use as weapons. Then I had a chance to sit by myself and start writing. I’ve been at it for a long time. Almost done, though. If I don’t hurry, I’ll have to finish tonight’s entry in Braille.
While I’ve been working on the journal here, Thelma has been pouting. Connie has been sitting by herself, over near the dinghy, gazing off into space. Andrew, Billie and Kimberly have been putting together a nice little arsenal: aside from a pile of throwing rocks, we’ve now got spears, clubs, and makeshift tomahawks. We’ll be in great shape if we end up in a pitched battle with Fred, Wilma and Barney.
I shouldn’t joke about it. I like the idea of having weapons.
What’d I’d really like, though, is maybe an M-16.
Oh, well. Castaways can’t be choosers.
DAY THREE
What Happened with the Dinghy
Here’s what happened.
Some-time during the night—we don’t know whose watch it was—he got the dinghy.
No big trick. Though we’d kept it beached above the high-tide line, it wasn’t close enough to keep an eye on. For one thing, the beach had a slight downward slope from where we camped. For another, the area where we left it was beyond the reach of the firelight.
Nobody was really paying attention to it, anyway. We were worried about each other, not the boat.
What he must’ve done was sneak in from a side, staying close to the shore, and drag the dinghy into the water. Then he probably swam away, towing it by the bow line.
Connie and I started our watch at four in the morning. We sat so we faced each other across the fire. That way, between the two of us, we had a 360-degree view and nobody could approach without one or the other of us spotting him.
It was Connie who suggested our positions. Not only were we beyond touching distance, but we couldn’t carry on a conversation without raising our voices. So we stayed silent, for the most part. Fine with me.
Even though we just sat there, looking around and not talking, neither of us noticed anything wrong. Maybe the dinghy was already gone by then.
An hour or so into our watch, I got up from the fire and went over to the rocks and took a leak. I must’ve walked within twenty feet of where the dinghy was supposed to be. I don’t recall seeing it, but I don’t recall not seeing it. More than likely, it had already been taken. But I can’t swear to that.
A little later, Connie headed toward the same area—for the same reason I’d gone there. I started to get up and go with her, but she said, “I don’t need an audience, thanks all the same. Anyway, I can take care of myself.” She was holding one of the spears, and gave it a shake. “You just stay here and mind your own business.”
So I stood with my back to the fire and watched her. After she left the firelight behind, she was just a dim shape. All I could see was her T-shirt, because it was white. It seemed to float above the beach as she walked. Then it started to rise, which meant she was climbing the rocks. When she got up into them, the T-shirt sank out of sight.
At the time, I thought how it would’ve served her right if she’d gotten nailed right then and there.
She didn’t, though.
Pretty soon, she came back.
“Real nice,” I congratulated her.
“Sorry. I’m sure you would’ve loved to watch.”
“Guess who would’ve gotten the blame if our resident Thuggee had taken the opportunity to kill your ass while you were over there? Me, that’s who. Your dad thinks I’m worthless, as it is. There’d be no living with him if I let you get killed.”
“Ha ha ha. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, otherwise.”
“You think I want you to get killed?”
She let out a huff. “You wouldn’t exactly consider it a great loss. All you care about is my mom—and Kimberly. I don’t exactly stack up, do I?”
“Well, no.”
“See?”
“That doesn’t mean I’d like you to get killed. What I’d really like is if, by some miracle, you stopped being such a bitch all the time.”
She gave me a sneer and said, “Oh, isn’t that cute.” Then she strutted over to her side of the fire. She sat down, crossed her legs, and lay the spear across her thighs. “Don’t even look at me,” she said.
So I didn’t look at her.
Not for about half an hour, anyway.
But she drew attention to herself by raising the spear overhead. Just as I turned my eyes to her, she threw it.
At me.
It flew over the top of the fire, its whittled point coming straight for my face. I whipped an arm up just in time, and knocked the spear aside.
“Real nice!” I told her. “Shit! You could’ve hurt me with that thing!”
“That was the general idea.”
“Try it again some time, and maybe I’ll forget to be a gentleman and shove it…”
“Fuck you.”
“Just shut up before we wake everybody up,” I said. Then I muttered, mostly to myself, something about her being a “crazy fucking bitch.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Shut up, okay? We’re supposed to be keeping watch.”
Oddly enough, our quarrel didn’t wake anybody up. At any rate, nobody yelled at us to knock it off.
Connie and I didn’t say anything to each other for the rest of the night. I tried not to look at her again, but couldn’t help it. I had to make sure she wasn’t about to hurl a weapon at me. Whenever our eyes met, she never failed to give me a dirty look.
Dawn finally came.
Andrew woke up and came over to the fire. He was shirtless, barefoot, and wearing his khaki shorts. He said, “Lovely morning, eh, kids?” Then he did a couple of quick knee-bends, arms forward for balance. Then he rubbed his hands together. “How was the watch? No trouble, I take it?”
“What’re you so peppy for?” Connie said.
“Ah, the child’s in a snit, and it’s barely sun-up. Lover’s quarrel?” he asked.
“Give me a break.”
“Tell you what, a good brisk swim oughta set things right. I’ll race the both of you.” Grinning and rubbing his hands together, he looked toward the inlet. “We’ll make it a race to the…” His face changed. Something was wrong. As I stood up to see what it was, he said, “What’s that doing out there?”
A boat was floating on the water, maybe four hundred yards out. For a second, I thought that rescuers might be on the way. But then I checked the beach and saw that our dinghy wasn’t where it ought to be.
Connie stood up, too. She studied the situation, then made a face.
Andrew turned on me. “What do you know about this?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Connie?”
“Don’t ask me.”
“You two were supposed to be keeping watch.”
