She looks me in the eye, her face serious. “I’m not trying to keep things from you, but it’s not my place. I understand what you’re saying, and I’m not saying I don’t see it. I know he doesn’t treat you like the rest of us. I just hope you can be patient and trust him enough to accept it.”
The fabric constricts as she pulls the knot tight, and I try to wiggle my fingers, the movement already coming back painlessly.
I don’t know how to respond to her, so I stay quiet. I know I’m coming to trust Weston and everyone else in the crew, but I don’t understand why he doesn’t trust me enough to give a reason. Why will no one tell me the truth?
We clean the infirmary quickly, the strain between us evident after her continued secrecy. The noise from the game has not let up and instead has only escalated to the boards shaking under our feet. Once we’re in the hallway, she gestures to the galley.
“I’m going to grab some food to eat in my room. I don’t want to listen to their shouting in that proximity. You’ve got to be starving, too. You should grab a plate.”
Sig is right; with all the developments of the day, food hasn’t even crossed my mind. I’m starving and exhausted and confused, but the last thing I want is to be in the same room as Weston.
“Sure,” I agree and follow her into the galley. A resounding cheer rises from the group as soon as we enter the room, followed by a yell from Jorn.
“Sig! Lennox! Come play!” There’s a chorus of agreements, but Sig shakes her head.
“Go back to your game, Jorn,” she calls as we fill up plates.
I keep my gaze trained on the food, refusing to look over at the crowd, at Weston. The back of my neck tingles as I feel like one particular set of eyes is on me, watching me move through the galley behind Sig.
“Boo!” the group yells at our response.
Sig waves them off and we walk straight back to the door, just as Stassia walks through it.
“Stass!” Everyone cheers.
Is part of the game saying everything in unison?
I must be hungry, or flustered, or both, because something as simple as that doesn’t usually grate on my nerves like it is right now.
“I want in on the fun!” Stassia yells and saunters over to the group. “Scoot over!”
Chairs scrape and bodies shuffle, but I keep my eyes averted, my shoulders relaxing the moment I step back into the hallway. Another round of laughter sounds behind me and I ignore it, instead bidding Sig a good night and heading to my room. The sconces brighten as I enter, and the lantern on Weston’s desk lights as I set my plate down and slide into his chair.
I want answers, and I feel like I deserve them. I can’t keep being treated differently without knowing the reasons. So many of my feelings have changed based on my time here, but there’s still a sliver of doubt that I can’t get rid of, especially with all the secrecy.
What if how I’m feeling is wrong?
What if it really is all a trick?
Do I really believe that?
It feels like there’s something looming, something that Weston doesn’t want me to know, because maybe it would change everything.
More than the kiss did.
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. The kiss changed nothing. It was obviously a mistake, nothing more than a release from the tension of the other night. A roar erupts from below, and the room shakes with the noise. Sig was right, again. Sleep is going to be futile until whatever is going on down there dies down or breaks up.
My eyes roam over the maps spread across the desk as I pick at my food. Since I’m going to be awake, I might as well try to do something useful with the time. I think back to my map, and how the island gave me the tools to create it when I wanted to be methodical.
There’s got to be something we are missing, just like we all missed when searching for the healing waters. Eventually we deciphered the signals, the pattern. The ship is full of people who figured it out, but not the dust. After all this time, the same people who found the waters can’t find the dust.
Is the dust something that can even be found?
Does Dane actually know how to replenish it, and is lying about it? Or is it all real, and our time on the island is about to be infinite?
While I don’t believe what Dane says about the Castaways anymore, I don’t think he’s lying about the dust. He can’t be. But what I can’t figure out is what he could possibly gain from keeping everyone here? He’s the Guardian, the one that can bring us to and from Dawnlin, but why can none of us go back to him and ask to return? Does he really care about who comes and goes?
I scan the maps, trying to find patterns just as I did with the waters, but nothing stands out to me. All it is doing is making my head hurt and my frustration grow.
