𝐙𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭

Thick, grey smoke cloaks the air with its suffocating fabric, wavering in dull swirls as it intertwines with the salty wind. We gather around the fire to hear Jack tell one of his horror stories in graphic detail.

I allow the radiating heat to engulf me. It's always painfully hot in the day time and the intense humidity only adds a sticky feel on top of the heat. "It's a scorcher today," Jack would consistently point out. It's annoying, but I tend to tune out any witty commentary that comes from his mouth. Night time is a different case. It gets chilly. Not super cold, but chilly enough to where it's comfortable. Savoring the much appreciated feeling from the fire, my hands remain outstretched in front of me, soaking up the warmth. A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips while listening to how ridiculous Jack's story was.

"There was an old house rumored to be haunted. None of the townsfolk would go near it in fear of what would happen, so, the mayor of the town offered a cash prize to whatever brave soul would stay in the house for a night. A young boy took him up on his offer, under the condition that his pet dog could stay with him-"

"- Does the dog die?" Tony loudly interrupts the story, and I can practically hear a record scratch in my head.

"Yeah," says one of the twins. "I am not staying if the dog dies." 

"- Shut up maybe." Jack sharply silences the two, and he picks up where he left off. 

"So the next night, the boy goes and brings his dog with him. The house was very old and decrepit- there were cobwebs and layers of dust on every surface. It was dark and lonely. The boy made a fire in the fireplace from old wooden boxes to get warm, and it kinda even cheered him up for a bit. He sat at the fire and waited, determined to stay the whole night, and maybe even get some sleep."

I watch Jack act out the scene in detail, while talking in a raspy voice to add a more 'demonic' tone to his words.

"A couple hours in, the boy hears something - off in the woods - it was a voice singing; Me Tie Dough-ty Walker!"

A few of the little ones grab onto each other, disturbed by Jack's rather creepy rendition of the song. 

"Then- something happened!" Jack exclaims. "The dog answered the song, singing sadly and softly; Lynchee Kinchy Colly Molly Dingo Dingo! The boy was shocked- he couldn't believe his ears. He watched his dog and waited for him to sing again- to make sure he heard correctly. He decided to brush it off as his dog yowling strangely. Maybe that's why it sounded like words. About an hour later, the voice from the woods returned, now sounding like it was in the backyard; Me Tie Dough-ty Walker!"

The orange light illuminates Jack's face in a golden glow, making the sharp features of his cheekbones and deep-set eyes look contoured and shadowed. 

"The boy felt himself grow frightened, and he instantly looked over to his dog. Sure enough, he replied; Lynchee Kinchy Colly Molly Dingo Dingo! There was no denying it now- his dog was communicating with the thing! The voice, slightly closer, sang; Me Tie Dough-ty Walker! And the boy tried to pry the dog's mouth closed, but it still sang out; Lynchee Kinchy Colly Molly Dingo Dingo!"

I feel myself laugh breathily at Jack's creative theatrics.

"It fell silent again after that for another half-hour. The boy was shaken up, but he was sure it was his mind playing tricks on him. After that half-hour was up, the voice was closer than ever before, sounding like it was right above their heads! Me Tie Dough-ty Walker! And the boy had no chance to stop him- the dog responded; Lynchee Kinchy Colly Molly Dingo Dingo!"

Jack stands up, acting the scene with his arms stretched out, speaking louder than before. 

"The fire went out in a flash, leaving the boy in darkness- minus the moonlight pouring through the window. The voice was coming down the chimney now; Me Tie Dough-ty Walker! And the dog sang back just as loudly; Lynchee Kinchy Colly Molly Dingo Dingo! Suddenly, a bloody, rotting head fell out of the fireplace and rolled next to the dog. The dog took one look and fell over - dead from fright." 

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Screamed the twins in unison.

"The head slowly turned and looked at the boy - he was frozen, unable to speak or move. The head sang one more time; Me Tie Dough-ty Walker! Slowly opening its mouth, it starts to scream- AHHHH!" Jack lunges at a group of little ones with his arms up in the smokey air.

"AHH!" A small boy shrieks. Simon whips his head to the commotion. Back to the little one who had shrieked incredibly, I see his face crumble like paper, and his cheeks and nose turn a hue of scarlet. The small boy covers his round face with his hands, and pulls his knees up to his chest.

Moments later his shoulders start to jerk, bobbing up and down. Placing a hand on his trembling back, I attempt to gently offer words of consolation.

"It's just a story... It's not real." 

Jack lets out a sarcastic scoff, shaking his head before sharing looks with Roger. I snap his name in a hiss to grab the blonde's attention.

Jack takes notice of my disgusted look. His smirk drops, and he looks away.

"Eric used to get scared shitless by scary stories!" Sam shouts out, unprovoked. Eric shoots a glare sharp enough that it looks like it's drilling into his brother's cranium. 

"That's not even true!" 

"Yeah, it is," Sam giggles. "I used to be able to scare you with Bloody Mary, and you would just cry." 

"I did not!" Eric shoves his shoulder with a rough hand. "You're just making things up to sound cool!" 

"Aww, Eric got scared!" Tony jeers with a faux-pout voice. Ralph and I dart our eyes between the two.

"I didn't!" He frantically denies, and I can't help but crack a small smile. "I would've remembered that!" 

His defense is, unfortunately for him, heedless, as the rest of the boys join in with their relentless snickering. My mouth quirks up sympathetically as the boy struggles to get a word in. 

"No, but- why don't I remember it then, huh??"

Sam lays a consoling hand on Eric's shoulder. 

"I'm older than you. I know these things."

"By seven minutes." 

"By seven minutes and forty-three seconds."

"By seven minutes." Eric repeats again wryly. 

"Whatever," Sam removes his hand from Eric's shoulder after giving it a harsh shove. "That's why you're my parasitic twin." 

He says it with a hint of smugness hidden by a fake wall of disappointment. Eric can evidently, of course, see right through this. 

"That's right, Sam!" Luke whoops and hollers from the circle of older boys, punching a fist in the air --- miraculously capable of suddenly removing all the previous humor. 

"Keep your parasite in its place!" 

I can tell he's only shouting provokingly for the sake of stirring things up between the two. Sam quickly changes his tune at Luke's entrance into the conversation. His face contorts like the older teen had offended Sam himself. 

"Shut the hell up, Luke." He quickly shuts him down, matching a scowl with Eric. "You look like a parasite that came out of a dog's shit." 

I have to stifle a laugh. 

"And you both look like genetic abominations," Luke retorts immaturely, yet the rest of the boys chorus in howls of laughter. I can only eye them all with judgement. 

"You look like you're pushin' thirty arguing against a twelve year old, ya' old ass." Sam's higher pitched words still gain a reaction from Jack and his friends. "Ain't that sad. Get a job. Go play bingo, or some shit, Luke." 

"Yeah, Luke!" Tony pipes up. 

"Yeah, Luke," Jack mocks in the same boyish tone, getting all the humor out of Luke's reprimanding glare. He looks back at the twins.

"Whatever. Suit yourself, dickhead," the now faintly embarrassed teen calls back with a nod in his direction before turning back to the older boys laughing at the interaction. They all meet him with slaps on the back and playful fists bumping his shoulder. Sam sighs mock-solemnly and turns to address Tony. 

"It's sad to see senior citizens decline." His twang of unconcealed sarcasm makes me breathe a silent laugh. Things quiet down, and the twins look at each other.

"I'm glad I didn't eat you in the womb. You're cool to have around." Sam admits contently.

"Please, don't say that again," Eric responds monotonously, then shrugs his shoulders. "But thanks. You, too." 

Despite how much they get at each other's throats, at least they have each other's backs in the end. Things fall much more silent, now only ridden with calm murmurs. 

"What time is it?" Eric questions his brother who has the watch, softer from how he previously spoke. 

"What difference does it make?" Sam asks, glancing down at his watch, but still not answering the question.

"Well," Eric begins. "If I knew what time it was, I'd know what's on T.V. So what time is it?" 

"I think my watch is broken from the crash."

From my very slight view of Sam wrist, it looks like the hands on the watch are pointing to around eleven-- perhaps a.m., if it did in fact break during the plane crash, which we boarded in the morning. Eric exhales loudly, dropping his chin into his palm. 

"Great!" He cries. "Not only do I not know the time, but I don't even know what day it is."

"It's Monday," Sam answers as if to calm his brother. I make a confused face, debating with myself about the accuracy of that statement. Eric seems entirely unconvinced. 

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." 

Eric knits his brows and turns his gaze to the fire. 

"Mondays..." He trails off thoughtfully. "Mondays are Alf!" The twin looks at his brother happily, but Sam shakes his head. 

"Alf comes on at eight o'clock," he counters. "I think it's later than eight." 

"Yeah," Eric frowns in downcast, thinking a moment longer. "But I bet we're in a different timezone. I bet it's really about eight o'clock, and Alf's causing some trouble right now."

Sam widens his eyes at his brother's words, slowly nodding in agreement. "Yeah..."

"It's nine-seventeen." Jack interjects loudly, holding up his wrist with an unbroken watch to plow through the twins' momentary enjoyment. I give him a look that says, seriously? Both of the twins' faces fall, heavily disappointed now. 

Was that really necessary? I mouth to Jack. With a fake look of shock, he mouths back a smug response, shrugging, then turns away from me, back to his friends. 

"I guess it's just Law and Order, then," Sam mumbles, holding his chin in his palm while tracing shapes in the sand. 

"It could still be another time zone," I offer half-heartedly, but the two boys don't speak after that. Pursing my lips to the side, I glance over to Jack and his friends for a moment, then let up. He'll be a dick no matter what. No matter what age the kids are.

I breathe out slowly to riddle in the solace. For once, they aren't all yelling and bickering over each other. My luck, this will only last five more seconds. Might as well take advantage of it while I can, right?

I stare into the flames and watch them shoot towards the sky, higher over each other. It reminds me of the way ocean waves crash and fold over each other, but the movements of the flames are more sharp and direct, while the waves let their movements carry wherever without any motive of where to fall.

"All he does is linger around in the background like a creep."

My ears catch a sentence. I turn to Luke talking it up at Roger, sneering about whatever.

"You'd think he was dropped at birth by the way he blankly stares."

I understand now. They're talking about Simon, glancing over to the boy who was sitting with Captain Benson. They're awfully loud- No way Simon can't hear them.

"Mother fucker's creepy as shit." Luke remarks with a low snicker. Simon turns his head slightly at the remark, confirming the thought that he could hear them, but he seems to brush it off.

"I don't know what his deal is." Jack mumbles, eyeing Simon with no shame. "His parents probably sent him to military school to get the loopy knocked outta him."

"Hell, his parents could be in an insane asylum for all we know, and that's why he was sent to the academy 'cause the court ain't know what to do with him." Patterson jumps in with his two cents.

"Maybe that's why he acts the way he does. Talk about coo-coo." The ginger boy made a twirling motion with his finger over his ear.

"Hey, kid!" Luke obnoxiously hollers over to where Simon is sitting with Benson. The quiet boy sits up straight and looks over his shoulder to them. I watch the boys distastefully.

"You ever heard of third-base?" The bunch all simultaneously bust out into howling laughter. Like straight up folding over and slapping each other on the backs. Nothing about it was even funny or amusing in the slightest. I curled an upper lip in repulsion at the blatant immaturity.

"Kid's never gonna feel the touch of a woman other than his mother, if he ever has," Jack nudged Roger in the arm to get another rise out of him and his other friends.

"Leave him alone, would you??" I raise my voice over their rambunctious chatter. They all turn their attention to me.

"I don't remember anyone addressing you into this conversation." Luke cocks his head. Jack stares at me with the classic, all-American smirk that made me want to slap him. It's so smug.

"He's just sitting there!" I gesture to Simon who is completely ignoring the situation, minding his business. "Just stop bothering him when he did nothing."

"That's exactly the point," Patterson jeers. "He does nothing all the time like a psychopath."

"Simon is nothing near a psychopath," I roll my eyes. "Take a look in the mirror, maybe?"

"Who the fuck does she think she's talking to?" Luke exclaims directly to Roger as if I'm not sitting here.

"Will you guys cool it?" Ralph demands from the opposite side of the fire.

"Yeah, let Veronica feel like a little hero all she wants till her face turns blue." Jack says mockingly to his friends. They all exchange words of agreement with nasty grins while Roger's eyes steadily drift over to me, watching carefully for my reaction when a voice appears at my side.

"Veronica." I look over to my left to see Ralph standing over me. Half of his face is illuminated with light from the campfire while the other half was shadowed over

"Hm?"

"I'm going for a walk," he hints quietly, glancing over to Jack. The glance says it all. I raise brow at the action. "Wanna tag along?" He looks back at me with a knowing expression.

"Sure," I say simply. He takes my hand to pull me up, and I thank him for the kind gesture. Jack's uniform coat slipped from my arms as I stood, and I don't look back at it as we walk.

The sand rendering closest to the water is wet. It squishes under our weight as we walk. Once we are at a safe enough distance, I ask the question that has been lingering in my mind.

"Ralph?"

"Yeah?"

"Why was I not warned that Jack acts like a high score bitch 24/7?" 

"You mean the plane ride wasn't enough of a hint?" He says jokingly with a half smile, still maintaining a level of professionalism. "Trust me, Sawyer. I wish I could tell you." 

The ocean's thinning tide rushes over our feet. 

"I'm just used to the guy," Ralph goes on matter of factly. "Growing up with him in my classes, our fathers being friends, n' knowing him for so long -- he's become predictable, but he's not so bad. He's still one of my brothers -- just as everyone else in this Corps is. You're just not used to them yet."

Hopefully I won't be here long enough that I'll have to get used to them like that. I nod slowly, and keep my focus on the ground. 

"You know," Ralph says. "Jack would've graduated at the same time as you last year, but he repeated the second grade, I believe it was."

I can't repress the amusement edging up my throat, and neither can Ralph.

"I wish I could say I'm surprised," I laugh until our voices die down again. 

"I started in the military school before Jack," Ralph explains. "All of the men in my family were or are Marines. My father's a Commander now, but before that, he was wounded in combat back in sixty-six. He was given a purple heart."

"During the Vietnam War?" I raise a brow. Ralph nods.

"He was twenty-three."

"Wow," I say, more than mildly surprised. "Big shoes to fill?" 

"You could say so," he replies. "But it's an honor to follow in my family's footsteps. I'm joining the military once I graduate." 

"Well then, in case I don't see you after rescue-" I give Ralph a mock salute. "Thank you for your service."

He huffs a laugh and bows his head to the ground, reserved and modest. We continue walking in silence for a few moments, hearing faint, excited shouts behind us in the distance.

"Knowing how they are outside of the academy," he speaks back up, referring now to the rest of our fellow castaways. "I half-expected that the prospect of being stranded on an island would get them to be a little more serious, but, y'know, they aren't at the academy," he quotes with a hint of amusement in this formal tone.

"Yeah, well," I shrug my shoulders. "Maybe we can just focus on getting rescued and not tell them when they find us." I look at Ralph and smile. "Serves them right." 

"Guess so," he replies with an exhausted laugh.

Gazing out to the ocean, I notice how different it appears at night. A shade of azure blue greyed over by a haze. The sea sighs and breathes as high tides recede. The moon paints a silver ribbon on the waves to match the glares of starlight glistening on the surface of the water. 

"Maybe you should talk about it in a meeting." 

Ralph nods at the dry suggestion, and I only wish I could provide better advice.

"I think I will."

We continue the slow, steady pace, enjoying the peace. I listen to the roar of crashing waves, and the faint hum of insects. The vast night sky is obsidian black with tones of amethyst. Sprinkles of twinkling silver fill the eternal darkness, radiating cheer. Those small, scattered orbs of light form constellations, each with their own story. The only other source of illumination comes from the haunting moon... A big pearl plucked from the sea and hung in the sky. Finally, Ralph breaks the silence.

"What was life like for you before we got here?" He asks to refill the new-settled silence.

"I guess it was, well..." I trail off before settling on an answer. "Odd."

"Everyone has a little bit of crazy in their life," he states plainly. The thing is, you have to know how to survive the crazy. Heather told me that she taught people real life. As she said, real life sucks losers dry. If you want to fuck with eagles, you have to learn to fly. I had asked her, so, you teach people to spread their wings and fly? She said, yes. And I said, you're beautiful.

"Everyone just spends so much time worrying about how to act in school, never for the right things, I mean," Ralph rants. I hum in agreement.

"None of it really matters in the long run. You graduate and go on to do what you're actually meant to do with the people who didn't know your name beforehand." He turns to me for validation on all he just spewed. I hug my blazer tighter around myself before answering.

"I mean- no, yeah. I get what you're saying." I nod quickly. "I never really worried about the right things in high school anyway." 

He makes a look to convey a question, so I go on. 

"As in I literally used my grand IQ to decide on what lip gloss to wear in the morning and how to hit three keggers before curfew." I look at Ralph and we both burst into laughter.

"But hey, look where you are now," Ralph says through his chuckles, nudging me with his elbow. Smiling, I roll my eyes before taking a mock scan at our surroundings, making it extremely obvious.

"Yeah, I think we're on an island." I answer smartly, glad to bring back the sarcasm. "And oh! Would you look at that? That's one big ocean, yeah?"

Ralph grins widely and shakes his head. "You knew what I meant."

"Do I know, though?" I quiz, squinting my eyes as a smirk begs to tug at my lips. Ralph looks down and mutters something.

"You know, I wish every moment could be like this. At ease." 

I tilt my head slightly.

"Wouldn't it be better if we were happy like this? Just all the time?"

I scrunch my nose, pretending to think hard. "Nah. If you were happy every single day of your life, you wouldn't be human. You'd be a game show host."

Ralph snaps his fingers. "Fair point."

"I just can't believe that this is my life," I sigh, gesturing around myself. "Just a year ago, I was worried about sending my SAT scores to either San Quentin or Stanford, and now we're here."

Ralph raises a brow. "Are you even applying for those places anymore?" I look at him critically.

"Well, no. Not anymore," I tell him. He nods in understanding.

"At least you have your ideas," he says. "The senior guys who aren't already planning to join the military after graduating don't have an idea yet." 

I smile softly. "Does anyone really ever have an idea about what they want?"

"I guess you're right," Ralph sighs. "There's so much pressure in ensuring you make the right choice and don't screw things up for yourself." 

"Trust me," I say. "I'm all too familiar." 

"I guess I find myself being envious of Jack in that way," Ralph admits. "I wish I could be as carefree about my life the way he is. Like, what do you mean your life's not over if you don't carefully calculate every move?" 

I find myself giggling. "Yeah, that sounds about right. No leg room for error, y'know?" I look at Ralph, and he bobs his head in understanding. 

"Everyone tells me, I've got this in the bag, and to just chill out a bit, but that's just not how I view life. Jack has a different view, and that's okay." 

"Yeah," I agree. "But I do truly believe you'll do just fine, Ralph. I don't know you that well, but the words you're saying proves to me enough that you'll succeed."

"Same for you," Ralph turns my words back onto me. "Judging by your former position as Valedictorian and University choices, you don't need to worry. You've got a good head on your shoulders." 

I want to laugh at that as well, because do I really?

"Everyone moves through life at their own place," I tell him with an earnest conviction. "No one is more 'correct,' wherever they are on their path. You're where you're supposed to be." For once, I can say something of this sentiment with a level of certainty and assurance. 

"Looking at people like Jack for example -- you don't need to feel worried that you're behind or doing something wrong because he appears more carefree," I explain. "Him exhibiting a different level of comfort with where he's at in life says nothing about the outcome of success for either of you."

"Yeah, I fully see that," Ralph replies. "It's like that for everyone. You never know what someone is thinking. I guess I'm just trying to be more..." His voice trails off. This exposure of Ralph's thoughts leave me surprised. I always see that Jack's extremely envious of Ralph for his position and successes, despite how laid back he appears.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is- I'm trying to be more relaxed about it," Ralph finishes. 

"I'm trying, too."

"We'll try together, then."

"Yeah," I laugh. "Let's be more like Jack." I say this with all humor intended.

"He can be wishy-washy one moment, then dead-set on one thing the next," says Ralph without a hint of judgement. "He doesn't take things too seriously, and I'm not looking down on him for that."

"He's parading through life," I dismiss. "We can't all do the same, nor should we necessarily even try to. We just gotta do the best we can." 

Ralph let's those words sit, then he looks at me, veering the subject faintly. 

"I'm never one to tell anyone what to do with their lives, but if you and Jack are planning on hanging out 24/7, just be wary."

I purse my lips in thought. It never came to my mind about dedicating so much of my time to being around him. I still surely don't plan on it. Regardless, I maintain my unbothered smile.

"Trust me, I'd sooner rip Jack's tongue out of his head before I listen to another smart remark of his."

He presses his lips together and nods.

"I'm not saying to stay away from him by any means, but I'm giving you the warning that he can be a bit overbearing, as are most of these guys."

I'm no stranger to overbearing people. Duke and Chandler were hard enough as it was! I think about the time that they made me drop my friend, Betty Finn. They said that the people I hang around will give people a wrong idea of my character.

As if they weren't bad enough to change people's gaze on me! I buzz my lips in exhaustion just thinking about it all. Betty Finn was a true friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads. Offing Heather from my social status would be like trying to off the wicked witch of the West... Wait- East? West! God! I sound like a fucking psycho.

"You needn't worry," I assure Ralph in a joking sophisticated voice before breaking out into a sigh of acceptance.

"I think today was enough of a wake-up call when it comes to associating with Jack."

Ralph looks at me apologetically. "He's not so bad. But he's one of those people that you can only stand for a few hours."

"You can handle him for hours? I can hardly handle him for one."

Ralph lifts the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? Well, like I said, I've practically grown up with him. We were both pretty much sworn to attend military school then go off to join the Marines because of our fathers. I started earlier than him, but Jack's dad wanted him in regular school for a bit longer. I guess Jack did something to tick him off enough that he got sent sooner than intended. He's a great First Lieutenant, I won't lie."

I crinkle my nose. "Whatever you say."

Ralph raises his shoulders in defense. "I just wanted to let you know since I've seen that you tend to have a... thinner patience level."

I open my mouth to retort then stop myself. I figure that arguing with that phrase would be useless but also flawed.

"Right," I say quietly. We keep walking in silence, feeling awkward by the lack of words to be said. I silently hope that he'll only start up a new conversation. To keep myself busy, I admire the way that the ocean appears through the film of darkness. The water looks black, and the froth is tinged blue. As the roaring of the waves rumbles, I decided the noise is much more fitting at night, like some scary creature lurks under its depths. Or maybe -- the ocean is a monster in itself.

"Hopefully we'll get back before Thanksgiving," Ralph finally speaks up, snapping me out of thought. I quickly stammer out in agreement, pleased that the awkwardness can dwindle down. He too seems to relax once more.

"Are you okay?" Ralph studies me intensely -- maybe even more to make out my expression in the darkness -- a beat goes by before I answer.

"Yeah, I feel fine." I look at him confusedly. He sighs.

"I just wanted to make sure. I'm sure that it's weird." He chews his words, as if having to say them to me brought him more discomfort than myself. I tilt my head slightly.

"What's weird?"

"Being the only girl."

"Please, you guys may see me as 'high maintenance,' but I'm not too fragile to spend my next few days roughing it out in the wild." I insist certainly. Ralph winces to himself, making me realize I hadn't gotten the memo.

"It's not that that I'm worried about." He says lowly. The memo hits me in the face, and my mouth snaps shut. It's odd how Ralph decided to edge it instead of telling me, the only girl, straight on like any woman is a stranger to the fear.

"Thanks for the walk invite, but I'm getting sorta tired," I force my words to sound like an inconvenience. Ralph blinks in surprise.

"Oh- okay then." He stammers out. "Good night."

"You're not coming?" I question him, half expecting that he'd be tired too. Ralph shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm gonna stay out a while longer. It feels nicer at night. But thank you for the company."

I go to awkwardly pat his arm, but I quickly retract my hand before the contact was made.

"You're welcome," I answer softly, forcing a slight smile. Ralph's Colonel stance was rigid but formal.

"Goodnight, Veronica." He gave a curt nod before continuing his walk. I watch his back as he walks away for a few moments before I finally parted from the spot.

I think about it on the way back to camp-- being the only girl. If it doesn't get worse than what it already is, just a bunch of sexist jokes, what's the big deal? I know what he was saying, but if we get rescued in the next few weeks, I'm sure I can stick it out till then.

I see Jack making big strides over in my direction once he notices my approach without Ralph. He didn't look angry, just caught off guard and attempts to distract it with that huge ego of his.

"Where did you two go off to?" he blurts, trying to insinuate something for an answer.

"Why do you care?" I throw the interrogation onto him. Jack's makes a weird face.

"I don't care, smart one." he really emphasized the don't in the phrase.

"Right," I laughed as I walked past him without a beat.

"Y'all were talking shit I bet," Jack kept up. I glanced at him sidelong and noticed how wisps of his blonde hair had fallen over his eyes. He met my gaze and combed his hair back with his fingers.

"Try not to think about it too hard, Merridew." I smile sweetly, and enjoy his dismantled reaction.

Thinking back to our time in the woods, I have him figured out. Jack was trying to confuse me by letting the argument go so easily. He's got something up his sleeve, and I wanna know what it is. Learning from JD, it's easy to catch the little tricks and mind games -- Merridew doesn't realize I'm already used to those. But two can play it that way.

"I'll try for you, sweetheart," the blonde sneered sarcastically.

"The pleasure is mine," I roll my eyes and start to skulk away. Jack doesn't follow me as I anticipated, but I straighten up in confusion at another noise. It sounded like coughing- no, mostly hacking. Captain Benson.

His age was on physical display -- Crooks shot through his cheeks and the corners of his eyes wrinkle like they were harshly pinched.

Simon is crouched next to him, muttering a memorized prayer. The sickly man could hardly muster up any strength to sit up. He was so frail... once vibrant green eyes were now cold and grey. A bandage was wrapped snuggly around his forehead.

Another hacking cough erupted from his gut. Blood splattered from his mouth onto the ground. Crimson ink coated his chin as he winced in pain. I cover my mouth in shock.

"Shit, is he gonna be okay?" I yell-whisper to the quiet boy. Simon looked up at me with tearful eyes.

"I sure hope so, Veronica."

There's many qualities dwelling in Simon that I find myself coming to envy; Characteristics that set him aside so greatly from the rest of these hopeless fucking boys -- God, bless them. Simon is always reserved. In my humble opinion, way too carefree. I can't help but receive a twitch of annoyance every time he chooses to turn a blind eye to the whispers that unkindly regard him, just floating about. How can someone be so unbothered?

I watch meticulously as he picks up a hallowed out, water-filled coconut shell, carefully pouring drops of water into the weak man's mouth.

"Is there anything I can do?" I question after the out of place pressure became too heavy. Simon gives me a plastic smile, shaking his head.

"Not really. There isn't much I can do either." Great, the only adult we have is mentally deranged with no professional help. At last, the full severity of my situation sets in... I'm stranded on an island with a bunch of creepy teenage boys, and the adult is useless. Fucking shit. Breathing heavily, I murmur nonsense to myself, trying to account every detail.

"This is my life now," I say out loud and sit next to Simon. Folding my knees to my chest, it's hard to ignore the look he was giving me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just thought I'd give you some company." I lie and pick up Simon's chameleon, resting it on my forearm.

"No, it's alright, you should get some rest. I'll be alright on my own." He reassures. I crunch a leaf in my fist, brushing the leaf fragments off my skirt before turning to him.

"Y'sure?" I slowly lift myself off the log. Simon gave me another genuine smile.

"I'm sure."

I start to move, but stop myself.

"Simon?" I look at him questionably. "How much did you hear of what Jack and the guys were saying?"

There's a small lift at the corner of his mouth. 

"All of it."

He sounds... content.

"Why are you so okay with letting them say whatever?" I squint hypercritically. "Why do you take it?"

"They're just bored," he shrugs it off.

"Yeah? Well they talk out of their asses, not their brains." I huff and stroke the chameleon on my forearm with a finger.

"And I'm okay with that," Simon answers in a serene acceptance. I find myself choking up laughter in disbelief.

"Why?"

"Because I'm sure of myself," he enunciates, settled despite my drilling questioning. "I know who I am, and I know who my family is. They don't know what they're talking about, they're just bored."

He glances back to the fire for a moment then back at me thoughtfully.

"They theorize about my family, but I know the truth, so it doesn't bother me. What they think doesn't matter in the long run, because it's simply not true. Besides, I know they truly don't believe it, deep down." He looks down at the ground and chuckles to himself through a breathy sigh.

"It's like you said, they're talking out of their butts, because lots of teenage boys do that, and that's okay."

"It's not okay, though." I shake my head, my voice flooding with reason.

"They're embarrassing themselves talking about you like that."

"Let them." He smiles and goes back to pressing wet cloth to Captain Benson's head. I sit back on my heels, stupefied and let the chameleon crawl off my arm. 

"Have you had a good day?" His subject change does nothing to veer my mind from the topic. I look at him, entirely unsure but also envious of his pessimistic attitude.

"Uhm- it was okay," I sputter out, trying to ignore my internal questions.

"Just okay?" He tilts his head to the side. "I'm sorry to hear that. Hopefully tomorrow will be better, right?"

"Right..." 

It's silent again, but surprisingly not awkward. Simon just continues to comfort the old man heaving on the ground.

"I got all this covered if you want to go to bed," Simon offers, gesturing to Benson.

"I don't want to leave you like this," I oppose, not sure how to take his words.

"I don't mind taking care of him," Simon speaks smoothly. "When I grow up, I want to work in a nursing home and take care of elderly people. Plus, no one here will take care of him. Someone has to."

"Well, if you end up needing me, just holler." I try to interject his idea of caring for the man all by himself.

"Alrighty."

"And please make sure to get some rest yourself," I quickly add in. "You'll need it."

"Sure thing." He's not quite rushing me away, but his responses are getting short, clipped at the stem.

"Well then, good night, Simon."

"Rest easy, Veronica."

Pushing myself off the log, I dust my hands together to rid the sediment and depart from the area, pursing my lips in thought as I replay the conversation. I don't understand how he turned out so drastically different from the others.

"-Hey, Vera!" Jack interrupts my thoughts. He trots up to me, leaving footprints in the sand.

"...Merridew," I sigh a greeting, watching him sit near the water. The blonde flashes a charming smile and motions for me to sit by him. Oddly enough, I oblige. He lets out a dramatic exhale as he situates himself on the beach floor in a comfortable position. I try to ignore his muttered curses as he dusted off his clothing.

"I don't like sand," he groaned. "It's coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere!" 

I nod away at his rambling, tracing shapes in the sand -- except this area of sand is mainly just large shell fragments. Colorful, like the bottom of a fish tank. I purse my lips and rake my fingers through the clunky sediment, and that's when my eyes drift up to Jack's hands. It's not an intentional action, it just came naturally. One of his knees is pulled up; His arms slumped around it, looking comfortable. His right hand clasps around his left wrist in a relaxed manner. Hugging one of his fingers was a single iron ring - a black band. 

After assessing this, I see something that immediately makes me frown - His left hand curled up into a fist, halfheartedly bound with a thin piece of bloodied fabric. The boy pays it no mind as he continues ranting through his thoughts. 

"You know, pig sounds great," he yawns, though I can only focus on his injury. "As in, like- pork. Not a surprise. Anything substantial does." 

"Jack," the soft whisper falls loosely from my lips. His head lazily rolls to look at me.

"Yes?" He chimes pleasantly to temper me, though this time it's the least of my concerns. He's been hurt. My brows knit, not regarding the smug, boyish tone. Scooting forward, I instinctively yank his hand toward myself with no warning.

"Watch yourself." Jack snaps away from my light clutch. A grim scowl cuts across his features, but not for long. I look at him cautiously.

"What did you do to your hand?"

He looks at me in surprise, then chuckles it off like no biggie.

"Oh, you mean this?" Jack gestures to the injury. "Yeah, uh-" he begins unraveling the thin fabric. "- Gave my thumb a good slice when I was sharpening a stick."

When the terrible wrapping gets peeled back, I can finally get a good look at what we're dealing with. The cut starts at the joint near the wrist, and shoots over his thumb, just barely missing the nail. Blood weeps out generously.

"Jack!" I scold. "You need to be more careful. Let me see it." My hands pull him closer. He definitely hasn't cleaned it properly, if not at all, and the bleeding persists. That must be courtesy of his shitty wound-dressing. My thumb brushes over the edge of the cut, triggering a hiss of pain to slice through the air, sourcing from his grimaced lips.

"Stop being a baby," I eye him momentarily and peer back down. His fingers flex, making the veins in his hand all the more prominent.

"Did you do the wrapping yourself?" I check.

"Yeah."

"I can tell."

Jack rolls his eyes. "No need to get all judgy on me."

"You should've asked someone to do it for you." I criticize, taking the fabric into my clutch.

"Okay, dad," Jack mocks, and mouths away. The obscenities being uttered under his breath are creative to say the least. Scoffing, I ignore him and begin dressing the wound, only much more neat and snug than he did it. Moments of uncomfortable silence boil by, and I feel his eyes drilling into me. They're fucking intense. I let out a loud sigh, desperate to cut through the block of tension.

He just keeps staring me down.

"Yes?" I pipe up.

"What's the score, Doc?"

"Huh?"

"Well? Am I gonna die?" Jack cracks a joke. "Did I cut any arteries? Nerve damage?" 

I peer up at him through my lashes. He flashes a white smile. I cock my head and exhale loudly.

"Regretful to report; no." I begin tying it off. 

"Won't lose any limbs today?"

"Not today, Merridew."

"Oh. Well you, my angel, must simply be devastated," he pokes out a lower lip, making me mess up the knot. 

"Shut up."

"Are you at least proud of me for not accidentally killing myself?"

"Quite." I completed my handy work and looked up at him, giving his hand two prompt pats before shoving his arm away.

"Don't worry, I won't do it again, Doc." The blonde teases me. A crack of doubt chimes in my ears.

"I'm filled with the utmost confidence in you," I say monotonously, and slump back on my hands. The sound of him snickering hits me in the side of the face. Sucking in my cheeks, I laser my focus back down to the ground.

Too lost in thought, we both go silent again. Taking solace in the moment, I start humming Westerburg's anthem. I don't think Jack was bothered by it. God, I'm ready to leave. A million things have already been fucking with my discombobulated mind. I turn my head, and can see Jack just slightly in my peripheral. His face is dimly lit in the streamers of moonlight, making shadows pool beneath his strong jawline. Biting my lip, I peel my gaze away.

"Sometimes, I feel like I'm going insane." My words mumbled out drowsily, mainly to myself. To no surprise, this caught his attention.

"No shame in that," Jack laughs, letting his right arm hang loosely on his pulled up knee so he could turn and gain a better view of me. My heart began racing at the fragile intimacy that I wasn't accustomed to.

"We all feel a little insane sometimes." He leans his head forward, practically forcing himself back into my line of vision.

"Believe it or not, you're not the only one who feels insane sometimes, Vera."

I catch his sculpted face, and I squint at him, smiling just slightly at his odd words. Blonde wisps of hair fall over his blue eyes.

"All the best people are," I chuckled for the hell of it, shrugging my shoulders in an ultimatum. Alice in Wonderland. A famous story, and one of my favorites.

"Yes, ma'am," Jack holds a shockingly blue gaze on me, and flashes his eyes. The one redeeming quality he owned, as I've so eloquently labeled it.

Breathing steadily, his fingers brushed over my knuckles, tracing the multiple rings that fit on my fingers. My skin burned nicely at the sensation of his fingers on mine. Even though I'm touch deprived, I twiddled with the broken shells under my palm to rid the feeling.

"You like rings." The blonde observes. He touches me again -- his own fingers run down mine to flatten my hand. After watching his face carefully for a few passing moments, I hastily break my gaze away and look to the subject of conversation.

"Yeah," I muse, pointing to the chunkiest ring on my index. "This was my mom's class ring from 1955."

Jack tentatively wiggles it off my hand to look at it closer without my 'okay,' which is a bit annoying, but I truly don't have the will to care that much. After this, he lifts my hand up to place the ring back. He was surprisingly gentle when the masculine roughness faded into the background - the way he'd hold my wrist. It makes me feel queasy, never mind the active hornet's nest that seems to endlessly vibrate within my chest.

"You said you graduated high school last year, why don't you have your own class ring?"

"Because high school isn't something I'd like to be most memorable." I smile softly after answering. Jack loses interest.

"And this one?" Gesturing to a sterling bullet one on my ring finger -- the piece is simple, compounded of recycled fired bullet casings. There are words engraved on the side while the main gem of it all is an itsy diamond in the center, like an eye.

"Oh," I breathe, receding back slightly. "It's a--" a pause beats in my words. "-- this ring I got from an old friend."

"It kinda looks like one of those promise rings," Jack adds, raising an odd brow. "But more badass."

When I don't respond, he moves onto a ring that hugged my thumb. This one was pure gold and shaped to be rippled, sort of like waves.

He grazes his own thumb over the smooth ridges, growing comfortable with our hand-to-hand contact. A nice heat wells up beneath my skin where his hands would touch me, making my throat constrict anxiously.

"This is just a ring from a jewelry store I visited a long time ago."

"Do you remember how much it cost?" Jack questions without meeting my eye. A frown sinks into my face.

"No."

Then on for the next few minutes, Jack wordlessly plays with the rings on my hands. He twists them around to see the whole piece, rearranges them from finger to finger, scans every cavity, jewel, and engraved word. The constant fondling makes me grow sleepy.

"You have cold hands," the boy gushes, grinning like an idiot. I roll my eyes and pull away.

"What's your problem, Jack?" I say out of the blue. The boy gives a surreptitious look. Amusing, but still all the more aggravating.

"Stop trying to trick me. Tell me what your deal is." Shifting a few inches away from him, I adjust my posture to maintain some sort of dignified stance.

In mock concern, Jack asks, "And what could you possibly mean by that, m'lady?" He repressed a creeping smirk. God! Why are boys like this? He knows exactly what I mean!

"You know what I mean, Merridew. Trying to trick me won't get you anywhere, because I already know what you're doing!"

His tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and the slight lift of the corner of his mouth makes my heart race. Shit, it's another little tactic of his. No, not some giddy love-struck way, but in the way that makes me want to feed him a cup of liquid drain cleaner.

"Are you gonna say something?" I asked slowly. Jack raised an oblique brow. 

"No, I think you're the one confusing me." He retorts smartly. My teeth clench painfully in attempt to hold a neutral face.

"I'm not trying to trick ya, don't be so full of yourself," he laughed, looking me up and down.

"And that! That right there!" I point out the odd gesture of him scanning my frame for the millionth time. His grin grew wider after he couldn't contain himself.

"What, Veronica?" Jack Merridew has something saved up his sleeve, I know it. When I say nothing, he continues.

"Would you mind elaborating?"

"You're acting all nice!" I blurt frantically. At the realization of how stupid it sounded, my face melted. 

"Huh?" He chuckles. Anger unfolds in my chest. He's got me there, but he knows exactly what he's doing. Why does he have to be the way he is?

"You're mad that I was nice to you?" Jack exclaims in false disbelief. Taking a moment to think, I nod vigorously. 

"You don't mean it, though."

Jack scoots closer to me. "Of course I do," he answers indifferently. 

"There's nothing more to it." He does this weird hand flinging movement, muttering words as if to blow me off. My jaw instinctively clenches at the sight of it.

"There it is! You're trying to make me look stupid, but I know what you're doing. You're not a nice person, Jack." 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The way you switched up on me earlier! No one just changes their mood like that unless there's a meaning to it."

"It means nothing, Vera. You're reading too much into this." Reading too much into this... What bullshit!

"You know, you'd actually be cute if you weren't so difficult." I say harshly, expecting Jack to give a reaction. Then again, I should have known he'd only smirk. The twinkle in his eye made me wanna lash out and scream in his face, but if I do that, he'll know he hit a nerve.

"Sure, Sawyer."

A breeze grazes over the beach, making a chill disturb my skin. Taking notice of his, Jack worked off his jacket and goes to drape it over my legs. I flinch back in surprise.

"What's this?" My words sound more defensive than intended. Giving me a tired look, Jack says simply, "A jacket." He holds it out, paused mid-motion at my words. I shift away from him.

"Jack, cut it out." I say in exasperation. The rude guy being kind to an only girl that he's stranded on an island with, it's not normal.

"If you can't handle me being nice, just say that," he replies, putting the coat back on while I resist shivering again to prove a point. To my misfortune, he catches on to what I'm doing. Watching his eyes drift, he noticed my own blazer that I tossed to the side. Before studying me carefully once more, he attempts to hand me my own jacket.

"Stop!" I shout promptly. The blonde throws his hand up in the air. 

"You don't want anything of mine, and you didn't want me to give back your own shit just because I'm the one doing it?"

"I can get it myself." I forcefully yank my jacket onto my exposed legs. Jack stares at me in disbelief.

"You're one proud person, Sawyer." He remarks under his breath. 

We sit in silence again after that. The thing is, he thinks I'm stupid. I've dealt with worse situations countless of times with Jason Dean. But I knew what he wanted, so what's it with Jack? 

"You don't like being wrong... huh? You think you're always right." Jack laughs. I wrinkle my nose at him before shouting back.

"Do not!"

"Do to."

"Do not!"

"Do to."

"Do not!"

"Do to!" He exclaims.

"But hey, it's alright to give into defeat," he looks at me smugly while I fumed. Ducking my head down to hide the redness clouding my face, I feel his hand roughly lift my chin, and he jeers at me. Maybe it's due to the familiar glint in his eyes, or maybe it's the rush of emotions that makes me wanna puke.

Going to stand up, a force pulls me straight back down, making my nausea worsen. It's Jack who took me back by the hand. He looks ready to say some more smart remarks, but stops suddenly when he notices my expression.

"Woah." Jack's face flinches. "You look like you've seen a ghost..."

I pull away. Maybe it was a ghost I saw, maybe that's why what he did was so familiar. Snapping away in a small panic, I keep my back turned to him to process everything.

"C'mon, Vera. You and I were just messing around." He tried to reason. I tore the brooch off my shirt and stare at my teensy reflection. Jack is a foot or two behind me. I can see his face over my shoulder in the mirroring image, prompting me to sigh.

"I know, Jack," I answer wearily. Through it all, I hadn't even realized that I held the brooch so close to my face while recovering from the spontaneous episode that came to take advantage of me. The sharp pin needle was near grazing my skin. I finally notice it when Jack gingerly takes my hand, and lowers the item from my face. 

"It was fun talking, but I think I'm going to get some rest," I begin to inspect that every ring was in the right place. Satisfied, we end up rising from the ground at the same time.

"Maybe that's for the best, Sawyer." Jack answers, looking shaken up by my reaction. My mouth is dry, and I swallow harshly as I turn to walk away.

"Hey," Jack stops me. I expect it to be related to the recent event. "I don't know when we'll get back, but I hope you get accepted in that school you wanted to go to."

Well, I'm pleasantly surprised that it wasn't addressing what just happened. Blood rushes up to my face. "Uh- yeah. Thanks."

Doing a mock salute, Jack says, "Yeah yeah, don't let that get to your head, Vera."

For once, I'm glad that he could easily disregard something. Maybe he knew that's what I wanted him to do. Quite honestly, it's the most helpful thing he can do. I blink a few times without controlling my questionable expression.

Sleepily, I make my way towards the shelters. I have my own, being that I'm the only girl. My blazer is balled up, used as a makeshift pillow. My head rests on it, and I fall asleep almost instantly, giving into rest.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

The dry forest floor crunches under the soles of my shoes as I pick my way through the foliage with Ralph not far behind.  He didn't deem his forest exploration with the other boys as anything interesting, but still offered to go on a walk through with me, just so I could familiarize myself with the terrain. 

"Did you find many fruit trees?" I speak up to the brunette boy who had now veered somewhere off to my side. He lets out a grunt as he maneuvers over a fallen tree before answering. 

"We located some, and lots of weird alien-looking plants."

Ralph doesn't exactly always make the best conversation sometimes. He could either be very casual, or extremely rigid with short responses. Never rude, though. It was always unexpected. I suppose it might be based on his instinct. Sometimes he enters "Colonel-mode" as if he's still at his military school, needing to put on his formal presence. His natural authority complies so easily to his straight stature. I never know which Ralph I will end up speaking to. When that curtain falls away, I am always faced with a calm and casual version of him. 

"You enjoying your time?" Ralph says light-heartedly as I struggle over some rocks. Before I can answer, he travels over and helps me down by my elbow. 

"For the state of my situation-" I sigh, "-it could be much worse." 

Ralph only smiles softly and keeps moving forward. I frown, contemplating, and go silent again. We are nearing a shallow creek. It glimmers, crystal clear running water. Smooth rocks sit beneath the surface, worn down by the rushing water but unmoving. As we near the creek, something red catches my eye, even taking Ralph's notice at the same moment.

"These are what I was talking about." He's pointing over to some odd looking plants, effortlessly moving over the fallen branches and excess foliage. "I don't know what they are."

He may not know, but I sure do. Growing in semi-evergreen bunches, no higher than a foot, were these pods resembling red pine cones. The leaves look waxy and shade the bract-like flowers well. 

"Oh, Ralph, you just found a jack-pot without realizing it." I laugh and flounce my way over to the plants, plopping to a squat. 

"You know what those are?" He sounds surprised, curiously leaning forward to look at them. 

"Pine cone ginger." I give a quick nod, wrenching one of the flowers free from the soil. "Otherwise known as shampoo ginger lily. And yes, it's exactly what it sounds like."

Ralph lets out a hearty chuckle and squats down at my side. His strong tan arms rest over his knees.

"You seem to know your stuff," he commends me. "I'm impressed." 

Saying nothing, I squeeze the pine cone-like pod in my hand to show him. Out exudes this slippery liquid from the little leaf sheaths that oozed through my fingers and down my hand. I smile and raise my gripped fist slightly in presentation. 

"Woah," Ralph mumbles and dabs the pad of his finger into the soapy substance to rub against his thumb, feeling the texture. He looks more than mildly amazed.

"There's your shampoo." I take a deep inhale. A strong scent of ginger enters my nose.

"You're for real?" He raises his brows. I nod again to confirm.

"I learned about these in botany. They are quite fascinating. They grow on islands, but I don't recall where they're originally native to, though. I wouldn't expect to find them here. I suppose they must be native to this island." 

I turn my hand a few times as the 'natural shampoo' trickles down my forearm. "I mean- it's of course not as disinfecting in the way that real soap with chemicals is, but it's definitely something." 

"Look at you," Ralph muses and nudges my arm with his elbow. "I would've never known." 

I smile and roll my eyes to conceal the hint of pride for his appraisal. 

"I think we should gather these and leave a pile at the water hole where people bathe."

I begin to disagree with him. "Ralph, if you don't pick them, the flowers will refill themselves." I pause again to contemplate.

"But... I don't know how else we'll harvest the juice since we don't have containers." I instead nod quickly. 

"Never mind. Please, some of those little kids reek. Just don't take all of them." I open my hand and let the spent shampoo ginger plop to the ground. It's not squished. No, the pods can endure the pressure bestowed by a human hand. They regain their shape once the squeezing is relieved. Ralph jumps up to yank a wide green leaf from a tree, wide enough to be a plate. He brings two of them over and squats by me again.

"You think we can find more of these things?" Ralph questions as he begins harvesting some of the cones and sets them on the leaf-plate. I join in his action, following suit.

"For sure. They grow on edges of ponds and streams- moist soil, but drained. If it gets too much water, the flowers wilt and become deformed." 

We continue to forage from this little clump, and fold up the leaves before heading back to camp. God forbid there to be any snide comments from Jack. I was doing them a favor. I'd sooner drop dead than hear anymore bullshit slip from his mouth.

The arrival to the beach came quickly, as we hadn't gone far. Piggy clambers over to us at our entrance out of the treeline. 

"Oh!" He exclaims joyfully at the bundles in our arms. An exasperated sigh bursts free from my chest, but I pay attention to him regardless.

"You found zingiber zerumbet, also known as shampoo ginger lilies! Did you know that they're indigenous to islands along the Pacific ocean-"

He begins his monotonous dissertation, recapping everything I told Ralph but in far more intelligent wording as I manage a polite smile. I can only hold an awkward stance, unsure of how to react to his one-up of knowledge on me. Piggy doesn't seem to notice my rigid stance as he drones on. 

"And that's pretty much how you use them!" He finishes happily, looking proud of his smart display. 

"That's what I've heard," I answer kindly, showing a tight-lipped smile before brushing past hurriedly to set the plants down. Ralph might have flashed Piggy an apologetic look as we went over to the platform, but I can't be sure. The brunette is able to breeze past despite me initially being ahead of him, and he picks up the conch shell. 

"You want to explain to them all what these are?" He offers. I think for a moment. There is hardly a drop of respect that the group of boys can spare for me, but I figure I should do it anyway. 

"I guess I will- assuming Piggy won't start to speak over me." I purse my lips bitterly at those words, and Ralph blows the conch. A familiar trumpet-noise blasts across the beach, and a swarm of rowdy boys began bustling over. 

A blonde head can be picked out in the approaching crowd, and I quickly look away so as to not make eye contact. Eye contact only leads to confrontation, and confrontation leads to never-ending interaction. When the semi-circle forms, Ralph begins to speak, quickly earning the attention of the group.

"To those that had searched the island with me, you may remember that we came across these weird plants." He holds one up in his hand. 

"We weren't sure what it was, but today, we now know, courtesy of Veronica." 

As Ralph's eyes drift over to me, so do the others'. It feels like a thousand laser beams drilling my cranium. I take the held out conch from Ralph's hand and face the many onlookers. Jack, Roger, and Luke of course stand near the back. I can hear their snickers. Glancing over, I see them sharing matching smirks and whispering back and forth. When Jack notices me looking over, he offers that same salute and flashes his blue eyes with means to intimidate. 

Inwardly groaning, I choose to ignore and clear my throat.

"These are pine cone ginger," I say steadily. 

"What do they do?" A noisy voice practically hollers. 

"Do we eat them?"

Ralph intervenes over the rapid questioning. "She has the conch, so no talking." He states firmly. "Any questions you have will be answered."

I give a nod of thanks and continue.

"There's a soapy substance that comes out of the pods when you squeeze it that can be used as shampoo- it releases a generous amount so don't throw it away after one use. Me and Ralph guessed that there's more of these growing around somewhere, but we are trying to figure out how to gather the 'shampoo' without cutting the flowers. You see, the plant refills itself if not picked-"

"Blah, blah, blah, photosynthesis, nucleus, nerd stuff."

A mocking voice floats up from the back of the crowd, earning a few giggles from the younger ones. Luke. Go figure. I choose to ignore him.

"I figured that if we find another one of these bushes, we can preserve it. If someone wants to use some of the shampoo, then they can harvest some in a half-coconut shell so that they won't use too much. Then, just walk back to the water hole with it."

Loud obnoxious snoring shoots up through the air from the back again. Luke pretended to have slumped against a tree, theatrically snoring to the point that it couldn't simply be ignored. All the eyes that were once focused on me instead turn back to him, highly amused.

"Creed," Ralph firmly addresses him. "Enough."

"If you're so bored, you can leave." I state in a flat tone. Luke makes a faux impressed face, tapping his hand to his chest.

"So she can talk at a normal volume!" He whoops. Jack and Roger laugh hard with their diaphragm. I make a face. I pretty much always speak like this- what is he even talking about?? I bite back a line up of arguments and continue.

"Like I was saying- if we can keep the used ones in one pile and the unused in a different pile-"

"- Bet she feels like she's some hero," Jack says in a blatant volume, adding to the fire slowly growing in my chest. My fingers grip the conch a bit tighter.

"Enough, Merridew." Ralph barks the command, though Jack and his pals seem hardly fazed. He just crosses his arms and persists with the shit-faced sneer in my direction. I stare at him with equal intent momentarily before giving in to my nerve.

"That's all I gotta say," I grumble before sharply throwing the conch to Ralph.

"Oh, Vera, don't take it personal!" Jack pouted over the new rising chatter. "I'm sure we'd still be happy to hear your little presentation, ain't that right guys?" He began clapping.

That smug expression.

It bugs me to no end.

"Go fuck yourself," I shot as I brushed past him, leaving the immature, boyish cackling behind me.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Later in the night, I take my opportunity to bathe in the water hole to wash off all the stress of the past few days, as well as the sweat that is ridden throughout my hair. Forcing some of the ginger shampoo onto my palm, careful to not let too much of it dribble into the water, I begin to lather it up throughout my hair. It feels refreshing. Regardless of it being a shit day, at least one good thing has come out of it. The rippling of the water and gentle splashes make lulling sounds, making my brain go fuzzy as I zone out to a dormant state. 

A tree branch suddenly snaps off in the treeline, kick-starting my heart rate as I'm ripped out of thought. I whirl my head around to see where it had come from. In steps to the clearing, Roger. A breath of air instinctively wrenches through my lips, forcing into my lungs. 

"Oh-" I clamp my mouth shut after the unintended shout of surprise. 

"I'm, um-" I lower myself further in the water, pulling my wet hair over my shoulder. "I'm, uh, here." 

"I see." 

Roger stands still and quiet. His lean frame is sturdy, making him look all the more sure of himself. Finally, he says something once more.

"Second time now, Sawyer." His clipped words hit me in the face. "Are you always letting your guard always down like this?"

"Sure, when I think I'm alone, I suppose." 

"You're not."

I feel a grin of stupefaction pulling at my lips. Oh, so that's how it is. His dark eyes watch my face, calculating as he veers off to the right. Then, he shakes his head solemnly, lifting the corner of his mouth. 

"Remember, you have no idea who could be watching." 

I raise my eyebrows, faintly drawn in. "Then maybe you should stop." I feel my nerves igniting under his gaze with a delicious burn.

"You seem like you're still riled up," he disregards my last comment. Those words sound like they should've been humorous, but the lack of cadence to his tone provides no happy curve to prove it.

"Are you still seething over your little presentation today?" 

I sigh through a laugh.

"Can we have this conversation another time?" 

He looks at me steadily. His unfazed eyes don't drop once.

"Your call."

We're playing tug-of-war for the thick rope of silence stressing tight between us, and he says nothing. I don't expect him to mutter an apology, but I don't know if I should expect a perverted remark from him. Nothing more than his coy one-liners and unveiled superiority. It always feels like a riddle I'm supposed to crack.

"Alright," I break the silence. "I'll be seeing you, I suppose."

"I'm sure I'll be finding you," he replies smoothly. 

I feel a faint smile tease the corner of my mouth. 

"Watch yourself, Sawyer." 

I show a brief nod. A beat passes. His eyes flash once more to the glittering water, and for a moment I think he's about to say something else, but he doesn't. Instead, he turns on his heel, and steps back into the shrouded darkness slinking over his well-built frame like a cloak. One second he's there, then he's merged into the shadows cast from the trees again, slipping away like he was never anything solid to begin with.

I exhale, only realizing now how tightly my lungs have been gripping my breath, and I try to not laugh for the hell of it. The surface of the water ripples again, this time from my own movements. I sink lower, pressing my palms over my face as if I can rub the tension off with enough pressure. 

The silence following his departure feels like a sun drying wet hair on the crown of one's head, mildly agitating and uncomfortable. I rinse what's left of the make-shift soap, dragging my fingers through the clumped strands that have half-dried in the chilled air of the night.

Tomorrow will inevitably be hell, but at least I am alone again. For how long- I'm not sure. I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

As expected, the next days go by continuously being pestered by Jack and his friends. I counted stars, blessings, my luck, clouds, signs... everything -- just waiting for some plane or ship to drift by. To no avail, rescue hasn't breached. Days turned to weeks. Weeks! For some reason, I was under the impression that rescue would be a piece of cake with having the fire. Oh, was I wrong. And through all of these past weeks, a big ball of sunshine was there to follow me around like a lost puppy.

It's like wherever I went, Jack would be at my side. Nothing nice to say, of course, with a self-righteous display on his face. He and his friends think they're all that. Each time they're one of the reasons to my internal breakdowns, I can see how fucking pleased they are. Jack is the worst of it. Not as upfront as Luke, no, but the subtlety of his unkind gestures made it all the more irritating. He was having a ball each time I was made frustrated. If he had a camera, he would probably film it then rewatch the footage when his big ego gets bruised.

Maybe I ruined the chance of sharing his kindness after our day on the beach. Then again, I have no reason to feel the need to be his best gal pal.

Regardless of that, it's a new day. New surprises? Maybe. If seeing another crab scurrying along the sand for the millionth time is still considered a surprise, I'd have many today.

Waking up to golden rays shining through the entrance of my shelter, I pull myself up with a groan and soak up all the buttery sunshine as I step outside. The hot sun blazes down on the vast island and saturates my skin tone, the only relief from the sweltering heat being the ocean breeze and the shade offered by numerous palm trees.

Some of the older kids sitting in a circle are talking amongst themselves. Beginning to make my way in that direction, the twins, who were chasing each other, cut me off when they go dashing across my path. The two were both completely oblivious to any obstacle.

I debate yelling at them to watch out, but I'm too tired to waste my breath this early in the morning. I learned something about the twins -- Tweedledee and Tweedledum -- practically everyone calls Sam and Eric, Samneric, as one entity, since they are practically always together.

It's like saying, Sam n' Eric. It slides off the tongue easier, like water running down a hill. A smoothly said nickname. Samneric. I haven't seen them apart the entire time we have been on the island. Hell, they even finish each others sentences, as creepy as that is. Like they're The Shining Twins, from the Stephen King movie, but that's just what I've nicknamed them in my head.

The way they pick up on each other's emotions is a bit more odd. Yell at one of 'em, and both twins are suddenly grumbling around under their breaths.

"Morning," Ralph greets me. I show a pressed smile with a nod in his direction. Jack gives me a quick side glance before turning away again, and I choose a seat next to Piggy.

All crude behavior renewed, Luke shoots me a nasty look to which I let him know that I am in fact aware of his presence.

"Keep staring, and maybe i'll do a trick," I speak loudly, hoping intimidation wouldn't make me break our challenging eye contact. Cracking under pressure is one of the worst things you can do. Build some walls and suck it up.

Luke's sly smirk drops into an expression that quickly forms to a questioning look. He turns to Roger, but like he always is, Roger stares in stubborn silence. They exchange curt nods and look at me like the transaction was idle waste to be tossed aside.

"Can I help you?" 

Saying nothing, Roger's eyes linger. His calmness opposes Luke. He gets a rise out of my responses. Letting out an annoyed grunt, I cross my arms over my chest self-cautiously.

"Help out by uncrossing your arms, sure." Luke jeers. "Give us a show."

Roger's stone cold face doesn't break as cruel laughter bubbles out of the boys. I really do not know what to make of him. Jack observes them and looks at me -- a lifted cheek as though he's amused that I'm flustered. 

"Tell me, Luke." I propose a new subject. "How many girls did you sway into bed with that trash mouth of yours?"

"They came and went," he shrugs, slumped back in a relaxed stature. The fact that the sentence is coming from him makes the prospect questionable. Coming out of Jack's mouth, it may even sound more realistic, God forbid me for even acknowledging that.

Luke speaks once again. "Some girls are so desperate they don't care if you act like a dick."

"You can barely use your hollow mind, so I doubt you'd even be able to find yours," I retort back.

Roger keeps his stoic expression as Luke fumes from the ears.

"It's about as big as the list of your body count," He shot back defensively, earning validation from the sexist group.

"That's not saying much," I mumble loud enough for him to hear. Rage ignited his cheeks with a flood of red.

"Wanna bet?" He stands up to tower over me, eliminating the now-perished barrier of air that separated us. A calmness emanates from Roger's posture as he observes and absently taps his tepid blade with a single finger.

"Luke, calm the fuck down," Jack orders from his position. It's out of annoyance rather than concern. His words failed to penetrate the wall of anger clouding Luke's rigid frame.

"Because I'd be more than happy to assist in showing you the truth," Luke continues. Groaning in exasperation, Jack jumps in.

"Alright, alright. Calm down, tough guy," he laughs, placing a hand on Luke's shoulder to pull his frame back from me.

"The fucking bitches we got these days..." Luke says out loud to Jack, who wears a tired, uncaring expression. "They strut around thinking they're the shit until they finally get what's coming for them," he then says, now facing me directly.

"You just gotta awaken the whore in them."

"Oh, wow!" I say sarcastically, stirring the pot a bit. "That was even better than when you said it the first ten times!"

As I drop the act, my eyes snap back at Luke scornfully.

"Do you wanna say that again a bit louder?" He growls, struggling to make it an inch past Jack's extended arm.

Rolling his eyes, Jack waves me off and flashes Luke a cool look, instantly dousing some of the fire out.

"Why did we get stuck with the worst snobby bitch of em' all?" Luke openly spills to Roger who's rearranging his iron rings.

"It's not that serious," Jack intervenes, laughing it off. I lift my chin in a bit of pride. Quick to debunk my thought, blondie decides to feed into this -- purely on the point of annoying me.

"Nah, but he's right, Veronica," he says with a wide grin. My eyelids droop.

"Charming," I answer simply. Jack shrugs with even energy, giving me that flirtatious background in his look. Luke's eyes dart between us, catching on.

"Jack, are you seriously making a joke out of this?" He bursts, sounding fully discombobulated. It's funny to see him already so worked up.

"Just take a chill pill, and enjoy the fine morning," Jack drawls teasingly. "We do have a fine lady in our presence-" he continues cheekily while Luke fumes in unnecessary anger.

"-so please do me a favor and relax, because you're both giving me a fucking headache."

"Fuck that! If she wants to be a little bitch, and sit back and act all innocent with her smart comments then-!"

"- C'mon, it's not that serious," Jack laughs like the ordeal amused him. "Isn't that right, Vera?" He turns to look at me objectively. A cringe forms on my lips as the nickname slips out.

I manage to move a few feet away, my eyes flashing in a roll. Luke snickers across the circle. I chose to ignore him this time.

"So!" Jack clasps his hands together loudly, sweeping his eyes over us in amusement as the feud comes to a simmer. "We're all good now? Great!"

"Of course I'm fine," I shoot back dryly. "I don't take offense from anyone who finds themselves spiraling over a comment from a little slutty-prude like me."

I make sure to note the sexist labels that contradict each other's meanings, seeing as it's Luke's only material. Roger arches a cryptic brow as my words bounce off his firm stature like foam toys.

"I'll make you take offense to something," Luke says in challenge.

"Lay off a' her," Jack groans. "Y'all's argumentative creativity has the impacting range of a tea spoon."

My mouth opens to speak till footsteps grow closer. I turn around to see Simon.

"Oh- hi."

"Good morning, Veronica. Good morning, Ralph." Simon gestures towards us. I thought he would sit, but he only came over to say good morning to everyone, even Roger. He leaves once more to tend to either Captain Benson or the calmer younger kids.

When he's far away enough, Luke looks over to Roger with a shit-faced grin, motioning to Simon over his shoulder with a thumb.

"What the fuck is he?" He roars over into laughter. The boys, besides Ralph, all join along.

Jack begins to mimic Simon's court greeting, making an overly sophisticated expression that made him look more theatrical than anything. My eyes sweep over the boys, dampening my mood.

"Um... he was literally being nice to you guys," I point out out slowly, letting my words hit them one by one. They're of course indifferent to it.

"And um- he was literally being a fucking weirdo," Luke stuck out his chest, made a limp wrist, and mimicked my girl voice as a jab, moving his head side to side with each infliction to match this "girlish" tone.

I give him a look to show my lack of amusement, but the others get a kick out of it. As if he found it all to be harmless bickering, Ralph finally speaks up to end the conversation - took him long enough.

"As important as all of this sounds, we have bigger plans that need to be discussed for today."

Their faces fall and they immediately roll their eyes.

"Buzzkill," Jack mumbles. I frown and look back at Simon off in the distance to see him handing out the fruits we deemed safe to the younger, definitely hungry boys. He had to have foraged them himself.

"Okay," Ralph begins. "So today Tony and Rapper will need to be on fire duty for the first shift. Then it will be-"

"Talk, talk, talk..." Jack speaks over Ralph's trail of instruction. The brunette responds with a confused look.

"It's always about the god damn precious fire and the stupid conch. Fire this! And fire that!" Jack promptly imitates Ralph in a mocking voice. He earned a chuckle from Roger.

"What we need is meat!" He blurts unexpectedly in this unrelated conversation. I sputter into a chuckle at how ridiculously idiotic that was.

"Right on." Luke punches Jack's arm.

"No, Jack. Right now we need a steady fire watch schedule before we focus on hunting. We've been over this time and time again," Ralph reasons, exhaust clinging to the words.

"Ralph's right, Jack," I butt in. "We need to worry about getting off this island. Hunting isn't everything-" 

"Okay, Veronica!" Jack's sudden spurt of externalized annoyance cuts me off. "Goddamn." He sighs under his breath. 

Luke glares at me. "If you even breathe in an irritating way, Sawyer, I'll slap the shit out of you. Being a girl doesn't give you armor."

The words dismantle my mind momentarily. I look at him with bewilderment as the echo of his words bounce in my ears. Then, Luke turns to Jack and speaks as if I'm not even there.

"Are you gonna put Sawyer on a leash already, or are you gonna let her keep bitching on about everything?"

"I beg your pardon??" I bite my tongue, holding back some words that would only get me in bigger trouble with the sullen-faced teen. I wanted to almost laugh in disbelieving shock for how casually he articulated those blunt thoughts out loud.

"It's not the five-star suite she's used to," Luke sneers. "This island's gonna be her reality check."

"Almost thought she was immune to those," Roger speaks up after sitting in silence. Seriously? I look at him and shake my head.

Jack doesn't jump in this time. Instead, he watches carefully, intrigued by my boldness. Piggy and Ralph have already walked away, not wanting to get anymore involved.

"I'm going." I promptly stand up. Jack and Roger look to each other, not sharing a word like they'd done before. That to me is more irritating than any insult. I start to walk away till Luke makes a bold remark.

"How much do you bet her and Ralph are fucking?" I want to punch the smug expression off of his face, and that's what I do.

A pop breaches the air. Luke's head tossed back and his hands snap up to his cheek. Good thing I wear rings. I swallowed my own surprise.

He's mostly surprised, but a look of fury flashes as he sets his jaw and gingerly touches his cheek. Unimpressed, Jack raises a brow.

"You hit me," Luke states plainly. He took the blow, and doesn't seem very affected pain-wise. I even half expect him to swing back at me by how serious his gaze is. Suddenly, there's an instant change in his stance. The muscles in his face tighten, and a dark haze shadows over his eyes. He's not the one who makes the first move. 

"You shouldn't have done that..." Roger took threatening strides in my direction as his breathing elevated.

Jack places a hand on Roger's shoulder as he flashes him a cool look before he can get in my face. I don't get Roger or his opinion on me at all. 

On the contrary to Roger's instant calmness, it's heavily amusing to see Luke struggle with his words, twitching in agitation as he stands like a useless mannequin. Watching a bitch like him be flustered will forever leave an appeasing sense of satisfaction in my prideful gut.

"Luke's a big dude, a punch won't hurt him." At that, Jack turns to address me.

"Didn't think you had it in ya, Sawyer," he mutters in a coy voice. "Turns out you're not all talk."

"And yet- you guys always fight battles for each other, and not your own. Pathetic! What, are you guys having group make out sessions on the down low?"

I take half a second to assess the looks on their faces.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't judge. I'll make sure none of your fathers ever hear about it, if that's what you're so worried about. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to go off and have the rest of my morning in peace without you dipshits expressing your undying love for each other. Later, boys."

They stare me down begrudgingly as I dip away quickly, heading for the jungle. Smiling to myself, I decide to take pride in the fact that I stood my ground, though I don't choose to linger.

My feet pace into the woods, and my mind ponders about what had just happened. My blood was still rushing from the adrenaline.

I wander into a small clearing in the woods that was lined with trees after what felt like hours of walking. In reality, I was probably walking for thirty minutes tops. Sunlight poured in, filling the area. Looking around, seeing different assortments of flowers growing, I come to notice a boy sitting there on a log. It's -- Simon? It seems as though he's in some sort of trance or zone.

I call out to him softly, trying not to startle the boy. His eyes peak open a bit. Upon noticing me, he jumps.

"Veronica? How did you find this place?" He looks a bit surprised.

"Uhm, I honestly don't know. I was just walking. I was walking and walking, and I didn't stop." He slowly nods his head. The little chameleon is perched on his shoulder.

"This place looks -- nice," I say simply. He nods and smiles, scanning over the area with his eyes.

"I come here whenever I need peace and quiet. I do my prayers here. It's much more quiet." Realization falls over me.

"Ohhh, so this is where you go when you're not with Captain Benson," I breathe my words out. He shrugs shyly, his face flushing.

"I can't blame you." I lower onto a rock next to him and huff an exaggerated sigh.

"Tough day so far?" I look over to him with an exhausted expression. "I guess you can say that. I sort of punched Luke." Simon's eyes widen.

"Woah, really? Why?"

"I dunno," the regret is apparent in my groan. "I guess I felt the need to prove them wrong." Simon flashed a weary look.

"Luke and Roger will always be that way. Try to be the bigger person. Don't let them know that they bother you." I hate to admit it, Simon was right in a way.

The gentlest of tugging at my hair tickles my scalp. I jumped at the sudden feeling, startled at first till I saw that Simon was braiding a small strand of my hair. Taken aback, I eyed him awkwardly for the sudden comfort he had. Some might call it lack of personal space, but I just accepted it as him missing an older sister or something.

"You've come this far, Veronica. Don't give in now," he says softly. I let out a small laugh.

"You're right, Simon. I've always been a dead girl walking every time I turn around." I smile through the intrusive thoughts. He chuckles with me. Taking a deep breath, I try to regain composure.

"I could really go for a big bowl of spaghetti, lots of oregano," I muttered, thinking for another moment. Oh-

"And add a cherry slushie." I think about the 7/11 that I had my first job at. Before then, me and JD had our slushies together on the curb outside the store. And we always shared a bag of cherry liquorice, or strawberry if the cherry had run out.

"I could go for some oreos and milk right about now," Simon hums. "We couldn't get those at military school though," he explains.

"Whenever I got to visit my mom, we would sit on my porch with a stereo playing, and eat Oreos. I miss my mom." Simon sighs at the thought.

"But that's all back home. Everything. Everything is back home."

"It's gonna be ok, Veronica. You will get off this island. You'll get back all right. You all will." I take in the weight of his phrase.

My face bends into a frown.

"I promise," Simon adds as a security line when he senses my doubt. I shake my head solemnly.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. It isn't polite." I show him a broken smile. He never gave a response. We both jump as we hear the conch being blown. Groaning in unison, we get up and start jogging to the source of the sound.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Luke's left cheek is stained with the faint hue of a bruise. He shoots a glare towards me and mouths something through gritted teeth that I can't quite make out, but he gets interrupted by a whisper from Jack, who isn't at all noticing the exchange.

"Cadets," Ralph states, though they don't all immediately snap to attention like they used to. 

"I'm calling you here to this assembly to discuss a lack of cooperation. There's been an imbalance of people working or just screwing around. There's a bunch of things I could talk about, but the biggest concern is about pulling your own weight." He stops to let his eyes drift over all of us, assessing those who are listening and those making jokes. 

"We operate best when we're working together as a team. We all act as different parts of a machine with specific tasks and functions that we take turns doing so no one gets the short end of the stick. When one of those parts stops working, the whole machine breaks down, no matter how hard the rest of the mechanical parts work." Ralph takes a moment to think, knitting his brows as he watches us for a moment more. 

"If anyone has any suggestions for what I can do better as a leader to make these tasks go more smoothly, please raise your hand for the conch. I'm open to all critiques and I want your voices to be heard. What can I do to help you guys?"

"Maybe try sucking less!" Luke's voice blasts over our heads from behind the crowd. I turn back to look at him as everyone giggles. 

"Luke," says Ralph. "You have anything else you'd like to share?" He raises a brow. "Preferably something productive?" 

Smirking with all attention on him now, Luke raises his hands and shakes his head, indicating his silence. Soon after, Maurice raises his hand and gets the shell passed to him. 

"So, yeah. I think the reason we're struggling so much is because some people get more breaks than others. The people who have to work more get tired and we can't do what we're supposed to do properly. It makes the work more grating to go through."

"Okay," Ralph nods, taking the shell back. "You also feel like you're struggling to maintain a work-life balance. I hear you. The answer to this problem is that if we get everyone to pitch in, we can all get more time for breaks. Anyone else want to add to Maurice's comment?"

Tony's hand goes up next, and someone reaches up to the tree branch he's sitting in to pass the conch.

"Some kids don't even know when to use the bathroom!" He exclaims. "They just go whenever! Even if they're working! Sometimes people go on breaks so long that the other guys on shift never get a chance to go because no one can cover 'em!"

His face breaks out suddenly into a big grin tainted with mischief. 

"For example, there was this kid the other day who took a shit in his pants and sat in it. I'm not naming names, because its possible Mikey couldn't help it!" 

The kids turn towards Mikey, all hopping on a bandwagon, and begin to point and laugh.

"He had green running down his leg!" Sam or Eric shout.

"Ewww!"

"Awww, Mikey, blech!"

"That's just gross, dude!

"Mikey!"

The little one's big green eyes tear up. He puckers out his lower lip and looks down at his feet in shame.

"Shuuuuut up..." I mutter in a prolonged flat groan under my breath. Ralph, who is now shaking his head, shares a look of annoyance with me.

"Everyone, be quiet! You don't have the conch!" Piggy's shriek fires out like an arrow over the giggles, and a hushed silence grips everyone's jaws shut as it grazes past the tops of their heads.

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, trying to appear outwardly collected as Jack mockingly taps his hand on his chest in a rhythm, pretending to be offended. Tony tosses the shell back from his spot on the branch.

"Alright," Ralph continues after hesitating for a moment. "So what does this tell us we need to do? We gotta have more discipline, for one thing. I think that bathroom breaks should be limited to five or ten minutes. I don't want to restrain anyone by scheduling those for each person, but I do think we need a physical schedule of everyone's shifts to make this easier."

He strides over to one of the palm trees, pulling out his knife as he begins sanding away at the bark with the blade. We all watch him curiously, the only sounds to accompany the air being the gruff sawing of wood. Once there's a smoothed out surface, Ralph speaks again. 

"This specific tree will have the fire watch schedule." Taking the knife, he roughly carves the words, fire watch. He then begins to etch in the shifts with the time intervals people will take. 

"I want everyone to pick two times of the day and put your initials by the shift," Ralph says. "Each shift needs to have a group of at least three or four, and there may be one group that has to complete a third shift, but we will make sure to alternate the groups taking that shift each day. You will all be sure to receive compensation for this."

One by one, we line up and quietly choose our times for fire watch shifts. This process gets repeated on three more trees. One for spear fishing and hunting. One for foraging fruit, aloe, nuts, pine cone ginger, and wood. Then the last one is for hut building. Honestly, this does ease my mind quite a bit, and as much as it surprises me, no one complains. 

"Does anyone else want the conch to say something that's been on their mind?" Ralph holds the cream colored shell out in front of him.

"Yeah!" Billy hollers out and takes the conch. "Some jerk-off stole my pocket knife!"

Maurice takes the conch from his friend. "Yeah! Things are disappearing all over!" 

"What are we gonna do with these thieves when we catch 'em?" Luke asks, angrily cracking his knuckles. This one comment breaks the flow of speaking in turn, and everyone starts up in a frenzy. 

"Kick the shit outta them!"

"Beat them up!"

"Toss 'em in the ocean!"

"Ram a spear up his ass!"

"Shove their dick in the conch!" Tony screamed, punching his fist in his palm.

I have to hold back my laughter at the phrase. Very quickly, the air begins to buzz like it's filled with swarms of flies as the voices of the kids struggle to climb over each other to get a word in, thrusting excited fists up. 

"Like kids. Like a bunch of wild kids," Piggy mutters to me, crossing his arms. I earnestly agree with him.

"Okay, alright!!" Ralph raises his voice to be heard. "Cadets. We can't have kids stealing. We may not be at the academy, but we're still going to act like it. If we can't start asking instead of taking things, I'll have no other choice than to start cracking down on stricter rules!"

"And hand out demerits- I guess," I add sarcastically.

"Demerits? Demerits of grand larceny?" Rapper muses coolly, crossing his arms over his toned chest.

"Eat shit n' die!" Luke yells, triggering another uproar of shouts and whistles. 

"Creed!" Ralph stamps a foot in place like they're still in military school. Like they've all received an electric shock from the floor after Ralph's command, they zip back to attention, and things fall silent. At this, Peter hesitantly steps forward.

"Sir?" His soft voice floats. "Are we ever going home?" He questions Ralph with such a softness that I can almost mistake it for the faint breeze.

"Yes, Peter." Ralph nods. "We just need to wait for them to see our signal." 

"Jack says we're never getting rescued," the small boy mumbles. We have to strain our ears to even hear the small boy clearly. Ralph looks over to Jack with a blank expression, then looks back to Peter, kneeling down to eye level.

"No, you misunderstood him," he assures. "That's not what he meant." 

Without turning my head I hear an obnoxious laugh, knowing who it belongs to.

"That's exactly what I meant!" Jack snaps. "There's eight million islands out here. Why should they find this one?"

And as if this meeting couldn't be more unbearable in the humid temperature, a nasally southern voice sends a smart ass correction through the heat waves, sourcing from a certain asthmatic boy with thick framed glasses.

"Though it's impossible to say how many islands are in the world, there's only been approximately fifty-three thousand, seven hundred, eighty nine recorded so far-"

"Piggy, please zip it," I snap loudly enough. Piggy sulks back, and I feel guilty as people find the humor in my comment. There's a time and place for everything, and now is not the time to be a know-it-all.

"Don't listen to him, we will be rescued Peter, honest." Ralph brushes what was just said aside. I softly smile at Ralph's gentleness.

Through it all, I still feel Jack staring at me from the corner of my eye. As I turn to face him, he quickly breaks eye contact as if it never happened.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

The sun beats down on the island, though not quite intensely as it was before while I watch Samneric have their millionth lightsaber fight that they insisted on performing for me. The two boys wield sticks as their makeshift sabers, making vwoom-vroom sounds with each swing. For this performance, they had momentarily argued about who was Obi-Wan Kenobi and who got to be Darth Vader. 

In the end, Eric decided to be good ole Ben Kenobi and Sam settled as Vader. Now they're reciting the entire lightsaber battle from A New Hope. 

"I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan," Sam quotes in a deep voice as an attempt to mimic Vader. "We meet again at last. The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the master." 

My eyes dart to Eric as he pretends to unsheathe a saber. "Only a master of evil, Darth." 

Their branches collide together, and the two make the clashing sounds with their mouths as Sam intermittently switches between the masked breathing of Darth Vader. They make blows, blocks, and countermoves as they act out the fight. 

"Your powers are weak, old man," Sam recites in the same attempted deep voice.

"You can't win, Darth," Eric grunts back, jumping and turning dramatically as he brandishes the stick with random attacks. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." 

"You should not have come back," bellows Sam.

The saber fight resumes, and so do the sound effects. I watch the two, mildly stunned, eyes dancing as they battle and jump around with sword-swinging motions. It goes on for awkwardly too long before Sam finally mock stabs Eric and he theatrically falls to the ground. He remains that way before exploding back up, feet landing shoulder-width apart as they both look to me for a reaction. 

I give my light applause, smiling faintly. The two bow before flopping down onto the sand, both breathless. 

"What was your favorite part?" Eric manages to ask as his chest pants for air.

"Uhh, I think the ending when Vader defeated Kenobi," I offer, unsure of a better response.

"Of course," Sam grins. His chest is also rising and falling just as fast. "Did I do his voice good?" 

"Oh, for sure," I nod, then the two are immediately launched into a debate about what scene to perform next. Their voices fade into the back of my mind as I feel my stomach twist with hunger pains. The empty pit will, unfortunately for me, not rest until I get food. 

"Do we do something else from Empire Strikes Back or Return of the Jedi next?" Eric asks, not particularly aimed at Sam or I, just awaiting an answer. Before Sam can say anything, I have to interject. 

"Actually, guys," I say sheepishly. "I really appreciate the show, but I really gotta go find fruit. Maybe we can continue later?" 

Their identical faces droop for a moment, but they reluctantly agree.

"Alright," sighs Eric. "Maybe next time we can do the No, I am your father scene."

"He says, Luke, I am your father," Sam corrects. "And besides, we already did that one." 

"That's not true, you idiot. He says no, not Luke," Eric jeers pointedly. "And I know we already did it, but I wanna try to be Darth Vader next time." 

"You literally begged to be Luke. Also- I think I would know if he said; No, I am your father, instead of; Luke, I am your father," Sam bites back, offended by Eric's correction.

"Okay, guys," I interrupt and drop my hands against my knees before standing. "Have fun with the debate. I'll see you both around."

The two drop the argument and stand up with me. 

"May the force be with you," they say in unison, their cloned voices actually startling me. I laugh softly to disregard my surprise and nod my head. 

"Alright," I say, voice strained. "It shall." As I begin to walk off, Sam quickly stops me. 

"Say it back," he orders, catching me off guard. Eric instantly picks up on this. 

"Yeah!" He insists, jumping up and down with uncontained energy. "Say it back!"

I blink at the two for a moment and reluctantly abide. 

"May the force be with you," I repeat weakly. They take a second to rejoice in my participation and are finally off on their way. I sigh and begin my search for food. There's an abundance of fruit trees on this island. Some not so good for eating, but there are plenty that we actually can.

I see a tree with some fruit that I haven't tried yet, mentally debating whether or not I should check with someone else about them, but my stomach twists in pain again, reminding me of the need to eat.  

My hands stretch above my head to some branches after hunger gets the best of me. Straining to reach a mystery fruit sitting high up on the tree, I'm caught off guard when two hands take my waist and lift me up abruptly.

"Woah, what the hell-" with me kicking as soon as my feet left the ground, I wasn't lifted high, nor for very long.

"Oops," says a smooth voice.

"Forgot to warn you, Vera," Jack smirks as he reached up to grab the fruit. I exhale with a sigh of relief as the temporary adrenaline seems to fade.

"Would it kill you to say something without being so smug about it?" I say dryly, yet I find myself thanking him when he tosses me the fruit in full composure.

"Smug? Where?" He receives another fruit from a branch to treat himself. I roll my eyes and sink my teeth onto the pale orange fruit. The tree was speckled with these fruits; the less ripe ones were toned green.

Juice dribbles down my chin and I savor the palatable taste with a kick behind it. My eyelids close softly to take the solace of the moment, I forget Jack was there.

Laughing, he says, "You look like you've never eaten fruit." Tossing the fleshy pit aside, we meet eyes.

"And what if I haven't?" I bit back smartly. "Just because I've never had fruit, it gives you no reason to point it out. What if I was allergic to most fruits?"

The boy pauses. "You can't be serious."

"Obviously I'm not serious," I roll my eyes. "So much for sarcasm." As I turn to leave, he jogs up next to me.

"No, I knew you were joking." He explained.

"I just wanted to gift you the pleasure of proving me wrong, since you're never able to do that on your own account."

His head snapped to me for a reaction. Shrugging, I shortly answered by saying, "Sure you did."

My pace speeds up in hopes he'll get bored.

"I see you've been avoiding me," he observes with a big dumb grin. "Tell me, how's the husband and kids?"

"God," I say in an exhale. "Is talking your only talent?"

"Is being an effortless bitch your only talent?" Jack teases back. 

"C'mon, Vera, why do you act like such a hard buzzkill all the time?"

"Throwing myself into a fire would be more comfortable than standing in your presence."

I turn my head to look at him sidelong, and to my own surprise, a laugh was wrenched out of my own throat. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

"Shall we test that theory- preferably with you as our subject?" That God damned smile was plastered to his face. 

"I'm getting close to," I admit, taking a turn around a spiny thicket with sharp thorns.

"Where are we going?" Mocking, Jack tries to mimic my more 'feminine' walk and skips along side me, his voice rises an octave. 

"I'm going to explore some, so... feel free to tag along," I added, almost as an afterthought.

"Alright. I'll take advantage of this rare offering." Jack swings around a tree. Keeping a neutral face, I study his beam, his twinkling eyes, his confident stature. He carries himself with such high pride, always.

"You like what you see, Vera?" He began to strut arrogantly. I want to come up with a snarky reply, but my words fail me. I only respond to humor him.

"Of course, Jack. You're quite ethereal, I suppose." Maybe he can be tolerable sometimes. His friends have yet to prove otherwise, though it's clear they don't care.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like David Bowie?" I speak up suddenly. Jack looks at me in question.

"The singer guy?"

"No, the scientist," I say sarcastically. "Yes, the singer!"

A curtain of interest flickers across his expression.

"Maybe I have," says Jack distantly, seemingly straining to recall some memory of the comparison. "Why? Do you think I look like him?"

"Bowie was the first person to come to mind when I saw you on the plane." I reiterate.

"Interesting," Jack eyes me with suspicion, probably catching on to what I was about to say. "What about it?"

I fold my arms uppishly, sticking my nose in the air, and begin to saunter around him in a circle.

"So what should I call you then?" I match his shit-faced smirk. "Ziggy Stardust? Thin White Duke? Goblin King?" I taunt playfully.

"How about none of the above?" Jack suggests. 

"Does Aladdin Sane work for you?" My legs pause beneath me as my jaw drops. 

"He literally has a persona named Halloween Jack! It's perfect!" 

"What the hell does that even mean??" The blonde explodes in question as the feline list of names finally tips his vase of patience over the edge. Amused, I petulantly pout out my lower lip, rounding across his position and veering to his left.

"Well, I just figured that if we're going to be giving each other nicknames, I should give you one."

"Vera is a completely normal nickname."

"Thanks! I hate it." I retort snarkily. "So which nickname do you prefer? Pick your poison."

Jack let out a sigh and shot a look. "You think you're smart right now."

"Ziggy Stardust has a ring to it."

"What even is that?" Jack makes a face. "It sounds absolutely ridiculous."

"Um, excuse you," I look at Jack with an offended expression to correct him, though he looks entirely disinterested. 

"Ziggy Stardust is one of Bowie's many personas. He's one of the greatest musicians our world has ever seen."

"Then why don't I know more than three songs?"

"Because you're behind, Jack." I say matter of factly, and the topic is dropped as we continue walking.

Sunshine and fresh air weaved through the abstract shape of the jungle, swiveling around our frames as if it were threading nature's divine ambience. Approaching a river, a fallen tree connects both banks. Judging by the ivy and vines to prove its time on the ground, it rested there for a good while. Jack speeds up to test the bridge's endurance.

"Sturdy," he checks out. Straining a laugh, I close in next to him. 

"You say that like we're gonna cross it."

The boy turns to stare at me wordlessly, and the realization of his thought process washes over. 

"You're out of your mind if you think we're crossing this thing." I exclaim indignantly.

"It's literally a tree, Sawyer. Stop acting like it's a nuclear bomb and let's move it." Jack steps foot onto the end. Crossing my arms to make my choice clear, I shake my head when he gestures for me to follow.

"Aren't you coming?" He holds out a hand. I step back to indicate my answer. His chin drops, and an attractive smirk bends across his features when I don't comply.

"Come on."

"No."

Without warning, Jack yanks my elbow, pulling me up next to him. Whiplash drop kicks my brain.

"C'mon, love, let loose for once." He takes both of my hands without allowing me a moment to process. 

"What if the log rolls?" I stammer out. The boy looks behind me, then behind himself.

"Both of the ends are pretty much anchored. It's fine." His lips are a subtle curve of assurance, still unable to disarm my skeptical mind. My heart speeds up at the slightest movement while Jack hums carelessly and walks backwards to guide me, looking at my hands that have locked with his own out of my pure anxiety. After a few moments, I'm able to get some balanced footing, making the deal of walking a lot easier. 

"There you go," Jack praises. "Just keep it steady. Atta girl."  

I decide to ignore those words. The water isn't deep and flows slowly about three feet below the fallen tree. Nothing's at stake for us, and that is Jack's perfect excuse for this lil adventure, because why the hell not? apparently. Deep down, we both know he'd still cross even if it'd be considered more dangerous.

A look of excitement crosses his face, like he'd been waiting to say something for much too long. That stupid, teenage boy excitement.

"Sooo, Vera..." he progressively slows his words, glancing down into the water below and clicking his tongue. I knit my brows.

"Since I'm Jack, would you care to be my Rose, and tell me you'll never let me go?" He grinned boyishly and winked. I stare at him, straight faced.

"I know you did not just try to make a Titanic reference out of this situation, you dumb fuck."

He cackles at his own joke that had turned into a shitty pick up line, which he was probably waiting to use his whole sad life. Rolling my eyes, I mimic Kate Winslet's voice to humor him.

"I'll never let go, Jack!" I exclaim dramatically in a wackish, posh voice, refusing to actually let go in fear of toppling over. It was an incredibly dramatized rendition of her performance.

He snickers again, and begins to voice the music, Hyme to the Sea from the movie, incredibly pitchy despite supposedly being a choir boy. I find myself grinning at the fine display of male immaturity, but that mood curtain swishes shut when I almost lose balance.

"Okay, that's enough now!" I grip his hands tighter. Jack winces and tries to pull back some. The nerve!

"Your rings are actually digging into my skin, just calm the fuck down." he laughs, and brushed a thumb over my knuckles to graze the pieces of jewelry.

"Well my fucking bad, I'll just tell my brain to stop working like that," I retort in spite. "Plus, you walking backwards like that is making me nervous."

Managing to squeeze a genuine chuckle out of him, he stops us both in the smack center of the bridge.

"What are you doing?" The phrase comes out more shrill than intended. As a smug expression twists on his face, in one swift motion, Jack jumps up, and lands perfectly on his feet again. The whole tree creeks and rocks.

My hands practically clutch his own like handle bars. Only this time with a grin, he doesn't return the same grasp and his fingers loosen as if to test my limits.

"Stop that!" I stamp my foot and temporarily lose balance. My head snaps to him angrily. Jack cocked his head to the side in mock concern.

"Stop what, darlin'?" He questions innocently, easing his slack hands away from mine even further. "Can't handle a little scare?"

"I can handle more than a scare but I really don't feel like tumbling into an ice cold river," I glance into the water below us.

Again, he intently starts rocking the nature's bridge. Unable to keep stability, my knees buckle. A shriek escapes my throat as my hands catch the log below me, landing in an awkward crab position.

"You complete- ASS, Jack Merridew!" I lower myself to sit on the 'somewhat' floor and slam my hand down on the side of the wood. The small bumps and grooves stabbed my palm painfully for a split second.

Lost in a complete fit of laughter, Jack has to lower down to a squat to keep from falling in the water.

"You're hilarious, you know that, Sawyer?" Once regaining composure, he rose up and held out a hand. Hesitating for a moment, I sigh and allow him to help me up.

"Very funny." I roll my eyes. We cross to the other side easily. Thinking back to the little trick, I find myself smiling at the humor of it all. 

"Do you know how many weeks we've been here?" He asks out of no where. I freeze up.

"Uhm- it's been three... Or four." I say, sounding unsure. He's quick to disagree.

"No. It's gotta have been over five."

"We haven't been here more than four weeks!" I exclaim in denial. Not even on an island can you escape the constant merry go round of routine. Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Only here, you don't get to eat as much. Just as it was back home, the days blur together in a jumbled mess in the back of my brain. Trying to recount it, all I see is Jack, Roger, Luke, Piggy. Jack, Roger, Luke, and Piggy...

"Okay, did we get here on a Friday or a Saturday?" Jack starts. I stamp my foot and whip around to face him.

"Just shut up already!" He jerks back in confusion. "What did I do?"

"Stop talking about it! We leave when we leave, so stop counting our days!"

We stay in silence for only a moment. 

"Sorry," I mutter. "I just don't wanna think about it."

I continue the walk. Jack jogs up to my side. 

"You seem very tense," he observes. I eye him from the side. 

"I can help you relieve some of that." He says suggestively, opening his arms like he was trying to convince. I stare at him. 

"Must you make everything inherently sexual?" He snickers at my words. 

"Not my fault that you took it that way. It must be on your mind a lot, huh?"

I cuss under my breath. "My God. You know what you were insinuating."

He nods, pursing his lips like he agreed completely.

"Mhm. I was insinuating that I could rub your shoulders or something to help that tension, but whatever."

I roll my eyes. "Just keep walking, idiot."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

♕︎♕︎♕︎

I can't write you back into my life. You aren't some colorful ink that I can scribble down on a blank surface.