Never Ever (10 page)

Helen, Helen, Helen,
Wylie repeated in her head, making sure not to forget the name of the resident she'd just been cornered by. Helen was a seamstress who worked with Nadia. She had four other siblings on the mainland, where she'd been raised by an exhausted single mom.

“Sometimes my mom would look at us, and I could tell she was thinking life would be so much easier if she had one fewer mouth to feed. There wasn't enough food to go around, but there wasn't enough love to go around either,” Helen confessed sadly. The island had been her home for nearly three years. “When Phinn told me about this place, I knew it was my only hope for a happy life. I count my lucky stars all the time that I met him. He's just . . . incredible.”

Helen introduced Wylie to Elliot. He and Helen spent most of the evening arm in arm, and Wylie had assumed they were a couple, but it turned out he was gay.

“I was homeless when Phinn found me. It was the dead of winter in New York, and I would have frozen to death,” Elliot confessed. “I came out to my parents, and they kicked me out of the house. They disowned me. Phinn saved my life. I'm forever in his debt.”

“Wow, that's incredible,” Wylie said, glancing at Phinn. He gave her a smile and she smiled back.

“Isn't it nice not having to deal with crappy parents anymore?” Elliot asked.

Wylie hadn't mentioned her parents, but the general assumption seemed to be that anyone who chose to stay on the island was probably running away from something bad back home.

“More than you know,” Wylie replied, without mentioning that her parents would have never kicked her out of the house if she'd been born gay.

Elliot was approaching his tenth year of living on the island and had helped build most of the ships. He worked closely with Douglas, the genius architect behind the bungalows and the guy they'd seen recovering from appendicitis the day before. A few years back, Elliot and Douglas's working relationship had blossomed into a romance, and Elliot had never been happier.

All the people she spoke with had different tragic stories, but there was one common thread among them: Phinn was the person who had rescued them. He was their hero, and from what Wylie had heard, he had rightfully earned the title.

“Phinn likes you. I can tell,” Lola said, approaching from the dance floor. She and Maz had been inseparable all night, practically dancing cheek to cheek. For two people who'd been together too many years to count, they seemed like they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. “I can tell by the way he keeps checking up on you.”

“Well, I'm still trying to figure out if I like him back,” Wylie admitted.

“Friendly warning: He doesn't handle rejection well,” Lola said under her breath.

“Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Everyone adores him. He's like a god to all of you.”

“I consider Phinn my brother,” Maz replied, making his way toward them with water. “I'll never be able to repay him for everything he's done for all of us.” Of all the people Wylie had met so far, she was certain Maz would be the first to take a bullet for Phinn.

“Speaking of brothers, it looks like yours is having a good time,” Maz said, gesturing above them. Wylie followed his gaze and spotted Tinka and Micah whizzing through the sky, wearing nothing but their underwear. Wylie could tell from the way they were hooting and hollering at the crowd below that they were both drunk.

“At what point did they lose their clothes?” Wylie asked.

“Not sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was Tinka's idea. At least she's not following Phinn around like a puppy dog,” Lola added.

“She is my shadow sometimes, isn't she?” Phinn, now standing behind them, chimed in.

“Sometimes is putting it kindly,” Maz joked. “If I were you, I'd enjoy the space while you can.” He took Lola's arm. “We'll see you two later. Welcome to the island, Wylie.”

“Thanks,” Wylie replied, giving the couple a wave good-bye.

“You've been avoiding me all night,” Phinn teased her.

“I have not. I've just been busy meeting everyone.”

“Can I at least have one dance?” Phinn gave a nod to the Youth Brigade, and they started to play a ballad.

“Wow. What power,” Wylie teased back.

“What can I say? Running the island comes with its advantages.”

The dance floor was moist and sticky from the
combination of sweat and spilled drinks, but Wylie managed to move her feet to the music. Phinn gently pulled her close. He smelled like English soap and saltwater.

“Is everyone being nice to you?”

“Yes. They've all been sussing me out. They're trying to figure out if I'm good enough for you.”

Phinn laughed. “They've got it backward, don't they?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Wylie joked.

“So, if you were back home today instead of here, what would you be doing right now?”

Wylie tried to remember her schedule. They had basketball practice this weekend, to prepare for the playoffs, and afterward all the girls from the team would probably go out to eat together.

“Basketball practice.”

“You play basketball?” Phinn asked.

“I made varsity my freshman year. I love being on the court. It's the only time I can focus and stop thinking about everything I was dealing with at home.”

“Something tells me I wouldn't want to go up against you in a game.”

“Yeah, most of the girls from other high schools were afraid of me. I can be a little competitive.”

Wylie glanced over Phinn's shoulder to see if they were being watched, but no one was paying them any mind. As she scanned the Clearing, her eyes landed on a nearby palm tree with something carved into its trunk. It was easy to miss if you weren't looking for it, but if she squinted, she could make out the words
HOPPER WAS HERE
. She made a
mental note to ask Phinn for more details on Hopper's exile once their slow dance ended. In the meantime, she placed her head on his chest and swayed to the music.

“
Get away from him
!” a voice suddenly howled maniacally.

Wylie, startled, looked up to the sky to see Tinka, eyes crazed, charging toward her. She had her mouth open, and Wylie could see the handful of
parvaz
flowers that sat on her tongue.

Tinka tackled Wylie to the ground in the middle of the dance floor, pulling at her long hair the whole time. Wylie, frantic, kicked and scratched back. Phinn tried to pull them apart, but Tinka, with Wylie still in her grip, floated up to the air just beyond his reach. Suddenly, they were assaulting each other in midair.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Wylie screamed.

It took four guys to grab on to their feet and pull them down. Tinka probably had enough
parvaz
in her system to keep her flying for a week straight. Phinn and Maz tackled her to the ground, giving Wylie an opportunity to catch her breath. She touched a throbbing pain in her chin, and her fingertips were dripping with blood. Tinka's long nails must have scratched her during the scuffle. Despite all the manpower against her, Tinka floated up into the air a few times before she was finally restrained.

“You're hurting her! Let her go!” Micah yelled at them, slurring his words.

Aldo pulled a syringe out of his pocket. Tinka thrashed violently when she saw the needle and screamed that they were all a bunch of “elders.” Phinn and Maz held her arms down till Aldo was able to prick her skin with the syringe
and inject her with something that instantly put her to sleep. For a terrifying second, Wylie thought that whatever they'd stuck her with had killed her, but then she saw Tinka's belly slowly moving up and down as she breathed.

Micah and Joshua were standing next to Wylie, all three of them frozen in shock together. She looked around to see if everyone else was equally petrified, but though a few people had been watching with mild interest, no one seemed fazed by the turn of events. It was like being on an airplane during bad turbulence. The air pockets always had her convinced the plane was about to go down, but when she looked at the flight attendants, they were casually making small talk and laughing among themselves. The band started back up again and the party resumed, while Aldo and Patrick dragged Tinka away. How was it possible that what had just happened was considered normal?

“Where are you taking her?” Micah flew after them without so much as a glance toward Wylie.

“He's drunk,” Joshua said to Wylie.

“I know,” Wylie replied. Surely if he'd been sober, he would have remembered to make sure his sister was okay, too.

“SQUEEZE MY HAND IF IT HURTS,” PHINN SAID.

“Ouch. It stings!” Wylie screamed, squeezing his hand.

They were sitting in the clinic now, the music and chatter from the party muffled in the distance. Once Patrick and Aldo had declared that the cut on her chin didn't need
stitches, Phinn insisted on bringing her there to clean the wound himself. He tore what looked like a banana leaf in half and a gooey yellow liquid dripped out. Phinn used his finger to spread the liquid over the cut. As soon as it touched Wylie's skin, the pain subsided.

“What is that stuff?” Wylie asked.

“
Dava
plants. It's an old trick Lola's tribe showed us. The plants have healing powers. And luckily, I don't think this cut is deep enough to scar.”

“I wouldn't mind if it did,” Wylie said, half kidding. “It'd make me look tough.”

“Tinka doesn't normally act that way. It was a bad side effect of mixing
parvaz
with alcohol. She has a tendency to go a little overboard at parties.”

“She looked like she wanted to kill me.”

“She'll spend the next few days detoxing and then she'll be fine. I won't let her hurt you again.”

“Should I be worried about my brother?” Wylie asked. “I think he's falling for her. He spent the entire party hanging out with her. I didn't even see him talking to anyone else.”

“You worry too much,” Phinn responded.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“What I meant to say is, I know what it's like being the oldest. You're like the leader of your brothers. Just like you, I feel responsible for everyone. I want everyone to have a good time, I never want anyone to get hurt, I lose sleep worrying that people are unhappy or that newer recruits are missing their lives on the mainland. But do you know what I remind myself?”

“What?” Wylie asked.

“That you can't protect everyone all the time and you have to be okay with that.”

“So you're saying she's going to hurt him?”

“No. I'm saying you have to let him figure it out on his own. And anyway, I think they make a cute couple.”

“I'm so glad you approve of my brother falling in love with the girl who tried to dropkick me in front of the entire island.”

“I wasn't worried for a second,” Phinn said. “You could take her, no problem.”

Although she didn't admit it, a small part of Wylie was relieved by what had happened with Tinka. It was strangely comforting to know that not everything on the island was perfect. She squeezed Phinn's hand tighter, even though the stinging had stopped.

“You're as good as new,” Phinn declared as he gently dressed the wound and placed a bandage on her chin. It was nice to have someone take care of her for a change.

“My hero,” Wylie said, with only a hint of sarcasm.

pills and potions

the
room was cozy and inviting, but it didn't matter. No one had come by to inform Wylie what was going on since she'd been told to wait inside. She had woken up early, tired and groggy from the drama of the night before, to the sound of a knock on her bungalow door. She opened it to find Patrick and Aldo waiting on the other side.

“You have twenty minutes to shower and get dressed, and then you have to come with us,” they told her, more friendly than firm.

As soon as she was ready, they took her to a private room adjacent to the clinic, that she didn't remember seeing on the tour. Warm corn tortillas with scrambled eggs and hot tea were waiting in the center of a long table. Despite the cozy surroundings, Wylie felt her anxiety bubble up as soon as she walked in. It was the same feeling of dread she'd had after waking up on Phinn's boat.

“Can you guys tell me what's going on?” Wylie asked
as Patrick and Aldo held the door open for her. “Or at least just give me a hint?”

“Don't worry, it's a good thing,” Patrick said with a wink. The door closed behind them and Wylie sat alone.

Wylie's talent for conjuring up nightmare scenarios was working overtime, especially since she'd been ushered to this room by two doctors. Perhaps someone on the island needed a kidney transplant and they'd brought Wylie to a private room to put her on ice and harvest her organs. After she'd considered a few more morbid possibilities, the door opened and Micah and Joshua entered, freshly showered but visibly exhausted. Micah had dark circles under his eyes and Wylie could tell he was nursing a hangover.

“Do you know what we're doing in here?” Joshua asked.

“No idea. I just got here a few minutes ago. Aldo and Patrick woke me up and brought me here.”

“Same thing happened to us,” Micah said. “I'd barely even gotten back to our room.”

“Where did you sleep last night?” Wylie asked.

“In the detox room, with Tinka. I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Joshua and Wylie exchanged a worried look. “And was she?” Wylie asked.

“No. She woke up in the middle of the night, throwing up everywhere.”

“Then it's good she had you with her” was all Wylie decided to say for now. Wylie's mom used to call Vanessa a bad influence, and every time she bitched and moaned about her, it just made Wylie more inclined to be her friend.

“I've got good news,” Joshua announced. “Phinn and
I talked for a while last night, and he says he wants me to help run the island. He's going to call me his chief of staff. He knows about my interest in politics and wanted to make sure I had an outlet for that here.”

“That's amazing!” Wylie exclaimed, genuinely thrilled for her brother. Thanks to Phinn, now Joshua could live out some version of his dream on the island.

Finally, the door to the room opened, and Maz entered with a stack of handmade notebooks with stitched bindings that reminded Wylie of the fabric swatches in the boutique. He presented one to each of the siblings. A picture of the island was drawn on the cover, and the title read
The Minor Island Handbook
. Tinka's name was signed in the corner.

“Congratulations on garnering an invitation to join us on Minor Island,” Maz said with all the excitement of a DMV employee. “Sorry for dragging you here so early, but it's important to get this under way. It shouldn't be too painful. Just a few guidelines to go over. Please open your handbooks.”

Wylie and her brothers did as they were told. “This is your swearing-in ceremony,” Maz continued. “By the time we're done here, you'll no longer be citizens of the United States. You'll be citizens of Minor Island.”

Micah flipped through the handbook.

“Will we be quizzed on this stuff?” he asked, his voice groggy.

“No. It's only for reference. We'll go through it together, and then we'll have you sign some waivers, a nondisclosure agreement, and your certificate of citizenship. Think of this as an orientation.”

“Does Phinn need to be here for this?” Joshua asked.

“We'd never bother Phinn with this kind of stuff. He's way too busy. I've always been in charge of our immigration practices, but Phinn wrote the handbook, and those who've been recruited to live here have all gone through the same procedure.”

Maz walked them through the handbook page by page. It was mostly a review of things they were already familiar with, including a hand-drawn map and a directory of all the residents along with their jobs and responsibilities. But Maz insisted on going through each point in detail, and the meeting dragged on longer and longer.

He also passed around to all of them a Polaroid photograph of a young boy. He had fair skin covered in freckles, dark brown eyes, and curly chestnut hair to match. Wylie was certain she hadn't seen him at the party the night before. She was struck by the glimmer in his eyes and knew his face was one she'd remember.

“This is Hopper,” Maz announced. “Take a good look. Commit his face to memory. He didn't leave on the best terms. If you ever see him anywhere, tell someone immediately.”

“Is he dangerous?” Wylie asked.

“Possibly,” Maz replied, but Wylie got the feeling he didn't want to alarm them. “We just don't want him back on the island, that's all.”

Joshua waved the photo around. “What if we forget what he looks like? We've met a lot of people in the last day. It's not easy to keep track of everyone.”

“His right hand is a dead giveaway,” Maz replied. “It's
missing a few fingers. Let's just say he had a need to inflict pain on himself, and that's part of the reason he's not here anymore.” Their raised eyebrows prompted Maz to elaborate despite his obvious reluctance.

“Sometimes,” Maz continued, choosing his words carefully, “new recruits don't exactly work out as planned. In those rare cases, Phinn decides it's better to send those people back home. Hopper was a bully. He made people feel uncomfortable, so we got rid of him. It's only in the most extreme cases that we ship people off the island.”

Maz passed around another faded Polaroid, this one of a girl named Olivia. According to him, she had left the island on a one-year sabbatical to travel the States and returned after her eighteenth birthday. Years after she came back, the residents slowly started to notice she was aging. From the picture, Wylie could see the slightest trace of crow's feet forming at her eyes, and a few smile lines.

“Olivia was another rare case of someone we had to banish from the island. We have her to thank for the discovery that staying on the mainland past our eighteenth birthdays has disastrous results. It took a lot of gray hairs to realize she was aging once she got back from her sabbatical, but when we did, we had to ask her to leave. If I've got the math right, Olivia would be in her late forties today,” Maz told them. “Last I heard, she'd gone to medical school and was looking to start her own pharmaceutical company. It makes sense. She was a big science geek when we knew her.”

The remaining pages were devoted to a set of laws that were grounds for exile if broken—all the things you would expect to be illegal: murder, attempted murder, treason,
rape, and so on. There was a specific clause citing that any environmental crimes against the island would come with a swift punishment. Again, Maz went through each point meticulously, and Wylie began to wonder if they were actually going to spend the entire day in this room.

The last page contained a nondisclosure agreement the Daltons were required to sign. There was still no explanation of what would happen to them if they got kicked off the island and blabbed about its existence once they returned to the States. Wylie wondered if the punishment was death or a stint in a mental institution. It would be hard to convince the authorities that a girl ranting about a magical land where the weather was always warm, where teenagers could fly, and where no one ever grew up wasn't a raving lunatic.

“We know the mainland is all you've ever known,” Maz said after they'd all signed, “but we ask that all new recruits adapt to the culture of the island. None of us here needs lessons on popular culture in the States. We don't need to know about your favorite albums or movies or websites. We certainly don't need to know what all the cool kids are saying. We have our own slang words and phrases. You'll adopt them along the way. We want to make the cultural shift as seamless as possible.”

The back cover of the handbook included a vow the Daltons had to recite in order to gain their citizenship. Wylie expected confetti or trumpets when it was finally over, but all they got was a handshake from Maz and permission to go back to their rooms.

It had been a long and draining day. Wylie was looking
forward to taking a hot shower and getting in a nap before heading to the dining room for dinner.

“Wylie,” Maz said, “I'm going to need you to stick around for a few more minutes.”

Joshua and Micah lingered at the door, not wanting to leave her behind.

“I'll be okay, guys,” Wylie assured them. “You can go.”

Once they left, Maz nervously looked at his hands as he addressed her.
Great,
Wylie thought.
Here's where he tells me it's time to harvest my organs.

“There's something else Phinn won't allow on the island.”

The suspense was killing her. What could it be? Show tunes? Orgies? Crack cocaine?

“Procreation,” he continued. “We don't have any parents here, and Phinn would like to keep it that way. So, although it's fine to have as much sex as you want, we can't have any of the girls getting pregnant.”

Wylie laughed. This was the exact opposite principle from the one her grandmother had tried to instill in her. According to her, there was no point in having sex unless you planned to create life.

“Trust me,” she reassured him, “we're on the exact same page. But this sounds like the kind of thing my brothers should be lectured on, too. Why am I the only one being told?” The sound of a bell chimed loudly through the island, saving Maz from answering her question.

“Perfect timing,” Maz said. “Come with me.”

Wylie followed him to the clinic. At least a dozen other girls were already waiting inside, and more had flowed in
behind them. Maz stood back as the girls formed two lines, facing each other. Lola gestured to Wylie to stand next to her. She scanned the faces across from her, and aside from Tinka, who was probably still in detox, Wylie was almost certain every single female on the island was present.

Aldo and Patrick entered the room with charts and made their way down each of the lines. Wylie could see that Patrick was passing out a pill to each girl, while Aldo made notations on a clipboard.

“What is this?” Wylie asked Lola.

“Our daily dose of birth control,” Lola whispered.

Wylie wasn't on the Pill. She'd lost her virginity a couple years before, but her escapades were few and far between and didn't warrant a very awkward conversation with her mom and a regular birth-control regimen. It creeped Wylie out to be standing in this room with all the other girls from the island, waiting to take an extra dose of estrogen, although all of them were in this together, at least. And that was why she didn't protest when Patrick handed her a tiny pill. Wylie simply placed it on her tongue and swallowed it down with water.

After all the pills were administered one by one, the girls were released, and Lola and Wylie headed back to their bungalow.

“The bell rings every day at five p.m. to alert us to head to the clinic and get our appropriate dose. Even if we're menstruating, we're still required to show up for placebo pills,” Lola explained.

“Don't they trust you guys to just take them on your own? Do we really have to line up like cattle every day?”
Wylie asked, with more than a trace of judgment in her voice. She couldn't help feeling bothered that the onus of birth control was placed solely on the female population.

“Phinn thinks it's just easier this way. Some of us are very responsible, but others might forget, and then we'd have babies crawling all over the place.”

Wylie wondered if accidental pregnancy was grounds for exile. It was nowhere in the handbook, but neither was the “no procreation” rule.

“It just doesn't seem right to have anyone else give us orders on what to do with our bodies.”

“That doesn't happen on the mainland?” Lola asked.

“It depends on which state you live in, but shouldn't we be doing things better here?”

“I don't exactly disagree, but a friendly tip? I wouldn't go around talking about it to anyone,” Lola said, lowering her voice. “Phinn doesn't like to be challenged.”

“Well, then he shouldn't have invited me to stay on the island,” Wylie said, stopping right in front of Phinn's bungalow.

Lola gave Wylie a quizzical look. She put her arm around Wylie's shoulder.