Page 72 of The Island

She was fourteen.

When her dad was fourteen, fourteen was fourteen. When her mom was fourteen, fourteen was fourteen. But not now. Now fourteen was older. There were things you could see anytime anywhere on your phone. Could never unsee.

She knew the word rape. She’d known what it meant last night.

She wasn’t dumb. No. She knew what was going to happen.

Sand.

Heat.

Sea.

She looked behind her. She was moving quicker now. The boy with the rifle would catch the others soon. She imagined Heather would try to fight him with the penknife. It wouldn’t work. She didn’t know anything. Her mom would have run rings around Heather. Who did she think she was? Owen said she hadn’t even graduated high school. Best to leave her. Only problem was leaving Owen. Owen, a kid. She shouldn’t have done that.

Alki Beach

The cold air.

The snowflakes.

The bobbing little Zodiac boat.

I don’t want to go.

Olivia.

I don’t want to. It’s not good for the ocean.

Get in the boat.

Owen doesn’t want to do it either.

You’re being silly, both of you! Get in!

OK, Dad.

Dutch Island

We’re going to get caught.

And I am going to die from thirst.

At home Dad has those bottles of Evian in the fridge.

At home.

None of us are going home.

None of us.

Alki Beach

Owen folding his arms.

Dad yelling at him. Dad losing his shit the way he used to.

Dad taking Owen by the shoulders and getting real close to his face: It was your mom’s last wish. Don’t you want to honor your mom, you little shit?

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