Page 92 of The Otherworld

“I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Like what?”

Adam falls silent, staring into his coffee mug while Mom flips the pancakes, and the whole kitchen fills with the scent of childhood.

“You’re about to run out of time to state a reasonable reason,” I say, pointing to the clock.

At last, Adam says, “Orca’s mother died when she was very young.”

I shut up at this new piece of information. Orca never mentioned her mom to me… but she discussed it with Adam? It makes me wonder what else they talked about. Clearly, it wasn’t all philosophy.

“How did she die?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask for details. And Orca didn’t seem to know much about it, herself. She said her dad never really talks about it. I got the impression that her mother’s death really broke her father’s heart. There weren’t even any pictures of her in the house—except for one, in his sock drawer.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What were you doing in his sock drawer?”

“Borrowing clothes. And you’re missing the point.”

“Which is…?”

“That maybe Mr. Monroe’s obsession with protecting his daughter has less to do with ‘keeping her prisoner’ and more to do with the fear of losing her. Like he lost his wife.”

“That makes sense,” Mom adds. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s his reason for trying to keep Orca out of harm’s way.”

Adam gives me a look that I translate as, See? Mom agrees with me. He stands and goes to the stove to help cook breakfast while I consider this theory.

I guess he has a point, which I may have overlooked. If the guy lost his wife unexpectedly, he might be holding the “dangers” of the world responsible.

“Okay, fine. There are fewer things to kill Orca on Recluse Island,” I admit, stating the obvious. “But it’s not like he can protect her from everything, even in his own little world. She could get struck by lightning. She could accidentally fall into the ocean and drown. She could slip on a piece of driftwood and hit her head and die.”

Mom grunts. “I think the chances of that are very low.”

“You’re missing my point, now. You can’t protect someone from everything. Orca probably does a lot of dangerous stuff all the time on the island. Just because it’s not the mainland, it’s A-okay? That’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense.” I rub my eyes, leaning against my elbows on the table.

“It’s not about what she does,” Adam says, cracking eggs into another pan. “It’s about where she is, who she’s around.”

“Nobody.”

“Exactly. So she’s safe from emotional pain.”

“Ugh. Don’t get all philosophical.”

Adam turns to Mom. “You know what I mean, right?”

“Yes—”

“I know what you mean,” I cut in. “I just think it’s a dumb argument. What about the ‘emotional pain’ her dad is causing by keeping her—”

“If you say ‘prisoner’ one more time…” Adam points a warning finger at me.

“Safe from harm,” I quote Mom, kind of mockingly but whatever. “I mean, you were hanging out with her for days, Adam. Didn’t she seem unhappy?”

Adam hesitates. “I would say… dissatisfied—”

“Okay, fine. Dissatisfied. And all she wants is to see the mainland. Right?”

“Yes.”

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