asked.
“Okay!” Touk chirped.
“You have to eat some fish first.”
“No, thank you.”
Abby took a deep breath. “Touk, c’mon.”
“I want chocolate.”
“If you eat fish and french fries, then you can have one piece of chocolate.”
“Okay!”
Abby could tell from Touk’s tone that she was grinning. Grinning and winning.
They saved chocolate for special occasions, but Abby thought her housemates would understand letting Touk have a nibble.
Up ahead, Abby heard rock music drifting out the window of Toby’s house. The strong signal of the adult station, 98.5 FM, operated by the Centers for Disease Control, came through clearly day and night, but they could only pick up the weaker FM 101 after the sun went down. DJ Silver, the host, called the station The Port.
The Port’s mysteries played in Abby’s mind. DJ Silver once mentioned he was broadcasting from Connecticut, but he didn’t give the exact location. How did the station get electricity? How did teens know how to operate a radio station? Strangest of all, The Port only played music. Abby had never heard them give news flashes. It continually puzzled her.
DJ Silver’s voice crackled out the window. “Silvy, can you dig it? Jimmy knows you dig him, and Jimmy knows you dig the Beatles. So, Little Miss Sugar Lumps, here’s a little something that Big Jimmy thinks will start your evening off right. Keep it locked on The Port.” The radio began to play “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” DJ Silver dedicated every song. Where did he get his information for the dedications? Just one more unanswered question about The Port.
As they passed by Toby’s house, Abby noted all the bikes and skateboards in the front yard. In the glowing light of lanterns, she saw kids inside, some dancing. When Abby spotted Mel standing by the window, she suspected that Timmy and Danny, her other housemates, were at Toby’s as well. It meant that Jordan must be home alone.
Toucan pulled at Abby’s hand, wanting to run up the steps of Toby's porch to join the party.
Abby tugged her back toward the sidewalk.
“Toby wants to kiss you,” Touk said with gleaming eyes.
Abby crinkled her brow. “Who said that?”
“I’ll tell you for two pieces of chocolate.”
“Forget it.”
“Toby told me.”
“What a surprise,” Abby replied flatly. Most people considered Toby annoying, which he was. These same kids pretended to be his friends because he was the island’s lead negotiator. They hung out at his house every night because he shared snacks and, of course, had batteries for the radio. Abby considered him a real friend, but she wanted to keep it at that.
She picked up the pace, and they both held their breath as they walked by the fourth house up from Toby’s. The backyard was this month’s toilet.
With half a block to go, Touk raced ahead and flew into their house. Abby ironed the crinkles from her forehead and forced a small smile before stepping inside.
“Gypsy vessel, this is Castine Island, do you copy?” Jordan stood by the battery-powered shortwave radio in the family room, keying the mic. “Gypsy vessel, do you copy?” Her brother was lanky, like their dad, and thanks to a recent growth spurt, he now towered over Abby by a good five inches. “Gypsy vessel, do you copy?” The radio speaker emitted a crackly hiss.
Jordan looked over at her, the lantern light magnifying the sadness in his eyes. “The captain of Lucky Me reported they have a medical emergency onboard. She said they’re near Bar Harbor, and they expect to arrive here tomorrow afternoon.”
Bar Harbor, on the coast of Maine, was about a hundred miles from Castine Island.
Abby’s stomach twisted into a knot. She thought it was revealing that the gypsies preferred to sail all night and much of the day to come here, rather than pull into a closer mainland port. There were scant medical resources available on the mainland, and, in her opinion, many parts were
“Okay!” Touk chirped.
“You have to eat some fish first.”
“No, thank you.”
Abby took a deep breath. “Touk, c’mon.”
“I want chocolate.”
“If you eat fish and french fries, then you can have one piece of chocolate.”
“Okay!”
Abby could tell from Touk’s tone that she was grinning. Grinning and winning.
They saved chocolate for special occasions, but Abby thought her housemates would understand letting Touk have a nibble.
Up ahead, Abby heard rock music drifting out the window of Toby’s house. The strong signal of the adult station, 98.5 FM, operated by the Centers for Disease Control, came through clearly day and night, but they could only pick up the weaker FM 101 after the sun went down. DJ Silver, the host, called the station The Port.
The Port’s mysteries played in Abby’s mind. DJ Silver once mentioned he was broadcasting from Connecticut, but he didn’t give the exact location. How did the station get electricity? How did teens know how to operate a radio station? Strangest of all, The Port only played music. Abby had never heard them give news flashes. It continually puzzled her.
DJ Silver’s voice crackled out the window. “Silvy, can you dig it? Jimmy knows you dig him, and Jimmy knows you dig the Beatles. So, Little Miss Sugar Lumps, here’s a little something that Big Jimmy thinks will start your evening off right. Keep it locked on The Port.” The radio began to play “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” DJ Silver dedicated every song. Where did he get his information for the dedications? Just one more unanswered question about The Port.
As they passed by Toby’s house, Abby noted all the bikes and skateboards in the front yard. In the glowing light of lanterns, she saw kids inside, some dancing. When Abby spotted Mel standing by the window, she suspected that Timmy and Danny, her other housemates, were at Toby’s as well. It meant that Jordan must be home alone.
Toucan pulled at Abby’s hand, wanting to run up the steps of Toby's porch to join the party.
Abby tugged her back toward the sidewalk.
“Toby wants to kiss you,” Touk said with gleaming eyes.
Abby crinkled her brow. “Who said that?”
“I’ll tell you for two pieces of chocolate.”
“Forget it.”
“Toby told me.”
“What a surprise,” Abby replied flatly. Most people considered Toby annoying, which he was. These same kids pretended to be his friends because he was the island’s lead negotiator. They hung out at his house every night because he shared snacks and, of course, had batteries for the radio. Abby considered him a real friend, but she wanted to keep it at that.
She picked up the pace, and they both held their breath as they walked by the fourth house up from Toby’s. The backyard was this month’s toilet.
With half a block to go, Touk raced ahead and flew into their house. Abby ironed the crinkles from her forehead and forced a small smile before stepping inside.
“Gypsy vessel, this is Castine Island, do you copy?” Jordan stood by the battery-powered shortwave radio in the family room, keying the mic. “Gypsy vessel, do you copy?” Her brother was lanky, like their dad, and thanks to a recent growth spurt, he now towered over Abby by a good five inches. “Gypsy vessel, do you copy?” The radio speaker emitted a crackly hiss.
Jordan looked over at her, the lantern light magnifying the sadness in his eyes. “The captain of Lucky Me reported they have a medical emergency onboard. She said they’re near Bar Harbor, and they expect to arrive here tomorrow afternoon.”
Bar Harbor, on the coast of Maine, was about a hundred miles from Castine Island.
Abby’s stomach twisted into a knot. She thought it was revealing that the gypsies preferred to sail all night and much of the day to come here, rather than pull into a closer mainland port. There were scant medical resources available on the mainland, and, in her opinion, many parts were
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