Page 17 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

Where.

“Huh?” I croak.

Ace doesn’t let me think about it for long. He hooks his arms beneath my knees and back and lifts me like I weigh nothing. I try to protest, but the motion tilts the whole world and makes my eyes pinch closed. “We’re not goin’ far,” he rumbles near my ear. “Just somewhere better.”

Better?

I thought we found the best spot on this island.

Tatiana, Aggie, and Rachel hurry after us, each loaded down with bags made from old towels and pieces of fabric, dragging all the crap Ace must have ordered them to collect. I watch the grey sky move quickly above Ace’s shoulder, then the sudden block of canopy as he pivots off the trail and into the trees. Water drips down on my face. Cool, at first, almost a relief.

Ace keeps moving, winding deeper into the woods. The wind drops away as soon as the trees close in, and it’s the only time I notice how loud the ocean really is—like an airport in the next room, persistent and dull. My head rocks against his chest, which doesn’t even flex when I cough. I can’t help but think how completely, absolutely safe I feel here.

But thinking that? It just opens the wound of missing him, which is the last thing I need.

We pass around a thicket, and I catch a flash of movement: Adrian, sitting alone on a blackened log, arms crossed. His eyes are distant, drifting somewhere far off, like he’s already gone home in his mind. He doesn’t look up until the whole party tramps by.

His mouth twitches. “Why didn’t you carry me like that, Ace?”

Ace grunts.

Adrian stands, using his makeshift crutch to hobble after us. “Where are you even going?”

Ace’s answer is a shrug, a jerk of his chin into the trees. “You wanna know, follow.”

The trail narrows and the world gets darker. I lose track of time, drifting in and out. A memory surfaces: my dad, carrying me out of my ballet school when I sprained my ankle in a competition and couldn’t finish it. The way he didn’t say a word, just hoisted me into the car and drove in silence, eyes straight ahead. The disappointment radiating across his face. I clench my jaw, push the memory down.

Ace stops.

There’s a scraping noise, then a curse as he almost loses his footing on wet stone, but he corrects, then steps through a curtain of vines. The world opens up, and I blink, confused by the sudden brightness and the clearing around us. It’s not a clearing, exactly—just a patch of less-dense trees, sheltered by an overhanging rock. And right in the centre is a small shack.

Okay, a shack is being generous, but it’s a structure and it is quite possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

It’s made from old pieces of the shipwreck and scavenged timber, bound together by vines and old nails. The roof seems sturdy, a frame of thin branches lashed with thick, twisty vines and then layered inches deep in woven palm fronds and leaves. It isn’t entirely closed in; instead, it has three sides, with the front open.

But it’s... incredible.

Ace doesn’t say anything. He just slows, carrying me up to the edge of the structure. Aggie gasps, eyes huge. “So this is where you’ve been disappearing to.”

Ace huffs, then props me up against his chest so I can look. “It’s nothin’ fancy. But it’s dry. And outta the wind. If we have to be here a while, we can’t keep sleepin’ out there. Especially after our visitors.”

My eyes blur, but not with fever. He made this. He made it for us, for me. I’m not the only one crying, either—Aggie wipes hard at her cheeks, then scowls at herself for letting it show. Tatiana circles the shack, staring at it like it’s a mansion. Rachel has dropped her things and just stares in pure joy at the scene before her.

Ace walks me in, and even though my head is pounding and every inch of my body aches, I can’t stop my wide-eyed stare. The ground is padded out with leaf litter and fronds, and he’s crafted a few thick mats of woven palm fronds as mattresses. Ace flicks his head at Aggie. “Put her stuff down over here.”

The girls get to work, fussing and unpacking, while Ace puts me down on a bed that feels like a pile of feathers compared to the rocks we have been sleeping on. Then, he crouches beside me and brings a bottle of water to my lips. I drink, trying not to cough, but it catches in my throat anyway, spilling out the corner of my mouth.

“Slow,” Ace says. “Take it easy.”

“Oh,” Adrian says, finally appearing in the doorway. “This is some skill, though if it were me, I would have constructed another wall.”

We all give him a look.

“Feel free to stay on the beach,” Aggie mutters.

“I never said that was my plan, Aggie. I am simply stating an extra wall will keep predators out.”

“What predators?” Tatiana mumbles. “The fucking spiders? There is nothing else here, or believe me, I would have eaten it.”