by Sara Saedi
“Nothing you tell me will get anyone in trouble. You understand that, right?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Did Wylie or either of her brothers ever mention running away? When they said good-bye to you that night, was there anything different about it? Did you get the sense that Wylie thought it was the last time she’d be seeing you for a while?”
“No. She seemed perfectly normal. I mean, we were all sad that Joshua was going to juvie the next day, but none of us really talked about it. We didn’t want to ruin her birthday.”
Gregory felt ridiculous now, standing outside of the school like he thought he was some sort of private investigator. He had only hoped he could return to the brownstone with some piece of news for Maura that would give her an ounce of hope to hold on to.
“Thank you, Vanessa. If there’s anything else you remember, or if they try to get in touch with you, will you give us a call?”
“I will. Mr. Dalton, don’t take this the wrong way, but if Wylie wanted to come home, she would have found her way back by now.”
“It’s not always easy to get home, Vanessa. You take care of yourself.”
As Gregory walked off, he pulled a stack of flyers out of his briefcase and headed for the nearest bus stop. The glass wall was already covered with missing posters for a young boy named Bandit. Gregory did his best to tape up the flyers of his own kids without covering up the boy’s picture. He looked at the date Bandit had gone missing—more than two years before. He thought about the kid’s family. Clearly, they hadn’t given up hope, if they were still posting flyers around the city, but after two years without their son, had they figured out a way to sleep at night? Did they still jump a mile like he did every time the phone rang or someone knocked on the door? He tore down one of the posters of Bandit, folded it, and placed it in his suit pocket. He would keep an eye out for him.
PHINN TUGGED AT HIS BOW TIE AND INTERLACED HIS fingers with Wylie’s as they entered the dining room for prom night.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Great,” he said, still fumbling with his tie. “I just feel like I’m being strangled by this thing, that’s all.”
Prom themes had been bandied about before Wylie and her brothers had even arrived on the island, but Phinn couldn’t settle on one. Most had close ties to life on the mainland and didn’t resonate with kids who’d spent their formative years here. So Phinn announced there was only one condition for their dress code: everyone had to look their most formal and elegant. That meant tuxedos for the guys and cocktail dresses for the girls. Nadia, Helen, and the other seamstresses spent months designing and sewing outfits that met Phinn’s requirements. Tinka was normally in charge of the décor, but her stint in detox had slowed her down, and Bailey had taken over the responsibility this year.
Wylie’s dress was originally intended for Charlotte, Lola’s old roommate, but since she’d been exiled back to the States, the gown was available. After a few small alterations, it fit perfectly. The fabric itself was simple black cotton, but the beaded detailing added a wow factor. Shiny pieces of abalone shell were draped across it, causing the entire dress to sparkle with any small movement. To finish off the look, Wylie tied her hair into a low bun and used beets to stain her lips a deep burgundy.
All eyes were on Wylie and Phinn when they made their entrance. Over the past month, she’d forged friendships with a lot of the locals, but from the way they were staring, it felt like the jury was still out on whether she was good enough for their precious Phinn. Perhaps the food tonight would help win them over. She and Lola had labored over the menu for days, and pulled an all-nighter in the kitchen getting all the dishes ready for the dance. They were taking a huge risk: all the recipes were their own invention, and none were anything Lola had ever served in the past. It was Wylie who’d suggested they go with small bites, so they wouldn’t have to spend all evening tending to the food.
“This place looks amazing. Maybe Bailey should handle the decorations every year,” Phinn said.
“It’s tropic,” Wylie added. She still felt silly using slang words from the island, but she hoped that with a little time and practice, it wouldn’t feel like she was trying too hard every time she spoke. Lola was always happy to give her a vocabulary lesson. Wylie knew now that “arthritic” meant weak, “elder” meant asshole, “silver” meant arrogant, and “midlife” meant tragic. But she found “tropic” was the most overused adjective among the residents.
But the place did look tropic. Every inch of the ceiling and walls were strung with streamers made out of leaves and wildflowers. Tealight candles in mason jars lit up the room. All the chairs and tables had been moved aside to make space for the dance floor. Wylie had helped style the buffet table with herbs and dandelions, but she was most proud of the platters of appetizers: deviled eggs with a yolk and woodmeg filling, tiny mugs of French apple flower soup, lettuce cups brimming with sweet peppers, avocado, and baby three-legs (an edible bug on the island that was considered a delicacy), and individual parvaz crème brûlées for dessert. Wylie held her breath as Nadia and Patrick each took a bite from a deviled egg. She exhaled as their faces lit up and they filled their plates with more food.
A self-serve champagne bar was stocked with various juices and berries to mix with sparkling wine, but Wylie planned to stick to her favorite sugar-root mocktails. It wasn’t a shocker to find Micah and Tinka already standing at the bar, topping off their glasses. Apparently Tinka’s detox stint was meant to wean her off parvaz and not alcohol. Wylie felt a pang of anxiety as she watched them clink a toast. Micah needed someone to discourage his drinking habit, not enable it, but she would try her best not to worry about that tonight.
“You want to dance?” Phinn asked.
Wylie shook her head. She felt like they were being watched by everyone at the party, and she didn’t want people staring at them as they danced together.
“No. I want you to try the food first.”
“You know that’s one of the things I like most about you.”
“My big appetite?”
“No,” Phinn said, laughing. “You’re decisive. I can ask you what you want to do, and I know you’re going to tell me.”
It was true. She’d never been one to shrug her shoulders and respond with “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” But the qualities Phinn appreciated about her continued to take Wylie by surprise. Most guys just complimented her looks.
“What’s this?” Phinn asked, holding a mug.
“French apple flower soup. We boiled the apple flower, added a bunch of spices, and puréed it. There’s a layer of fried dough and cheese on top.”
Phinn sniffed it suspiciously, then downed the soup.
“Holy crap!” he blurted, crinkling his forehead.
Oh God, Wylie thought. He hates it. He’s going to puke it up right here in front of everyone, and they’ll burn me at the stake for offending his taste buds.
“It’s . . . phenomenal.”
Wylie grinned. “It’s a party in your mouth, right?”
Phinn laughed at the expression. “Yes, it’s a party in my mouth.”
He tasted the other dishes, and they all solicited a similar reaction. Lola walked over with Maz, and he was just as complimentary as he stuffed his face with lettuce cups.
“We pulled it off,” Lola whispered. “The food is a hit, lady.”
Wylie put an arm around her. “We’re basically culinary rock stars.”
Within minutes, adoring residents surrounded Phinn, and Wylie found herself pushed to the outskirts of the group. She gave Phinn a nod to indicate she didn’t mind spending a few minutes without him, stocked a plate with food, and brought it over to Joshua, who was sitting alone at a table.
With all the time she’d spent in the kitchen the past few days, she hadn’t even had the chance to ask him if he had a date to prom. Now
she looked around the room at all the guests. Everyone was paired off. He was the only one who didn’t have a date.
“I come bearing gifts,” Wylie said as she grabbed a seat next to him and placed the plate between them.
“Don’t feel bad for me,” Joshua told Wylie, expertly reading the expression on her face. “It wouldn’t feel right to be here with someone other than Abigail anyway.”
“No wonder you don’t have a date, if you didn’t bother to ask anyone.”
“I asked three girls. Everyone here already has a boyfriend—or isn’t into guys.”
“Maybe before Abigail turns eighteen, we can convince Phinn to bring her to the island.”
“No!” Joshua was quick and adamant in his response. “She doesn’t belong here.”
“Okay, never mind. Sorry I brought it up.”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Wylie wanted to ask why he was so opposed to the idea of Abigail moving here. But unlike the Joshua from back home, her brother now kept most things close to the vest. The chief of staff title had gone straight to his head.
“Don’t look now, but your favorite person’s on her way over here,” Joshua said. Wylie glanced over her shoulder and saw Micah dragging Tinka over to their table.
“Do you think she’s gonna to try to beat me up again?”
“I’ve got your back if she does.”
Since Tinka’s release from detox, Wylie had gone out of her way to avoid her. It wasn’t that hard. Tinka spent most of her time with Micah behind closed doors, and when they did cross paths at the daily birth control ritual, or some evenings in the Clearing, they simply didn’t acknowledge each other.
“Hi, Wylie,” Tinka mumbled once they arrived at the table.
“Hi.”
“Can we talk someplace private?”
“I’d rather not go anywhere alone with you,” Wylie half joked, but she followed her to a corner of the dining room, close enough to the festivities, where anyone could restrain Tinka in case of an assault.
“I’ve been really unfair to you,” Tinka spilled out. “My memories from the residency party are pretty fuzzy, but I’ve been told I attacked you. There’s no excuse for what I did, and I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Thanks for the apology,” Wylie said. “But honestly, I just want you to promise you won’t hurt my brother.”
Wylie glanced at Micah, who was anxiously trying to gauge how their conversation was going.
“Micah? I won’t hurt him.”
“I mean it, Tinka. He really likes you. A lot. He didn’t have many friends back home. He doesn’t open up to many people. But he’s different with you, and if you do anything to screw that up, it could destroy him. He’s very . . . fragile. I don’t want to worry about him drinking himself to death because the girl he’s in love with is actually in love with someone else. Do you understand?”
“Completely,” Tinka said, nodding. “Micah knows where we stand with each other. I’ve been honest with him from the beginning, and I won’t hurt him.”
“Good. Because if you do, I swear to God, I will make you regret it.”
“I can respect that,” Tinka said. “So, are you and Phinn official now?”
“Yes, I guess we are.”
“Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” Tinka smiled warmly. Perhaps the few days in detox had done her some good.
“Thanks,” Wylie said. She had no desire to flaunt her romance in Tinka’s face. Tinka and Phinn had a history Wylie could never compete with, and the best she could do was respect their friendship.
“I’m glad we had this conversation,” Tinka said. “Maybe at some point we can even become friends.” Tinka gave her a hug and whispered in her ear, “Be careful. He has the power to destroy you.”
The moment she let go of the embrace, Tinka gave Wylie a sweet, unassuming smile. There was no acknowledgment of the cryptic warning she had just left her with. Wylie couldn’t smile back as she let the words sink in. Be careful. He has the power to destroy you.
“Have a good prom! Phinn makes a great date,” Tinka said brightly as she walked away.
She’s just messing with your head, Wylie told herself. The warning was absurd, and Tinka must’ve said it to get a rise out of her. Wylie wouldn’t give her the satisfaction; she’d focus on enjoying every moment of the night with Phinn. Across the room, he was still surrounded by a small crowd of residents. It was almost embarrassing to watch as they scrambled to get a word in or say something that would make Phinn laugh or nod in agreement. This must be what it feels like to date a celebrity, she realized. You have to share him with all his adoring fans.
Wylie gently pushed her way through the pack. Phinn was in the middle of a conversation, but she cut him off.
“Do you want to dance?” she asked.
“Sure,” Phinn replied.
Wylie clutched his hand tightly and led him to the dance floor. She decided not to mention the conversation with Tinka. It would only piss Phinn off and ruin their night, which was exactly what Tinka wanted. So instead, she pressed her body against Phinn’s, and they moved to the music together. They stayed like that for a long time, on the dance floor, laughing and talking and holding on to each other, so no one else would bother them.
After a couple of hours, the music tapered off and Patrick took the stage with an envelope in hand. It was time to announce the prom king and queen. Everyone stopped dancing and pretended to wait in suspense for Maz and Lola to reclaim their title.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Minor Island,” Patrick announced. “I present to you this year’s king and queen.”
Patrick fumbled with the envelope, then frowned and bit his lower lip. He cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone.
“Phinn and Wylie.”
The dining room went quiet for a moment, until Maz and Lola made a point of applauding, and then everyone else followed their lead. Wylie was mortified. This was the last thing she wanted. She gave Lola an apologetic look, and Lola just smiled back as Phinn dragged Wylie to the stage.
“Why would you do this?” she hissed.
“’Cause I knew it would drive you crazy,” Phinn whispered, smirking. “Come on. We’ll laugh about it in the morning.”
“Everyone is going to hate me now.”
Phinn shook his head. “No, they’re going to love you because they can tell you’re hating every minute of this.”
They stepped onto the stage. Wylie spotted Tinka in the distance, kissing Micah and pretending like she wasn’t paying any attention to what was happening onstage. Patrick carefully placed the crowns on their heads.
Phinn was poised to address the crowd, but before he could speak, a loud boom echoed through the dining room, and the ground shook beneath their feet.
“What was that?” Wylie asked Phinn.
“Stay right here. Don’t move.”
Suddenly, it was pandemonium. Wylie heard Patrick scream to Maz that they needed access to the weapons. Maz fumbled for a key in his pocket and unlocked a cabinet filled with spears and bow and arrows. The guys lined up as Maz and Patrick swiftly handed out weapons. Tinka shouted that she wanted to go with them, but Lola held her back. Before Wylie could force someone to tell her what was happening, she found herself being dragged beneath the floorboards and engulfed in total darkness.
“Where are my brothers?” Wylie kept asking over and over, but no one would give her an answer. She wasn’t sure how many people were even there with her.
“Can someone put a muzzle on her?” It was Tinka’s voice, but it sounded far away.
“Micah? Joshua? Are you in here?” Wylie didn’t care if Tinka wanted her to be quiet. She wouldn’t stop asking for her brothers until she knew they were safe. She felt someone place a hand on her knee.
“They’
re not in here. It’s just us girls in the basement,” Lola said. “But Phinn won’t let anything happen to them.”
“We shouldn’t be stuck down here,” Tinka whined. “It’s ridiculous to make all the women wait. We should be helping them.”
No one else responded. It wasn’t exactly the time to engage in a debate about gender politics.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Wylie pleaded with Lola.
Lola’s voice trembled when she answered.
“There’s someone on the island who shouldn’t be here.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
hopper was here
“i knew he’d come back. They could all be dead out there. . . . Please don’t let anyone else vanish. Please don’t let anyone else vanish,” a voice whispered.
In the pitch black, Wylie couldn’t figure out who was speaking. Bailey’s voice was raspier, Helen’s was more high-pitched, and Nadia wasn’t the hysterical type. Wylie wanted to reach out to the girl and find a way to comfort her, but she couldn’t stop her own heart from pounding, and her limbs from trembling as the minutes ticked by. A few of the girls softly wept or quietly prayed, but most of them were too afraid to speak or make any sudden movements. The only thing Wylie was sure of right now was that if she got out of this basement alive, she would never hide down here again.
“It’s Hopper. Phinn should have killed him when he had the chance,” the girl continued. A small cry escaped from her throat, and then she started praying: “Never forget to live life to the fullest. Do it for the troubled; do it for the lost. The days may feel shorter; the nights may feel long. But when we remember, our memories grow strong.”
“Shhh. Did you hear that?” Lola whispered.
The prayers and cries came to a halt as everyone listened: Footsteps, loud and thunderous. The boards above them shook, and all the girls clung to each other.