But I’d make it for them. That kind of sandwich would take longer than ten minutes to cook, giving me plenty of time in the kitchen.
His face lit up. “Really?”
I held up fists, widening my stance as my answer.
He smiled and took up position opposite of me, bidding me to attack. “Let’s do this.”
• • •
Two hours later, and I was sweaty and hot but not tired, strangely. I felt energized, and I wiped off my face to cover up my smile.
Incredible. Stranded for two days with five men—four of them strangers—and you’d think I would feel some danger.
It wasn’t that I didn’t. I just wasn’t unaccustomed to it. It was familiar.
I walked toward the door, glancing behind me at Micah and Rory wrestling on the mat. Micah pinned him down, laughing, but one look from Rory, and Micah let his guard down. The skinnier guy grabbed him, flipped him over, and tried to choke him, but they were both laughing as they tried to get a hold of each other.
I shook my head, continuing out the door. “Have fun, survive…”
And then I stopped, remembering.
The Lord of the Flies. A disturbing classic novel and one of the only ones I actually enjoyed in high school because it was so dark and…possible.
The boys who crash-landed on a deserted island without any adults had three rules. Have fun, survive, and…keep a signal fire going.
It only took a moment to decide. Shooting off, I glanced around me to make sure I was alone, and headed outside into the driveaway.
The empty fountain sat in the middle of the circular drive, and I looked overhead, seeing a clear sky for once.
I wasn’t sure this would last, especially if rain soaked the wood, but I had to try.
Gathering sticks, branches, and even twigs, I hauled armful after armful to the empty fountain and threw them in, creating a massive pile. I returned to the edges of the driveaway, gathering more, and built the pile higher, so it blazed bright and big, the light hopefully visible in the dark and the smoke visible in the day.
I ran farther to the tree line, picking up more kindling, and ran back, throwing it in.
But an arm shot out and grabbed my wrist.
I jerked my head, seeing Will in his jeans and T-shirt, green eyes void of the boy I remembered.
I yanked my wrist away and pushed him back. He grabbed my arm, and we both fought, me trying to escape and him trying to stop me.
“Someone is bound to notice it,” I growled.
“No one will notice it,” he told me, “and you’re mistaken if you think he’s going to let you light that in the first place.”
Struggling, I pushed him away from me, and he let me go.
Yeah, I know. It was a long shot, and maybe without Mommy and Daddy’s money, there was no point in them even trying to escape, because if they left here, they could only go home to the very people who sent them here in the first place. They weren’t going to give up their names, hide in Brooklyn, and be pizza delivery boys.
But I didn’t belong here. I had a job, and I didn’t need anything from anyone.
“What did you do to get sent here?” I asked him. “I mean, your parents actually sent you here? Aren’t you their favorite or something?”
He just held my eyes, refusing to answer.
It had been a while—maybe a year or more. Micah said Rory was the last new arrival seven months ago, and even he had already been home once, only to be sent back.
What was Will doing with himself? He was going to have the life.