Page 130 of The Last Lost Girl

The deck is quiet. Thin clouds limned in golden dawn rake across the sky. The ship rocks uneasily on the water.

“Where is everyone?” I mutter.

I hear a peal of laughter from town, but there is no one on the deck. Not at the stern or bow, neither to port nor starboard. I creep down the steps I’ve never taken to descend into the ship’s belly, which seems like a different world. Some cots are tethered to beams while other cots and some bunk beds have been built into the ship’s walls. Supplies – crated, bagged, and barreled – are scattered throughout in small stacks and clusters.

Pots, pans, and utensils sway from hangers on the wall. A small woodstove sits in the back with the glow of embers spilling from the door’s seam. The stove’s flute rises and stabs into the quarterdeck, where I’ve seen smoke snagged by the wind.

“Ava?” a man says from behind me.

I turn to find Sydney, who I’ve forgotten all about during my cursory inspection of the space below deck. Especially that he likes to stay aboard the ship. I gasp and press a hand against my chest. “Sydney!” I offer an embarrassed smile. “I just woke up and couldn’t find anyone.”

He looks away. “They’re working on the ship Tinkerbell raised from the water. It needs a lot of patching, turns out.”

“Where is it?”

“Anchored in deeper water. It’s a merchant ship.” He looks up at the ceiling like he’s imagining how the other ship might be built. “Quite a bit larger than this brigantine.”

“Thank you. I’ll go find them.”

He inclines his head and walks back to his bunk, where he sits on the edge. His shoulders cave in like they’re wings with which he tries to shield himself. My heart inexplicably twists at the sight. I trail back toward the steps, hesitant to leave but sensing he prefers to be alone and wants me to go.

Popping back up onto the deck and into the briny air, I scan the open water. The ship’s there, and so is the skiff, but I have no way to get to it.

There is a splash in the water and I look down to see Nyin. She points toward the ship they’re sprucing up. “They’re going home soon,” I explain.

She swims closer and opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, then her eyes dart over my shoulder.

Quiet footsteps approach from behind. I turn from Nyin to see Wendy standing across the ship at the top of the ramp. “Hey,” I greet her.

“I changed my mind,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to be left behind.”

I give a relieved sigh. “I’m so glad you did.”

Tears shine in her eyes. “I want to go home.”

I nod, fighting the pressure building in my throat and the tears welling in my eyes at the sight of her breaking. I meet her in the middle of the deck.

Nyin calls my name and I hear a question in her voice, unless I’m imagining it. “I’ll be right there, Nyin!”

Wendy swipes her eyes and looks up at the cloud-strewn sky. “What do I need to do?”

I offer an encouraging smile. “I just have to touch you; typically I hold your hand or arm. Then I can return your shadow.”

She gives a nod. “Okay.”

Her cornflower blue dress is worn thin at the elbows, knees, at her hips, and at the square neckline. A makeshift apron is tied around her waist. It’s pretty, made from scraps of material like some patchwork quilts I’ve seen. Her dark hair is braided, the heavy cord hanging down her back.

When she holds out her left hand, I clasp it.

“Ava?” she says, dropping her gaze to her feet. “Will this hurt you?”

“It’s uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t call it pain.”

Wendy’s face blanches. “Can you shut your eyes? I… I don’t like it when people look at my face.”

I squeeze her hand. “Of course I can.”

I hate that she dreads what’s about to happen, especially because everyone else was so eager. They didn’t even stop to ask if it was uncomfortable for me or not. They just wanted their ticket out of here.

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