petticoat torn and grubby, red toenails chipped and jagged. May’s hair styling, stiffened with salt and sand, remains intact, despite the wreckage below.
Hope, Jas, and I are wading into the sea at the far end of the beach to our camp. The Portuguese Men o’ War have gone. I try not to think about sharks.
We walk out as far as we can, Hope at one end of the boatman’s net, Jas and I at the other. But it keeps floating to the surface.
“We need more weights or something on the bottom edge, so it drags along the bottom,” I call to the others.
After an age of searching we find enough heavy shells with holes in them to tie to the bottom edge of the net. We survey our handiwork proudly.
“That’s better,” says Jas. “Who’d have thought we’d make such expert fishermen!” We wade out again, then gather the net into a smaller and smaller circle as wegradually move closer to the beach. It works. We’re all smiling and jumping up and down with joy. We have caught two beautiful parrotfish, with their large fluorescent scales of bright blue and emerald green. They flap around while the juniors hit them with sticks and rocks.
“I’ve never killed anything before,” says Jody. She’s so happy, so pleased with herself. The others jump and scream with excitement. Our brief moment of happiness is ruined when Jas hits her forehead with the palm of her hand. “How could we be so stupid?” she hisses. “We don’t have any matches. We can’t cook the fish.”
Think! Think! Think!
I try to remember movies I’ve seen with natives making fire. I know Dad’s done it. You rub a stick into a split made in another stick, twisting it fast until smoke appears. He says it’s harder than it sounds. Much harder. But I’ve got to give it a go. I end up with aching wrists, blistered hands, and no smoke. We all try and fail, even Hope.
“Let’s ask Mrs. Campbell.”
“You’ve got to be joking. She’s totally out of it.”
Then Hope offers me her one-eye glasses. “M-m-maybe these will help?”
Yes, of course! In
Lord of the Flies
they used Piggy’s broken glasses to make fire.
“Brilliant, Hope! What a good idea!” Jas says. “Actually, William Golding got it wrong. Piggy was nearsighted,and they wouldn’t have been able to use his glasses to make fire. We can use yours, though.”
Hope smiles.
Jas is so clever.
But the sun’s gone again. Huge dark clouds sweep across the sky like battleships, sinking lower and lower.
“Oh, well, we’ll just have to salt them instead. There’s lots left,” says Jas. At least Mrs. Campbell had the foresight to carry more than enough salt to the island. It’s vital in the tropics. Mom says to take a teaspoonful when you feel like you’ve had too much sun and heat.
Jas sees the bright side of things, whereas I… well, I am just angry and fed up, and I feel as if I could murder someone. Every day I wake angry and go to sleep furious.
Hope and I cut the fish into thin strips. Jas rubs salt on them and then hangs them to dry over the net. Small red flies come from everywhere, attracted by the smell. Layla Campbell has introduced the Glossies to the datura plant now and they’re busy munching on its leaves. I have completely given up on them.
We can’t wait longer than half an hour—we’re all so hungry. So we eat the fish, sharing it with the juniors. It’s disgusting, but it’s protein. And now I can’t get rid of the smell of fish on my fingers, no matter how much I wash them. Oh, for a bar of soap! I’m sure Dad said there wasa leaf you could use as a substitute, but I obviously wasn’t listening hard enough when he told me.
“Why are May and Arlene eating leaves?” asks Jody.
“Because they’re stupid. And don’t you eat any—they’re poisonous.”
“Then why are they allowed to eat them?”
“They aren’t very poisonous to big people,” I lie.
“Oh.”
Mom once told me that datura gives you nightmares and that you lose control over
Hope, Jas, and I are wading into the sea at the far end of the beach to our camp. The Portuguese Men o’ War have gone. I try not to think about sharks.
We walk out as far as we can, Hope at one end of the boatman’s net, Jas and I at the other. But it keeps floating to the surface.
“We need more weights or something on the bottom edge, so it drags along the bottom,” I call to the others.
After an age of searching we find enough heavy shells with holes in them to tie to the bottom edge of the net. We survey our handiwork proudly.
“That’s better,” says Jas. “Who’d have thought we’d make such expert fishermen!” We wade out again, then gather the net into a smaller and smaller circle as wegradually move closer to the beach. It works. We’re all smiling and jumping up and down with joy. We have caught two beautiful parrotfish, with their large fluorescent scales of bright blue and emerald green. They flap around while the juniors hit them with sticks and rocks.
“I’ve never killed anything before,” says Jody. She’s so happy, so pleased with herself. The others jump and scream with excitement. Our brief moment of happiness is ruined when Jas hits her forehead with the palm of her hand. “How could we be so stupid?” she hisses. “We don’t have any matches. We can’t cook the fish.”
Think! Think! Think!
I try to remember movies I’ve seen with natives making fire. I know Dad’s done it. You rub a stick into a split made in another stick, twisting it fast until smoke appears. He says it’s harder than it sounds. Much harder. But I’ve got to give it a go. I end up with aching wrists, blistered hands, and no smoke. We all try and fail, even Hope.
“Let’s ask Mrs. Campbell.”
“You’ve got to be joking. She’s totally out of it.”
Then Hope offers me her one-eye glasses. “M-m-maybe these will help?”
Yes, of course! In
Lord of the Flies
they used Piggy’s broken glasses to make fire.
“Brilliant, Hope! What a good idea!” Jas says. “Actually, William Golding got it wrong. Piggy was nearsighted,and they wouldn’t have been able to use his glasses to make fire. We can use yours, though.”
Hope smiles.
Jas is so clever.
But the sun’s gone again. Huge dark clouds sweep across the sky like battleships, sinking lower and lower.
“Oh, well, we’ll just have to salt them instead. There’s lots left,” says Jas. At least Mrs. Campbell had the foresight to carry more than enough salt to the island. It’s vital in the tropics. Mom says to take a teaspoonful when you feel like you’ve had too much sun and heat.
Jas sees the bright side of things, whereas I… well, I am just angry and fed up, and I feel as if I could murder someone. Every day I wake angry and go to sleep furious.
Hope and I cut the fish into thin strips. Jas rubs salt on them and then hangs them to dry over the net. Small red flies come from everywhere, attracted by the smell. Layla Campbell has introduced the Glossies to the datura plant now and they’re busy munching on its leaves. I have completely given up on them.
We can’t wait longer than half an hour—we’re all so hungry. So we eat the fish, sharing it with the juniors. It’s disgusting, but it’s protein. And now I can’t get rid of the smell of fish on my fingers, no matter how much I wash them. Oh, for a bar of soap! I’m sure Dad said there wasa leaf you could use as a substitute, but I obviously wasn’t listening hard enough when he told me.
“Why are May and Arlene eating leaves?” asks Jody.
“Because they’re stupid. And don’t you eat any—they’re poisonous.”
“Then why are they allowed to eat them?”
“They aren’t very poisonous to big people,” I lie.
“Oh.”
Mom once told me that datura gives you nightmares and that you lose control over
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