Jessica Khoury - Vitro

But when it came to Skin Island, even the most notorious gossips he knew kept their lips sealed. Even when Nandu had returned from his ill-fated trip there, no one had asked questions. Skin Island was something of a local horror story, their equivalent to a haunted house—a haunted island. “Jim?”

He shook himself and slowly stood up. Now that the initial shock had died down, the pain was setting in. His chest and stomach burned from the seat belt digging into him, and he knew the whiplash would only get worse in the next few hours. He stretched his arms, wincing a little as the movement sent a spasm of pain down his back. “Sorry, thinking. What is it?”

“There’s someone coming.”

He whirled to face the direction she was pointing. The ground slid downward from the airstrip, through a line of palms to a long, narrow beach that led to the channel between the two islands. A boy about their own age was strolling up the beach, his hands in his pockets, whistling to a flock of seagulls that screamed overhead.

Then the boy turned toward them, seemingly unsurprised to find them there. He began hiking up the slope in their direction, kicking aside the coconuts in his path. He had long dark hair that hung loose to his jaw and a sharp angularity to his features.

“Who are you?” Jim asked.

The boy pulled his hands from his pockets and let them hang loose at his sides, considering Jim with an odd look of amusement. “I’m Nicholas,” he said, as if the fact were obvious.

“Did my mom send you?” asked Sophie, walking toward him. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“Calm down, Sophie,” Nicholas said, smiling. “Everything’s fine.”

She stopped short. “How do you know my name?”

Nicholas gave her a long, appraising look. Jim bristled at the way the boy’s gaze lingered on her body, a hungry look in his eye. Jim stepped forward. “Hey, man,” he said. “My plane . . . uh . . . had some trouble landing. . . .” The blood rushed to his face. “It wasn’t my fault or anything—something must have come loose. Point is, I need a phone.”

“Not one here you can use.” He studied the plane, shook his head. “Huh. They are not gonna be happy about this.”

“Who?” Jim asked. “Why can’t I just use the phone?”

But Nicholas was ignoring him. He’d gone back to ogling Sophie. “You came. You actually came.”

“Of course I came! Where is she?”

Nicholas sighed. “Calm down, okay? I’ll take you to her. You, pilot. You can’t use the phone because there’s only one on the island and it’s locked up. Besides, they monitor the line and the minute they find you’re here they’ll shoot you and dump you and your plane in the ocean.”

“What?” Sophie’s head flipped from one to the other. “Now, just wait a minute. Of course we can help him. My mom works on this island and she’d never shoot anyone.”

“Really?” He gave her a steady look. “And how well do you know your mother, Sophie Crue?”

She looked faintly blindsided by this. “Wh-what?”

“I’ve been rude. Forgive me. Welcome to Skin Island.”

He held out a hand and she took it. He ran his thumb over her knuckles and pulled her closer to him, Sophie looking uneasy but not pulling away. Jim’s fingers curled into fists, and he thrust them into his pockets and kicked a loose scrap of metal that his plane had dropped.

“You’ll take me to my mom?” she asked.

Nicholas nodded. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going just as it should.”

“What does that mean?”

Jim looked from Sophie to Nicholas; they were inches apart, eyes locked on each other, ignoring him completely. He threw up his hands. “Okay, I’m done. Whatever trouble you’re getting into, that’s your problem and not mine.” He turned and stalked back to the plane.

Sophie ran after him. “Jim! Come with us. I’m sure my mom can work things out.”

“I’d rather not take my chances, thanks. From the sound of things, your mom’s not in a position to help herself, much less me.” He turned to see the look of distress on her face, and he sighed and shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. I can manage this. Just go on.” He glanced over her shoulder at Nicholas, who stood still, watching them with a mild expression. Jim leaned down and whispered. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine. If you can, you should just go back. I’ll pay you for the trip.”

“Nah,” he said. “It was for old time’s sake.”

“You don’t have to wait for me.”

But he did. He couldn’t just leave her in the middle of nowhere with the first random guy who waltzed up and flashed her a smile. “Go find your mom, and then let me know you’re okay. Then I’ll go.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll come back in a few hours and let you know everything’s kosher, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll try to figure a way to get this thing into the water.”

“The water?” Nicholas called, looking vaguely curious. “You can still fly that thing?”

“If I can get her to the water, I might be able to float her out,” Jim said. He heaved a sigh and scrubbed at the back of his neck. “But it’ll take a hell of a miracle.”

Sophie took a step toward him, but he could tell from the way her eyes kept flickering to Nicholas that she was eager to move on and find her mom. He couldn’t blame her. “Thanks, Jim,” she said. “I’ll see if my mom can’t help. That is, if she’s . . .” She stopped and bit her lip.

If she’s alive? Jim wondered how she would have ended that thought. He shrugged. “Go on. I’ll wait till dark.”

“Thanks,” she said. Their eyes met and held briefly, and Jim nodded. The look in her eyes as she turned away was fierce; he reckoned that if her mother was on Skin Island, Sophie would find her. She had a determination about her that wore him down, made him weary just to watch. Had she been this steely when they were kids? She seemed so much older now, in more than just her looks. He thought of all that had befallen them since those happy days, and how much it had altered them both.

Nicholas threw Jim a half-salute, half-wave, then took Sophie’s hand and led her down the beach to where a small motorboat was anchored, out of Jim’s sight until he took a few steps to his left. In minutes, they were speeding across the channel toward Skin Island, and Jim was left alone beneath the palms with his broken plane and a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

She couldn’t have said why she trusted him, and she wasn’t entirely certain that she did, but for now Nicholas was her only guide and she had no choice but to follow him. After he anchored the boat in a small inlet and tied it to an overhanging pine, he led her up a wooded slope and into a grove of low-growing, heavy-leafed trees. Sunlight leaked through the canopy to dapple the sandy earth and Nicholas’s skin. He walked slightly ahead of her, but kept glancing back every few moments, as if she might evaporate.

“Who are you?” she asked after several minutes of trekking in silence, listening only to the crunch of sand and leaves under their shoes and the fading rush and roar of the ocean. “I mean, I know your name—but what are you doing here? You seem young to be a doctor or scientist.”“Do I?” He held up a branch for her pass underneath it. “Do you know anything about Skin Island?”

“Not much,” she admitted, then added, “Well, nothing at all, really.”

He nodded distractedly, letting go of the branch. It whacked her head from behind.

“Ouch! Hey!”

Nicholas stared at her as if seeing right through her, then he blinked and the look was gone, replaced by a sheepish smile. “Oh. Sorry.”