crevice, Isobel and Juliet get the giggles. It isn’t anything; it’s everything. They want to laugh. They have to. Pulling up their underwear, they are doubled over, weak, helpless. Just a glance at one another brings on fresh waves.
Back at the cave, the bigger boys play a game that involves pairing up and slapping the inside of the other’s wrist with two fingers, taking turns — slap, slap, slap — back and forth until one boy can no longer stand the pain. The other is the winner.
Keith and Dirk trade slaps until their fingers are puffed and raw. Juliet hopes that Dirk will win, but she is helplessly proud of her brother, his teeth gritted, his tanned, round face set and determined. There is no mercy; this is not a game for girls.
“Give it up,” says Isobel. She pulls Juliet down by the wrist and they lie side by side, faces towards the sky. They indulge Jonathan’s limited imagination, which can find nothing but trucks and guns in the cloud shapes.
At last, two San Juan boys separate Keith and Dirk: a truce.
Isobel inclines her mouth towards Juliet’s ear. “I think that one likes you.”
One of the San Juan boys dips his fingers in the bucket of water and spritzes the girls, who sit up and gasp. “Told you,” says Isobel, in English. “He likes you.”
Another boy punches the first in the arm. They exchange punches back and forth, smiling sheepishly.
“Ignore them,” says Isobel. At any moment the weather could change — the clouds could roll, black and tumbling, blown by an angry wind — but it won’t. The children are not bored or hungry or tired, and it does not occur to them that a search might be underway.
If Juliet is giddy, if she is bold, if she exudes a vague hysteria, it is because she has no awareness of being afraid. Anxiety flickers deep under the skin, so far down it is interpreted as a thrill, as the hum of unease that accompanies adventure, enlivening the body, and it is with regret that the children watch the tide recede, become low enough for safe passage.
The San Juan boys clean up, kicking out the fire with their bare feet, tossing bones to the birds. One lifts Jonathan onto his narrow back and the descent proceeds quickly.
“Uh-oh,” says Isobel, the first to notice Heinrich and Andrew on the rocks below.
Everyone deflates just a little bit. The San Juan boy drops Jonathan gently. Without being close enough to hear what Heinrich is saying, everyone knows it is not good. Juliet spots Gloria on the beach, and is glad that her mother has been stopped by the fallen boulders, Emmanuel in her arms. Wrath pours off her.
The San Juan boys vanish into the landscape.
“Totally unacceptable!” Juliet hears.
“Pappie,” Isobel mutters under her breath. Isobel’s family speak to one another in English in public, but in private they often use Dutch or German.
“We’re fine!” Dirk shouts.
“Just ask us how bloody fine we are!” Heinrich has lost a sandal and his foot is cut. “All of your privileges — gone!”
“What privileges?” Dirk says, and Juliet is impressed by his boldness and stupidity.
Neither family is a hitting family, though for a moment, now that he’s near enough, Heinrich looks to be considering otherwise.
“Nice day for a hike.” Andrew pulls Heinrich’s rage onto himself, gently. He winks at the kids. “Where were you hiding?”
“We weren’t hiding,” says Dirk.
“This will never happen again,” says Heinrich.
Of course it won’t. It can’t, though it’s nothing to do with a grown-up’s decree, one way or the other. Escape is like being struck by lightning, as rare and as inexplicable. Being found again? Well, that’s nothing special. That happens daily: interruptions that startle children back into the world of time and safety, and the rules that would bind them here for good.
“I’m too angry to hug you,” Gloria says, even as she squeezes until Juliet and Keith think they will pop. “Stupid, stupid
Back at the cave, the bigger boys play a game that involves pairing up and slapping the inside of the other’s wrist with two fingers, taking turns — slap, slap, slap — back and forth until one boy can no longer stand the pain. The other is the winner.
Keith and Dirk trade slaps until their fingers are puffed and raw. Juliet hopes that Dirk will win, but she is helplessly proud of her brother, his teeth gritted, his tanned, round face set and determined. There is no mercy; this is not a game for girls.
“Give it up,” says Isobel. She pulls Juliet down by the wrist and they lie side by side, faces towards the sky. They indulge Jonathan’s limited imagination, which can find nothing but trucks and guns in the cloud shapes.
At last, two San Juan boys separate Keith and Dirk: a truce.
Isobel inclines her mouth towards Juliet’s ear. “I think that one likes you.”
One of the San Juan boys dips his fingers in the bucket of water and spritzes the girls, who sit up and gasp. “Told you,” says Isobel, in English. “He likes you.”
Another boy punches the first in the arm. They exchange punches back and forth, smiling sheepishly.
“Ignore them,” says Isobel. At any moment the weather could change — the clouds could roll, black and tumbling, blown by an angry wind — but it won’t. The children are not bored or hungry or tired, and it does not occur to them that a search might be underway.
If Juliet is giddy, if she is bold, if she exudes a vague hysteria, it is because she has no awareness of being afraid. Anxiety flickers deep under the skin, so far down it is interpreted as a thrill, as the hum of unease that accompanies adventure, enlivening the body, and it is with regret that the children watch the tide recede, become low enough for safe passage.
The San Juan boys clean up, kicking out the fire with their bare feet, tossing bones to the birds. One lifts Jonathan onto his narrow back and the descent proceeds quickly.
“Uh-oh,” says Isobel, the first to notice Heinrich and Andrew on the rocks below.
Everyone deflates just a little bit. The San Juan boy drops Jonathan gently. Without being close enough to hear what Heinrich is saying, everyone knows it is not good. Juliet spots Gloria on the beach, and is glad that her mother has been stopped by the fallen boulders, Emmanuel in her arms. Wrath pours off her.
The San Juan boys vanish into the landscape.
“Totally unacceptable!” Juliet hears.
“Pappie,” Isobel mutters under her breath. Isobel’s family speak to one another in English in public, but in private they often use Dutch or German.
“We’re fine!” Dirk shouts.
“Just ask us how bloody fine we are!” Heinrich has lost a sandal and his foot is cut. “All of your privileges — gone!”
“What privileges?” Dirk says, and Juliet is impressed by his boldness and stupidity.
Neither family is a hitting family, though for a moment, now that he’s near enough, Heinrich looks to be considering otherwise.
“Nice day for a hike.” Andrew pulls Heinrich’s rage onto himself, gently. He winks at the kids. “Where were you hiding?”
“We weren’t hiding,” says Dirk.
“This will never happen again,” says Heinrich.
Of course it won’t. It can’t, though it’s nothing to do with a grown-up’s decree, one way or the other. Escape is like being struck by lightning, as rare and as inexplicable. Being found again? Well, that’s nothing special. That happens daily: interruptions that startle children back into the world of time and safety, and the rules that would bind them here for good.
“I’m too angry to hug you,” Gloria says, even as she squeezes until Juliet and Keith think they will pop. “Stupid, stupid