Survivors (Stranded) by Jeff Probst, Christopher Tebbetts

too easy and over too fast.
    When he was done, he unwound his safety line and gave a hand signal to Dex’s first mate, Joe Kahali, down below. Joe put both hands on the winch at the base of the mast and started cranking Carter back down to the deck.
    “Good job, Carter,” Joe said, slapping him on the back as he got there. Carter swelled with pride and adrenaline. Normally, replacing the bulb would have been Joe’s job, but Dex trusted him to take care of it.
    Now Joe jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Your uncle wants to talk to you,” he said.
    Carter stepped out of the harness and stowed it in its locker, just like Dex and Joe had trained him to do. Once that was done, he clipped the D-ring on his life jacket to the safety cable that ran the length of the deck and headed toward the back.
    It wasn’t easy to keep his footing as the Lucky Star pitched and rolled over the waves, but even that was part of the fun. If he did fall, the safety cable—also called a jackline—would keep him from going overboard. Everyone was required to stay clipped in when they were on deck, whether they were up there to work . . . or to puke, like Buzz was doing right now.
    “Gross! Watch out, Buzz!” Carter said, pushing past him.
    “ Uhhhhhnnnnh ,” was all Buzz said in return. He was leaning against the rail and looked both green and gray at the same time.
    Carter kind of felt sorry for him. They were both eleven years old, but they didn’t really have anything else in common. It was like they were having two different vacations out here.
    “Gotta keep moving,” he said, and continued on toward the back, where Dex was waiting.
    “Hey, buddy, it’s getting a little choppier than I’d like,” Dex said as Carter stepped down into the cockpit. “I need you guys to get below.”
    “I don’t want to go below,” Carter said. “Dex, I can help. Let me steer!”
    “No way,” Dex said. “Not in this wind. You’ve been great, Carter, but I promised your mom before we set sail—no kids on deck if these swells got over six feet. You see that?” He pointed to the front of the boat, where a cloud of sea spray had just broken over the bow. “ That’s what a six-foot swell looks like. We’ve got a storm on the way—maybe a big one. It’s time for you to take a break.”
    “Come on, please?” Carter said. “I thought we came out here to sail!”
    Dex took him by the shoulders and looked him square in the eye.
    “Remember what we talked about before we set out? My boat. My rules. Got it?”
    Carter got it, all right. Arguing with Dex was like wrestling a bear. You could try, but you were never going to win.
    “Now, grab your brother and get down there,” Dex told him.
    “Okay, fine,” Carter said. “But he’s not my brother, by the way. Just because my mom married his dad doesn’t mean—”
    “Ask me tomorrow if I care,” Dexter said, and gave him a friendly but insistent shove. “Now go!”
    Benjamin “Buzz” Diaz lifted his head from the rail and looked out into the distance. All he could see from here was an endless stretch of gray clouds over an endless stretch of choppy waves.
    Keeping an eye on the horizon was supposed to help with the seasickness, but so far, all it had done was remind him that he was in the middle of the biggest stretch of nowhere he’d ever seen. His stomach felt like it had been turned upside down and inside out. His legs were like rubber bands, and his head swam with a thick, fuzzy feeling, while the boat rocked and rocked and rocked.
    It didn’t look like this weather was going to be changing anytime soon, either. At least, not for the better.
    Buzz tried to think about something else—anything else—to take his mind off how miserable he felt. He thought about his room back home. He thought about how much he couldn’t wait to get there, where he could just close his door and hang out all day if he wanted, playing City of Doom and eating pepperoni pizz—
    Wait, Buzz