Solstice

by Lorence Alison

  I jumped to my feet. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Aw, Adri!” Elena jumped up, too. “Don’t be angry!”

  “We’re not laughing at you,” Steve said. “Honest.”

  I tried to smile. “I’m really tired. Thanks for letting me stay. Really.”

  “I’ll come, too.” Elena cast Steve an apologetic look. “G’night, babe.”

  I almost wanted to tell her she didn’t have to come. It was obvious she wanted to stay with Steve. But it felt like a little victory, to take her away from him.

  Hawaiian Shirt Waiter doubled as a bellhop and showed us to our suite, which was bigger than the entire downstairs of my house and seemed polished to a shine. A massive, king-size bed with at least a hundred pillows sat in the center. A wall of windows was to the left, leading to a long veranda. The bureau and end tables were some sort of expensive lacquer material. The carpet beneath my feet was the softest I’d ever felt. The en suite bathroom had a shower that could fit at least five people and had twelve—I counted—showerheads. I worried that I wouldn’t have pajamas to change into—I’d ended up stashing my luggage in the trailer by the stage just like everyone else—but then I noticed that the closet doors were flung open, revealing robes, silk pajamas, slippers, socks, and even gym clothes and bathing suits.

  “Whoa,” I whispered as I ran my fingers against the soft fabrics. “This is something.”

  “I know,” Elena said solemnly.

  Then she turned to me, her hands clasped at her waist. Her expression was so plaintive, like she was about to cry. “Adri, this Steve thing … I can tell you’re still upset. Are you thinking that I tricked you into coming just so I could be with him?”

  The wooden hangers clicked softly as I looked through the clothes. “I don’t know,” I murmured, pulling down a gray silk pajama top and matching pants. “Maybe.”

  She touched my shoulder. “It was a coincidence. My dad got me the tickets. I invited you. And then, at the last minute, Steve said he was coming, too. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d back out.”

  “And you wouldn’t be able to come and see Steve,” I said bitterly.

  “No! I didn’t want you to back out because I wanted to do this with you.” Elena clasped her hands together. “I was heartbroken when you ran off today. We lost a whole day together. This is our trip. If you want me to tell Steve to give us some space—if you want me to stay away from him the whole trip—I’ll do it. I swear.”

  The tenderness in Elena’s voice made the hard crust over my heart dissolve. “You don’t have to do that. But thanks.” I really didn’t want to be angry. And I appreciated how she’d just offered to give up Steve for me.

  Elena settled onto the bed, squishing the pillows at the headboard. I pawed through the goodie bags of toiletries and sleep masks and candies on the nightstands. Next, Elena hopped off the mattress and opened the sliding door to the veranda. Warm, tropical air gusted in. The rain had stopped. We stepped outside to the veranda and stared out at the horizon, astonished at all of the stars we could see in the clear, unpolluted air.

  “Not to talk about him anymore, but if Steve weren’t here, we wouldn’t get to be on this amazing boat,” Elena said softly.

  “I guess that’s true,” I conceded.

  “In the morning, we can watch the sunrise. And I think that’s Lavender’s yacht right there.” She pointed at some twinkling lights out at sea.

  “What? No way.” There was no way to tell one yacht from another, but it was nice to imagine.

  We stood for a moment in silence, letting the breeze billow our hair. I imagined lapping waves below, invisible in the darkness. “We should send Lavender a message in a bottle,” I murmured, gesturing to the nearby boat. “Lavvy, we love you!”

  “Let us show you the dance we made up to ‘Rose Gold’!” Elena giggled.

  “Remember that?” I cried. I started doing the moves Elena and I had created one weekend last year when we were bored out of our minds. To my delight, Elena remembered every step, too—and suddenly we were moving like we were part of Lavender’s formation onstage.

  “Over here, Lavender!” I cried, moving closer to the sliding glass door. It was possible Lavender was looking out her window at this exact moment and saw us. It was possible she’d invite us over immediately and demand that we be part of her tour. Suddenly anything felt possible.

  When the dance was finished, we collapsed in giggles on the mattress, sunburned, exhausted, and friends again. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? I’m sorry,” Elena argued. She clasped my hand. “Oh, Adri. We’re still going to have so much fun.”

  Thuds from upstairs rocked the ceiling, followed by hoots of laughter. I wondered how long Zack, Marx, and Steve would stay up partying. Had those snotty models returned, too? Would Steve’s eyes wander—or worse? I considered warning Elena, but I didn’t want to ruin the mood.

  Instead, I said, staring at the whirling, stainless steel ceiling fan, “Do you really think there’s a monster out there?”

  Elena didn’t answer for a long time, her expression inscrutable. But finally, she shrugged, yawned, and burrowed under the covers. “Nah. The only thing that’s going to eat us on this island are the bugs.”

  9

  I AWOKE TO THE SOUNDS of quick footsteps and low voices. When I opened my eyes, I was disoriented—bright morning sun streamed through the window, and I was lying on top of an impossibly soft white comforter. I sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Oh, right. I was on a music mogul’s yacht. Because of course.

  Elena lay on her side, her chest evenly rising and falling. I glanced at my phone, which was charging on the bedside table. Wi-Fi hadn’t returned, meaning I still didn’t know if my mom had written me back, but I did see that the clock on the home screen read 6:23 a.m.

  The footsteps rang out again, and I looked at the ceiling. Were those the guys up there? Had they ever gone to bed? I’d heard thumps and laughter long into the night.

  I stumbled to the bathroom and washed my face with the kale-cucumber scrub that had been set out for us. The voices echoed clearly off the tiled walls. First came Marx’s baritone, then Zack’s higher-pitched whine, and then Steve’s mid-range voice. He kept saying what sounded like, “But, but…”

  I paused. They sounded worried.

  Curious, I threw on a robe and slipped out of the suite. The hall was empty, but a grand staircase led straight to the upper level, where I noticed several figures pacing. Marx stood against the windows, staring out at the sea.

  “Colin? Yeah, hey. James here,” Marx said into a cell phone. I wondered how it had service. “Listen. I hear there’s been an … incident.”

  He paused, apparently listening to whatever the person was saying on the other end. I curled my hand around the cold brass bannister. Incident?

  “We need to cover this up fast, or we’re toast,” Zack added.

  “Cover it up?” Steve sounded panicked. “How are we going to do that?”

  More footsteps. It sounded like they were moving toward the side of the ship. I crept halfway up the stairs just in time to see Zack disappearing around a corner. What the hell had happened? Was someone hurt? Was it about the festival? Had someone else pulled out? Was there a disaster on the field? The storm hadn’t rolled in last night like we’d thought—we’d barely gotten any rain. But maybe something else had happened. Maybe something with the people on the mainland? I remembered what Hayden had said last night: I guess those reports I saw were wrong. Or was it Marx and Zack who were wrong. Or lying.

  “Shit,” I heard Zack whisper. “Shit, shit, shit.” His voice rose in fear.

  “Get yourself together, man.” Marx’s voice was sharp. “We can’t have you falling apart.”

  This sounded big. Stealthily, I tiptoed the rest of the way up the stairs and scampered for cover behind an enormous leather sofa. I stayed close to the wall, edging my way toward their voices. When I dared to look arou
nd the corner, I saw the three guys climbing down a ladder to the same inflatable raft we’d used last night. Marx’s phone was still glued to his ear, and his brow was furrowed. Zack’s face was ashen. Steve lingered on the side of the boat like he didn’t want to go along, but Zack hurriedly gestured for him to climb aboard. The outboard motor revved, and the raft shot away from the yacht, creating a whitecapped ripple in the otherwise still water.

  I stared at it, the tips of my fingers tingling. Something was happening—and it sounded like they didn’t want any rumors to get out. I glanced over my shoulder, contemplating waking up Elena, too—but if I did, I’d lose sight of where the group was going.

  I looked around. Last night, Marx had said there were kayaks in a storage closet next to the pool for us to use if we wanted. I ran there and wrenched the door open, relieved to see a few large ocean kayaks stacked against the wall. I hefted one out, grabbed a paddle, heaved the kayak down the ladder to the water, and dropped it in with speed and dexterity I hadn’t really gotten to flex since my brief stint on the crew team in eighth grade. In the distance, I could just make out the raft speeding to shore. I began to paddle as hard as I could.

  The water was warm and fairly calm. I recalled what the flight attendant had said about jellyfish, but luckily I didn’t notice any. I wasn’t the most athletic person—I’d only joined soccer one year because I knew athletics looked good on college applications—but I’d always been strong, and I was surprised at how good it felt to paddle through the waves. It gave me an outlet for my nervous energy.

  A wave ferried me to shore. I caught sight of where the crew had abandoned the boat on a beach littered with seaweed. I pulled the kayak up the sand about a hundred yards away and hid it in some bushes, not wanting Zack and the others to spy it and realize I’d followed them.

  I tiptoed closer, taking refuge behind any tree I could. The waves lapped at the sand soporifically. A colorful bird with an elongated beak squawked overhead. I heard something slithering in the dunes and prayed it wasn’t something poisonous.

  “Oh my God,” someone hissed, his voice rising over a dune. My body stiffened in alert.

  “Oh my God,” the voice said again. Steve. “Oh shit.”

  “Calm down.” Zack sounded frantic. “We can’t panic.”

  More footsteps. I crouched behind a tree trunk, my heart thudding fast. They weren’t far from me at all—maybe only a room or so away. I stayed low, trying not to breathe. With every step, their voices came closer and closer until, finally, I spotted them over the dunes. They stood on a sandy patch of beach, the waves slurping at their feet. Above them, cliffs loomed, medium-brown limestone. Zack, Steve, Marx, and two guys in Solstice T-shirts stared at something on the ground, but their bodies blocked my view.

  A shark. It had to be. A dead shark, which would cause panic among the concertgoers. As if there wasn’t enough panic already.

  Zack stepped back, his face twisted and gray, giving me a better look. I stared at the object on the shore, expecting to see a gray fin, a slash of sharp teeth, a powerful tail. Instead, I saw a human hand curled stiffly into the sand. Attached to that was a wrist, and then an arm, and then a pale, shirtless torso lying facedown. But it was stiff and unmoving. Like a mannequin. Like a corpse.

  The breath left my body. No. No. I felt my legs trembling, my throat closing, and I tried as hard as I could to remain quiet. I couldn’t look away from the lifeless figure. His feet splayed out in a ballet pose. He wore industrial shoes with serious treads. Why did I recognize them? In horror, I realized: because they were climbing shoes. I’d talked to someone who was wearing climbing shoes just yesterday.

  I stepped forward, pushing aside more leaves. I had to know for sure. Mustering up all my courage, I forced a closer look at the body. The face was turned away from me, so I could only see the back of the head. There was dark, curly hair that ended at the nape of the neck. On his back was a small tattoo of a mountain peak—the very same design I’d noticed the day before.

  A sob rose within me, mixing with fear. It was Eric Jedry. The friendly rock climber I’d met outside the convenience store.

  He was dead.

  @TheRealZackFrazier: It’s a new day, party people! Who’s ready to GREET THE SOLSTICE?

  @TheRealZackFrazier: We have an amazing lineup: Hip-hop band Luscious is playing at noon, and then we have a great singer-songwriter named FoMo—if you haven’t heard him yet, get ready to SWOON—and then, stepping in for Blankface is our new headliner, LAVENDER.

  @TheRealZackFrazier: I hope you’re as excited as I am for the festivities.

  @TheRealZackFrazier: And as for the minor snafus: Because of the weather, some of our deliveries didn’t make it in time—NOT OUR FAULT! But fear not: We’re going to be up and running by noon—food, drinks, bathrooms, the works.

  @TheRealZackFrazier: So get ready to party down! I’m game if you are!

  Replies:

  @CC22blather: Are you for real? I can’t get in touch with my friend and I’m scared shitless because of the news reports of the storms! Get ready to greet the Solstice? How about get ready to answer to a jury—cause you’re going down, scammer!

  @TheRealZackFrazierPR: @CC22blather Whoa, whoa, whoa! This is Zack’s PR point person, Marissa. We know you’ve heard some scary news about storms. And we’re doing everything we can to solve the cellular connection problem. But everyone at Solstice is FINE.

  @TheRealZackFrazierPR: @CC22blather Things are awesome here. We’ve got top-shelf tequila, good vibes, great weather—it’s all good!

  Comments are closed.

  10

  DON’T PANIC. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

  My stomach roiled. Goose bumps prickled over my skin. I felt like I was going to faint. Eric was dead. How? Had someone at the concert done this? It scared me senseless. But I couldn’t run. For one thing, they’d see me right away. For another, this was intriguing. There was something so strange about the way Zack, Marx, and the others were wringing their hands and swearing. They looked so pale. Almost … responsible.

  “He must have been walking on the rocks above and slipped,” Marx said loudly and authoritatively, almost like he knew he had an audience. “Stupid adrenaline-junkie kids. I bet he’d been drinking, too.”

  He wasn’t! I wanted to scream.

  “So does that make us responsible?” Zack sounded nervous.

  “’Course not. You put up a warning not to go too far from the site, didn’t you? And you’re not liable for anyone once they wander away from the concert site. This kid left at his own risk. He should have known better.”

  “This doesn’t look good, though,” Zack insisted. “We need to come up with a plan to make sure the press doesn’t find out we lost a guest.”

  “Didn’t you make connections with the police on the west side of the island?” Steve asked. His voice was hushed. And his nice-guy act was gone.

  Zack shoved his hands into his pockets. “I did … weeks ago … but they haven’t been returning my calls. I need to think. I don’t want to sound any alarms.” He gazed warily into the sky. I wondered if he was looking for the helicopter that had been circling the day before. I’d heard it was an aerial photographer, hired by Solstice to snap pictures of the event—though could that be right? Why would Zack spend money on a photographer who would gain physical evidence of this place’s lack of bathrooms?

  “Where’s his shirt?” Marx asked.

  Zack shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t wearing one. Half the kids at the festival were shirtless.”

  Yes he was! It was red!

  Then Zack looked at Steve. “Go get our man. His home is just over the dunes. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Me?” Steve looked nervous. “Alone?”

  “It’s not far. There’s a clearing, and you’ll find his place.”

  Steve still didn’t move; Marx shoved him toward the path. “There’s no monster in the woods, idiot! Go!”

  I could feel a mosquito sucking on
my arm, but I didn’t move to slap it. The air was thick with tension. It felt like they might break out in a fight.

  Finally, Steve lowered his shoulders and disappeared into the woods. I wondered who he was going to fetch. I looked at the body on the sand again. I was no medical expert, but if Eric had fallen off the rocks, wouldn’t his bones be a little more broken? Nothing was twisted or snapped, the way my brother’s leg had looked when he fell off his bike when he was ten. I remembered how boastful Eric had been about his climbing skills, too. He spoke with authority and confidence. Not the kind of guy who’d misstep.

  Then again, maybe I was just being contrary: Just because I didn’t like Marx or Steve or even Zack didn’t mean they were wrong. Because why else would Eric be dead now besides a fall? Unless someone pushed him. Or … or unless it was that evil monster thing Zack and Steve were talking about last night. I pressed my nails into the rough bark of the tree. There had to be another explanation. This island was small, rural, and tropical, but that didn’t mean it was ruled by mythological beasts.

  New footsteps sounded. I ducked down, out of view. Steve reappeared. A second figure followed him, and as he stepped into the clearing and laid eyes on the body, his limbs grew stiff. “Oh my God,” he said in a quiet voice.

  It was Paul, the guy from yesterday. There were dark circles under his tired eyes, but his cargo shorts were spotless, and his dreadlocks hung down his shoulders. I hadn’t noticed them yesterday—I guessed he’d bunched them into his hat. He wheeled around and gaped at Zack. “How did this happen?”

  “He … fell,” Zack said.

  “Fell?” Paul snorted like he didn’t believe it.

  “These guys found him,” Marx explained, gesturing to the guys in the Solstice shirts. “They were boating back to the other side of the island to pick up some supplies and saw him from the sea. More guests are coming in today. We can’t risk anyone else seeing this.”

  “But what’s he doing over here?” Paul’s voice was wild. I had to admit I was enjoying how rudely he was speaking to Captain Marx. “You know people aren’t supposed to wander away from the festival site. We had an agreement.”