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(Moon in Indonesian: Bulan)
“YOU KNOW, STEALING ISN’T VERY NICE. IF you’d just asked, I would’ve given you anything you wanted.”
My eyes shot wide.
Evening sun blinded me, glowing around the palm tree swaying by the corner of the house. Scrambling upright, I winced as my wrist throbbed in its cast and my ankle protested in its boot. One of the Velcro straps had come loose across my foot.
I’d walked far, far longer on it than I probably should have. I’d limped my way through the local town and down suburban streets, clutching Jack’s address, doing my best to be as inconspicuous as possible, all while kids pointed and whispers chased after me.
Any loud noise or growling car behind me made my feet quicken in fear.
Would the officers come after me? Would they hunt me down and arrest me?
All day I’d walked in terror, doing my best to avoid people.
I hadn’t stopped to use the money Jack had so kindly given me.
I didn’t buy food or drink, and by the time I limped through a neighbourhood full of sunny-painted houses and hobbled past tropical gardens, I’d been close to passing out beneath a bush for some much-needed shade.
A shadow fell over me as Neri blocked out the setting sun, her silhouette stern and scolding. “I make pocket money by growing those you know. By my calculation you just cost me a dollar fifty.” Her hand shot out. “Pay up and then tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll go make you anything you want. We have leftover lasagne or...if you liked the Nemo burger, I can get Dad to pick you up another meal.”
Her voice rang in my ears. Her presence too much for my raw and flayed emotions.
Squinting, I patted the wooden floor beside me. “Can you sit down? The sun is hurting my eyes.”
She promptly flopped to her butt next to me as if she lived to do whatever I commanded. “That’s probably your concussion, you know. Bright lights can hurt if you have headaches. Did the hospital fix you already? I thought you were broken.”
I sighed and did my best to chase away the fog in my head. The nap I’d taken in the weathered gazebo seemed to have made my exhaustion worse, not better. “I don’t have a concussion.” I raked my good hand through my dark brown hair. It’d grown longer than usual, thanks to hiding from society for so long, but it was clean enough.
Neri watched me unnervingly, sending my heart skipping in that worrying way.
Dropping my arm, I shifted awkwardly.
What did you say to the girl who saved your life?
What could you possibly do to show your thanks, all while secretly cursing her for preventing you from being with your family?
Tearing my eyes from hers, I looked toward the house that glowed orange around the edges thanks to the sun setting behind it. It wasn’t overly big. The cream brick and dark grey roof needed a refresh and the wooden fence around the sun-bleached grass had seen better days. But I could understand why the marine biologists had picked it.
It was only a few houses away from the beach and the entire garden—minus the vegetables growing around the edges—was a natural looking pool.
Neri caught me looking at it and brought her legs up to her chest with a happy grin. “Dad built it. Just like he built the sala we’re sitting in.”
I looked up at the rafters and thatched ceiling. Patches of sunset shone from areas where the thatch needed tending, but it’d been a good shady spot. The steppingstones leading toward the house skirted the pool with its rocks and palms. Sand glittered in the shallow end, leading up a gentle incline where their very own beach waited with shells and driftwood.
“He seems talented in many things.” I ran my finger under the edge of my cast, cursing the sweat encasing my wrist beneath. Memories of my own father teaching me algebra quickly morphed into how to wield a knife.
“You’re thinking about them.” Neri lowered her legs, her smile dimming. “Aren’t you?”
I stiffened and sniffed back the sorrow that was my biggest wound of all. If it was anyone else asking that question, it wouldn’t hurt so much.
But her?
Her kindness caused me the worst kind of pain.
Swallowing hard, I murmured, “I was thinking about my father. Yes.”
“What was his name?”
