It's been about two hours now since I first discovered Oscar's illness, and still no sign of Pierre. My eyes are glued to the horizon, praying that a boat of any sort will pass by. My entire body is frozen with anxiety, as my mind overthinks all the possible dangers that could happen. I just can't picture losing my baby brother. What will my parents say if I call them from halfway across the world, to tell them their son is dead? Will I be able to live the rest of my life knowing I was the one who couldn't save him?

          I toss and turn in the sand, trying to get comfortable, but nothing seems to help. For the most part, Shawn is the one tending to Oscar's needs at this stage. I don't want to go back into the tent and see him in that condition—it's too overwhelming. Just the look of despair in his eyes, the sweat pouring down him like a sauna, and the way he shook and moaned in pain. I've never seen someone in that kind of distress before.

          Nonetheless, I can't help but feel slight resentment towards Pierre. I know it's wrong to blame him, but he said he'd be here first thing in the morning. Is there a possibility that he got lost out at sea? Considering there are thousands of islands in this bloody ocean, that is always possible. Also, the chances of him forgetting about us are low, and I don't believe it's even in our realm to assume that he intentionally left us here. He's such a kind, happy person. There's no way he's capable of doing something so evil...right?

          Shawn slowly crawls out of the tent, a concerned look upon his face.

          "How's he doing?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

          "Not good," Shawn replies, shaking his head in fear.

          I drop my face down into my hands, trying to calm myself. 

          "What do you think possibly caused all this?" I ask.

          "I have no idea. I wish I knew as well." 

          Gradually, I raise my face away from my hands. I look over and see Christina is still sitting by herself down at the shoreline, her back turned to us. She hasn't said a single word since this morning when she found out about Oscar.

          "Why won't Christina come over here and talk to us?" I slowly stand up beside Shawn. "We need to work together if we're gonna figure this out."

          "I think she might be feeling guilty for not knowing about Oscar."

          "What do you mean?"

          "Well," Shawn starts, taking a deep breath. "She was in the same tent as him, but never chose to check on him. Remember what she said? 'I thought he was just sleeping.' "

          "But it's not her fault though," I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "Isn't she able to detach herself and realize no one is to blame, and that this was all just a freak accident?"

          Shawn stares into my eyes. "I don't know, Jane. I guess she's just having a hard time accepting what's happening—we all are." He wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.

          "We can't let him die, Shawn." I hide my face in his chest, holding back tears at this point.

          "Don't worry, babe. We're gonna get him the help he needs." He gives me a reassuring kiss on the forehead. "Sooner or later, a boat's gonna pass by. Pierre probably just got a little mixed up, that's all."

          "I hope so, Shawn. I really hope so." I hold him like a little girl with her favourite teddy bear. This is straight-up mortifying.

          We stand together, embracing one another for a couple of moments, the soft wind from the ocean blowing through our hair.

          "I have some other bad news I have to tell you." Shawn pulls away from me, exposing a plastic water bottle that is nearly empty. "We're running low on water. The only way we're going to keep Oscar alive is if he stays hydrated."

          "What are we going to do?" I ask.

          "Well, obviously, we can't use the water from the ocean, so I was thinking you and Christina could make your way back to the watering hole and fill up a couple of bottles?"

          I nod my head. "Okay. Are you gonna come with us?"

          Shawn turns his gaze towards a mountainside down along the east point of the beach.   

          "No. While you and Christina are getting the water, I figured I could make the most of my time and climb that ridge over there." He points to the mountainside. "That way I'll be able to get a better view of our surroundings, and if we're lucky, I might be able to flag down a boat."

          I look over at the ridge he's referring to. It has a flat rock face that's easily fifty feet tall, but there's also a steep hill behind to climb, though with effort.

          "Doesn't that seem a little dangerous to you?" I hate to be the precautious one, but I can't even begin to fathom if Shawn gets injured, on top of Oscar being so incredibly sick.

          "Don't worry. It's okay," he insists, giving me another quick kiss. "I'll be back in no time. Oscar will be fine if we leave him alone for just a few minutes—he's not going anywhere. And while you're at it, maybe you can try and talk some sense into Christina. Remind her that none of this is her fault."

          "I'll try my best," I reply, taking the water bottle, along with the other few scattered across the beach. "Please be careful, okay? I won't be able to handle it if you get hurt. My head's already a mess from what's going on."

          Shawn begins to slowly backtrack his way towards the ridge. "I will. I'll see you back here in, like, ten minutes. Make sure you get as much water as possible—Oscar is gonna need it."

          I watch as he wanders down the beach, the cool breeze still blowing through his chocolate-brown hair.

          I call out, "Shawn—"

          "Yeah?" He turns around, staring at me with those baby-blue eyes.

          "I love you."

          "I love you, too, Jane." He smiles—a nervous smile.

          After he leaves, I place my hands on my hips, glancing out to the horizon once more, then over to Christina sitting all by herself.

          It's time to hear her version of the story.

          .   .   .   .   .

          The familiar sound of branches and leaves crack under my feet. For the most part, the path is still here that Shawn cleared with his stick yesterday when we made our first trip to the watering hole. Again, the hot sun is peering down through the trees, and the birds are letting their presence be known with their loud chirps.

          I managed to convince Christina to come along with me to get water. Not only did Shawn suggest doing so, but I also figured that a quick walk might help relax her mind off the constant worries we're all dealing with due to Oscar. She still hasn't said a word. It's so weird. I understand that she's anxious, but it just feels like something more is up.

          I observe her from behind as she casually guides the way back through the jungle. Usually, we are filled with laughter and joy when we're together. But an awkward silence creeps upon us, as if two complete strangers meeting for the first time. I feel like a part of her is missing. 

          She just seems...emotionless. Nothing good, nothing bad—just numb to the world and her surroundings. Perhaps the realization that Oscar could die has really hit her. Maybe it sparked a flare inside her, revealing that not only is Oscar a close friend, but maybe even something more to her on an emotional level, which she has suppressed for so long.

          Anxiously, I still can't seem to slow my heartbeat back down to a normal rate. I've been thinking, even if Shawn does flag down a boat from the ridge—or, better yet, Pierre, himself—how long do we have until Oscar's body gives up? The ride home to the mainland will take at least two hours, not to mention the sun blasting down on him the whole time. God, I just can't take this. I'm so scared.

          It's not long before I can hear the waterfall in the distance once again. This time it seems rougher, not as gentle and soft. Or maybe that's just my anxiety playing tricks on me, because as we approach the watering hole, I can't deny that it's still a gorgeous sight. I can envision us all here yesterday, swimming together and jumping from the rope swing, having the time of our lives. There was so much happiness between all of us.

          Though it's not long before my peaceful daydream ends, and I'm shot back into the horrifying reality of being stranded on this beautiful yet disconcerting island, with my baby brother literally dying. I crouch down on one knee at the edge of the watering hole, pulling out the few leftover plastic bottles. One by one, I slowly fill them up, killing time as Christina stands with her back facing me, just like she was on the beach. I figure right now might be a good time to break the ice.

          "Christina—"

          She doesn't reply, kind of like I was weirdly expecting.

          "Christina...hello? Can I talk to you?"

          Still nothing.

          "Well...I just wanted to let you know, that Shawn and I aren't angry with you," I explain, filling up the last water bottle. "In no shape or form was this your fault—or anyone's fault for that matter." Though why do I get such a strong gut feeling when I say it's no one's fault? Is there something more to this that's being covered up?

          Regardless, Christina doesn't respond, keeping her back turned. Now come to think of it, I haven't actually seen her face since this morning when we found out about Oscar. Even when I invited her to come with me to the watering hole back on the beach, she never actually exposed her face—only nodded her head slowly enough for me to see.

          "Christina, I know this is hard for you. We're all very worried about Oscar, but I think it will be easier for us if we talk about it." I try getting closer to her. But just as I attempt to make eye contact, she shifts her body again, facing the back of me.

          I'm starting to find this behaviour rather peculiar. This isn't making sense. I've known Christina my entire life—since we were in the seventh grade. She has never, EVER been one to suppress her emotions and hide the way she's feeling. From the very first day we met, we've always been honest with one another. We never hold anything back, and have always felt comfortable letting each other know how we are doing. So why is she acting like this? Does she know something about Oscar that's being hidden from the group?

          Just like that, Christina begins to casually lead the way back to the beach, as if nothing happened. She seems so unphased of my presence, yet so wound up about it at the same time. If she is hiding something from us, which I pray she's not, Christina needs to let us know immediately. There is absolutely no room for fun and games here. Oscar's life is on the line, and I'm not prepared to lose him.

          By the time we get back to the beach, there's no sign of Shawn anywhere. I wonder what could be taking him so long. He said he'd only be ten minutes. 

          As hard as it's going to be, I guess that means it's my turn to check up on Oscar. I'm really not looking forward to this, but I refuse to let my emotions get the better of me. I need to be there for him, just like he's been there for me when I'm in tough spots back home. No excuses.

          After I drop the water bottles back down to the sand, I unzip the tent and peek my head inside.

          But horrified at the sight, I feel my shoulders tense up and my back stiffen. My arms turn into rigid, stiff-like boards, and my mind begins to race with thoughts again—more intense than ever. I should've known with the way things have been going the last while.

          Oscar is gone.