Never Ever (8 page)

“No,” Bandit answered. “Take it from someone who's lived on the mainland most of my life—the life of an adult is highly overrated. Here, we get to party all the time. We keep the place running. We don't have to worry about any of the other crap that comes with getting older. Working some dead-end job, paying bills, getting our cholesterol checked. Go back to New York. I guarantee if you walked up to any forty-year-old and asked them what they'd do in your position, they'd stay here. No question.”

Wylie let this sink in. He was right. Living here meant having all the freedom of adulthood and all of the freedom of youth at the same time. What could be better?

“I know this is a lot to process,” Phinn said. “But I think we've covered just about everything.”

“Wait,” Wylie jumped in. “What's on the Forbidden Side?”

“It's a lot less dramatic than it sounds. You've probably heard of quicksand, right? Well, that portion of the island is prone to it. So we decided the area should be off limits, just to be safe.”

Wylie breathed a sigh of relief. The notion of quicksand was frightening, but she knew it wasn't as dangerous as the way it was portrayed in movies.

“Who's Hopper?” Wylie asked.

Everyone at the table exchanged an uncomfortable look. Phinn smiled wide to overcompensate.

“Not one of our favorite topics,” Phinn admitted. “He came to the island a couple years ago, but he wasn't a good fit. So we sent him packing. He had a twisted sense of humor and tagged parts of the island. That's why you'll see his name here and there.”

There was obviously more to the story than Phinn was letting on, but Wylie didn't press him. She didn't want to hear any details that might deter her brothers from wanting to stay. And anyway, it was inevitable that not all recruits would fit in with the rest of the island. Hopefully, she wouldn't have that problem.

“It's getting late and you guys have a lot to think about,” Phinn said, “I'm sure you want some time to make a decision.”

“How long do we have?” Joshua asked.

“We can give you till the morning. Just remember, there's no going back on what you choose. If you stay, you can't change your mind and go home.”

And if we leave,
Wylie thought,
we can never come back here again.
How could they be expected to go back to their normal lives with the knowledge that a place like this existed? Joshua wanted to get married and have kids and be a dad someday. Wylie wasn't sure he'd be willing to give all that up, even if doing so extended his life span by about a hundred years. There was a very good chance they'd be sailing home tomorrow morning, and before long, she'd wonder if Phinn and this entire place were just a figment of her imagination.

“Well, then we should probably get back to our bungalow,” Wylie said. “Thank you for the lovely meal. It was really nice getting to know all of you.”

“Let me walk you back,” Phinn insisted.

On the walk to the bungalow, Joshua and Micah strode ahead, locked in whispered conversation, but Wylie hung back with Phinn and listened as he pointed out tiny landmarks Tinka hadn't shown them on the tour.

“Nighttime is my favorite time on the island. It's so quiet and peaceful,” Phinn said, reaching into a basket of glass jars in the Clearing. “These are for catching fireflies.”

He handed a jar to Wylie and she quickly opened and closed the lid. She grinned as she watched it glow from the fireflies buzzing around inside. Phinn directed their attention to the sky, where a few insomniacs flew above their heads.

“I call them the night owls. They sleep all day and play all night. Sometimes when I'm feeling restless and can't sleep, I come down to the Clearing and roast sugar roots with them.”

“What are sugar roots?” Wylie asked.

“A plant we have here. When you heat it up, it expands and bursts into a ball of sticky deliciousness. You guys want to try one?”

Joshua turned around. “No, thanks. We should get back to our room.”

“Hey, if we're leaving tomorrow, I'm trying a sugar root,” Wylie countered. “When in Minor Island, right?”

As Phinn pulled a bunch of red weeds out of the ground, he explained how important it was to respect the island's natural resources.

“Lola's tribe taught us that the island is sacred. We treat it as such. I guess you could say we're die-hard environmentalists. We take care of every inch of this place, and we're rewarded in spades.”

The sugar roots were bulbous and the color of blood-orange pulp. Phinn pushed a stick into them and handed one out to each of the siblings. They stood around a lit fire pit and held their sticks over the flames. The bulbs expanded like balloons and when they popped, a glob of what looked like saltwater taffy sizzled into the shape of a ball.

“Blow on it for a second.”

Wylie did as she was directed, then took a small bite. The sugar root tasted like a combination of marzipan and salted caramel. It was delicious.

“It was worth it, right?” Phinn asked.

They all nodded as they walked toward the bungalow, munching on the melted plant the whole way home. When they arrived at the front door, Phinn gently held onto Wylie's wrist.

“Can I have a minute alone with you?” he asked.

Wylie glanced at her brothers. She didn't need their approval, but she also didn't want them to think that alone time with Phinn would sway her or cloud her judgment.

“Go ahead,” Joshua said. “We'll be inside.”

The door closed, leaving them alone for the first time since Wylie had fallen asleep on his boat. She stared at Phinn's face, trying to make sense of what she felt for him. His methods for bringing them here were wrong, there was no way around that, but did it matter anymore if his intentions were good?

“Do you forgive me for bringing you here?” he asked.

“I don't know,” was the most honest answer she could give.

“What if I begged and pleaded?”

“That might help.”

“Please forgive me. I could tell how much you love your brothers. I knew how much it would hurt to see one of them go to jail. I wanted to protect you from that.”

“I don't need protecting,” Wylie replied.

“We all do sometimes.” He sounded so earnest, it nearly made Wylie forget why she was mad at him in the first place.

“I don't date older guys,” Wylie blurted.

“I'm only seventeen.”

“But you've been that age a lot longer than I have.”

“Wylie, what if for the next thirty years, you stayed your age? Lived in the same house with your parents and brothers. Went to the same school. Hung out with all the same people. If you were frozen in time just like all of us are here, believe me, you wouldn't be a day older than seventeen.”

Phinn's argument reminded her of a conversation she'd had the month before with her grandma on her seventy-fifth birthday.

“In my head, I still feel as young as you,” she'd said to Wylie with a sigh. “And then I look in the mirror and I'm shocked.”

Phinn was right. Living here on this island, without letting the aging process take hold, meant
being
a seventeen-year-old forever.

“Do you think you'll stay?” Phinn asked.

“Why couldn't you have just told us you were bringing us here instead of doing it without asking?”

“If I told you about this place, would you have even believed me?”

“No.”

“I couldn't take that risk. I couldn't risk never seeing you again.”

Before she even knew what she was doing, Wylie flung her arms around Phinn and breathed in his scent. His arms hung flat by his sides for a moment, and then he wrapped them around her waist.

“I'm glad I saw this place,” she said.

“I'm glad you did, too,” Phinn said, holding her even tighter.

“Good night, Phinn.”

“Good night, Wylie.”

“No matter what happens, it was really nice to meet you.”

“It was really nice to meet you, too.”

And then she let him go and walked inside, prepared for battle.

mea culpas

family
meetings were Maura Dalton's favorite pastime. Halfway through Wylie's freshman year in high school, she got caught cutting class, and her mom insisted they conduct the meetings on a monthly basis. It didn't take long for the Dalton kids to realize that “family meeting” was just code for a lengthy, grueling parental lecture. Wylie usually zoned out and nodded her head at the appropriate times, while discreetly pinching Joshua and Micah for her own amusement. They always sat on opposite sides of her, and she liked to predict which one of her brothers would surrender to laughter first. It was usually Micah.

But now, with just the three of them, this family meeting was unavoidable. And its outcome would determine the rest of their lives.

They'd been talking in circles for hours, and so far the only thing they agreed on was that their decision had to be unanimous. There would be no scenario where Wylie
would stay on the island and her brothers would leave. If they were going to live here, they were going to live here
together.

But the chances of that happening were growing slimmer by the minute. Joshua was as adamant about going home as Wylie was about staying. For every point she made, he swung back with the perfect counterpoint. Wylie wasn't giving up easily, though. He could bully and debate her all he wanted, but she was not turning her back on this place. It wasn't a surprise to either of them that Micah stayed neutral for most of their discussion, even though Wylie was sure if they forced him to pick a side, she would win.

The only thing currently working in Wylie's favor was that the pot of woodmeg tea they found waiting for them after dinner was tapped out. Without any caffeine to keep him awake, Joshua began to yawn between sentences, and his eyelids started to droop. Wylie knew if he let his head hit the pillow and closed his eyes, he'd fall right to sleep. Maybe Joshua would agree to stay purely so she would stop talking and he could give in to his fatigue. That was, after all, how police officers coerced suspects into confessing to crimes they'd never committed—by mentally and emotionally exhausting them. Wylie was prepared to do both.

“I don't want to stay young forever. I want to get older,” Joshua finally admitted.

This was the argument Wylie had been dreading all night.

“Don't you guys?” he continued. “I want to go to college one day. I want to get a job. Abigail and I had plans to get married, have kids, and grow old together. That's the point
of living, isn't it? Experiencing everything life has to offer. Not staying in some strange state of arrested development.”

“He makes a good point,” Micah chimed in. “Honestly, fifteen hasn't been all that great for me. I don't know if I want to be a teenager forever.”

Wylie was nearly fuming now. Micah had been quiet all night, and he decided to break his silence by siding with their brother?

“Growing up won't guarantee you happiness, Micah,” Wylie announced. “It sucks, but it's true. The people who make fun of you now are going to grow up right along with us. But starting over on an island with people who don't know the Micah Dalton from Harper Academy? That could solve all your problems. You are a wonderful person, and you deserve to be around people who will finally appreciate you.”

Micah looked down at his hands.

“What makes you think they won't hate me here, too?” he asked.

“Because they've invited you to stay. They want you here. If this island is high school, then the people we were at dinner with tonight are the popular kids, and they already like you. Especially Tinka. She was staring at you all night.”

The last part wasn't entirely true, but when Wylie saw Micah's mouth form a smile, she knew it was a justifiable lie. Joshua wasn't the only kid in the family who could take a page from the politician's handbook.

“What about prom?” Joshua said, looking right at Wylie.

“What about it?”

“You're really okay with missing it?”

“Missing out on one night so I can be seventeen forever? Yes, I'm more than okay with that.”

“What about falling in love and getting married someday? Don't tell me you've never dreamed of your wedding day, Dad walking you down the aisle.”

Wylie rolled her eyes. It was so typical of a guy to assume that all females associated the word “future” with a white gown and a diamond ring.

“I can honestly say I've never dreamed about my wedding day. Why would I, with Mom and Dad fighting all the time?”

“What about being a chef? You've always wanted to have your own restaurant. You can't do that here.”

“Maybe I can help Lola in the kitchen. I don't care who I work for as long as I still get to cook.”

“What about Mom and Dad?” Joshua asked, rubbing his eyes. “Are you actually prepared to never see them again?”

“Yes.” Wylie responded as confidently as she could. Despite the anger she felt toward her parents, the thought of never seeing them again was difficult to fathom. In one swift move, the Daltons would be declaring themselves orphans, and their parents would be as good as dead. Just like Phinn and his inner circle, except most of them didn't choose to lose their moms and dads.

“And you're okay with them just going on for the rest of their lives, not knowing what happened to us?” Joshua added.

“They never wanted us in the first place,” Wylie countered. “And besides, they've always said they wanted the best for us. Well, this is it.”

Joshua got up from his bed and paced the room. It was something their father did every time he was stressed out or frustrated. Joshua mostly looked like their mom, but his facial expressions sometimes bore a striking resemblance to their dad. Wylie wondered if he was pacing on purpose to mess with her head.

“The divorce isn't final yet. It won't be for a long time. Maybe Mom and Dad just need a little time apart. You know what they say, you don't know what you have until it's gone. I mean, it's not like there was cheating or abuse—something totally unforgivable between them.”

“That's not entirely true,” Wylie blurted, no longer able to keep the secret from her brothers.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Micah asked.

Wylie couldn't look him in the eye. “Dad had an affair.”

“Dad would never do that,” Joshua said suspiciously. Wylie raised her head and made herself focus on her brother's face.

“He would and he did. I found out a few months ago. We hadn't had one of our father-daughter dinners in a long time, so I went to his office to surprise him with Chinese food. When I got there, mostly everyone had gone home, but his door was open a crack. I almost walked in, but there was someone else with him.”

“Maybe it was just a coworker,” Micah interjected.

“They were kissing. And he told her it was only a matter of time before he left Mom and they could be together.”

“You swear you're not making this up?” Joshua asked.

“I swear on my life. They do work together. Her name's Shannon. I heard them making all these plans. Getting their own little house in the Hamptons. Someplace cozy, but big enough for
all
the kids.”

“She has kids?” Micah asked.

“Yeah, I looked her up. She has two kids. A boy and a girl around our ages. Dad was my hero—you guys know that,” Wylie continued, trying to keep her emotions under control. “But in one moment, that changed completely. He's not who I thought he was. He left us for another family.”

“Mom is going to have a nervous breakdown when she finds out,” Micah said.

“She already knows. I went straight home. I was upset, crying. Maybe I should have kept it to myself, but that didn't seem right. So I told her.”

“What did she say?” Micah asked.

“She said, ‘We are never to discuss this again.' She changed her whole life for him. Gave up all of her dreams and plans. And even when he cheated on her, she wanted to sweep it under the rug, just like everything else.”

“I hate them,” Micah muttered. “I really hate them both.”

Joshua stopped pacing and collapsed on his bed. “Don't say that.”

“I didn't want to tell you,” Wylie admitted, “but if we go home, we're not going back to the same family we left.”

“I think we've reached a stalemate,” Joshua said, defeated. “Let's get some sleep and pick this back up in the morning.”

Sleep was a terrible idea. Wylie was certain she wouldn't
get an ounce of rest, with her future hanging in the balance. She knew what she was about to say would hurt her brother even more, but a little short-term pain was well worth a lot of long-term happiness.

“What's there to pick back up? Joshua, this is your ‘get out of jail free' card. Aren't you thinking about what's waiting for you in New York? Micah and I have to deal with a broken home, but you have to deal with a four-by-four cell. A blue jumpsuit. A minimum of three years, locked up. A permanent record. An
ex-
girlfriend.”

It was the mention of “ex-girlfriend” that got his attention.

“You said Abigail was just confused and that she didn't mean it when she dumped me.”

“And I want to believe that, too,” Wylie confessed. “But think about it. If she's already panicking, what's she going to be like when you're actually locked up? Maybe the first few years will be easy when she's still in high school, but what about when she's off at Harvard? You really think she's still going to be writing you letters and paying you visits on the weekend? I'm sorry, Joshua, but most relationships don't even survive people going to different colleges. I don't know if yours can survive jail time.”

Joshua's olive skin was now a deep shade of red, and the vein in his forehead made its second appearance of the day. He walked up to Wylie, looked her right in the eye, and said:

“And whose fault would that be, Wylie?”

All the air went out of the room. No one spoke. Wylie was finally speechless. All this time, she'd thought if Joshua
ever admitted she was the one responsible for the accident, it would be a relief. But all she felt right now was sheer disgust. Not for her brother, but for herself.

“Mine,” Wylie answered. “And that's why I can't go back.” As soon as she said it, she knew it was exactly the reason she wanted to stay. “If you're locked up for three years, you're never going to forgive me. And I'll never be able to live with myself. I already can't most days.”

For once, Joshua didn't comfort her or downplay her guilt. Wylie knew it was because he didn't disagree.

“You were a no-show at your sentencing,” Wylie continued. “You're a fugitive. They could put you away for even longer now. This is a second chance for
all
of us.”

“She's right,” Micah said. “I don't want you to go to jail. We've all tried to stay positive, but this is going to ruin your life. That girl might never come out of her coma. She could die. And then what happens to you?”

Joshua shuddered.

“I can't think about that. I don't want you guys changing your entire lives because of me,” he told them. “I'll go back and face the music. I'll be out eventually, and then we'll pick up the pieces.”

“Didn't you hear what Phinn said?” Wylie asked. “He brings people to the island who can't realize their potential back home. If that doesn't make you the perfect candidate to be here, I don't know what does. We could be really happy here. I can feel it.”

“Are you saying that because you mean it or because you're into Phinn?” Joshua asked, with more than a trace of condescension.

“I don't have feelings for him. Sure, he's interesting and he's given us an incredible opportunity, but it wasn't right, what he did.”

“Then is the accident the only reason you want to stay here?”

“No, it's not the only reason. There's nothing good waiting for us back home. Yeah, I'll miss my friends. I'll miss some things about school. I've worked hard for my cooking channel. I love being on the basketball team. Vanessa, she'll probably never forgive me for abandoning her, but the pros outweigh the cons. Back home, we'll get old and we'll die. We have more than a lifetime ahead of us here. Please don't make us go back. Please don't make us send you to jail, when we can all be free here together.”

“I'm with Wylie,” Micah said, finally choosing a side.

Wylie watched as their words sank in and the vein in Joshua's forehead slowly retreated.

“Okay. Let's stay.” And then he grinned. “Let's be young forever.”

They hugged and cheered and rejoiced in their decision.

“You're sure about this?” Wylie asked, nervous that Joshua would change his mind in the light of day.

“Positive.”

With the debate finally over, it was time to go to sleep. Wylie lay awake in bed until she heard her brothers breathing deeply in their slumber. She quietly stumbled out of bed, slipped on her boots, and tiptoed out the front door.