by Lisa McMann
Alex’s stomach roiled. If he’d killed Gondoleery, this wouldn’t be happening. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he whispered.
Claire moved around the desk and held up the robe. “No you’re not,” she said. “You’re going to fix this.”
Alex took the robe from her and nodded slowly, then slipped it on and fastened it around his neck. “Yes,” he said solemnly. “I’m going to fix this.” He turned to look at Claire. “Even if it kills me.”
Aaron Reflects
That evening after everyone had taken care of the dishes, Ishibashi invited Aaron into the greenhouse. Aaron was dying to know if the telescope had been put back together again, and if so, how it worked and what it was for. But he still didn’t dare to ask many questions—they always seemed to get him in trouble. He glanced at it in the corner and saw a few pieces lying around on the floor surrounding it. That was as much answer as he needed.
“Tonight you plan your meals,” Ishibashi said.
Aaron’s stomach flipped, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “I don’t know how to cook anything.” He closed his mouth quickly.
“You have eaten several meals here now. Did you notice them?”
“They tasted good,” said Aaron.
“What did you observe about the food?”
Aaron’s mind was blank. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“This is how you learn,” Ishibashi said quietly. “You must be inquisitive about all things. Learn with eyes, imitate with hands.”
“But I’m afraid,” Aaron said, and looked down. He was ashamed. What if he made something awful, and Ito didn’t like it? What would they do to him then?
Ishibashi sighed. “I am too old for this,” he muttered. He pulled a stool over to the garden area. “Here. Sit.”
Aaron sat down as Ishibashi got another stool and sat next to him. He took off his cat-eye glasses and looked at Aaron. “Who was our chef today?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“And who watered these plants today?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“Who caught the fish?”
Aaron folded his hands in his lap and studied them. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
Ishibashi was silent for a long time. And then he said, “Your eyes are focused on one person. Do you fail at everything?”
Aaron recoiled. How dare he! Who did this little old man think he was, speaking to him like that? He started to protest, but then he shut his mouth, realizing he had no words as powerful to fight back with. How did Ishibashi know about Aaron’s failures? Had Alex told him?
Finally Aaron found his voice. “You don’t know me,” he said.
To which Ishibashi replied, “I am afraid I know you better than you know anyone in the world.” He put his glasses back on. “Your glasses are invisible, and through them you see only yourself. You must turn your lenses around, Aaron. Windows, not mirrors.”
Aaron frowned, not understanding anything Ishibashi was saying. “What does that have to do with me not being able to cook?”
Ishibashi smiled. “You’ll figure it out. For now, you’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“For cooking your meals today.”
“But I didn’t know . . . ,” Aaron began, still feeling defensive. “Oh.” He looked around the greenhouse, overwhelmed with the choices. “Will you help me cook tomorrow?”
Ishibashi got off his stool. “I have other work to do tomorrow to keep our shelter running.”
“But what if I make something terrible to eat?” Aaron pleaded.
“Then likely we will all be very irritable,” said Ishibashi. Without another word, he hopped off his stool and left the boy alone to figure out how he was going to fix anything that would please the scientists . . . for all three meals.
Aaron muttered as he wandered around the greenhouse. But he knew now there was no use getting mad. He thought briefly about making the three of them go hungry tomorrow like they’d done to him, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t quite work the way he was imagining it. He picked up a frayed wicker basket from the corner and started to look all around the greenhouse. At least he knew a little bit about picking fruits and vegetables. He also knew something about nuts and saw an almond tree growing behind the pea pods. Maybe he could start with that.
He spent the rest of the evening choosing food items, changing his mind and choosing different ones, then sitting down at a small table in the kitchen to figure out how much to make and how long it would take him to prepare things. He knew that breakfast had to be served and eaten before the hour of calm began. Lunch was a few hours after they were back from working outside. And dinner usually happened when it was fully dark outside and the storm was nearing its worst.
When he went to bed, he saw that someone had put out the fire, which meant that someone also had to light it in the morning. He also noticed the broom had been put away. And he saw that the lights in the greenhouse had been dimmed.
In his room he noted that the first set of clothing he’d been given after he’d arrived in tatters was washed and folded neatly on his cot. “I wonder who did that for me,” he said. He yawned and lay down on his cot, pulling his blanket up to his chin and telling himself to be sure to wake up on time so he could get the breakfast going.
» » « «
The next morning, Aaron arose before dawn. He noticed the fire in the eating room was lit and going strong, and so was the one in the kitchen, where he began cutting fruit and chopping almonds. Having fire was a relief—he wasn’t sure what he would have done if they had expected him to light that, too. “Gondoleery would come in handy for that,” he said with a small chuckle. And then he laughed loudly as he pictured Gondoleery Rattrapp stuck here on this island with these three scientists. How would they get her to obey them? he wondered. It made him laugh so hard he had to set his knife down and wipe his eyes. He hadn’t laughed like that since . . . since . . . ever.
Rummaging around the kitchen looking for serving utensils, Aaron flung open a drawer and stared at the contents. “Forks,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “A whole drawer full of them. Unbelievable.” But he didn’t replace his sticks. He closed the drawer and found what he needed elsewhere.
When the time came for breakfast and Ito and Sato filed into the kitchen with Ishibashi at their heels, Aaron was sweating profusely, but he was ready for them. On the counter he presented a large bowl of smashed fruit pieces (he’d had a bit of trouble with the knife). In a pot on the stove he announced chopped almonds soaked in coconut milk with a prune on top, and in the teapot, orange tea, which was orange slices soaked in boiling water, since he didn’t really know what tea from the containers on the shelves actually looked like.
Aaron wiped his forehead with his sleeve and stood at attention, trying not to appear anxious or look like he was waiting for someone to compliment him on a job well done. And then he remembered what Ishibashi said to him about turning the lenses around, and he remembered how the fires were already lit when he awoke.
He cleared his throat, nervous to speak, but deciding that if he got punished, he’d had enough tastings of the food that he wouldn’t be too terribly hungry and could snack again while making lunch. As the three old men dished the food into their bowls, Aaron said, “Thank you to . . . to whoever it was that lit the fires this morning. I—we wouldn’t have this fine almond cereal and orange tea without it.”
Sato looked up at the boy, and then he looked at Ishibashi. Ishibashi translated for Ito and Sato, while Aaron’s heart pounded.
“Hai,” Sato said. He spoke a few more words in his native tongue.
Ishibashi nodded and turned to Aaron. “He says you’re welcome, and he thanks you for your . . . interesting . . . breakfast.”
Aaron’s mouth twitched. He stood up a bit straighter and swallowed hard, and then he nodded slightly. “You’re welcome,” Aaron said, with an almost indiscernible bow of his head toward t
he man.
They finished filling their bowls with the curious-looking food, and when Aaron took his bowl last of all and followed the men to the dining area, he waited to be recognized as usual.
Ito said something to Ishibashi.
Ishibashi looked at Aaron. “Ito-san said you are the chef, and you no longer have to wait for permission to sit and eat.”
Aaron felt a thrill chase up his spine. He was being rewarded. Finally. “Thank you, Ito-san,” he said reverently, and sat down with his bowl. He held the teapot up for Ito and filled his cup, then Sato’s, then Ishibashi’s, and then he filled his own. The three looked at the tea very curiously and hid their strange reactions when they tasted it, but Aaron wouldn’t have noticed, because he was too busy eating the first meal he had ever created. And to him, everything tasted absolutely delicious.
Settling In
As the weeks passed, Aaron went from being a whining, beastly little turd to a thoughtful, useful young man. He still had his obnoxious moments and his bad feelings, but he learned to keep those inside and deal with them in private. Sometimes he punched a pillow in his bedroom when he thought the scientists were being unreasonable. Other times he ran outside for a quick dousing in the rainwater to cool off after feeling like he wasn’t being treated the way a high priest should be treated. Whenever he did that, he could barely stay on his feet, and he realized just how quickly he could be swept away by the storm. That usually sobered him up a bit.
He learned how to be a better chef by doing it more often, just like Ishibashi said he would. And then he learned how to fish using the nets that Ito and Sato had set up on the leeward side of the island near some pretty fluorescent blue seaweed. But he was afraid to go into the water. He knew by now that he’d barely survived drowning. He wasn’t eager to enter the sea ever again, especially one so rough as this.
The more Aaron worked, the more he forgot about his pain, and the stronger he became. His muscles filled out in a way they never had before, but he didn’t seem to notice because he’d “turned his lenses around.” The scars on his face grew less noticeable, but they didn’t disappear, though his shaggy head of hair covered them much of the time.
One day, as Aaron ventured out farther than usual, chasing after a useful-looking scrub bush that had been uprooted by the wind, he found himself face-to-face with a strangely familiar thing.
The tumbleweed forgotten, Aaron stared at the glass tube before him, sheltered slightly by slabs of rock. “A tube,” he breathed, and as he realized the depth of its meaning, his hand rose to his mouth. He stepped inside it, out of the wind. Catching his breath, he looked at the control panel. It was broken, but most of the pieces were there. The panel was identical to the one in the tube in Haluki’s house and the one in the jungle, both of which he knew quite well. “So that’s how he knew Mr. Today,” Aaron muttered.
Aaron scrambled to figure out what was missing and what needed fixing. There had to be a way to make it work! After all, Aaron was actually pretty good at mechanical stuff like this.
He dropped to the floor of the tube and stared up underneath the controls to see what things looked like from there. It seemed the main button that he guessed would take him straight to the mansion had no support base, which was why when he pressed it, it just fell through the panel to the floor. But could Aaron fix it?
Ishibashi had tools. Aaron had seen them in a little room that the scientists called their laboratory, where they’d been bringing various things from their ship to try to restore. Maybe Ishibashi had some tools he could use.
He looked all over the tube, making note of everything that seemed wrong with it, so that he could try to repair it over the upcoming days—if Ishibashi let him, that is.
Just then another scrubby bush rolled by. Aaron chased it down and struggled to get back to the shelter with it before the storm was back up to full volume again.
Inside, Aaron had a small collection of tumbleweeds. He’d started collecting them for firewood but set a few aside in his room, thinking they’d be good to try his magic on once he got around to it. He tossed this one with the others and went in search of Ishibashi to ask him about the tube. He found him in the laboratory with yet another instrument from the ship that Aaron had helped the men carry inside.
Aaron made a noise at the door to let Ishibashi know he was standing there.
“Come in,” Ishibashi said.
Aaron entered and looked at the new instrument, knowing now that it was more polite to ask questions than to blurt out his own needs. “What is it, Ishibashi-san?”
Ishibashi frowned, trying to think of the word for it in Aaron’s language. “It is a seismometer,” he said. “It measures the ground’s movements, like with earthquakes and volcanoes. When it works, that is.” He tinkered with a few levers and knobs.
Aaron looked at the machine. “What are earthquakes and volcanoes?”
Ishibashi looked up, surprised. “The island where the pirates live is a volcano. I haven’t seen it, of course, but Alex-san said as much. It blows fire and lava from the top of it now and then.” He paused. “All the other islands here might be dormant volcanoes except for the crab island. Like this one, for instance, and possibly your island. I do not know. But perhaps I’ll be able to tell more if I can get this instrument to work.”
Aaron scowled, reverting back to his old ways for a moment. “Why do you call him Alex-san, but you don’t call me Aaron-san?”
“Because you have not earned it yet,” Ishibashi said. He fiddled with his glasses and went back to the seismometer. “Did you need something from me?”
Aaron pressed his lips together, not happy with Ishibashi’s answer. “I was wondering about the tube,” he said.
Ishibashi’s hands froze. “Yes?” he asked. “What about it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was there?”
“There wasn’t any sense in telling you,” said Ishibashi. “It’s broken beyond repair.”
Aaron, feeling sullen and defensive though he didn’t quite know why, asked if he could have access to the tools and the supply room, which held a strange variety of salvaged items collected by the scientists and other visitors over hundreds of years.
“You may,” Ishibashi said in measured voice.
“Thank you,” Aaron said automatically. He turned to go. At the door he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Ishibashi-san?” he said.
Ishibashi looked up. “Yes, Aaron?”
Aaron fought to put into words the struggle he’d been feeling lately . . . though it was something that he thought had been inside him for a long time. It was hard to define. He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Ishibashi studied the boy and watched him leave on slow-moving feet. “Aaron,” he called out.
Aaron stopped and turned. “Yes?”
The old man didn’t speak right away. And then he got up and said, “Come with me, please.”
Ishibashi left the laboratory and walked to the greenhouse. He plucked two ears of sweet applecorn from different sections of the garden. “You see these?”
Aaron nodded.
“They are practically identical. The oblong pods, the red leafy tassel, the edible husk.” He tossed one of them to Aaron and began to peel open the other one. “Open yours, too, please,” he said. His sweet applecorn contained red apple pieces next to yellow and white kernels of corn.
Aaron complied. He peeled off the red skin, revealing light green apple pieces next to blue and red kernels of corn.
“What do you see?” Ishibashi asked.
“Deliciousness,” Aaron said.
Ishibashi’s eyes twinkled. “Both look delicious. Do they taste the same?”
“No,” Aaron said, for he’d tasted and cooked with both many times by now. “The one you’re holding has a lot of sweetness and goes best with something tangy like lime juice in a dessert. The one I’m holding is hearty and naturally tangy, and works better as a main dish with tomatoes and peppers.”
“I—what?” asked Aaron. He was pretty sure Ishibashi was doing his weird metaphor thing again.
The old man held his ear of applecorn next to Aaron’s. “You and Alex are identical on the outside and very different inside,” he said. “But that does not mean you have to be bad because he is good.” He shook the vegi-fruit. “Alex is strong in ways you are not.” He grabbed Aaron’s applecorn and shook it. “You are strong in ways Alex is not. This sweet applecorn has no bearing on how that sweet applecorn tastes. Both are delicious in their own ways. Do you understand what I am saying, Aaron? What matters is you.” He hesitated, then softened his voice. “When you stop comparing yourself to him, you will find your true self. Be your own strong, Aaron.”
Aaron looked at Ishibashi, feeling like the man had some intense ability to see inside his soul better than Aaron could see himself. And while part of it made sense, he was still confused.
“Which applecorn am I?” Aaron said, studying the two ears.
Ishibashi slammed both vegi-fruits on the counter. “It doesn’t matter,” he exclaimed. “Aaron Stowe, you must be the applecorn that is inside of you. Peel back your husk, my boy, and be proud of your deliciousness.”
Aaron stared at the two ears and began backing away slowly. “I think this just got a little too weird for me, Ishibashi-san. But thanks for the lesson. I’ll . . . I’ll see you later.”
Peeling Away the Skin
During the hour of calm, whenever Ishibashi didn’t need him, Aaron went to the tube and tried time after time to get it to work. He found an old book and pencil that Ishibashi said he could have and used the margins to keep track of measurements, so that when he was stuck inside, he could work on building the missing pieces. But the job was painstaking since he had only a short time each day to test his progress, and he still wasn’t very good at writing letters and numbers quickly—though he was improving with that on the Island of Shipwrecks as well.