The Islanders by Katherine Applegate Page A

mean my mom and Benjamin . . . I also, you know . . . you know, we’re like friends and all from before.”
    Nicely expressed, Zoey , she thought.
    Lucas smiled his serious smile. “I guess I kind of surprised you.”
    â€œWhy? Do I look terrible?” She cringed and took another stab at untangling the bird’s nest on her head.
    â€œNo, you look wonderful.”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Zoey said, laughing wryly. “I mean, usually I try to wear something more than a T-shirt.”
    â€œTrust me, you look wonderful.”
    â€œNot that I’m wearing just a T-shirt,” Zoey added quickly. “I mean, I’m wearing underwear.” Instantly she felt the blush rising in her cheeks. She gulped and looked down at the table.
    â€œMe too,” Lucas said, grinning at her discomfort.
    Zoey sighed. “I’m not exactly awake. When I’m awake, I babble a little less. I still babble, but less.”
    â€œWant some coffee? There’s still some in the pot your mom made.”
    â€œNormally, no, but since the hot water’s out and I’m making a fool of myself, maybe I could use a cup. Or six.”
    Lucas got up, went to the kitchen counter, and poured. She sat down at the table and reached for a sweet roll. With the first few sips of coffee, her confidence began to return. So she’d babbled, big deal. After all, it wasn’t like Lucas had a lot of other alternative conversational partners on the island.
    This thought brought guilt with it. Her stomach churned. A mental picture of Jake formed in the air just over Lucas’s head.
    â€œYour mom can still cook,” Zoey said.
    â€œYeah,” Lucas agreed affectionately.
    â€œIs she . . . are you two talking?”
    Lucas shrugged. “My mom is trying to play it safe. She wants to make peace, but if she defies my father outright, well . . . You know my father. He’s very ‘old country.’ He thinks he’s the absolute ruler of the house, period, just like he is on the boat.”
    â€œStill, he’s letting you live there,” Zoey remarked, taking a bite of the roll.
    â€œIt’s all a part of the same thing,” Lucas said. “He’s Portuguese, Acoreano. He’s an islander going back in his family to long before Chatham Island had even been discovered by whites. Family is very important, and you have to take care of family no matter what, so no, he won’t just kick me out. Not until he can figure out something to do with me, anyway.” He rolled his eyes. “Like I said. Very old world.”
    â€œBut isn’t your mom from the Azores, too?”
    â€œNo. She emigrated from the Netherlands. The Dutch are a bit looser, I guess.” He used his fingers to rake a strand of hair that had fallen over his eye. “That’s where I got my blond hair,” he said. “Just think Little Dutch Boy.”
    Zoey patted her own hair with her free hand. “Just think sparrow’s nest.”
    Lucas was about to say something else, but he bit his lip and fell silent. The silence stretched awkwardly for a moment.
    â€œAre you going to be going to school?” Zoey asked.
    â€œYeah. I still need a year, what with the Youth Authoritybeing so much better at locking people up than it is at education. So, yeah, I’ll be going to Weymouth High. I know everyone on the island will be thrilled to find that out.”
    Zoey nodded glumly and chewed the last bite of her roll thoughtfully. “I guess it will be kind of rough for you.”
    â€œAnd for anyone who befriends me,” Lucas said, his voice dropping. “Which is why I want to say something. You’ve been very sweet, Zoey, but I don’t expect you to talk to me in public. I understand how it is. I promise it won’t hurt my feelings if you blow me off.”
    Zoey hesitated. What was she going to do about this? It seemed awfully hypocritical to talk to Lucas here,