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And that fucked-up anticipation is back because I want to talk to her. I hate myself for that too. There is too much hate, and it has nowhere to go but into that fucking rag that I scrub the cooler with like I’m trying to murder it.
Everyone gathers around one table. A collection of swimwear and shabby dresses and shorts, arms crossed at the chests, eyes darting around in excitement.
There will be voting.
Everyone is agitated. For the first time in months, there are new people around. They might be extra mouths to feed. They might be a liability. But they are something new on this side of the island that is drowning in fucking boredom and monotony.
More than anything, everyone wants to know what happened over there, on the mainland. These three lived through it. We are all desperate to know it from someone first-hand, as opposed to the videos and streaming news that Crone aired on the big screens, and the death toll lists that we studied for days and days after the Change, finding the names we knew so well.
Bo tells the girls about the Westside. He used to be a manager and a businessman. He knows how to lay down the facts.
“It’s not a free ride,” he explains, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, the three arrivals across from him. Everyone is crowded around like he is preaching. “You have to work for everything you get. Just like here. Archer Crone doesn’t bring fresh blood just for fun, although that’s a big part of it.”
God, I love Bo’s diplomacy. He should be a president or some shit.
“Here is the thing,” he goes on. “There are over a hundred people on that side. And there is no law except the Chancellor and his team. With a hierarchy of power where guns have the final say. Let it sink in for a moment.”
I glance at Callie.
She sits with her head down. I can only imagine what thoughts run through her head. She used to go out with Crone. But after what happened, Crone’s bullying went too far. He is not a man who forgives easily. I feel unease thinking about what he will do to her. I wonder if she realized that when she decided to come here. Why the fuck did she even come?
Katura is the one asking questions.
Feisty, that one. A natural leader. Hispanic or something of the sort, pretty, confident. That one has teeth. But something is missing, and I’m trying to figure it out. She is not like the rest of us—the ones who lost something with the Change. She is too businesslike, like she is on a mission. She enjoys every moment of the day like she has no baggage. And she keeps asking and asking about the Westside like she is gathering an intel.
Odd.
Eventually, all questions are answered. The Bob Marley playlist died a long time ago.
I’m the only one who is not at the table.
“So here it is,” Bo says. “My suggestion is that you stay here for several days, talk to others, and figure out what you want to do. If you decide to go to the Westside, several of us will take you there. The shortcut takes about six hours across the hills and the jungle. We don’t have ATVs or Quads to drive you. There is a chance that Archer Crone is looking for you. It poses certain risks”—he looks around the crowd—”that we are all aware of. So just to make sure the majority welcomes you here and gives you a chance, we will vote.”
Bo—such a fucking mediator. He doesn’t want anger or unnecessary fighting. So of course, he is doing it in the best tradition of democracy. He is also doing it to find out who has a problem with his decision so he can talk it over with them.
We are all careful these days. After Johnny broke down that one night after the hurricane and walked off only for his body to wash ashore later, the term “mental health” is more often on Bo’s tongue.
“All right! Who is for letting our guests stay for several days before we make the final decision?”
He raises his hand and looks around as hands start shooting up in the air. Almost all of them, except for a few, including Jeok, who purses his lips. But after a second of hesitation, they join, too.
Everyone looks at each other with smiles and nods. And so do the three arrivals.
“Hey, you!” Bo’s voice is loud, and I tense as I look up. His chin ticks at me. Everyone stares.Shestares, I know it, though I don’t look at her. “You are part of this, you know.”
Bo’s eyes on me are too intense. The fucker knows what he is doing.
I raise my hand reluctantly for a brief second and turn my gaze to Ty. He is grinning, staring at me.
Fucking fool.
I want to throw him into the ocean.
“Then it’s set!” Bo rises from the bench, and everyone around loosens up. “You are staying until we have another meeting and discuss further arrangements. Maddy will show you around and explain what we do here and how we do it.”
I keep wiping the coolers that have been wiped several times already when I see Ty’s big bare feet approaching.
“You gonna scrub holes in those coolers or what?”
