7

Felix has not been seen for two days. It's a scary thought to imagine the oldest and toughest boy here dying. My mortality seems all the more real, even on an island where I will never age.

Fine china is often said to be very delicate. One little slip and it falls and smashes off the ground. I feel as if at any second my life could give way and I will shatter into a million pieces.

Humans are very fragile.

The positive side to Felix's disappearance, is that the conspirators have disappeared as well. Vanished into thin air, out of sight and out of mind. Somehow, the thought is more comforting than I think it should be.

I almost consider tracking them down, until I remember that in 7 days, none of this will be my problem. In 7 days, all of this is as good as imaginary. I'll leave in peace. Even if Felix isn't back safe, what does it matter? The boy had always freaked me out anyway.

Hoping and believing are two very different actions, despite them being similar enough I frequently confuse the two. Do I actually believe what I tell myself? Or do I simply hope that it is true?

I sit up, straightening my back.

"Charlie." His voice croaks out like a frog. The illness that has invaded his body has stolen away his voice as well as his health.

"Shouldn't you still be lying down?" I demand, standing up.

Max shakes his head. "Robert cleared me for the funeral. My head is pounding like nobody's business, but I can move without throwing up on everything in sight, so I should be good."

"Was Steven cleared as well?"

I never had a conversation with the boy, but I assume he would like to attend the funeral. Especially considering he seemed to know Victor well enough.

"Did you go to the barge last night?" He asks.

I never go to the barge. There's something about setting a body on fire and sending it out into the water that just makes me feel eerie. It feels too complete. Fire and water. His body's physical departure to accompany the departure of his mind.

Death shouldn't be quite that poetic. It feels wrong.

"No," I tell him. "I didn't."

He nods. "I only went to Lyle's."

I didn't.

We stand in silence before he gestures behind him.

"Come on, do you want to go get some breakfast?"

I nod, following him out.

I almost debate changing into different clothes today. I'm not quite sure why the need reaches me, but it probably has to do with the blood stain I found on the outside of my cloak. Water won't even wash it off; I tried when I showered yesterday.

I head up to the breakfast table, sitting down. Expecting Max to sit next to me, I'm surprised when he joins Thomas at the far end of the table. I'm happy that they still are friends, despite Lyle's death. Death can tear people apart.

I scoop up some sort of meat, and a few berries on to my plate. We even have bread this morning, which I take as well.

Robert comes next to me, pale in the face. The bench creaks as he sits down, pressing his weight deep into the table.

"I take it Steven hasn't gotten any better." I almost chuckle, taking a bite of my bread.

He shakes his head. "He's only getting worse. Yesterday he was fine to walk and talk, but now..."

Max laughs, dropping an apple core on to his plate.

"He's going to get sicker?" I don't have to explain who I'm talking about.

"If we are lucky." He says. "I doubt it's food-poisoning, but it doesn't seem to be viral. I'm not sick anyway. Just haven't slept well."

I had eaten everything except the berries, but eating anymore isn't something that feels quite appealing.

Robert doesn't take food either, he just sits solemnly next to me.

"I'm sorry you couldn't save Blake." I tell him.

He nods, but doesn't answer.

It must be an odd feeling, having someone's life in your hands. Robert is in no way responsible for the death of Blake. He was stabbed by the conspirators, not Robert anyway. No one is at fault for the actions of others. Just like I couldn't save Lyle. Some things just can't be done. It's easy to put someone on the brink of death, but extremely hard to pull them back.

How unfortunate for Robert that he drew the short straw.

When someone's life slips through your fingertips, it's an awful feeling. Sometimes it makes you feel like a murderer.

More than if you already are one.

I turn to say something to Robert, but he's gone. I look up, and most of everyone I gone. Keaton and Gregory are the only two left at the table. I turn away from them and leave, without a single word.

The funeral is much like the other funerals. Two holes in the ground. I throw dirt into each one. I'm a voyager just passing through these boys life. I only ever saw Victor twice, and one of those times he was dead. Blake was just another face in the crowd, one that never had a name to match it until after his death.

There are 19 graves in the graveyard. 9 are from the short time that I've been here. I'm beginning to feel like I'm cursed.

We are down to 25 or something like that. That is, if you include Dominique and the conspirators. If you don't we are down to 20. And with the state Steven is in, our numbers will decrease in the near future.

Not Max though. He can't.

I walk away before many of the boys have a chance to throw their dirt in. That's how it goes around here. Symbolically bury the body of a boy you never even spoke to, and then you pray next week it won't be the body of someone you know.

I got lucky. I barely even knew Lyle.

Don't think about Jared.

Don't.

I'm not headed back to camp. I'm not quite sure where I'm headed at all. Aimlessly roaming seems to be the best thing to do after a funeral.

I doubt it's been a week since the last.

"You like to walk into dangerous areas?" Pan asks.

I turn and look at him. "Pan, what a pleasant surprise."

"I love it when you are sour with me." He says, throwing something in his hand.

A white ball. I can't get a good look of it.

"Because you're only sour with me when something is bothering you." He tells me.

"Why are so many people dying?" I didn't expected there to be sadness in my tone, but the emotion is there.

"They aren't fit to be here." He tells me. "Believe me, I want nothing more to have everyone live. It's a pain to have so many people die."

"Why did you bring on such a large number, if you aren't prepared to handle it?" I demand. "I've seen the graves. Nine boys in my time have died. Nineteen overall. Nearly as many boys have died in the month I've been here then have died ever."

"Desperate times," he begins.

I scoff. "What's desperate about them?"

"Look, my day is already bad enough, and it isn't even lunch time." He's more annoyed then angry. "Listen, if you want to argue it out, as you always do, we can do that for the next couple hours. But, if you feel like having a little fun instead..."

What do I want? And what does it matter anyway. Seven days and I'm gone. If I'm here or there, boys are still going to die and there's nothing I can do to stop it. By the contrary, things might be a little safer with me gone.

"What do you have in mind then?"

He gives me a cheeky grin. "To be quite honest, I hadn't really thought about it. It's not like you to give in so easily. Tell you what, let's go down to the lagoon."

"The lagoon?" My voice laced with poisonous laughter. "So I can drown?"

"I was thinking something else." He admits.

He walks closer to me, and puts a hand on my shoulder.

If it wasn't so practical, I would've asked him if we could walk to the lagoon. Bones aren't supposed to pop. After the pain subsides I open my eyes and spot the rocks.

"This is the lagoon." He tells me.

"You act as if I've never been here before," I laugh. "Remember when I was almost drowned?"

"Yes, but the lagoon is awfully different when the mermaids aren't around." He tells me.

He walks straight into the water, gesturing me to follow him.

I shake my head. No way am I going in there, not after my fun near death experience. Who's to say there aren't any mermaids in there? Him? Last I checked he couldn't even keep track of the boys we have on the island. He managed to let one get kidnapped after all.

"Suit yourself." He says. His feet drop from beneath him, his breath sharp and shocked, and he's under the water.

I look up and chuckle. "Nice try, but I'm not tricked so easily."

He doesn't resurface, so I laugh and move up closer leaning my weight against the rocks. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am, you know."

I pull myself up on the rock, dangling over the water, closer to him. I reach down, grabbing a pebble out of the shallow water and throw it at him, laughing.

After thirty seconds or so, he still hasn't resurfaced. "Pan?"

I wait it out, unwilling to be tricked.

That is, until the water starts to glow bright red. The colour of fire, but blood seems more likely, especially since he's underwater.

"Peter!" I scream, scrambling into the water and swimming forward.

Great, now the mermaids will kill us both.

I reach where I last saw him and dive under, the murky water filling my eyes. I can't see him. Someone grabs a hold of me from behind.

I reach the surface and turn around, treading water as I smack him. He laughs.

"Stupid boy, did you actually buy that?" He laughs.

"It's not funny." I say. "I thought you were bleeding out."

"That's not how blood works." He chuckles.

He nods at me and dives underwater. I begrudgingly follow him under.

The water is clear now, much clearer than before. It doesn't even sting my eyes. Magic.

He swims down, finally stopping at the bottom. I reach beside him, struggling to hold my breath. He grabs a handful of the sand, stirring it up into the air, before pushing back up off the ground. I swim up after him, catching a glimpse of a colourful school of fish as I do. Shades of flashing blue and orange, the light catching on their scales.

I've never been in love with animals, land or sea, but in this moment I wish I didn't need oxygen, and could just watch them from under the water.

I surface to see him already sitting on the sand, completely dry.

"You still down there?" He asks.

I imagine if he had a middle name, it would be condescending. Peter Condescending Pan.

I swim up to him climbing out of the water.

"You know, you never seem to lose that hat." He remarks.

"I guess I'm lucky then," I reach up to make sure it's still on my head.

It's mostly a formality at this point. My hair is short, but the cut I gave myself sure as hell looks awful.

I sit down next to him crossing my legs. He grabs my hand, violently, and before I can rip it out of his grip, he dumps something into my hand.

It's wet and slimy, and I have half the urge to dump it out of my hand, but I peer down.

Sparkling, shinning, shades of red, green, blue; they all stare up at me. In my hand are a variety of jewels, or gems, or stones. I don't know the word for it, but they glitter in the sunlight. Maybe the word I'm looking for is mesmerizing, since my eyes feel glued to them. Wondrous little rocks that he grabbed off the ocean floor.

"They're magic." He tells me. "Powerful stuff they are."

"What do they do?" I wonder, daring to peel my eyes off the rocks to look at him.

He shrugs. "Magic does all sorts of things."

He doesn't explain further, and as curious as I am, I don't feel like starting a fight with him. Not today anyway.

"You're ridiculous." I mutter, peeking at him out of the corner of my eye.

It's odd that I'm managing to look at him, when I have such amazing things in my hands. He has a way of grabbing hold of my attention. The only explanation is magic, right?

He smirks down at me, not letting his eyes leave mine either. How he can keep his eyes off the rocks baffles me. I don't think I've ever seen anything prettier than them.

This feels like it's eternal, him looking at me, and I at him.

He grabs my wrist, and before I know it we disappear again. I land on the ground, managing to catch myself before I hit the ground. The stones are no longer in my hand; they got left on the beach. I turn to look at Pan, but he's gone.

I step back, peeking around for him.

I feel someone's arms on my shoulders, and they flip me around.

Harry. "Charlie," he pants. "We've been looking all over for you."

"I was with Pan." I tell him, shrugging out of his grip. He needs to chill. "We can't have been gone for long at all. The funeral was what, ten minutes ago?"

"Maybe half an hour?" He looks up at the sun. "We had assumed you'd been abducted."

Right, we have killers on the loose.

"Well, I haven't." I tell him.

I feel someone arm grab me and I turn, ripping it out of Alex's hand.

"Where have you been?" He demands.

"I don't think that's any of your business." I scowl.

"It's my business when I have to give up my valuable time to look for you." He says. "Harry was worried. If you hadn't noticed, we've been awfully busy."

"Busy with what?" I demand. "Lounging around all day?"

"Let's calm down," Harry jumps in.

"Harry," Alex gives him a look.

He purses his chapped lips together before turning away, dashing off.

"What's your deal?" I attempt to push past him.

He shoves me back. "I've got a lot on my plate. I'm supposed to be training boys, organizing food gathering parties, ensuring everyone isn't killed, and mending the injured."

"So what, you're Felix now?" I demand.

"For the time being, yes." His face is stone. "I am."

I was thinking of a dumb response instead of listening to his words. They register. Training, killing, injured. What's going on?

"Are we at war?" I ask.

"Quite nearly." He answers honestly. "And all our best are preoccupied without having to go searching for you."

"What do you want me to do?" I ask. "I have the, what was it, diction of a toad? You want me to take charge of the ranks? Help Robert with the sick?"

"Alex," James runs up to him.

I wouldn't have described James as pale before. He's Asian, from the southeast I assume. In this moment however, he looks translucent.

Alex takes off after James, and the two run into the medic tent. I follow in after them.

~~~~~~~

I'm happy with this. There was a little taste of a romantic thing, and I can appreciate it. If you can, let me know what you did, and if you hated the moment, give me feedback. I'd love to hear from you.

As always, hydrate yourself, and I'll see you Friday.