When the boat hit the island, it was no easier getting off it than it had been getting on. Sam had steered Schrodinger to what looked like the least muddy area, but there was a bank of rocks and stones that it just banged into again and again with the small tide. Every time he and Ruby stood up to try to jump off the skateboat, the boards would bang again on this bank of rocks and stones, making it difficult to keep their balance. Also, Schrodinger would then go backwards, and end up in the water again, three metres away from where they wanted it to go. Eventually Sam went:
“Oh, never mind!”
And just fell off. Deliberately.
“Sam!” screamed Ruby, putting her head over the side, and looking around for him frantically.
“It’s OK!” he said, his head bobbing up in the water. “I’m already so wet it doesn’t make any difference!” He swam in front of the skateboat, put one hand on it and pulled it towards the island.
In a minute, they were there. Sam held Schrodinger still, and Ruby got up – carefully – and walked off, on to the island. Then she turned, and held out her hand. From the water, Sam said:
“OK – hold steady.”
And he reached for her hand. She held on to a branch from a nearby tree, and hauled him from the water. He stood there on the bank for a while, dripping, then shook himself in a big shiver, like a dog. Then he sneezed.
“Are you OK?” said Ruby.
“I’m fine,” he said, although he sounded, to her ears, a little throaty. “Can you see the light?”
Ruby looked round behind her. It was not that friendly a sight. Just darkness and trees and scrubland. Going into the island suddenly felt like going, in the middle of the night, into the woods.
But, despite her fear, she peered deep into the trees. And …
“Yes! There! I think …”
She pointed beyond the branches of the nearest tree. Sam wiped an arm across his eyes. He followed the direction of her finger. He could see it too. It was fainter and more flickery than ever. Flick. Flick. Flick. Shine. Shine. Shine. Flick. Flick. Flick.
It suddenly became clearer than ever to Sam what must be happening. The star was dying. This was its death rattle. They needed to get to it before it finally went out, if they were to reverse the magic. If they didn’t, his birthday would carry on being every day, forever. And that felt, at this point, terrible, because he understood now that it would ruin his family, and indeed him, as a person, for good. Having your birthday once a year was great; having it every day, it turned out, was not.
“Hold my hand again!” he said to his sister. She nodded. Together they dived into the trees, into the darkness of the island.