Page 156 of The Love Haters

But Ilovedher.

I have never felt so grateful for a phone conversation. Yes, she was all business, and kind of the opposite of chatty, and at no point had she offered even a courtesy laugh. But she existed! And she knew thatIexisted! She might not have any idea where I was, and she might have awhole board of other emergencies she needed to go deal with, but she could hear me. I was still totally alone in the ocean on a sinking boat—but at least I had a friend. Of sorts.

Until she had to go.

In the strange lull that followed, I drank all the bottled water I could fit into my stomach, and George Bailey did, too. I scavenged some bread for me and some beef-flavored kibble for him. I also slathered on sunscreen, which seemed de rigueur for being shipwrecked.

Then George Bailey and I climbed up onto the roof deck. I brought the jar of pennies with me, the flare gun, and my cell phone.

And we waited to be rescued.

Except guess what? Waiting to be rescued is hard.

It’s an agonizing mixture of boredom and terror.

After about three minutes, I was fighting the itch to call Beanie—even though I knew I should save my cell phone battery. It wasn’t like she could save me.

But she could keep me company. That wasn’t nothing.

I mean, if they never found me… this could beit. The grand finale of my life.

Did I really want to spend itnot calling Beanie?

She was the person I processed everything with—from nail polish colors down to bad dreams. For once I had something interesting!Shipwrecked?Come on! How could Inotcall her?

I was just about to give in to temptation when I saw something astonishing on the roof with us.

A toad.

Somehow, a toad had blown onto the roof of our houseboat during the storm, held on for dear life, defied every single one of the odds, and survived.

I watched it hop toward us and then stop between me and George Bailey, like it wanted to be friends—a kind of interspecies bonding-through-adversity scenario.

But—wait! What kind of a toad? If this was the poisonous kind, I’d have to kick it overboard. I remembered Hutch checking the last onewith his flashlight, and I leaned in closer: no knobs or ridges on the head. So this one was the nonpoisonous kind, right?

I was 99 percent sure—but still deciding—when George Bailey scooped the toad up into his mouth.

“Really?” I said. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

George Bailey gave me the side-eye, likeMind your business.

“Fine,” I said. “We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. But if either one of you dies, I’m gonna be pissed.”

George Bailey looked off at the horizon.

“And we’re naming him Lucky,” I went on, “and I’m putting you in charge of making sure he stays that way.”

On the heels of that, of all things, my phone rang.

Beanie.

I checked my battery life: 60 percent. But I would’ve answered if it had been six.

It wasBeanie.

“Hey,” she said, as I answered.

“Hey,” I said.

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