Page 146 of Lost Paradise

"Hey bruh," I press, "you can't drop something like that and clam up."

He meets my gaze with his usual stoicism. "I did nothing of the sort. Astro made up some nonsense, and I responded."

"Come on, Byron," Eve speaks up, sensing the tension. "You're not fooling anyone with that wince."

"As leader of this rowdy pack," Foster intervenes with a smirk, "let's give Byron some space. But you owe us an explanation, mate. I don’t need dissent in the ranks.”

"Considering we're on the water, the correct naval terminology would be mutiny on deck," Byron says calmly, and while he doesn’t raise his head up, our gaze burns hotter than the blazing sun. Feeling the scorching stare, he looks up as if he hasn’t said anything extraordinary.

“You know, without me navigating us, you’d be lost.”

“Babe,” Eve looks at him sympathetically. “I’d hate to break it to you, but we are.”

“Yeah, and considering Moby Dick might be on his way to make a last meal of us, knowing what went on or didn’t go on with your English teacher will be our dying request. So fess up, mate,” Astro says.

“Moby Dick was a white sperm whale. They are docile creatures that mostly feed on squid, not humans. They would never attack you, but they might decapitate you with their tale by mistake or vibrate your body to death with their most intense vocalizations if they choose to. But judging by your current banter, you might just bore one to death.”

Astro’s fists tighten, “Mate, I’m one-second decapitating you with my mouth if you don’t shut the fuck up with your random facts.”

“I’m not…” Byron’s voice trails off as Eve squeezes his knee.

“Babe, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell anyone about your teacher. No one’s going to judge you here.”

She leans back against the boat and rolls the hood higher to cover her face.

Byron bites his lip hesitantly.

“I got a C in English on my GC’s,” he mutters.

We all turn to him, shocked.

“So? Astro breaks the tension with a grin.

"Yeah, I think we all had our moments of feeling like we struggled with exams," Foster adds.

Astro chuckles. "Except for me, of course. I was too busy causing trouble to worry about grades."

I raise an eyebrow. "And that's supposed to surprise us?"

Laughter ripples through the boat, easing the earlier tension. Byron manages a small smile, grateful that none of us give a damn about his grades or inability to get above average in high school.

“You okay, there, darling?” Foster's concern etches lines on his brow as he glances at Eve.

Eve, nestled under the protection of my hood, responds quietly, “A light headache.”

Jack steps in, handing me a coconut he had just expertly pierced. "Here," he says, a hint of worry in his voice.

Eve lifts the hood slightly, revealing cheeks inflamed and swollen from the relentless sun. A pang of concern shoots through me as I meet Foster's gaze.

"Drink this, Firecracker," I urge Eve, passing her the coconut. "It'll hydrate you and ease the ache."

"Babe, do you feel nauseous?" Foster's voice is gentle, but his expression is full of worry.

"Just a little," Eve admits, tipping the coconut upwards and savoring each drop. It was then that we noticed her fingers—burnt, bright red, and blistered from hours exposed to the unforgiving rays.

"Get the aloe vera," I direct Astro, who responds swiftly, placing the container of gel in my hands.

“You might have a touch of sun poisoning,” Foster says. “Why don’t you rest a bit more, and I’ll take over the sails.”

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