“Is your dad gone too?”
My smile fell as I nodded. “Yeah. He’s a captain in the Army. He was in Afghanistan and his caravan hit an IED.”
“Like a land mine?” Macon asked.
I nodded.
“Oh man. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. He’s injured. I just don’t know how bad yet.”
We walked awhile in silence, neither of us knowing what to say next.
Finally, Macon asked, “Hey, do you play video games?”
“Of course!”
“You should come over to my house. We’ll hang out and play.”
I stopped walking and just stared at Macon.
“What?” Macon asked.
“You’ve got Wi-Fi?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Uh, no,” I said.
“You’re kidding!” His eyes were wide with disbelief. “I’d go nuts.”
“Tell me about it. Honey… that’s my grandma… doesn’t believe in it or something. She won’t have it in the house. She doesn’t even have a satellite for TV.”
“Whoa,” Macon said, shaking his head. “That sounds like a time warp.”
We came to a fork in the road. A small wooden sign read PELICAN FLIGHT DRIVE.
“Left or right?” I asked.
Macon shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s my first day out. The rain…”
“Got a coin?”
Macon pulled a quarter out of his pocket.
“Heads we go right. Tails we go left.”
Macon flipped the coin, caught it, and flipped it onto his arm.
“We go right!”
CHAPTER 6
New Friends
It was like we were on our very own island.
WE STARTED DOWN THE RIGHT path when we heard the steady buzz of a golf cart. We both spun around to see a silver cart coming our way. All I could think was rescue! The driver slowed down and stopped next to us—a girl with a long blond braid. It was Lovie.
“Hey, Jake! Y’all lost or something?”
My cheeks got warm. “No, we’re headed to the Nature Center.”
“Was that your golf cart I passed way back there?”
“Yeah. Dead battery.”
“Well, it’s going to take you forever to walk there. You’re headed in the wrong direction. Hop on. I’ll give y’all a ride.”
I hopped onto the back of the cart. Macon slid onto the front seat next to Lovie.
“I’m Macon.”
She smiled. “Hey, I’m Lovie. You new here too?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll show you guys around.” She giggled. “So you won’t get lost.”
Lovie turned the cart around and we headed left. She was another know-it-all like Macon, but this time I was glad for the information. Lovie was like a tour guide. She pointed out the paths that led to the beach and took us by the community swimming pool. I held on tight to the golf cart because Lovie would stop without warning to jump off and snap photos of things with her cell phone.
“Nice phone,” I told her, missing mine.
“Thanks. My mama wants to keep tabs on me while she’s at work. I like to take pictures of the insects and birds and… look, there!” Lovie squealed, pointing to a dead, topless tree trunk.
“Where?”
“Straight ahead. In that hole in the tree trunk.”
I squinted and spotted a small owl peeking out of a dark hole. Its round yellow eyes were watching us intently.
“Aw, it’s a baby owl,” Macon said.
“Nope. Not a baby. It’s a screech owl! They’re just real small. And don’t let the small size fool you. They’re fast and furious.”
“I’ve read about them,” Macon said as he was getting off the golf cart for a closer look. “They like to nest in old woodpecker holes.”
“That’s right.” Lovie pointed at the cart. “See those binoculars on the seat? Grab them so you can see better.”
Macon carried the binoculars and drew closer.
“Are you new here?” asked Lovie.
“For the summer. We’re from Atlanta.”
“See a lot of screech owls in Atlanta?” she asked in a gentle tease.
Macon smirked. “I’m a Boy Scout and we study wildlife and go on camping trips. I don’t see stuff like this in the city,” he said, gazing through the binoculars. “Did you know that owls have feathers on their legs and toes?”
I rolled my eyes. Macon was like a human Google.
“That’s right,” Lovie said, glancing at Macon as though sizing him up. “And the feathers on their wings are different from other birds. They can fly super quiet to snatch their prey.”
“Silent but deadly,” Macon added.
I watched them smile at each other and wished I knew some cool facts too.
“Maybe we should get going,” I said. “My golf cart’s still sitting in the middle of the road.”
“Okay, hop in, guys,” Lovie said, climbing behind the wheel. “But first, I’ve got one more spot to show you. It’s an epic find!”
“Cool,” Macon said again. That was obviously his favorite word.
Lovie drove us to what she claimed was her favorite beach spot on the island. She veered off the main path and we bumped along a wide wooden boardwalk that cut between tall trees, rolled over a marsh area, and past two big houses hidden in the trees. We came to a stop so hard I almost tumbled off.
“This is as far as the cart can go,” she announced.
“How did she ever get to drive?” I mumbled to Macon as I climbed out.
Macon shrugged. “Beats me. She only has one speed: fast.”
Lovie pointed toward the narrow path. “We walk the rest of the way.”
“She’s kinda bossy, too,” I whispered.
Chuckling, we followed Lovie across the soft, sandy path toward the sea. Lots of tiny black ants scrambled by our feet.
“Don’t worry,” Lovie said when she heard me grunt and lift my feet. “The black ants don’t bite like the red ones. We call those fire ants, and let me tell you, their bites sting.”
“Look, there’s Indian paintbrush,” Lovie called out, pointing to the yellow and purple wildflowers that blanketed the sand dunes. She stopped to take a photo with her phone. Macon pulled out his phone and also took photos.
My hands felt empty. I didn’t have my phone. Then I thought about my notebook sitting in the golf cart. Note to self: Carry the notebook with me wherever I go.
I heard the ocean before I saw it.
We reached the top of a dune and with one step everything changed. Suddenly the blue of sky and ocean loomed before me, stretching out as far as I could see. I stood still, breathing in a breeze in which I could almost taste the salt from the sea. The beach was long and no one else was on it. White crested waves lapped the shoreline.
“Wow,” was all I could say.
“What he said,” echoed Macon.
“Follow me!” Lovie yelled, and took off running through the loose sand.
Macon and I looked at each other, then took off after her. Our heels dug deep half-moons in the dry sand. She stopped in front of a bright orange, diamond-shaped sign nailed to a wooden stake. It said LOGGERHEAD TURTLE NESTING AREA. Neon orange caution tape was wrapped around two more wooden stakes to make a triangle protecting a small patch of sand.
“What is it?” I asked, panting from the run.
“It’s a turtle nest,” she replied. “My turtle nest,” she added, looking very pleased. “I found it my first day of summer break. See here.” She pointed to the head stake. “The Turtle Team even wrote my name on the stake. And the date the nest was found.”
I bent to study the writing on the wooden stake: LOVIE LEGARE 6/15.
“Hey! That’s the day I arrived.”
“Me too,” chimed in Macon.
“So, what’s inside the nest?” I asked.
“Turtle eggs, of course!” Lovie exclaimed with a light laugh.
I felt my cheeks flare.
“I mean, I didn’t know if there were eggs or baby turtles in there.” I shrugged. “There aren’t a lot of sea turtles in New Jersey.”
“Or Atlanta,” said Macon. “But I know turtles are reptiles.”
“Right. And just like alligators, they lay lots of eggs,” said Lovie.
I could tell she was warming up to the topic.
“This mama turtle laid her nest in a good spot,” Lovie continued in a teacherlike manner. “The Turtle Team didn’t have to move it, so we don’t know how many are in there.” She shrugged.
“So, how many do you think?” I asked, thinking two or three.
“Oh, sixty, or a hundred… or more.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of eggs,” I said.
“Move it? Why would you do that?” Macon asked. Unlike me, he was eager to learn new facts about the turtles.
“Well, I couldn’t move it,” she explained. “It’s against the law to touch the nest. You have to have a permit. The Turtle Team decides if the nest is in a safe place. If the ocean waves can go over it, or if it’s near a walkway or something like that, they move it up higher on the dunes. My Aunt Sissy is on the team. So is your grandma, Ms. Helen,” she said to me.
I didn’t know that. That explained the Turtle Team flag on Honey’s golf cart.
“But she just hasn’t been out patrolling the beach this summer. Or last year. Did she quit the team?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But my Grandpa Ed died two years ago. She’s been pretty sad about that.” I didn’t mention my dad’s accident. I just couldn’t.
“So how do you find the turtle nest?” asked Macon.
“The team walks the beach early every morning, on the lookout for turtle tracks.”
“I like to follow tracks. What do turtle tracks look like?” Macon asked.
Lovie smirked. “Tire tracks.”
Macon’s brows rose. “That’s pretty big.”
“Yeah, well, a grown mama turtle weighs over three hundred pounds,” Lovie said.
Both my and Macon’s eyes widened.
“Cool!” Macon exclaimed. “I’ve got to see one of those.”
“It’s really hard to catch a turtle laying eggs. She’s pretty wary about coming ashore, and she won’t if she sees a human or another animal. And it’s always late at night in the dark.” She smiled. “But we can try. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“When will the eggs hatch?” asked Macon.
“When they’re ready,” she replied.
Macon rolled his eyes in a come on kind of way.
Lovie smiled. “It usually takes about two months.”
I could see the human Google doing the math in his head.
“That means they’ll hatch in August, before we go back to school. We could watch them hatch!”
“You better believe it,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss it. It’s my nest,” she said again.
“And, did you know…,” Macon continued.
I groaned, bracing for more Macon facts.
“… the loggerhead is South Carolina’s state reptile? And an endangered species?”
“Duh,” Lovie replied. “It’s only my most favorite animal in the world.”
That explained her green turtle T-shirt and her silver turtle necklace. Oh yeah, I thought. She’s obsessed.
“It’s hot,” I yelled, ready to do something else. “Let’s go for a swim.”
Lovie took off, yelling over her shoulder, “Race ya!”
Lovie and I hit the ocean at the same time. We laughed as we tore off our shoes, then ran through the shallow water, not caring that our clothes got wet. We pushed through the cool water until the waves knocked us down. The water was much warmer in South Carolina than in New Jersey. We stood up on the soft, sandy bottom, laughing and splashing each other, my soaked clothes dripping and sticking to my skin.
“Come on, Macon!” I yelled. “The water feels great!”
Macon was standing on the beach, watching us. “There’s no way I’m going in there with all those sharks!” he called back.
Sharks? My skin pricked with alarm as I scanned the waves. “Lovie, are there sharks in here?”
“Sure, they’re everywhere,” she called back, and then laughed when shock flashed across my face. “But don’t worry. We’re not their food. They’re not interested in you… usually.”
She smirked and then dove back into a wave and swam farther out.
I turned and looked back toward the shore. Macon was beachcombing for shells. Behind me, Lovie was backstroking and splashing. No one else was out here. It was like we were on our very own island.
I have friends, I thought with wonder.
For the first time this summer, I didn’t feel alone.
CHAPTER 7
The Journal
Find what you’re good at and have fun.
THE GOLF CART WAS TOWED back to my grandmother’s house. Honey wasn’t mad. After all, she was the one who forgot to charge it. She gave me a lesson on how to plug it in after each use.
The cart was totally filthy. Mud, sand, and leaves were everywhere. I wondered when was the last time Honey cleaned it. I got a bucket of soapy water and some rags and set to work. I swept away the leaves, washed away the dirt and grime, wiped the windshield and the rearview mirror, and even polished the dashboard and headlights. It felt like my golf cart now.
“Lunchtime!” Honey hollered from upstairs.
I was starving, but sighed, remembering the contents of her fridge. “Coming!”
Honey was dressed in a green Turtle Team T-shirt like Lovie’s, and shorts.
“What kind of sandwich would you like, Jake? Ham and cheese?” She turned from the fridge with a container in hand. “Ooh, look! Some old turkey slices. I had forgotten about those.” She sniffed the container. “Yep, still smells all right.”
I grimaced. “I’m not hungry.”
“Not hungry? Look at you. You’re as slender as a sapling! You must eat, or your mama’s going to be none too pleased with me. So, what’ll it be?”
Secretly I dreamed of a foot-long sub or a hot slice of pizza. No, scratch that… an entire pizza! How do people on this island survive without a single restaurant, fast-food place, or even a convenience store out here?
I spied the last slices of Lovie’s loaf of bread on the counter.
“Do you have any peanut butter?”
Honey reached far into the cabinet, rummaged around a moment, then with a satisfied grunt pulled out a jar and handed it to me.
“You’re in luck. I forgot I even had this.”
I sure was in luck. The jar was unopened. She handed me a plate with the last of the loaf of bread. I sliced it into two pieces, spread the peanut butter thick, and wolfed it down. I looked at my empty plate and wondered, What will I eat next time?
After lunch, I tried to get Honey to come outside with me to see the golf cart. She hadn’t left the house since the rain.
“I shined it up and it looks brand-new,” I said with excitement. “I’ll take you for a ride. Maybe we’ll see Big Al.”
“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “My hip’s acting up. I’ll just sit and read a spell. But you go ahead.”
I watched her retreat to her bedroom with a book in her hand. Just looking at her made me sad. I looked around the empty house, the unwashed dishes, the tilting piles of books, and remembered my mom telling me that Honey needed help.
So I did. I cleared the table and washed the dishes. While I was at it, I cleaned the counters, too. I opened the fridge and saw the shelves packed with wrapped food.
What would happen if I just tossed out all the bad food? I laughed. That would empty the whole fridge! But what if Honey ate something bad and got sick? There wasn’t a hospital on the island. Someone had to clean house.
I figured that someone was me. I stretched out my arms as far as I could, pulled my head back, and opened one container. Yuck! I gagged when I saw the mold in it! I held my nose as I tossed out the
mystery food.
Boy, was I done! But it was a start. Then, because I really wanted some milk, I pulled out one more thing. The milk carton. I whiff checked it—oh boy, it was sour—and drained the carton. We definitely needed some fresh milk now!
The rain drummed on the tin roof and streaked the windows. I wouldn’t be meeting my friends at the Nature Center today as planned. Feeling hungry and a little drippy myself, I went up to the loft and pulled out my notebook. I tried to remember all the new sights I’d seen earlier that day.
The day slipped by as the rain continued to fall. Dinnertime came and, hungry, I went to the kitchen to rummage around for something to eat. Honey must’ve heard me. She emerged from her room. She looked like she’d just woken up from a nap.
“Honey, do you want me to make dinner for us?”
She gave me a surprised look. “You can cook?”
“I can boil water,” I replied with a grin. “I saw a box of noodles. I can make that.”
“That sounds just fine,” Honey said. “Might be some butter and cheese.”
“Uh, Mom makes it with olive oil,” I thought, remembering the yucky butter.
“You’re the chef,” she said with the first smile I saw of the day.
I couldn’t wait to cook something I knew I’d eat. I boiled up the noodles, added garlic salt—which I was surprised to find—and black pepper. There was some parmesan cheese in a plastic container that I was willing to take a chance on since it didn’t even need refrigeration. I was so hungry, the cheesy pasta tasted even better than usual. For dessert, Honey surprised me with a box of Girl Scout cookies in the freezer. She was holding out! I ate almost the entire box.
After our meal, Honey hung out in the living room, reading a book in her favorite armchair. The blue fabric was so worn she’d placed crocheted doilies on the arms, those things I saw in old-time pictures. Before she got too settled into her book, I hurried up to the loft to retrieve my notebook. I hesitated, blowing out a breath. I was shy to show my drawings.
I liked to draw, but sometimes the other kids teased me about them. But Honey asked me to show them to her, didn’t she? And… I’d worked hard on them all day. Courage, I said to myself.
“Hey, Honey,” I said, approaching her timidly.
She looked up from her book, a slight smile encouraging me. “Yes dear?”
The Islanders Page 4