Scorched Treachery (36 page)

“Wow, that’s how moms carry their calves in the water before they can swim fast enough to keep up. I
can’t believe so many of them came—and then beached. And that we got them all back in the water so fast! Why did you swim up on the rocks, anyway?” Celeste looked at me with concern.

I paused, furrowing my forehead, considering her question. “I guess I got turned in the wrong direction? I don’t remember, except that I didn’t want to come up for air and leave the slip stream,” I said.

“Maybe you passed out under water?” she asked, looking concerned. “Either way, that albino saved you. Isn’t that a sign of fortune, according to the Island legends?”

I nodded. Just spotting an albino was considered very good luck, but being rescued by one? I couldn’t begin to imagine what the Elders would interpret that to mean. Many of the Elders worshipped the sea instead of a more traditional religion. But my parents’ generation rejected the spirituality. If they couldn’t see it, they didn’t believe it. My grandparents weren’t like that at all. Everything was a sign, a feeling, open to interpretation based on many silent factors that only they understood.

“Definitely a good omen for a great summer,” I said, feeling optimistic in spite of the pain.

“That made my summer and it’s only the solstice,” Celeste said dreamily, sounding more like a little kid who’d spotted a unicorn than a research scientist.

“Seeing that dolphin? Don’t you work with them, like all day every day?“ I asked.

“Yes, but that one’s an anomaly. Some scientists can’t handle them because they mess up statistics, but I love the unusual ones. And that’s the first albino I’ve ever seen. In case it’s the last, I want to enjoy it. Have you ever seen her before?“

I shrugged, thinking back to my childhood. “When I was little an albino used to come right up to our docks with her pod, I don't know if it's the same one or not. But when we were six or so they passed a law to prevent people from feeding the dolphins. It felt like we were being mean and they didn’t understand, and they stopped coming.”

“There was some concern they were forgetting how to hunt and instead learning to beg for food, which wasn’t good for them,” Celeste explained.

“Let’s chalk it up to a magical First Night that leads to a whole bunch of Surf Carnival wins. And that kiss with Blake?” she said, switching gears. “Beyond amazing!”

“You saw that?” I said, cringing. “He was going to give me mouth-to-mouth, and I kissed him. I’m such an idiot,” I said, pulling up my knees and covering my face in them to hide the blush on my skin.

“That may have been his, ‘I’m Blake, I’m so responsible’ plan. “Or… what if the CPR thing was just an excuse?” Her eyes twinkled, but I felt confused.

“He would have done the same thing for anyone,” I said, still blushing.

“You’re kidding, right?” Celeste laughed at me, in the way older girls with boyfriends could—like they knew something we didn’t. “Cami, haven’t you noticed the way he stares at you?” she said, stroking my hair.

“No,” I blushed. “He didn’t initiate it at all. He wouldn’t. That’s just not what we’re like. There’s zero attraction there,” I explained, the words sounding false even to my own ears. “He’s just always with Mica…which makes him practically my brother…like our third twin. I doubt he even sees me as a girl. In any event, I’m not interested. I want to move off the Island, and he’ll never leave. He’d just be a trap for me. ”

“A six-foot-four, blond trap with good manners who frequently practices chivalry?” she said, giggling. “Sounds like a trap I’d gladly fall in.”

“You have Billy, and you’re choosing to be here. As soon as I can, I’m going to choose to leave. So, yeah. No trap for me.”

As the boys came back, I wondered if my speech had convinced her. Because I wasn’t sure of anything at all except that there was nothing neutral about how I felt when I looked at Blake now.

I flirted, laughed, danced, and drank as the night passed, unusual behavior for the always in-training me. But everyone who stayed at the party after the elders went home was either in The Guard or swam
competitively, and they all seemed okay with letting go for the night. Blown away by the evening’s events, I needed to let the energy out, too.

I’d felt buzzed since the first cup of beer. After the second, I was dizzy, giggling and dancing around, passing out sticks and marshmallows. Blake watched me move around the circle. I saved him for last because I felt embarrassed about what I’d done on the rocks, and I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I handed him the last stick left and nudged him over to the fire.

“Um Cami, isn’t this stick is a bit
short
? Are you trying to get me burned?” he asked, smiling and flashing dimples in the amber glow.

I smiled back, relieved that he was being this easy on me.

“Maybe,” I said. I grabbed the stick back, took three marshmallows from the bag, and pushed them down one at a time.

I walked around to the other side of the bonfire where only a couple of people sat. I reached the stick towards the flame and stumbled and the marshmallows went directly into the fire, with the flames way too close to my hand.

“Death wish tonight, Cami?” Blake asked, pulling my arm away from the flames to quickly blow out the treats. They were charred to a crisp. I pouted and licked my lips.

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go get another stick.”

He turned back to the edge of the clearing. I recovered my beer and followed him to the tree line, still holding the short stick with the crispy marshmallows in my other hand. Though I was only three steps behind, he already had his army knife at work on a low branch of a small tree. He finished cutting and started stripping the leaves.

Too impatient to wait, I took a bite from what I had, pulling my lips away when they burned. To cool my mouth down, I sipped the beer. “Beer and burnt marshmallows? Two great things that are not great together.” He laughed, taking the cup from my hand.

“They are, actually,” I said, licking a bit of sticky white stuff off the right side of my mouth. He watched me intently, his look even sweeter than the marshmallows.

“Try it,” I offered, stepping forward and putting the stick to his lips. He leaned in, closed his eyes, tilted his head, and touched his lips to the same exact place where mine had been. It was a kiss in time delay.

I breathed in, smelling the smoke and enjoying the moment. That is, until he squinched up his eyes, pursed his mouth, shook his head, and totally broke my trance.

“Way too burnt,” he said, scratching his tongue on
his teeth to get rid of the taste. I loved the way he touched my face as I leaned toward him. His eyes changed yet again, as he stared right at me, running his fingers down my cheek, then my neck. His thumb passed over my collarbone, and then slowly, so slowly, he gripped my neck, right under my ear where I’d gotten hurt a few hours before. Drugged with anticipation, and buzzed from the beer, I felt no pain. I closed my eyes, beyond excited for this particular now. Then he stroked the skin behind my ear.

“Ouch,” I protested, before I could stop myself.

With a horrified look, he drew away his fingers.

“I’m just being a baby—I’m fine.” I took his fingers and kissed them, to try to bring back the moment. But, there, on his fingers, I noticed fresh blood. It wasn’t a lot, but it definitely was there—and it meant the cut went deeper than I’d thought. I didn’t want Blake to see it; if he did, he would switch into Guard mode and our night would be over.

Acting quickly, I licked the blood from his fingers before he noticed that it was anything more than water from my still-wet hair. Touching him like that was a bold move, and Blake’s eyes widened in response. He kissed my cheek softly, and then nuzzled my ear. He looked at me again to make sure I was okay. I sent a silent thank you to the Universe and hoped my cut would take care of itself.