On the Island Read Online Free PDF Page A

hairline.
    We walked to the breadfruit tree and Anna climbed on my shoulders and knocked down two. I felt weak, unsteady, and it was hard to hold her. She got off and while we were standing there, a breadfruit fell off a branch and landed at our feet. We looked at each other.
    “That will make things easier,” she said.
    We cleared away the rotten breadfruit under the tree so if we came back and found any on the ground, we’d know we could eat them. I picked up the one that fell and peeled it. The juice tasted sweeter and the fruit wasn’t so hard to chew.
    We desperately needed something to collect water in, and we walked along the shoreline looking for empty cans, bottles, containers—anything that was watertight and would hold the rain. We spotted debris, which I thought might be wreckage from the plane, but nothing else. The lack of any human garbage made me wonder just where the hell we were.
    We went inland. The trees blocked the light from the sun and mosquitoes swarmed us. I slapped at them and wiped the sweat off my forehead with my arm. We saw the pond when we came to a small clearing. More like a large puddle, it was full of murky water, and my thirst kicked into overdrive.
    “Can we drink that?” I asked.
    Anna knelt down and stuck her hand in. She swirled the water around and wrinkled her nose at the smell. “No, it’s stagnant. It’s probably not safe to drink.”
    We kept walking, but we couldn’t find anything that would hold water so we went back to the coconut tree. I picked up one of the coconuts from the ground and smashed it against the trunk of the tree, then threw it when I couldn’t get it to crack. I kicked the tree, which hurt my foot. “Goddamn it!”
    If I could get one coconut open, we could drink the coconut water, eat the meat, and collect rain in the empty shell.
    Anna didn’t seem to notice my tantrum. She shook her head back and forth and said, “I just don’t understand why we haven’t seen a plane yet. Where are they?”
    I sat down next to her, breathing hard and sweating. “I don’t know.” We didn’t say anything for a while, lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I said, “Do you think we should build a fire?”
    “Do you know how?” she asked.
    “No.” I’d lived in the city all my life, and I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been camping and still have fingers left over. And we’d lit our campfires with a lighter. “Do you?”
    “No.”
    “We could try to make one,” I said. “We seem to have the time.”
    She smiled at my lame attempt at a joke. “Okay.”
    We rubbed two sticks together for the next hour. Anna managed to get hers hot enough to burn her finger before she quit. I did a little better—I thought I saw some smoke—but no fire. My arms ached.
    “I give up,” I said, dropping my sticks and using the bottom of my T-shirt to wipe the sweat before it dripped into my eyes.
    It started raining. I concentrated on trying to catch the drops on my tongue, grateful for the small amount of water I swallowed. The rain ended after a few minutes.
    Still sweating, I walked down to the shore, stripped off my T-shirt, and waded in wearing just my shorts. The temperature of the lagoon reminded me of bathwater, but I ducked my head under and felt a little cooler. Anna followed me, stopping before she reached the water. She sat down on the sand, holding her long hair off her neck with one hand. She had to be roasting in her long-sleeved shirt and jeans. A few minutes later she stood up, hesitated, and then pulled her T-shirt over her head. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, stepped out of them, and walked toward me, wearing nothing but a black bra and matching underwear.
    “Just pretend I’m in my swimsuit, okay?” she said when she joined me in the water. Her face was red, and she could hardly look at me.
    “Sure.” I was so stunned I barely got the word out.
    She had an awesome body. Long legs, flat stomach. Really nice rack.