The Islanders (25 page)

“MORNING, MORNING, MORNING,” NINA SAID
the next morning in a low, grumpy voice. She flopped onto the bench beside Zoey, pulled a Lucky Strike from a pack in her purse, and stuck it in her mouth, drawing deeply on the unlit cigarette. She propped her Doc Martens on the back of the next seat and cast a glance around the ferry. “What's it been, two weeks? Not even, and already I can announce that I officially hate school. I mean, seriously, what are we all doing out of bed at this hour? And I was up late last night trying to figure out how it is that the Russians could be good guys in World War I, then bad guys at the beginning of World War II, changing again to good guys halfway through, then as soon as the war was over they were bad again, up until a few decades ago when they switched back to good. I think there should be a law: You pick a side, good or bad, then you have to stick with it. Hey, Eesh. You're a senior. What's the deal with the Russians? Good, bad, or just indecisive?”

Aisha stopped in front of Zoey and shook her head. “You
look bad, Zoey. What's the matter, are you sick?”

“You're sick?” Nina asked in surprise, looking at Zoey more closely. “Why didn't you say something?”

“I'm not sick,” Zoey said in a low whisper.

“You look sick,” Aisha said flatly. “If it's catching, stay away from me.”

“If it's catching but it's not too painful, come closer. I wouldn't mind a few sick days,” Nina said.

“It's not that,” Zoey said. “It's Lucas.”

“Don't tell me you two are fighting,” Aisha said.

“His father is making him leave. He . . .” Zoey's voice broke. “Saturday. He's leaving Saturday.”

“This
Saturday?” Nina asked.

Zoey nodded.

“Can he do that?” Aisha asked. “I mean, Lucas is still his son.”

“He's over eighteen,” Zoey explained. “His dad could just kick him out the door if he wanted to. Lucas says at least his dad found him a place to stay, with his grandfather until he can finish school there.”

“Texas, right?” Aisha said.

“Some crappy little town,” Zoey muttered. “More than two thousand miles away. Two thousand miles.”

Nina scratched her head uncomfortably and chewed the end
of her unlit cigarette. She had never seen Zoey so upset before, about anything. Zoey was always sunshine to Nina's rain. It was unnatural having her on the edge of tears, but obviously so cried out that no tears would come. She glanced over at Aisha, who just shrugged and bit her lip.
Aisha's probably dying to say I told you so
, Nina thought.

“Isn't there any way to get Mr. Cabral not to do this?” Aisha asked. “I mean, I guess Lucas has tried and all.”

Zoey nodded mutely. The ferry whistle blew, and the boat began to draw away from the dock. Nina saw Jake glance in their direction, his eyes softening for Zoey, then growing hard and pitiless. Claire was close by him. She stared for a moment, too.

“I can't take it,” Zoey said in her low, trembling whisper. “It's not right. No one should tear people apart who love each other.”

Nina put her arm around her friend's shoulders. Aisha sat close on Zoey's other side and took Zoey's hand. Zoey found a few extra tears, which fell softly on her books, forming little dark spots on
La Langue Française
.

“What am I going to do?” Zoey wondered. “I can't go with him, can I? Where would I stay? How could I still finish school?”

Nina made eye contact with Aisha over Zoey's bowed head.

“He told me yesterday. I went up to his house because he wasn't in school. I guess he figures why bother for just two or three days. I spoke to his mother, but Lucas says she's totally under his dad's thumb. He showed me the note his father left him, not even anything on it but the time the flight leaves. His family is so cold, you wouldn't believe it.”

Nina was about to break the tension with a joke about Claire, something along the lines of knowing all about cold families, but again she saw Claire across the open deck, stealing a furtive glance at Zoey. Claire's lips were pressed into a thin line, and she looked away quickly when she saw Nina watching her.

Very strange
, Nina thought.
She acts like she knows why Zoey is sad.
Then again, it was a small island. Claire probably did know.

Claire glanced back again. Weird, especially given that there was an amazing pile of those really tall clouds on the horizon. Why wasn't Claire staring up at them?

“Just tonight, then tomorrow will be the last night I have with him,” Zoey said, sounding hopeless. “I really love him, you guys. I really do. We kissed for hours after he told me. Hours, but it still seemed like no time at all, and I could tell he was trying to pull away from me emotionally. I can't blame him. I wish I could pull away from him, but I can't.”

“This is true love,” Aisha said darkly. “It's great for a while,
but it always seems to lead to pain in the end.” She put her hand on Zoey's. “I guess you couldn't stop yourself. Maybe there really is such a thing as fate. Maybe you were just doomed to go through this.”

“It isn't doom, Eesh,” Zoey said through her tears. “I mean, I'd still do it all over again, even knowing . . . knowing . . .” She succumbed to sobs.

Aisha looked troubled. She gave Zoey a disbelieving look, but Nina could see doubt there, too.

For her part, Nina felt the beginnings of tears. It had suddenly occurred to her that this could happen to any guy and girl. What if Benjamin were suddenly to disappear from her life? Not that he was exactly
in
her life. But what if she knew she might never see him again?

The first tear welled in her eye and trundled down her cheek.

“Both of you stop it, now,” Aisha said, but not harshly. “How are we supposed to get through the whole day at school when we start off weeping on the ferry?”

“Sorry,” Zoey murmured. She sat up straight and wiped her eyes.

Nina rubbed her friend's back slowly. “It will all work out somehow. Won't it, Aisha?”

“Sure, of course it will.”

“Some dumb parent can't stop true love, can he?” Nina challenged. “Look at Romeo and Juliet. Their parents tried to stop them, didn't they?”

“They ended up dead,” Aisha said.

“Oh, right. Well, I know this for a fact—Wilma's parents never did approve of Fred.”

Aisha rolled her eyes to the sky. “Nina, if I ever need to be comforted, remind me not to come to you.”

“Don't tell me,” Benjamin said, holding up his hand. “It's . . . um, sloppy joes made with ground turkey . . . green beans . . . and, um, I want to be sure . . .” He sniffed the air carefully. “Cherry . . . no, raspberry Jell-O.”

The old woman behind the lunch counter shook her head in amazement and piled Benjamin's tray high. Benjamin smiled in her general direction and pushed his tray along on the stainless steel railing.

“Okay, not to be dumb,” Aisha said, just behind him in the cafeteria line, “but how do you do that? I mean, are you telling me you can
smell
raspberry Jell-O from ten feet away with the air full of sloppy joe and perfume and body odor?”

“It's easy,” Benjamin said out of the side of his mouth. “They list the school lunches in the paper at the beginning of each week. Today sloppy joes, green beans, and Jell-O.”

“The paper specified
raspberry
Jell-O?”

“No.” Benjamin dug his lunch ticket out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier. “The guys in front of us asked what flavor it was. It's always useful to have an air of mystery about you when you're a discriminated-against minority. Don't you think?”

Aisha took his arm and led him across the crowded lunchroom to an empty table. It was one of the things Benjamin couldn't do alone, not unless he just wanted to grab the first vacant seat he stumbled into. Classrooms were different; steps could usually be counted. His English class was one step in, left seventeen steps, right nine steps, and his desk would be in the back row, halfway across the room. To get to the room itself would be sixty-three steps along the hall, up four flights of stairs, right forty-eight steps.

But in the lunchroom, tables tended to get shoved around more, chairs reassembled in different groupings each day, so whoever happened to be nearest the cashier, usually an islander but often other kids, would grab Benjamin's elbow and ask where he wanted to go or whom he wanted to sit with.

“Table's to your left,” Aisha said.

He heard her sit down at the seat roughly across the table from him. He aimed his sunglasses in her direction. “Aren't you sitting with Zoey today?”

“What, you don't like my company?”

Hearing her voice again, he readjusted the aim of his shades. “I've always enjoyed your company,” he said. “I was just making sure this wasn't a pity date because I don't have Claire to sit with anymore.”

“You're a very prickly guy, you know that?” Aisha said.

Benjamin smiled. “I think that's why I don't have Claire to sit with anymore.”

Aisha sighed. “Actually, I don't want to sit with your sister because she's just too depressing. Don't tell her I said that, but all she's done all day long is sniffle.”

Benjamin frowned. “What's the matter?”

“Oh, great. You don't know? So I'm the one telling you?”

“Telling me what?”

Aisha sighed again and rearranged her silverware. “You probably
should
know,” she said reluctantly. “You are Zoey's brother, and besides, I don't think she's trying to keep it a big secret or anything. I think she's just too close to having a nervous breakdown. It's Lucas.”

“Oh, a romantic problem,” Benjamin said. “What's up? They can't agree on whether they should get engaged?”

“Mr. Cabral is kicking Lucas out. He has to go live with his grandfather in Texas somewhere.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know. Lucas is a juvenile delinquent who has embarrassed his family or whatever. You know Mr. Cabral. He's like, uptight father squared.”

Benjamin threw his fork down on his tray, making a clattering noise. He cursed under his breath, finishing with
that selfish bitch.

“Who's a selfish bitch?” Aisha demanded. “Zoey?”

“No, no,” Benjamin said quickly. “Of course not. Zoey's anything but selfish. Poor kid. Man, she got herself in the middle of it this time.”

“I told her running around with Lucas Cabral would lead to trouble,” Aisha said.

“Zoey's too much of a romantic to listen to sensible warnings,” Benjamin said affectionately.

“Exactly. If she'd listened to reason and common sense, none of this would have happened.”

Benjamin barked a short, dismissive laugh. “Aisha, if people listened to reason and common sense, we'd all still be walking around dragging our knuckles, eating bugs, and talking in grunts. We'd be baboons. Football players.”

“I don't see Zoey crying and sobbing for twenty-four hours straight as part of the march of civilization,” Aisha said sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, neither is sitting on the sidelines saying
I told
you so.
I'm sure when the first caveman burned himself trying to start a fire with a couple of sticks, some smartass was there saying,
Hey, I told you not to play with fire.
”

He winced as Aisha slapped the table. “You know how I said you were prickly? Leave off the
l
and the
y
.”

Benjamin held up his hands placatingly. “Aisha, I wasn't talking about you. We were just having a discussion.”

“I know you're not talking about me,” Aisha snapped. “We're talking about your sister, who is four tables away looking like someone drained all the blood out of her. Damn. Nina's giving me a come-help-me-out look. I have to go.”

“Tell Zoey to be cool; Mr. Cabral will probably lighten up eventually.”

He heard the scrape of Aisha's chair. “I don't know how much he's going to lighten up between now and Saturday,” she said doubtfully.

“Saturday?” Benjamin said, feeling a jolt of concern. “You don't mean as in the day after tomorrow?”

“As in the morning after tomorrow,” Aisha said.

 

Zoey is my little sister. That's just a biological fact. I was born a year and seven months before her. And all the time we were growing up, I was the traditional big brother, which, as I understood it, meant that I had two major duties: First, I was
rouqired
required by law to tease her. About her hair, her body, her ideas, her clothes, her friends, and anything else that came to mind.

The other thing a big brother did was protect. I was supposed to protect her from anyone or anything that might threaten her. That was
su posed
supposed to be a lifelong job.

My career as a big brother didn't last long, though. I was twelve when I lost my sight. I'm not supposed to say that, by the way. “Lost my sight” is negative, you see. The therapist who taught me my basic coping skills wanted me to say that I had “become differently abled.” I was only twelve, but I still knew b.s. when I heard it.

Anyway. I was twelve, Zoey was ten, and all of a sudden I wasn't a “big” brother anymore. I fell behind at school till I had to race just to stay even with her. I couldn't protect anyone. Not even myself. If you've never been
anyone's big brother, you don't know how pathetic it makes you feel to
duddenly
suddenly need your baby sister to lead you to the men's-room door at the mall, or find your belt because you don't remember precisely where you hung it. Or pipe up in her brave little voice and tell some punk to leave you alone, stop picking on my brother, he needs his cane.