After our nap we gathered firewood, an endless, tedious chore. We kept the fire burning constantly, partly so T.J. wouldn’t have to make a new one and partly because we both still held out hope that a plane would fly overhead. When it did, we’d be ready, our pile of green leaves sending up smoke signals as soon as we threw them on the flames.

We added the firewood to the pile in the lean-to. Then I filled the container that had held the life raft with seawater, added a capful of Woolite, and swished our dirty clothes around in it.

“It must be laundry day,” T.J. said.

“Yep.”

We strung a rope between two trees and hung the clothes to dry. We didn’t have much; T.J. wore shorts and nothing else. I spent my days in a bikini, sleeping in his T-shirt and a pair of shorts at night.

Later that night, after dinner, T.J. asked if I wanted to play cards.

“Poker?”

He laughed. “What, you didn’t get your ass kicked enough last time?”

T.J. had taught me how to play, but I wasn’t very good. At least, that’s what he thought. I was starting to get the hang of it, and I was about to take him down.

Six hands later – I won four – he said, “Huh, I must be having an off night. Want to play checkers instead?”

“Okay.”

He drew a checkerboard in the sand. We used pebbles for the checkers and played three games.

“One more?” T.J. asked.

“No, I’m going to take a bath.”

I was already worried about our soap and shampoo supply. I’d packed a lot of each, but T.J. and I had agreed to only bathe every other day. Just in case. We stayed somewhat clean since we swam a lot, but we didn’t always smell the greatest.

“Your turn,” I said, when I returned from the shore.

“I miss showering,” T.J. said.

After he bathed, we went to bed. T.J. closed the roll-down door of the life raft and lay down next to me.

“I’d give anything for a Coke,” he said.

“Me too. A big one, with lots of ice.”

“And I want some bread. Not breadfruit. Bread. Like a big sandwich, with potato chips and a pickle.”

“Pizza, Chicago style,” I said.

“A big sloppy cheeseburger.”

“Steak,” I said. “And a baked potato with cheese and sour cream.”

“Chocolate pie for dessert.”

“I know how to make chocolate pie. My mom taught me.”

“The kind with the chocolate shavings on top?”

“Yes. When we get off this island, I’ll make you one.” I sighed. “We’re just torturing ourselves.”

“I know. Now I’m hungry. Well, I was already kinda hungry.”

I turned onto my side and got comfortable. “Good night, T.J.”

“Good night.”

***

T.J. laid the fish he’d caught on the ground next to me and sat down.

“School’s been in session for a couple weeks,” I said. I made an X on the calendar, put the datebook away, and started cleaning our breakfast.

T.J. must have noticed my expression because he said, “You seem sad.”

I nodded. “It’s hard for me, knowing another teacher is standing in front of my students right now.”

I taught sophomore English, and I loved shopping for school supplies and selecting books for my bookshelves. I always filled a big mug on my desk with pens and there wouldn’t be any left by the end of the year.

“So you like your job?”

“I love it. My mom was a teacher – she retired last year – and I always knew I’d be one, too. When I was little I wanted to play school all the time and she used to give me gold stars so I could grade my stuffed animal’s homework.”

“I bet you’re a really good teacher.”

I smiled. “I try to be.” I placed the cleaned fish on my cooking rock and positioned it close to the flames. “Can you believe you’d be starting your junior year?”

“No. It seems like I haven’t been to school in a long time.”

“Do you like school? Your mom told me you were a good student.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to catch up with my class. I had hoped to get back on the football team, too. I had to quit when I got sick.”

“So you like sports?” I asked.

He nodded. “Especially football and basketball. Do you?”

“Sure.”

“Do you play any?”

“Well, I run. I ran two half-marathons last year, and I ran track and played basketball in high school. Sometimes I do yoga.” I checked the fish and pulled the rock away from the fire so it could cool. “I miss exercising.”

I couldn’t imagine running now. Even if we had enough food to justify it, running around the island would remind me of a hamster on a wheel. Moving forward but getting absolutely nowhere.

***

T.J. walked up with a backpack full of firewood. “Happy birthday,” I said.

“It’s September 20th?” He threw a log on the fire and sat down next to me.

I nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you a present. The island mall sucks.”

T.J. laughed. “That’s okay, I don’t need a present.”

“Maybe you can have a big party when we get off this island.”

T.J. shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

T.J. seemed older than seventeen. Reserved almost. Maybe facing serious health problems eliminated some of the immature behavior that presented itself when you had nothing more to worry about than getting your driver’s license, cutting class, or breaking curfew.

“I can’t believe it will be October soon,” I said. “The leaves are probably starting to change back home.”

I loved fall – football games, taking Joe and Chloe to the pumpkin patch, and feeling a chill in the air. Those were some of my favorite things.

I stared at the palm trees, their green leaves rippling in the breeze. Sweat trickled slowly down the side of my face, and the constant smell of coconut on my hands reminded me of suntan lotion.

It would always be summer on the island.

Chapter 14 – T.J.

The rain came down sideways. Thunder crashed, and lightning lit up the sky. The wind shook the life raft, and I worried it might relocate us halfway down the beach. I made a mental note: anchor life raft to something tomorrow.

“Are you awake?” I asked Anna.

“Yes.”

The storm raged for hours. We huddled together with the blanket pulled over our heads. The thin nylon covering the roof and hanging down the sides of the life raft was all that protected us from the lightning, which was like having no protection at all. We didn’t say much, just waited for it to end and when it finally did, we went back to sleep, exhausted.

The next morning, Anna brought back several small green coconuts blown off the tree by the storm. We split them open. The meat tasted sweet, and the water wasn’t bitter like the brown coconuts.

“These are so good,” Anna said.

The lean-to had fallen apart and our fire had gone out so I made another one, this time using my shoelace. I tied it to the opposite ends of a curved stick. Making a loop in the string, I threaded another stick through so that it stood perpendicular to the chunk of wood I rested it on.

“What are you doing?” Anna asked.

“I’m going to use this to spin the stick. That’s what the guy on T.V. did.”

I adjusted the tension on the string and held the stick at different angles. It took a while before I could get the stick to spin fast enough, but once it did, I got smoke in about fifteen minutes, and flames pretty soon after that.

“Hey,” Anna said. “That was a great idea.”

“Thanks.” I piled on tinder and watched the fire grow. Anna and I put the lean-to back together.

I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and said, “I hope that’s the worst storm we ever have.” I leaned the last stick up against the lean-to. “Because I don’t know what we’re going to do for shelter if it’s not.”