate looked at his watch. “We don’t have time.”
“Sure we do,” Ricky said. “It’s not late.”
“Kyle and I have dinner.” Nate glared at Ricky. “Mom wants us back. It was hard enough convincing her to let us come today. I can’t believe you, Ricky. You really messed this up.”
The boy tried to hide his smile. He didn’t want the strangers to think he was happy about Ricky’s mistake, but he didn’t care about fishing. He’d been alone on this island long enough.
“Whatever,” Ricky replied. “You could’ve got the hooks too.”
“Okay. Okay!” Kyle ran between them. “We’ll come another day. If we hurry up, we can at least get some fishing in on the pier.”
Nate looked at his watch again. “Yeah, maybe. All right, let’s pack up. And don’t leave anything behind, Ricky.”
Ricky shook his head, crushing his Coke can in his hand.
“What can I do?” the boy asked.
“Don’t bother,” the bully spat. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Kyle, help me with the tackle box,” Nate said.
“I can bring the rods,” the boy said, ignoring the bully. He walked toward them, but Ricky picked up the rods first, tossing his smashed Coke can at the base of the lighthouse.
“I can get the cooler.” The boy hoped he could eat a sandwich in the boat.
“You can be as sweet as you want, but they still won’t take you,” the bully said.
“Yes, they will,” the boy hissed.
Kyle put the last lure in the red box, and Nate shut the lid.
“Okay, let’s go.” He handed the red box to Kyle. “Put this in the cooler and bring it on the boat.”
Kyle walked over to the boy. He lifted the cooler lid and placed the box beside a pile of foil squares. The sandwiches. The boy’s stomach groaned.
Kyle closed the lid and reached for the handle.
“I can get it,” the boy said. “I want to help.”
He reached down for the handle too, but Kyle lifted the cooler at the same time—and the handle went through the boy’s hand.