Never Ever (5 page)

He put special emphasis on the word “friend” and Wylie could see the girl, Tinka, bite her lower lip.

“They are our honored guests for the day. I want everyone to treat them the way you would treat anyone who lives here: with love, respect, and everything in between. We're
gonna show them a good time. They've been on a really long journey and I dragged them away from some important obligations back home.”

The faces staring back at them seemed to soften with Phinn's orders. Phinn turned to Wylie.

“I have a few things I need to deal with right now,” he told her. “But I'm leaving you in good hands. Tinka, please do me a favor and give them a tour of the island.”

Tinka rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breath.

“I mean it. Be nice,” Phinn scolded. He turned back to Wylie and her brothers. “The three of you will be my guests for dinner this evening, and then we'll discuss the possibility of extending your visit, if you want to—”

“We're not going to stay longer,” Joshua said, cutting him off. “You're taking us home.”

Phinn simply shrugged. “I'll go along with whatever you decide after twenty-four hours. I promise.” Phinn gestured to two people among the crowd. “Maz, Bandit, let's catch up.”

The two guys obediently followed him as he ventured off. The taller one looked to Wylie like he might be foreign. He had jet-black hair, tan olive skin, and eyelashes that seemed to go on for miles. He smiled warmly at Wylie, and for the first time since they'd arrived at the clearing, she felt welcome. The other guy, Bandit, was the recipient of the bag of contraband. He ripped open a Kit Kat and took a bite as he passed Wylie and her brothers. He had a shaved head and his skin was a deep sepia hue. He was on the shorter
side, but his body was muscular and fit. Wylie gave him a smile and he nodded in return.

“I'll take that off your hands,” he said, glancing at the knife. Wylie dutifully handed it over, though she wasn't entirely convinced she wouldn't need it.

“Okay,” Tinka said, “I guess I'm supposed to give you a tour or something.”

Wylie checked to see if her brothers were as appalled by the pixie as she was, but Joshua seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Micah was shuffling his feet and smiling timidly at Tinka. They'd known this girl for five minutes and she'd spent most of that time humiliating Wylie, and now Micah was into her? Wylie gently punched him in the shoulder to get him to snap out of it, but he just glared at her.

“Let's start where we're standing, shall we?” Tinka waved her hand around at the clearing and the waterfall like a jaded Vanna White.

“We call this place the Clearing. We don't get any points on creativity for that one. It's where we always hang out, party, swim, barbeque, fly. It's sort of the community area. It's where you go when you don't feel like being alone.”

Wylie dipped her hand into the lagoon. The water was so warm and inviting, Wylie had to resist the urge to jump in with her clothes on. She had done a decent job of pretending Tinka's comments about the way she smelled didn't faze her, but she was desperate to rinse off all the dirt and grime from her body. Tinka led them to a nearby palm tree with a wooden cupboard built into its trunk. She opened the small door a crack, took out a small chalkboard and a stub of chalk, and drew an X on the board.

“This is where we are now,” she explained. She drew a staircase that led to the bungalows, then gestured to the Daltons to follow her. “Ugh, this is so bridal,” Tinka complained to herself as she led them up the stairs.

The wooden steps were rickety. There were no handrails, so the Daltons had to be careful to keep their balance. Tinka seemed to still have
parvaz
in her system, because she floated up the staircase. If Wylie could take a stash of tiny blue flowers home with her, maybe she could use them as her secret weapon on the basketball court. She imagined the whole school watching her as she flew in the air and dunked the winning shot in the playoffs.

They stepped onto the deck and walked toward the huts. All the structures on Minor Island had clearly been built to surround the Clearing. On the north side of the deck, where they were now standing, the row of bungalows was numbered one through thirty. Tinka mumbled that the tropical houses were powered by solar panels. Some of them were shared, while some residents lived alone. One bungalow stood larger than the rest. Wylie pointed to it.

“Who lives there?” Wylie asked.

“Who do you think?” Tinka answered.

Tinka dragged them to her bungalow next and reluctantly invited them inside. The interior was not unlike a summer camp bunk or a dorm room. A bed. A desk. A bay window facing the Clearing. The sheets on the bed were tangled up in a heap. The floor was covered with various articles of clothing, but the walls of the bungalow helped detract attention from all the crap on the floor. They were decked out in large vibrant watercolors that were so well
done, they could have easily fit in at the Whitney Museum. Most of the paintings were abstracts, along with a few self-portraits. Micah seemed especially drawn to one of the pictures: a painting of Tinka flying in the nude.
Awesome
, Wylie thought.
My little brother's falling in love with the she-devil, and now they have art in common
.

“None of the bungalows have their own bathrooms,” Tinka informed them. “We all use communal restrooms. They're all built with showers, toilets, and running water. And we do have shower curtains, so if you're modest, you can keep them closed. Friendly warning: I'm not the modest type,” she added, winking at Micah.

“I have to admit,” Joshua piped up, “I'm really impressed by the infrastructure here.” Wylie stifled a laugh. If Micah got off on naked paintings, then Joshua was hot for efficiency.

“Thank you,” Tinka said. “We give all the credit to Phinn.”

As they made their way around to the south side of the deck, Tinka directed their attention toward the island's common areas. She drew a series of larger huts on the chalkboard and marked them as the kitchen, dining area, clinic, and a boutique where she told them residents were fitted for custom-made clothing. Joshua asked if the island had its own currency, and Tinka explained that they didn't believe in money or bartering. Everything on the island came free of charge. Money, she said, was the downfall of every society. Wylie could tell her brother wanted to argue the benefits of capitalism, but it wasn't easy to debate those points in a place where things like food and lodging came at zero cost.

The Daltons followed Tinka through the hut that contained the dining room, which was surprisingly roomy. Phinn had told them there were only fifty people on the island, but this space could comfortably seat twice that amount. It was filled with long picnic benches decorated with wildflowers in vases carved out of driftwood. The room smelled of oatmeal and cinnamon and had a log-cabin feel. Wylie noticed a poem, hand-printed on parchment paper, hanging off the wall:

Never forget to live life to the fullest.

Do it for the troubled; do it for the lost.

The days may feel shorter; the nights may feel long.

But when we remember, our memories grow strong.

“Who wrote that?” Wylie asked.

“Phinn,” Tinka answered. “He fancies himself a poet.”

“Who are the troubled and the lost?”

“Everyone who doesn't live here.”

Wylie read the poem again.

“Come on, let's keep moving,” Tinka whined. “We don't have all day.”

Tinka walked them through the kitchen, and now it was Wylie's turn to be impressed. Their brownstone was spacious by New York City standards, but it had a small galley kitchen that wasn't always easy to maneuver in. The kitchen here was industrial-sized. The appliances were old and shabby, but there was plenty of counter space, an array
of pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and a woodburning stove.

A girl stood at the counter, effortlessly gutting a scaly green fish with violet colored fins. She was so focused on the task at hand, she didn't even notice they'd entered the room.

“This is Lola,” Tinka said.

The girl, startled, dropped her knife on the floor, nearly cutting herself in the process.

“Tinka! Are you trying to kill me?” Lola blurted. “Give me a little warning next time you're in here. You know I don't like any distractions when I'm cooking.”

“Take it up with Phinn. He's the one who told me to give them a tour. Lola's the chef here. Lola, these are Phinn's latest souvenirs from New York.”

Wylie gave Lola a smile, but received a tentative one in return.

“I heard there were strangers among us. News spreads fast here. Welcome to my castle. I'd shake your hands, but I'm covered in fish guts.”

Lola had golden skin with small freckles covering her cheekbones. Her hair, a deep umber color, was long and tied into a side braid. The Daltons introduced themselves one by one.

“Tinka may have told you already, but we grow all our own vegetables and catch fish and raise chickens. Please tell me none of you has any dietary restrictions for dinner tonight. It's fine if you do, it's just that I've already planned the menu and might have to throw myself in the woodburning oven. I'm only half kidding.”

“We eat everything,” Wylie assured her, tracing her fingers along the wooden countertops. “This is my dream kitchen, by the way.”

“Do you cook?” Lola asked.

Wylie nodded. “I dabble.”

“Well, if you think the kitchen is tropic, you should see our garden.”

Lola led them through the back doors, and they stepped out into a vast fruit and vegetable garden. There was almost a wider selection here than in the Daltons' neighborhood grocery store. Wylie spotted basil, thyme, and oregano plants, along with colorful herbs labeled with names she'd never heard of: chipney, pame, and woodmeg. There were cucumbers, glossy red tomatoes, and bushes with every type of berry. The sound of chickens squawking in a nearby coop disrupted the otherwise peaceful setting.

Wylie was officially in heaven. She'd begged her parents to clear out the furniture on their roof-deck to grow a vegetable garden, but they didn't think it was worth it if all the plants would just die in the winter anyway.

“These are my babies,” Lola said. “Every plant, every vegetable, every root. I love them all.”

“It's . . . incredible,” Wylie replied. “I don't know anything about growing a garden.”

“You don't grow your own food?” Lola asked, confused.

“No, Lola,” Tinka jumped in. “They have grocery stores where they're from, remember?”

“Right. Such a strange concept. Anyway, I hate to kick you guys out, but I've still got fish to prep.”

As they made their way out of the garden and back
through the kitchen, Wylie waved good-bye to Lola and wondered if they were around the same age. Lola had the face of a teenager, but how many seventeen-year-olds would have the stamina or the drive to maintain a garden and serve three meals a day to fifty people? It struck her then that they hadn't come across any discernible adults since they'd arrived on the island. Maybe they took residence on the part of the island that was off limits, or maybe they didn't live here at all.

“Everyone here seems really young,” Wylie said, watching Tinka for a reaction. “Where are all the adults?”

Tinka stopped in her tracks. Wylie thought maybe she'd asked the million-dollar question and they'd all be showered with confetti, but then Tinka's smile gave way to a giggle that quickly evolved into one of those uncontrollable cackles. She kept apologizing between breaths, but she could not stop her body from shaking with laughter. Once her episode finally subsided, she mumbled to herself, “Where are all the adults?” then started to giggle all over again.

“It's not a weird question,” Wylie said. “I don't get why you think it's so funny.”

“Sorry,” Tinka apologized, still howling. And then she declared, “I'm going to pee in my dress!”

With that, Tinka ran off to the nearest bathroom.

“What was that about?” Wylie asked her brothers.

“No clue,” Joshua said. “These people are weird.”

“It was just a giggle fit—what's the big deal? I thought it was kind of cute,” Micah said.

Wylie shook her head in disbelief. “How can you be into
that girl after how rude she's been to me? You're supposed to be on my side.”

“I'm with Wylie on that one, buddy,” Joshua added.

“I'm not into her,” Micah fumed. “And Wylie, I'm always on your side. I cover for you all the time, and you know it.”

“Really?” Wylie responded. “Name one time.”

“You know what? You're being a real bitch right now.”

As soon as the words came out of Micah's mouth, Tinka fluttered back from the bathroom.

“What's going on, kids? Family squabble?”

Tinka moved them quickly through the rest of the tour. The next stop was the clinic. Wylie was surprised to find it stocked with medical equipment and hospital beds. Two doctors, who had to be teenage prodigies based on their youthful appearance, were tending to a patient they said was recovering from a bout of appendicitis. The place looked a little like those old-school war hospitals Wylie had seen in movies. There were a handful of beds laid out in one room, all of them unoccupied except for the one where the appendicitis kid rested.

The last stop they made was at what looked like a storefront just a few feet away from the clinic. Tinka led them inside, where three very stylish girls happily chatted away as they sewed. The room was chock-full of fabrics and swatches and mannequins. There was a rack of summer dresses next to another rack of linen pants and button-downs.

“This is where we get most of our clothes, aside from the stuff we bring back from the mainland,” Tinka explained.