Never Ever (22 page)

Joshua fought off a lump in his throat as he considered his options.

“Okay. Let me out. I want to go home,” he replied.

“How do we know we can trust him?” Tinka asked. “How do we know he's not gonna go running to Phinn the second we leave?”

Wylie looked at her brother in the moonlight. His face was covered in dirt and grime. He looked like he'd lost a few pounds. A lot had gone wrong between them, but she didn't think he'd sell them out to Phinn. She squeezed the compass to remind herself of the days when the Daltons were a package deal.

“We can trust him,” she said.

The four of them stayed in step with each other as they ran to the fence. Tinka thought they had a better chance of
reaching the docks on foot, since they'd be much easier to spot while flying.

“Phinn's got his little army of insomniacs on guard in the sky. We need to get a head start before they see us. Once they do, that's when we fly. We should take separate routes and meet at the docks,” she said, handing them each a
parvaz
.

Tinka held open the fence and they all quietly crept through. Running was no easy task after being in a cell for three days with no opportunity to exercise.

“Let's go!” Tinka said, tearing down the dark trail as quickly as she could. Wylie and her brothers turned to follow, but they were all startled by a scream.

“
Phinn!
”

They looked up to find Patrick hovering above them.

“
Phinn!
They're running away!” he shouted.

Wylie could see the spark of flashlights and candles flicker in the bungalows. Patrick had screamed loud enough to wake up the entire island.

“
Run!
” Tinka yelled.

No matter how fast their legs could carry them, they couldn't outrun someone amped up on
parvaz.
Micah and Tinka each popped a flower and Wylie moved to do the same, but it slipped through her fingers and fell on the ground. She would have had to crawl on her hands and knees to find it, so she kept running. Patrick flew inches above her and tugged at Wylie's shirt, but she pried free of his grip and kept moving. Joshua was a few feet ahead of her.

“Take the
parvaz
!” Wylie called to her brother, not wanting him to know she'd lost hers. Joshua swallowed the flower and careened above her. The wind picked up around them and Wylie knew that meant there were more people flying after them. She glanced over her shoulder as she kept sprinting and noticed Nadia holding Patrick back, trying to give Wylie a head start. It was about a three-mile run from the Forbidden Side to the beach. About half the distance she ran on the basketball court during a game. She could make it there. Wylie looked up at the sky to see if she could spot Tinka or her brothers, but instead she saw Phinn speeding through the air, his focus locked on her. He grasped at her hair, just inches away from catching her, but Wylie ran off the trail into the trees and bamboo. The thick of the jungle would slow her down, but it would also make it harder for Phinn to grab her.

“You can't outrun me, Wylie!” Phinn yelled above her.

I can try
, she told herself. Phinn followed her into the brush and yanked her shirt, causing her to fall. Just as he landed behind her, she remembered the
parvaz
flowers she'd kept in her pocket. They were long dead, but maybe they could help her fly for a few yards. Phinn grabbed her leg and she kicked him hard in the stomach. He keeled over in pain as she popped a handful of dried-up petals into her mouth and swallowed them whole. She floated slowly at first, then picked up speed. This would be her last flight, she realized.

As she flew through the sky, she tried to find her brothers, but they were nowhere in sight. She arrived at the docks, but if she landed on a boat and tried to sail away,
Phinn would easily capture her. The effects of the
parvaz
carried her well past the dock and into the middle of the ocean.

“Wylie! Stop flying away!” Phinn yelled. He grasped at her feet in midair and managed to hold on to her ankle. He pulled her toward him, and for a brief moment they were floating in the sky, face to face. Wylie dug into her pocket for the pepper spray. Her palms were sweating and she worried if she didn't move quickly, Phinn would wrestle it from her grip.

“Let me go!” she screamed as she pointed the canister at his face and sprayed the liquid straight in his eyes.

Phinn howled in agony, clasping his hands over his eyes. Free from his grip, Wylie kept flying into the night, but she suddenly felt her stomach lurch. She was falling. The dried flower had lasted only a few minutes. The water splashed loudly as she plunged into the ocean. The waves were rough, but she kept her head above the water. Phinn called out to her from above.

“You'll drown!” he shouted.

“No, I won't. I know how to swim,” Wylie called back.

Wylie gulped air and immersed herself in the water. She swam under the surface as long as she could, then came up for a breath. Phinn was still wheeling around in the air, trying to find her through his blind haze. She dipped beneath the waves and kept swimming till her lungs felt like they were going to burst. Phinn's voice was fainter now as he called out her name. He would have to give up eventually before the effects of the flower wore off and he plummeted into open water and drowned. Wylie was a strong
swimmer. By the time he could get on a boat to find her, it would be like searching for a grain of salt in a sandbox. She kept swimming and coming up for air till she could barely make out the island anymore.

The only light came from the moon and the stars. The water looked black, and Wylie didn't know if there were sharks or any other sea creatures she had to worry about. She couldn't see Phinn anywhere, but now he was the least of her problems. She was in the middle of the ocean with no life raft or vest. It would be at least six hours before the sun came up, and there was no way she could tread water for that long. Her eyelids drooped as she fought to stay awake. The water seemed to get colder and colder as she swam away from the island, and she didn't know how long she had before hypothermia would set in. She had thought Minor Island would extend her life by decades, and here she was about to die at the age of seventeen.
Please let my brothers fare better than I did tonight,
she thought
. Please let them be safe
.

Though her arms and legs were exhausted and it was nearly impossible to catch her breath, Wylie kept swimming. The movement helped keep her awake and would only take her farther away from Phinn and everyone else on the island. With the light of the moon, her eyes focused on what looked like a rock a few yards away. Or maybe a few miles. The ocean could be deceptive when it came to distance, and it was very likely her vision was playing tricks on her. She kicked and plowed her arms through the waves, but swallowed a mouthful of water. Wylie choked as her nose and eyes stung from the salt. It was hard to tread water
and cough it up at the same time, but Wylie was now close enough to see the rock wasn't a figment of her imagination. It was high enough to protect her from the tide. A few more strokes and she could finally get some rest.

As soon as her fingertips met cold stone, Wylie let out a cry. It took all the strength she had left to lift her body out of the water and climb to the top of the rock. She could rest here until morning, and with any luck, wouldn't freeze to death. She tried to catch her breath, but the thought of her brothers still trapped on the island made her hyperventilate.

A sharp pain sprang from her thigh and Wylie reached into her pocket to find the source. She pulled out the compass Joshua had given her on her birthday only to discover the glass was now broken and had cut into her flesh. Her body shook with heavy sobs as she thought of the words to her dad's favorite Simon and Garfunkel song. The melody slowed down her heart rate like a lullaby. She was a rock, she told herself. She was an island.

“ARE YOU ALIVE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Wylie's eyes blinked open. A thick fog covered the horizon as the night sky gave way to gray. A boat was floating a few feet from where she'd fallen asleep. This had to be a dream. All she could think was how sad and alone she would feel once she woke up from it and remembered she was in the middle of a vast ocean, all by herself.

“Grab on to the rope. I'll pull you up,” a voice said.

Wylie looked up to find a man's face staring down at her.
He had a mane of thick curly hair and a beard that was long enough to be braided.

“I'm not dreaming?” she asked.

“No. I'm going to help you.” She dipped herself into the cold water and floated toward the rope. Every muscle screamed in pain as she tried to climb up it.

“I can't,” she yelled to him.

“I've got you,” he said, using all his strength to pull her up. She was halfway up the boat when she noticed his hands. The nails were grimy and overgrown, but that wasn't what horrified her. On his right hand, there were three small stumps where his fingers should have been.

Hopper.

“Get away from me!” Wylie cried. She let go of the rope and flung herself into the ocean. The water smacked her limbs, and the salt in her open wounds felt like a thousand tiny needles pricking her skin.

“What are you doing?” Hopper yelled. He jumped over the side of the boat and into the water. Wylie tried to swim away, but her aching muscles betrayed her. Hopper grabbed her arm and Wylie flailed and kicked as hard as she could. She got in one good punch, but it wasn't enough to knock him out.

Then Wylie felt her head strike the rock that had briefly saved her life.

“Now you've done it,” was the last thing she heard Hopper say as she lost consciousness.

lost and found

all
Wylie could see when she opened her eyes was white. For a moment she thought she was crawling toward the pearly gates, but if this was heaven, she wouldn't be in such excruciating pain. Her vision slowly came into focus and she realized she was staring at the white baseboards of a boat. Her clothes were dripping from spending the night in the ocean. She tried to use her hands to stand up, but she couldn't move them. They were tied with a rope behind her back. A drop of blood fell from her head and splattered on the wood floor. A hand rested on her shoulder as someone placed a washcloth against her temple.

A guy's voice reverberated through her head, but she couldn't make out exactly what he was saying over the ringing in her eardrums.

Wylie tried to lift her head and look up. The tears that were forming made it difficult to focus. She blinked a few times, but it wasn't helping. She knew she had to get away.
Hopper was dangerous. He had practically knocked her out in the water, and now he'd tied her up. The longer she stayed here, the less chance she had of surviving.

“Wylie, it's okay,” a girl's voice said. A few more blinks and then Wylie's eyes finally focused.

Lola was kneeling in front of her.

Hopper lingered next to Lola, his mutilated hand on her shoulder. Behind them, Wylie saw multiple new faces staring back at her with concern. She was too disoriented to count, but somehow she knew the number would add up to twelve. A girl stood next to Lola, her wrists decked out in friendship bracelets. She had to be Charlotte.

All the kids staring back at her held weapons in their hands: arrows, daggers, and spears. The smell of kelp and fish was so strong, it made her queasy. The waves rocked the boat back and forth violently, only worsening the nausea.

“We're not going to hurt you,” Lola promised.

“Why am I tied up?” Wylie asked, her voice raspy.

“We didn't want you to run away.”

“If you hadn't freaked out on me, then you wouldn't have hurt yourself,” Hopper said without an ounce of sympathy.

“She was scared,” Lola reminded him. “Phinn's got a talent for keeping people terrified.”

“Can someone please tell me what's going on?” Wylie begged. She gestured to Hopper. “Is he holding us hostage?”

The kids erupted with laughter, but Hopper didn't seem to find the question funny. He shook his head and clenched his jaw. There was so much hair and scruff on his face that he was unrecognizable from his photograph, but Wylie still found herself struck by his eyes. They had a twinkle to
them and didn't look like they belonged to a maniac at all.

“Wylie and I need a few minutes alone together,” Lola said. “If I untie you, will you promise not to do anything stupid? There's nothing but ocean out there. If you jump overboard, you'll drown.”

Wylie nodded. Lola gave a look to Hopper. “You can untie her.”

“Are you sure?” Hopper asked. “She's got a hell of a left hook. My jaw is still killing me.”

“I'm sure.”

Hopper used a knife to cut through the rope, freeing Wylie's wrists.

“Put your arm around me,” he said.

Wylie did as she was told and Hopper helped prop her up to her feet. Every joint was sore from the hours of swimming, but she managed to stay upright. The lost kids backed off as Lola and Hopper moved Wylie down a staircase and into the cabin of the boat. The room, much too cramped for more than a dozen people to share, was filled with sleeping bags.

“We usually sleep seven down here and seven up top. We trade off so no one has to freeze their butts off every night,” Lola explained.

Hopper left to give them privacy, as Wylie slowly changed out of her wet clothes and wrapped herself in a blanket. After wearing the same outfit for four days straight, she dreaded getting dressed again once her clothes were dry. After Wylie was covered up, Hopper returned with a mug of hot soup.

“It's from a can,” he said apologetically.

“It's okay,” Wylie replied. “Anything will taste good right now.”

The steam from the soup curled its way up to the ceiling. She quietly blew on it, keeping her eyes glued on Lola as they sat on the sleeping bags.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” Wylie said.

“I wish I could have told you I was okay,” Lola replied, looking down at her hands. “Maz . . . how is he?”

“Not good,” Wylie admitted.

Lola nodded but didn't say a word. Hopper gently scratched the top of her head with his good hand.

“You're not the one to blame for his pain,” he assured her, but she started to cry anyway. He used a towel to wipe the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Wylie had a long list of questions, but right now Lola seemed too fragile to answer them. So she decided to spill her guts first. As she listened to herself speak, it felt as though she was relaying the details of someone else's life. Just your typical, run-of-the-mill love story: Boy meets girl. Boy takes girl to a mystery island. Boy turns out to have a lifelong vendetta against girl's father. Boy holds girl captive. Boy loses girl. Lola's face didn't register shock when Wylie revealed her dad's true identity. Maybe she had learned the truth already.

“I don't know what happened to my brothers,” Wylie said. “Maybe they got away, or maybe Phinn's holding them hostage again.”

“Don't worry about that now. You're safe here. Phinn can't get to you,” Lola said.

I don't care about Phinn
,
Wylie wanted to snap back.
I just want my brothers to be okay
. But it wasn't Lola's fault they were safe on this boat while Micah and Joshua were somewhere else, possibly in danger. There was no sense in making her feel guilty when she'd endured her own share of traumatic events these past few weeks.

“How did you end up here? Everyone thinks you were kidnapped by Hopper,” Wylie said. “But I was never convinced.”

“Smart girl,” Hopper mumbled, a wry smile on his face.

“I knew Phinn would blame him,” Lola said. “Just like he blamed him for everything else. Prom, for example. Hopper didn't have anything to do with that. It was just Phinn trying to keep us afraid.” She stood up and moved around the tiny cabin, tidying up the piles of towels and clothing that were crumpled up in every corner.

“Sweet Honey Stew,” Lola continued. “That's how I discovered Phinn's secret. You said that day your dad had taught you how to make it. Well, it was a dish my tribe used to cook. It was Gregory's favorite. I would whip it up for him in secret sometimes, because Phinn was never fond of it.”

“What happened when you left the garden?” Wylie asked, even though she dreaded the answer.

“I went to find Phinn. I tracked him down to the docks fixing one of the boats. ‘They're Gregory's kids, aren't they?' I asked as soon as I saw him. He denied it the whole time, but I didn't believe him. I said that I would tell you, I would tell everyone. That the entire island would know that
he was nothing but a liar and a manipulator. And he . . .” Lola trailed off, seemingly haunted by what had happened next.

“He gagged her and tied her up,” Hopper said matter-of-factly. “And then he set sail and put her on a dinghy in the middle of the ocean.”

Lola managed a wan smile. “He said it wouldn't seem right to let me drown, so he left my fate to the ocean. At least I managed to bite him before he got the gag all the way on.”

“She'd been drifting in the water a few hours when we found her,” Hopper went on.

“Hopper saved my life,” Lola explained. “Just like he saved yours.”

Wylie thought back to that day. She had left the kitchen and found Phinn in the clinic getting bandaged—he'd said it was a cut, but it must have been the wound from Lola's bite. She'd packed them a picnic basket and they'd gone out to the beach together. They waded out into the ocean and she gave him a swimming lesson. The entire time, he knew how he'd spent his afternoon. He'd left her best friend to die and he'd let Wylie grovel and apologize to him for putting a few measly nails in the floorboards.

“You're not a bad person, are you?” Wylie said to Hopper.

“I guess it depends who you ask,” he replied.

“Tell her,” Lola urged. “Tell her what we all did to you.”

“I don't much like to relive it,” Hopper said. He took a
scroll from his back pocket and handed it to Wylie. “And anyway, I'm better on paper.”

Wylie unrolled it and began to read.

Prison changed me. Prison changes lots of people. I'm not unique in that way. In fact, I was one of the lucky ones. Most people go to jail and mourn the seconds and hours and days that pass them by. Some are locked up in their youth and don't get their freedom back until they're old and gray, but I was held prisoner on an island where no one ages. Even if I had been in captivity for decades, I wouldn't have looked a day over seventeen upon my release. I got off easy. I lost a few fingers, some of my sanity, and a lot of my dignity, but technically, I didn't lose a day of my life. That's the silver lining when you're doing time in a place where “time” doesn't exist. Now that I'm gone, I know there are theories and stories about what exactly happened to me. I know there are people out there terrified of me. I could go down in history as the bad guy. But even if I'm the only one who ever reads this, at least I'll feel like I've had a chance to tell my story.

I was lonely and vulnerable when Phinn found me. I was unloved. I had no parents
or siblings or family. All my childhood, I'd been shuffled from one foster home to another. I don't blame myself for buying the bill of goods Phinn sold me. Why wouldn't someone like me want to go to an island where no one grows old and where parents don't exist? Minor Island was everything I thought it would be and more. I spent my days taking
parvaz
and flying above the palm trees. I ate better than I'd ever eaten before in my life. I had a roommate named Maz who was more generous than any foster family I'd ever lived with. I'd brought my guitar from the mainland and spent my evenings serenading all the night owls in the Clearing. They even threw me a party in my honor to welcome me to the island. The early days were some of the best days of my life.

Maybe if I didn't have such a problem with authority, it would have lasted longer. Phinn was charming and funny. He was the kind of person who made you feel better about yourself, simply because he chose to associate with you. But pretty soon I realized we weren't just there to be Phinn's friends. We were there to be his disciples. He wasn't just some kid running the island.
He was a god and we were supposed to treat him as such. I don't do well with hero worship. I didn't like that there were rules and laws we had to follow, but that those same rules didn't seem to apply to Phinn. Back home, I was always suspicious of the government, but all I wanted now was some sort of democracy. A chance to vote on decisions and maybe even give someone else a shot at running the island. The more I talked to other residents, the more it seemed like they felt the same way. They had me fooled.

Phinn and a few of his cohorts grabbed me in my bungalow in the dead of night. I was guilty of treason, they told me. They dragged me out of my room and I assumed I would be taken to a boat and sent back to the mainland. According to the Minor Island handbook, exile was the punishment for treason. But that's not where they took me. I was brought to a secluded part of the island, swallowed up by the jungle. I'd been told these parts were prone to quicksand. My heart began to race as I became convinced they were going to let me sink to my death. But that would have been too easy. I spotted a lone cage. They threw me inside, handcuffed me, and locked me in. I'd
gotten into a lot of trouble on the mainland, but I'd never once been arrested for anything. Now I was in solitary confinement.

I'm not sure exactly how much time passed or how long I was there. Months, I think. It's hard to say. I suppose I should have been flattered to be the first recruit to warrant his very own prison cell. I was a trendsetter. Before long, other cages popped up with other prisoners. Some were accused of sympathizing with me. Some were just tossed in for disrespecting Phinn. I feel guilty admitting it, but I was desperate for the company. The worst day in prison was when I lost my fingers. Phinn knew playing guitar was my only form of therapy and he wanted to take it away from me. It could have been worse. It could have been my entire hand. It was Tinka who did the deed. If she hadn't been so nervous, it would have been swift and relatively painless. Instead, it took a while. The things we do for love. I hope he at least let her stay in his bungalow that night.

And then one day, they let me go. They waited until I was mentally, emotionally, and physically shattered. At the time, I wasn't sure why Phinn didn't take me out
in the middle of the Clearing and just have me hanged in front of everyone. Now I know. I was much more useful to him alive. If he could keep everyone terrified that I might come back and exact my revenge, then they'd depend on him even more. Or maybe he was just too much of a chicken to actually kill me. Instead, he took me out on his boat and sent me off on a raft in the middle of the ocean with enough water to last me a few days.