Remake

by Ilima Todd

  “No, don’t.” I smile at Miri. “I like it full like this. It will feel so empty with it gone.”

  “Okay,” she says, coming to stand by me and putting her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll leave it for now. But maybe one day you might want to put things you’ve collected in here.”

  I nod, but knowing I’ll be leaving in a few months, I won’t bother. All I have right now is a trunk full of clothes from Pua and my blue cushion. I smile to see it propped beside my bed.

  Looking across the room to the other wall, I see it’s covered in paint, a mural of the ocean. There’s an island with trees and mountains on one end that meets up with the salt water. The scene is painted so I can see under the water to the creatures that lie beneath. A few are familiar. A crab crawls along the bottom of the ocean among drifting greenery and coral. Striped fish, bloated fish, stick fish, fish from every corner of one’s imagination, swim through the water. A half-human, half-fish with long flowing hair swims above a reef—a mermaid. I smile at a sea turtle floating in the blue, then touch the graceful form of an animal I do not know.

  “It’s a dolphin,” Miri says. “They’re extinct now, but my father-in-law still tells the story of one he saw as a little boy, just outside the reef. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It’s all beautiful,” I say.

  “Kai painted it for Hemi a couple of years ago.” Miri smiles, studying the mural. “Kai was so excited when he traded for a new set of paints during a steamship visit. He spent two whole weeks in here, all day, painting the scene.”

  My hand glides along the wall to the picture of a canoe, an exact replica of the one that sits outside. Beneath it, a creature with eight long and twisted legs floats next to a swarm of jellyfish. The mural ends on the right side with a giant creature breaching the surface of the water. Its mouth is full of what seem like a thousand small and sharp teeth.

  I pull my hand to my chest and scream. Shaking my head, I stumble backward and into the bed. I slide off the edge of it, hit the floor, and scream again.

  On the other side of the house, I hear the baby start to cry. Ara and Kai rush in my room to see what’s wrong. I can see Pua holding Hemi to her just outside the door.

  “Nine?” Miri asks. “What’s wrong?”

  “Monster.” I say it in a gasp and point to the creature on the wall.

  “The shark?” Ara raises his eyebrows in confusion.

  “Shark,” I whisper and bring my hands to my mouth, trying to stop myself from screaming again, but it still comes out, muffled and painful. My shoulders begin to tremble, and my arms shake uncontrollably.

  Miri gasps. “You’ve seen this animal, haven’t you? Did you see a shark, Nine, when you were in the water after the crash?”

  My hands move from my mouth to my stomach. I clamber to my feet and stumble to the bathroom, heaving over the toilet. Oh, Theron. I’m a mess, and I can’t stop shaking. I run the water at the washbasin, rinsing my mouth and face and letting the cold of it numb me.

  After a while, I walk into the family room and collapse on the couch next to Miri. She holds Tama to her breast, a sight I’ve grown used to these last days. Her milk calms him, and I apologize for my behavior, for disturbing the baby.

  “Don’t be sorry, Nine.” Miri’s eyes are sad. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, do you understand?”

  I nod, somehow knowing she’s not just talking about waking the baby. It’s not my fault the shuttle crashed. It’s not my fault the shark took Theron and not me. That I’m the one that got away. It’s not my fault Kai hates me so much. I want to believe her, but what if it is my fault? Not the crash, but everything else. Maybe there was something I could’ve said or done to appease Kai’s disappointment in me. Maybe I should have swum toward Theron, not away. Maybe if I weren’t such a coward, I would be with him right now. Brave in death, and not running away from it like a child. Like the child Kai believes me to be. I don’t know how to make it right, because with Theron gone and me here, away from Freedom, things can never be right again.

  “Kai is taking care of the shark as we speak. You won’t have to see it again.” Miri stands and takes Tama to his crib—the baby bed with bars on the sides so he cannot escape. Only for him it’s not a prison, it’s protection. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that way here, protected as opposed to imprisoned, at least not if Kai has anything to say about it.

  Miri returns to the room with a large blue sphere in her hands. “Careful,” she says as she sits next to me. “It’s very old.” She hands me the sphere, and I hold it carefully.

  “It’s a globe,” I say. I turn it around and see the familiar land masses and bodies of water that make up our Earth. The features are familiar, but the names are not.

  “Here is Freedom One.” Miri points to the southeastern coast of the smallest continent. Except it doesn’t say Freedom One. It’s labeled Sydney instead.

  I remember the day I sat in the Prime Maker’s office and watched her run her finger across the ocean to the Remake continent. I mimic her motion and draw the path of our shuttle, the intended path of our shuttle, if it had completed its course.

  Miri points to a pair of long islands off the coast of Freedom, then a smaller one just east. “This is where we are.” Mahawai.

  I don’t remember its name from the maps I studied in my academic modules, probably because there’s no Freedom province here.

  I crawl my fingers from Mahawai to Sydney. “It’s not very far,” I say. On this map, in fact, it seems very close indeed. Could it really be that difficult to get me there? Compared to the distance between Sydney and the Remake continent—the United States, according to this dated globe—it seems like a short skip across the water.

  “I know it looks close, but the ocean is a big place.” Miri sighs. “And even with the steamships that cross the seas, it could take weeks to get there.”

  “But it can get there,” I say, confident my trip home will not be as difficult as I had thought.

  Kai comes out of Hemi’s room, my room. “What are you doing?” He holds a bucket of light blue liquid and a bristled brush that drips some of the blue into the bucket. His face is red and twisted.

  “How did your homemade paint work on the shark, son?” Miri stands and walks toward the bedroom.

  Kai puts his bucket and brush on the floor, then snatches the globe out of my hands with a scowl. “Might as well paint a target right on us, Mom.”

  Miri ignores his snipe. “Oh, Kai,” she says with a frown, looking into the bedroom.

  Kai tucks the sphere under his arm and glances at his mother. “Doesn’t matter.” He storms out of the room, and I’m left wondering, again, what I did to upset him so much.

  “Will you be okay, Nine?” Miri asks, walking to her own room.

  “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

  She nods and shuts the door behind her. I could’ve sworn I saw her brush a tear from her face.

  I walk to my new room, afraid to be alone again. I consider calling for Miri, telling her no, I’m not okay. I haven’t been here long, but already I crave the comfort her words give me. She has a way of putting me at ease the way no one else can. I can’t explain it. I bite my lip and push my shoulders back, entering the room, sloughing off my cowardice.

  “Oh, Kai,” I say, echoing Miriama’s words. The shark on the wall is gone all right, along with the rest of the mural. The wall is now a solid light blue color, all evidence of Kai’s masterpiece only a memory now.

  I don’t want to disappoint everyone all the time, even Kai. But I can’t seem to help it, can I?

  I drag the bed to the far window and push it against the wall there. After blowing out the lantern at the bedside table, I raise the shade and lie down to look at the thousands of stars outside. I try to count them one by one, wondering each time, if that one is Theron. And wondering, each time, if he is searching for me too.

  Whenever my name comes out of Kai’s mouth, it sounds like he’s trying t
o spit out poison. I’ve been here for five weeks, and it sounds the same every time.

  “But Nine is not a part of this family,” he snaps at Ara. “Don’t you get it? I don’t even want her here, and now I have to be her babysitter?”

  From my spot on the couch, I watch Ara pack a bag on the kitchen table. He’s going hunting for a couple of weeks on the islands just west of us with his father and two brothers. I’m not thrilled with Ara’s proposal either, but I’m decent enough not to bite at him for suggesting it. It’s such a strange combination, the fighting that members of the family endure which doesn’t seem to affect the way they care for each other. I can’t imagine caring for Cree or Bristol the same way.

  “Quit talking about Nine like she’s not in the room,” Ara says. His voice sounds so similar to Kai’s. The way his phrases turn up at the end and how he extends his vowels. I wonder how one can feel like a cool hand on my humid skin and the other like a sunburn that refuses to heal.

  “I don’t care if she hears me.” Kai glares at me from the kitchen. “This isn’t fair.”

  “Listen, Kai. While I’m gone, your mother’s gonna need Pua to help with the baby and Hemi. Nine’s been shadowing your sister long enough. I think she’s learned everything she can about gardening, cleaning, and cooking. And we’ve all learned never to let her in the kitchen ever again.” Ara turns to me and smiles to take the sting from his words.

  My face reddens, but I smile at the suffering the family has had to endure from my cooking disasters.

  “It’s time you teach her about your work too.” Ara throws his bag over his shoulder and smacks Kai on the back of his head. “And don’t be a jerk about it.” He leans in and presses noses with his son, breathing in each other’s breath.

  Kai mumbles something to him about being careful.

  “I will. I love you.” Ara turns to me and waves. “See ya, Nine. Don’t let him kill you while no one’s looking.”

  “Bye,” I say, waving back. I scowl at Kai. It’d be funny, what Ara said about Kai killing me, if half of me wasn’t afraid of that very thing. I sigh and wait for Kai to storm out of the house before grabbing my large straw hat and falling in step behind him.

  I cross my arms and try to ignore the soreness in my breasts. They’ve grown significantly these last few weeks—evidence that the suppressant is wearing off. Every day that passes means I’m one day closer to getting off this island, one day closer to heading home and being Remade. But with these changes in my body, it feels more like I’m moving farther away from Freedom. From becoming male. A panic grows inside me knowing I won’t be able to hide the fact that I’m female much longer.

  Kai heads for the beach, like I knew he would, and I lengthen my stride to match his, determined to take on whatever he decides to throw at me.

  We walk through the path of foliage and emerge on the other side onto sand. The sight of the ocean doesn’t frighten me like it once did, though I haven’t gone in the water since I’ve been here. I follow Kai down the shore, avoiding the tiny blue jellyfish that scatter along the beach, brought in by the morning tide. The beach ends at a series of black rocks that jut out into the sea.

  Kai walks into the water to a floating red buoy twenty feet in. He turns to me and yells, “Don’t just stand there, come and hold this end while I swim around.”

  Is he serious? I step back and shake my head.

  “I can’t do this by myself, Nine. Get over here.”

  I grasp my hands together behind my back. I’m not getting in the water.

  Kai curses and walks out of the water toward me. He must see the fear in my eyes because his face softens just a little before he says, “See the white water out there?” He points to a line of white waves in the distance. “That’s the edge of the reef. Between here and there, it’s too shallow for sharks to swim. Do you understand?”

  I peek at him from under the shade of my hat but don’t say anything.

  “Sharks can’t get past that white water. You’re safe here.” He presses his lips together and looks me up and down, hesitating. “You can do this,” he whispers. He walks back into the water to the red buoy and waits for me without glancing back.

  The water barely comes to his waist, and I decide if this is what it takes to prove to him I’m not completely worthless, I’ll do it. I take a deep breath and walk into the water. It’s colder than I thought it would be, and I panic as my feet begin to sink into the wet sand. I keep moving forward anyway. When I reach him, I can’t help but grasp his arm for balance.

  Kai peels my hands off him and puts them on the red buoy. “Just hold on, and don’t let go.”

  I nod and watch him swim farther out to another buoy thirty feet away. As he pulls it inland, kicking his feet behind him in the deeper water, I realize the buoys are connected to a net that lies beneath. I wonder how long it’s been out here. The net rises as Kai continues swimming to shore. I try to stand still, but the waves move in and out and throw off my balance. My feet are pulled out from underneath me and away from the beach.

  Don’t let go, I tell myself. The water comes to my neck when I finally manage to plant my feet.

  “Bring it in,” Kai calls.

  I try to walk toward the beach with the buoy in my hands, but a wave comes up from behind and washes over my head. I swallow salt water and panic, frantically kicking but sinking. Don’t let go, Kai said. I don’t let go and try to stand again, knowing it can’t be that deep where I am—I had been standing a few seconds ago—but I don’t feel anything solid and let go of the buoy, flailing my arms in a panic.

  Opening my eyes under the water, I can’t tell which way is up or down. My hand hits sand, and I try to push the other way, but another wave washes over, and I’m twisted all over again. Just when I don’t think I can hold my breath any longer, something grabs me around the waist and lifts me out of the water. Kai drags me to the sand and collapses next to me. I cough out water and bring my hand to my nose. It burns, and I realize I must have inhaled salt water.

  “What happened?” Kai asks.

  “A wave came, and I . . . I couldn’t touch the bottom anymore.” My throat feels raw from the salt.

  Kai appraises me. “Can’t you swim?”

  I shake my head.

  “But your plane crashed,” he says. “And you survived. How did you do that if you don’t know how to swim?”

  I think of Theron and the effort he went through to save my life. The forethought of a flotation device, pushing us away from the sinking shuttle, making sure Bristol didn’t drown me, telling me to kick away from him. Forever away.

  I look up at Kai and shrug. “I had the cushion and I just kicked.”

  “You just kicked, eh?” Kai laughs and shakes his head. He stares at me for a minute as though thinking something through. The open space between us seems to shift, like the air molecules are no longer stretched in a taut line that could snap at any moment. The air still feels tight, but if I could press against it, I think it would give. Bend.

  Kai bites his lower lip and looks out to the water. My hat floats in the shallows, and he stands to retrieve it. He puts the dripping hat on his own head and turns to me with a sigh. “Well, like it or not, Nine, you live on an island now. And no one lives on an island without knowing how to swim.” He walks into the water and waves me in. “C’mon.”

  I really don’t want to go back in, and I lower my head.

  “You’re not gonna make me drag you in, are you? Let’s go.”

  I rub my neck and walk into the water until it hits my knees. Kai grabs my hand and leads me toward him, where the water comes to his waist.

  “I won’t let go of you,” he says. “I promise.”

  His eyes narrow but under the dripping hat they are warm. I decide to trust him, but hang on to his arms as though my life depends on it, which in this case, I suppose it does.

  “So you can kick, huh?”

  I exhale and nod.

  “Pretend my arm is the cushion a
nd show me.” He holds out his arm, and I grasp it hard, slowly lowering myself into the water, extending my legs behind me. I kick slowly at first, then stronger, remembering the ferocity of the action from weeks ago.

  “Whoa,” he says. “Kick from your hips, here.” He moves my leg up and down from my upper thigh. “Good. Keep your legs straight. You don’t have to make a huge splash. Try to get your feet to barely break the surface of the water with each kick.”

  I do as he says and feel my body relax.

  “Yes. Just like that.” Kai glides his arm in a circle so I kick around him. After a few minutes, he has me stand in the water and mimic his arms, bringing them up out of the water in an arc, and back around again and again, alternating left and right.

  “Okay.” Kai grabs my waist. “I’m going to hold you here, at your middle, and have you go around me again. But this time I want you to use your arms and legs. Ready?”

  I nod and let him lift my feet off the sandy bottom. He ducks low in the water and pulls me close against him, his arm wrapping around my waist. I try to move my arms and legs like he showed me, but my limbs feel like they’re just flailing in desperation. When I splash water into my mouth and feel my head sink, I panic and grab hold of him, wrapping my arms and legs around him so tight I knock the hat off his head, and he complains that he can’t breathe. I loosen my arms around his neck, just a little, and he sighs and carries me back to shore. Sitting me down on the sand, he puts the hat back on my head.

  “It’s okay. We’ll practice a little every day.” He pulls his wet T-shirt over his head and shakes his curly hair to get rid of what water he can. “Your heavy clothes don’t help, either. Tomorrow, wear a swimsuit.”

  “But I’ll burn.”

  “I’ll find you a rash guard to protect your shoulders. You’ll be fine. Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I watch him jog down the beach and enter the trail back to the house. He returns after a few minutes holding a thick, bright orange vest with black straps.

  “Don’t worry, Nine. You’ll be a fish in water in no time. Until then you can wear this.” He slides the vest over my head and straps it tight across my chest and waist.