Page 4 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

I don’t turn back. I don’t ask the question that wants to crawl out of my throat. Instead, I storm off into the trees, shoes sinking in wet mud, and do what I came out here to do.

When I crawl back into the shelter, Aggie is waiting, and even though I can’t see her, I know she is going to ask the same question she always asks. “You good?”

I tug the blanket over my legs because my feet are freezing from the water I just had to use to wash the damn mud off. “Yeah,” I say, but the word tastes sour. “Everything’s just fucking perfect.”

Aggie laughs, but it’s so bitter, a therapist would probably be concerned. “Yeah, isn’t it always.”

I close my eyes and try not to think about Ace. Or my father. Or the horror story that is real life. I dream of going home, but not to the place I grew up. No, to a place nobody can find me, where I can live my life just as I want, without a single ounce of betrayal from those I love.

What a fucking fantasy that is.

“THE SUN! IT’S OUT!”

I wake, once again, to the sound of Adrian screeching. Only this time, it’s a positive sound, so there’s that. I blink, and the moment my eyes open, I instantly squeeze them shut because the sunlight blasting into our camp is so bright, it hurts.

I sit up, a sudden rush of pure joy filling my chest as I stare out at the perfect blue sky.

In all my life, if you asked me if the sky could bring me such happiness, I would have laughed in your face. But here I am, feeling like I just won the lottery, unable to wipe the smile off my face as I push to my feet, watching the others come out of their slumber.

For once, Adrian’s shriek isn’t met with curses. Aggie squints into the sun, then lets out this weird little squeal, echoing him. Tatiana flies up off her bed, arms thrown high. Even Rachel, who has not smiled in a week, lets her lips curve.

Everything looks different, hyper-real, as if someone took all the grey film from the world and replaced it with colour. The ocean isn’t steel, it’s blue—actually blue, like in a travel brochure. Our wet clothes and blankets steam in the sudden light, and the birds are chirping so loudly, I think even they are celebrating.

I can’t help myself—I run straight into the sunshine and tilt my head back, letting the warmth hit my face. I stand there as long as I can, burning it in, memorising what happy feels like. Eventually, voices break the trance. I turn, see Kellen and Zeke coming up the beach toward us, swagger dialled up to eleven, like they personally arranged for the sun.

Kellen’s carrying a machete and doing this ridiculous twirl with it, the blade flashing in the light. Zeke has a bundle of what looks like rope hanging over his shoulder.

“Ladies,” Zeke calls, “Are we seeing this glorious sun?”

I don’t see Ace behind them, and I wonder if our fight last night has kept him away.

“It’s heaven,” Tatiana sighs.

“It is heaven,” Kellen agrees, “But it also means we need to get some work done before the rain returns.”

Aggie throws a stick at him. “Can’t you let us enjoy the sun for five minutes before you put us to work?” She has a point, but the truth is, none of us are going to waste the first dry day by not preparing what we can.

“Rain’ll be back,” Kellen says, planting the machete in the sand. “We have to stack as much wood as possible—let it sun-cure, then haul it up to the cave before the next storm.”

Rachel joins us, and her eyes lock with Kellen’s. I glance between the two of them, really wanting to know more about the whole situation, but Kellen turns his attention to Aggie who shoves his shoulder. He gives her a grin, that has me even more confused.

Is this man into both of them?

“Well, I’m not on wood duty. We’re doing other things today, food probably.”

“That works,” Zeke answers.

The plan is simple. Kellen and Zeke will go and gather as much timber as they can, putting it in the sun to dry. Aggie, Tatiana, Rachel and I will climb up to the cliffs foraging for food, and see if there is anything else we can gather that is useful to our camp.

With that, we head off.

We cross the sand and start making our way up the familiar goat path, Aggie in the lead, me behind her, Tati and Rachel at the rear. With every step, it gets warmer, pockets of heat rising up from the rocks. None of us speak, because we’re all just enjoying the blissful sun that is shining over us.

By the time we reach the top of the cliffs, my legs are on fire and my shirt is glued to my back. The wind up here is different—faster, with a salt sting that wakes me up. It feels nice to exercise, a rush of adrenaline that keeps us going.

Aggie and Tatiana get to work scouring for nests and Rachel and I begin searching for berries, fruit or anything we can possibly eat. Hell, at this point, I’d take a fucking bird if it meant we survive. Maybe that’s an option? I wonder if seagulls taste good?

I’m busy searching when I realise Rachel has stopped, and has a hand up near her forehead, squinting out at the horizon.