WIND TORE AT HIS BODY and his heart pounded in his chest. He had barely gone down two feet when he heard the giant ROAR behind him. The wave slammed against the boy before he had a chance to hold his breath. He gripped the root as tightly as he could while the water pushed and tugged and wrenched at him, before retreating back out of the gorge.
Shivering, the boy scrambled back up to the cliff, his chest heaving, his breath heavy.
Another wave crashed in the gorge, higher and harder than the last one. When it retreated, the boy knew it would be back, stronger than before.
Thunder CRACKED above. Lightning streaked behind the trees. The next wave came with a ROAR.
Then another . . .
Then another . . .
Then another . . .
The boy shook his head. Put his hands over his ears.
“Stop,” he whispered. “Please, stop.” The water was going to ruin everything again. It was going to break the strangers’ boat. Destroy his last chance of getting home.
The boy watched the owl, struggling and bracing against the rippled air. He thought of his brother, of the ROAR of the Big Bad Wolf.
“Once upon a time . . . there was a boy who braved the storm.”
He took a deep breath, calmed his heart, and shouted, “STOP!”
The lightning retreated, pulling away the clouds. The sun shone down on the boy again, and he smiled.
“Hoo,” said the owl, flittering above his head.
“Whoa,” said the boy, eyes wide.
“How did that happen?” said the bully, sounding a little amazed.
The boy peeked into the gorge. The boat was exactly where it had been left, tied up on the sand. The rest of the beach looked normal, as though giant waves hadn’t just swept through it.
“That’s why everything always got better when I was safe. The storms come when I’m scared, right?” He turned to me for confirmation.
I gave him a smile. My hope for this boy was rising—hope that I wouldn’t have to collect another young soul. But he wasn’t home yet, and I had seen too many others give up.
“Our fear is what we make of it,” I told him.
The boy nodded. But I could feel in his heart that he knew it wasn’t this simple. He still had to get across.
“Hoo,” the owl said, as it settled on my shoulder. The boy smiled at it, a thin smile filled with all his hope and doubt, fear and courage.
Then he turned away. He grabbed the root, flung himself over the side, and shimmied down quickly before his fear rose again. At the bottom, he ran to the boat and tugged on the rope. It was tight, but the boy pulled harder and the knot unraveled. “Yes!”
The boy secured the paddle, then pushed the boat to the water’s edge. It was calm, but I could already see his imagination at work, churning the sea farther out.
“Once upon a time, there was a boy who could sail,” he said.
He jumped into the boat and picked up the paddle, pushing it through the water as hard as he could. Back and forth. Back and forth. Pushing far, far away from the island. Far from the Green Wall, the beach, and the little home that wasn’t his.
He felt his fear, but he jammed it down as far as he could, into the tips of his toes, where it couldn’t bother him anymore.
“I’m doing it,” he whispered to himself.
He looked back, just a peek. The island was now in the distance, the lighthouse a luminous monolith rising from the cliff.
“I’m doing it. I can do it! I’m going home.”
He thought of his mother, her face smiling at him.
He thought of his brother, his eyes bright and shining.
And he thought of his father—the good part of his father, cheering when the boy rode his first bike, putting a Superman Band-Aid over a cut on the boy’s knee, and kissing the boy on the head . . . just because.
The boy would be with them all soon. And he would show them. He would show his father. He’d prove that he could be brave.
No, he wouldn’t show his father. He’d show himself. He was going to prove that he wasn’t a failure. Even if he had to keep trying.
He pulled the paddle harder, back and forth, back and forth. Switching sides to keep his course straight. Straight out to the other island. Straight out to his home.
The sky was pink now, the sun preparing for bed. Long ribbons of rosy clouds drifted over the island ahead. And they were reflected in the shiny water, making the whole ocean blush around him.
A piece of a memory wormed out of the cabinet he had locked it in. Tiles. Pink rectangular tiles. The water below him. The water around him. The water pulling him down . . .
The sky darkened above. A harsh wind blew up and snatched the paddle out of the boy’s hands. It dropped into the water, floating away.
“No!”
The boy reached over the edge of the boat to get it. But the water bit at his finger.
He froze. The hairs on his neck stood up. And all his fears rushed back into his heart.
“You didn’t think this through, did you?”
“I—”
“Too late now. You’re in the middle of the ocean. Miles and miles and miles of water all around you. And you have no paddle.”
“I just—”
The surface of the sea pulsed around him. Ripples surrounded the boat, pushed up by . . .
something deep underneath.
Something big.
Something that was coming . . .
The wind picked up, clawing at his face and body.
The boat began to rock, harder and harder.
The boy trembled, his hands holding tight onto the sides.
With a giant RRRROOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRRRRR, the ocean in front of the boy rose up.
An enormous spiraling cone of water lifted into the sky and grabbed hold of the dark clouds above. Big as a mountain, blocking out the sun.
Beneath the boy’s boat, the ocean swelled. Balls of hail pounded onto the surface and the boat. Waves snatched at the sides, trying to get inside.
The boy’s heart pounded. “Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared.”
He glanced up, but the wall of water grew thicker. “Once upon a time, there was a boy who . . .”
Threads of water lashed out of the cone and hit the boat. The boy crouched down small, his arms over his head, and closed his eyes. “Once upon a time, there was a boy who . . .”
The cone spun across the surface, churning the ocean around him.
“It’s not working. I can’t stop it.”
Another loud ROOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRR exploded beside the boy, and he trembled. Two more cones of water swirled out of the surface and attacked the blackened clouds. They looked like giant tentacles, writhing up from the ocean into the sky. The closer they got to the boat, the more the ocean bucked.
The boy curled himself tighter, smaller, but he couldn’t get small enough. His hands shook as they tried to protect him. His heart shuddered in his chest. His whole body begged for the sea to stop.
The bully’s voice penetrated his fear. “You’re in your own worst nightmare now. And you can’t get away. See? I told you. You’re brainless. And weak. And scared.”
“I know.” The boy’s words came on a broken breath.
“The water’s going to get you. It’s going to drag you down. Down. Down to nothing.”
“I know.”
“And it’s all your fault.”
“I know.” The boy gulped back his sadness. “I’m sorry, Ollie. I can’t get home. I’m sorry.”
I sighed.
I prepared to collect his soul.