by Sara Saedi
“I told you,” Dr. Jay said, “I’m not giving all the goods out at once. There are a few other nuggets that I won’t parcel out till you get me the hell out of here.”
He explained that Olivia wanted them to have safe passage out of the building if they ever needed to make an emergency exit. It seemed not everything that happened at BioLark was legal, and Olivia was always afraid of being found out by the government. But she was also the only person who knew how to access the tunnels. Dr. Jay had no idea where they started or where they ended up.
“It might just be some elaborate maze below ground with dead ends at every corner. But if you can play along, then I’ll have time to find out. Once I have an exit strategy, I’ll get everyone out. Olivia has morning staff meetings, which will only leave us with a few guards to outmaneuver, and then we’ll make our escape.”
“You’re asking us to put a lot of faith in you,” Wylie couldn’t help pointing out. “Why can’t you just take us into the lab and we’ll force Olivia to let our friends out?”
Dr. Jay laughed. “You think it’s gonna be that easy? How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” Wylie answered. She hated being condescended to by people who were older than her.
“Well, Olivia’s waited thirty years to get to Phinn and find the island. She’s not going down without a fight. If you go in swinging, she’ll swing harder. She’ll blow the place up before she lets your friends out.”
If everything Dr. Jay was saying was true, then they had to listen to him. They agreed they’d enter as hostages and wait for Dr. Jay to make the next move. Before they ended the briefing, Dr. Jay grabbed a pen and asked for intel on Minor Island to scribble on his forearm.
“Why?” Hopper asked.
“I have a tendency to lose notepads. I jot down notes on my arm, because then I won’t misplace them. Olivia knows this about me. If she doesn’t see any pen marks on my arm, then she’ll figure something’s up. Sometimes I write them in code. Once we’re on the other side, they might be the only way I’ll be able to communicate with you.”
They spent the next few minutes shouting out benign facts about the island, and Dr. Jay wrote them down until his arm was covered in ink.
“We’re good,” he declared. “Olivia won’t suspect a thing.”
* * *
The afternoon sun beat down on them as they left the cabin. Micah and Tinka volunteered to load the boat with blankets and pillows and other supplies that would help ease an evening at sea.
“Bring a barf bucket too,” Lola requested. She gave Wylie a hug, and then flew off to their bungalow for some much-needed rest before their departure.
Hopper and Wylie had already completed their to-do list for the trip, and filled the remaining hours with a picnic on the beach to watch the sunset. Hopper brought his guitar and belted out one of their favorite Youth Brigade songs. If he’d been a contestant on one of those singing competition shows, the judges would have praised his flawless pitch.
“For years I tried to convince myself that this place actually sucked,” Hopper said. “I guess it made it easier to imagine never living here again.”
“I wish it did suck,” Wylie said. “Then it wouldn’t be so hard to leave.”
The sharp corner of Phinn’s note poked Wylie in the thigh. She’d stored the letter in her pocket; partially hoping it would fall out during a flight and disappear forever so that she’d never have to read it. What difference would it make if she knew whatever Phinn wanted to say to her? She wanted nothing to do with him. She didn’t care about his feelings.
“Earth to Dalton,” Hopper said, squeezing her shoulder. “Where did you disappear to?”
“Sorry,” Wylie replied. She grabbed the note from her pocket and handed it to him.
“This was under my pillow in the bungalow. I haven’t read it yet. I keep wanting to throw it away. But maybe there’s something in here that could help us.”
Hopper turned the note over in his hand. They hadn’t spoken much about Phinn since arriving on the island. She watched as he contemplated the folded piece of paper and hoped he wasn’t hurt that she’d kept it to herself.
“Forget it,” Wylie said. “Let’s throw it in the ocean.”
Hopper shook his head. “No. I think you should read it.”
He offered the note to Wylie, but she couldn’t take it. Finally, they agreed that Hopper would read it aloud.
Dear Wylie,
By the time you get this, I’ll no longer be living on the island. You’ll probably be thrilled to hear that. My mistakes caught up with me and no one wants me to stay. I can’t say I hold that against them. This is my home, and there will be so much I’ll miss about living here. Mostly, I’ll miss the people. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of growing old. The most magical thing about Minor Island isn’t just the fact that we get to be teenagers forever, but it’s that we never lose our youthful idealism. I’m not looking forward to giving that up as the years go by. But all that pales in comparison to the hardest part of leaving the island: wondering if I’ll ever get to see you again.
I’ve had a lot of loss in my life. I’m not trying to make excuses for my choices and decisions. Your dad hurt me when he sailed away from the island, but it was only because I hurt him first. We were as close as brothers when he left. I was angry and upset, and I didn’t get over it until I met you.
I was struck by you at that party. I didn’t need to fake that. And the more I got to know you that night, the more I liked you. I never intended for that to happen, but I couldn’t help it. You’re loyal, caring, smart, funny, stubborn in all the best ways, and ridiculously strong. I’m not sure you realize that last part. Being around you made me realize why grown-ups on the mainland want to get married and start families. I would go to sleep at night thinking about us having a life together away from the island. As much as I loved seventeen-year-old Wylie, and as much as I thought you loved seventeen-year-old Phinn, I was curious to know what twenty-something Phinn and Wylie might be like. What would we be like in our thirties and forties? In our eighties and nineties? I liked to imagine how we would change and how we would stay the same.
But I loved you too much. I became terrified that you would be taken away from me. You would be another loss. I thought the only way I could prevent that from happening was if I controlled everything. I thought we could get to a place where, once I did tell you the truth about your dad, it wouldn’t matter so much. None of it came out the way I intended.
Then I thought I could bully you into forgiving me. I was an idiot, obviously.
I don’t know a thing about love. I don’t know how to be selfless. I don’t know how to love unconditionally. I don’t know how to be honest when the truth scares the hell out of me. I don’t know when to let go. I don’t know how to let people down gently. I don’t know how to show the worst parts of myself, and still think someone could love me. No one stuck around long enough to teach me any of that. You came the closest. And yet, as I write this, I wish I could go back to that night in Brooklyn and do everything differently. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t disrupt your life. Unlike the rest of us, you have parents that love you. It was wrong of me to take you away from them. It was wrong of me to rob you of experiences you’ll never get to have on the island. Your future is brighter than this place. I bet it includes Michelin stars and rave culinary reviews and prouder than proud parents.
It might sound crazy, but I know you’re safe. I can’t help thinking that if you were dead, I would somehow feel it. The world has meaning and I think that’s because you’re still in it. I’m not convinced we’ll ever see each other again. I don’t think I’ll ever get a response to this letter, and you may never read it. I also don’t expect it to change anything. But no matter how long I live on the mainland, you’ll always be the love of my life. And I hope to God I’m not yours. You deserve so much bett
er.
Love,
Phinn
Wylie wanted to rip the paper to shreds, set it on fire, and spit on the ashes.
“You don’t have to hate him because of me,” Hopper said. “You’re allowed to have your own opinion.”
“I don’t hate him for you, Hopper.”
She hated that Phinn’s parting resurrected feelings she’d buried so deep and so long ago, she’d forgotten they’d even existed. Why did Phinn get to have the last word? Why did he get to play on her empathy? He had no right to explain himself. And he had no right to make her feel guilty for leaving her parents or make her question whether she belonged on Minor Island. It was a convenient argument from someone living in exile. Even in his good-bye letter, he was trying to manipulate her into being with him.
“It’s not fair,” Hopper mumbled.
“What’s not fair?”
Hopper collapsed on the beach and let out a sigh.
“That Phinn got to be with you before . . .”
But he didn’t finish the thought and he didn’t have to. Wylie knew what he wanted to say. It wasn’t fair that Phinn got to be with her when her heart was open to love and all its possibilities. It wasn’t fair that he got to know the Wylie who could show affection freely. It wasn’t fair, because Phinn was the person who destroyed that girl. Everyone else would be left with a person who took everything they said with a grain of salt, and was too traumatized to love with abandon.
“You’re right,” Wylie agreed. “It’s not fair.”
She lay down in the sand next to him and her fingertips touched the stumps on his right hand. Sometimes it was so easy to be his friend and sometimes it felt nearly impossible.
“Phinn was right about one thing,” Hopper said. “He won’t be the love of your life.”
Wylie nodded. It felt like the perfect time to roll over on her side and kiss him, but she cared about him too much to do that. Hopper had been deprived of so much in life. He deserved a girl who was open to love and all its possibilities. A girl who could show affection freely. He deserved more than Wylie.
The stars were beginning to brighten up the graphite-colored sky. They didn’t talk about Phinn again as they flew to the Clearing and said their good-byes to the lost kids. No one could bring themselves to get too sentimental. The more casual the farewell, the more it felt like they’d see each other again.
As Hopper steered the boat away from the dock, Wylie and Micah stood at the stern and kept their gaze fixed on the beach. Though the time of day was different, the line where the ocean met the sand looked as radiant as the day Phinn had brought them here. Wylie tried to memorize every inch of the image. From her current vantage point, no one would ever be able to tell that hearts had been broken among the lush greenery. Or that lagoons and parvaz flowers could kill you in your old age. No one would know that kids had been locked up in cages on the Forbidden Side and tortured till their spirits were broken. No one would know that the Wylie who entered the island a few months ago was an entirely different person from the Wylie who was leaving it now.
“Three hundred and forty-two days,” she said aloud.
“Until what?” Micah asked.
“Until I’m technically eighteen,” Wylie replied.
“We’ll be back before then,” her brother reassured her. “Me, you, and Joshua.”
And no Phinn.
Wylie smiled at the thought. But once the beach and palm trees disappeared from view, her mind shifted to Phinn’s letter and the ways she wanted to respond to him. She couldn’t quiet the imaginary argument between them in her head.
You’re wrong, she told Phinn. I belong on the island. I don’t need Michelin stars or rave reviews. And I don’t need proud parents.
The Phinn in her fantasy gave her a knowing smirk and said:
Keep telling yourself that, Wylie Dalton.
CHAPTER NINE
fine wine
back home, Phinn used to wait until everyone was asleep before tiptoeing out of his bungalow and walking down the rickety steps to the Clearing. It was late enough by then that even the insomniacs had retired to their huts. The fireflies weren’t bright enough to light his path, so he became accustomed to using a torch. The wooden branch was heavy, but at least it could double as a weapon if need be. Plus, it was good exercise to sprint down the trail to the Forbidden Side. With the help of parvaz, he’d float over the fence and gracefully land on the other side. The flames of the torch made it easy to avoid the quicksand and find the patch of rahat flowers that sprung up around the cages. He hated those flowers. If he could figure out a way to poison their roots so that they’d never grow again, he would have. He considered setting them on fire, but was afraid the entire island would go up in smoke. So instead he resorted to plucking them one by one and hiding them under his bed until they died. He wouldn’t let them take anyone away from him again.
But now they were taking everyone away. Some days, he even had trouble recognizing himself. They’d all gone from teenagers to lab specimens who were prodded and pricked and plied with drugs. They drifted around the poorly constructed Clearing like a pack of melancholy zombies who didn’t even have the initiative to eat brains. The rahat flowers made him feel like an empty vessel, and the high dose of parvaz had him longing for solid ground. He never thought he could get sick of flying, but the BioLark staff had taken something magical and turned it into a cruel endurance test. Floating through the air for hours felt like a marathon without the medals or adoring crowd at the finish line. No one would explain the reasons for the experiments, but Phinn and Maz had their theories. After hours of testing, they stayed awake as long as they could in their bungalow. By the middle of the night, the drugs seemed to wear off and they could think clearly again.
“They’re trying to figure out the exact dosage for parvaz,” Maz speculated. “If they’re going to make it into a pill, they’ll need to know how much you have to take to make it last all day. And the rahat flowers are an added bonus to weaken our resolve.”
“No,” Phinn disagreed. “Olivia wants to make a painkiller. They’re all the rage on the mainland. If she calls her version ‘homeopathic,’ then she’ll have a leg up on the competition.”
“Why can’t she find other people to experiment on?” Maz asked. “Why us?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Phinn said. “Revenge.”
That night, as they fought off much-needed rest, their theories turned to Wylie and Lola. Neither of them was willing to assume the worst. It was nice to at least get to tell someone how he planned to apologize to Wylie if he ever saw her again.
“She’ll forgive you,” Maz said, though they both knew that the chances of that happening were slim. “Maybe she found Hopper’s boat and rescued Lola from his clutches. Maybe they’re back on the island by now, wondering what happened to us.”
Phinn was glad it was dark inside their room so Maz couldn’t see the shame and guilt written on his face. He allowed his breathing to grow heavy, and hoped that Maz didn’t wonder why he always fell asleep when the subject of Lola came up.
The following morning started the same as every other one. They were woken up by Nurse Conway and sent to the dining room for tiny cartons of store-bought orange juice and milk, accompanied by a bowl of bland and lumpy oatmeal. Olivia greeted them with a cheery smile and the generic mantra of the day.
“Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” she announced.
The kids lifted up their beverages and shouted “hear, hear!” in unison.
At first, Phinn worried his friends had contracted a fatal strain of Stockholm syndrome that fooled them into thinking they liked being here. But then, on his second morning, he’d made a show of dumping out his orange juice after Olivia declared that “when life gives you lemons, make some lemonade.” It was a minor act of defiance, but the bodies around him went rigid. His friends were
afraid for him. It was Nurse Conway who put a hand around his neck and choked him, while Olivia lectured him about treating his elders with respect.
“There are starving children all over the world, Phinn,” she said. “You should be grateful to have a roof over your head and food in your belly.”
Phinn wasn’t sure the meals they were eating could actually be classified as food. It seemed that flavor should be a requirement when it came to anything edible. Nurse Conway let go of his neck and Phinn gasped for air. Once he could finally speak, he knew to apologize profusely.
The experiments started promptly after breakfast. They were escorted to the clinic and forced to stand in two lines. The nurses gave the boys three doses of parvaz and rahat. The girls received half the amount. Olivia liked to call it her version of the birth control ritual.
None of them tried to hide the flowers under their tongues or pretend to swallow. There was no point. The nurses and orderlies were thorough and always checked their mouths to make sure they ingested the dose. And anyway, they were grateful for the drugs. They needed them to withstand the experiments, or “daily activities,” as Olivia preferred to call them. The benign name made what they were doing seem far less unethical. Their “activities” always included hours of flying in circles below the saturated sapphire dome decorated with animated clouds. The staff followed them and checked their vitals every thirty minutes. Combining the flights with rahat flowers made their muscles cramp less from the constant movement.
The afternoon activities always varied. Sometimes they were forced to lie in bed while a nurse collected tissue and hair samples. Sometimes they had to submit to urine testing. There were CAT scans, iodine patch tests, and fertility exams. Phinn had heard from Nadia that the girls were given hormone shots so that BioLark could retrieve and freeze their eggs. He didn’t know how they smiled their way through it all, and wished there was something he could do to make it stop. Phinn hated the unpredictability of the afternoons. The evening’s individual evaluations were even more extreme, but at least he knew what to expect.