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“It’s just something I say.”
Sandy cruised alongside the glider. Kandi needed water, warm or not. She was also feeling shaky, whether that was because she hadn’t eaten all day or what she’d learned in the last hour.
“It’s exactly what you say.”
“I don’t know about exactly.”
Kandi held out her phone. She’d taken a picture of the message. It was word for word of Sandy’s delightful limerick. “How would he know what you say?”
“Lucky guess?” They passed through the noisy waterball fight. “Look, I’m the happy, gritty sandman who welcomes the guests. I’m a program, I don’t even know what it means. It’s kind of stupid, really.”
“You’re happy?”
“Happy. Gritty. Whatever. The point is, I don’t control what I say. Why do you say the things you say?”
Kandi said what she felt. But why did she feel a certain way? And why did she choose the words she said? There were reasons for it, like memories and experiences, both naughty and nice, that formed her behavior—experiences she couldn’t exactly remember or explain or really understand. But she still believed she chose what to say.
Of course, that could be the greatest illusion of all.
“I say it to everyone.”
“How many people have you said it to?” she said. “Besides Sonny and me.”
The glider eased to a stop outside the master suite. Sandy’s bottom ground to a halt. He tapped his chin then pointed.
“You’re pretty much it.”
He followed her inside, but Kandi told him to leave. She needed a shower, and despite being artificial, she didn’t want him around. Once cool and clean, she sat down to eat an apple and wrote out the message. Looking at her phone, she printed the words on a lined sheet of paper.
“Over the seven seas and mountaintops”—Sandy was looking over her shoulder—“you’re not doing that without a plane.”
“Please. Let me think.”
“And there’s no lava or volcanos unless you consider the cooking.”
She held up her hand. He locked his mouth and threw away the key. He was right about that, but maybe the message wasn’t referring to real volcanos or actual mountaintops. The cliff was pretty tall and that was where she’d seen him last. She’d leave her phone on the beach then sneak over to the power station. If her dad checked her location, he’d assume she was swimming in the surf.
She looked at the phone again. One of the words was marred. That was where she’d pulled out the sunglasses.
Light the chimney at midnight.
That was a better clue. It said when to meet, but the chimney? There were several fireplaces in this master suite alone. How many were there in the resort?
“What’s the chimney?” she muttered.
“That’s where a fireplace—”
She held up her hand. There had to be a significant fireplace, one bigger than all the rest. One so obvious she couldn’t miss it.
“It doesn’t say anything about fire,” Sandy said.
He was serious this time, nodding when she put the phone down and walked out of the master suite. The sun was resting on the water’s edge when she came back for a nap. She was going to wake up before midnight and go into the next room.
There was a telescope she could use.
***
HER DAD WAS INSIDE the tower.
Kandi looked up from the eyepiece. The moonlight transformed the island into a swaying organism without definition. Glowing pockets of festive lights outlined the tops of buildings and illuminated ornaments in the darkness. The tower, however, was a hulking cylinder that rose up like a modern tombstone, its top floor an all-seeing eye to monitor the inhabitants. It was a dark silhouette.
A chimney.
She texted her dad a second time with no response. She wanted to know what he was doing in there, but more importantly why he wasn’t answering her. If she didn’t hear back from him by midnight, she was going to knock on the tower’s door, whether the chimney was lit or not.
The windows were still obscured and reflective. She couldn’t see anyone on the inside. In a few minutes, it would be midnight. She was about to call him when a warm glow was cast from the tower. At first, she thought it was an explosion, but there was no concussive aftershock.
Kandi aimed the telescope at the top floor.
The windows appeared to be bulging in their frames. And then it stopped. A dim red glow was still somewhere inside.
Tink, tink, tink.
Kandi jerked back from the telescope. Sandy was pointing at the window, his stick finger tapping on the glass as if it were actually making contact. He was pointing. The dying glow from the top floor cast an ominous light around the tower.
A shadow stood outside the first floor.
Kandi dialed the focus. Her phone alarm went off. It was midnight. She jumped on the glider and sped toward an exit. It was midnight and the chimney was lit.
There was a boy.