Before He Was Gone: Starstruck Book 2 by Becky Wicks Read Free Book Online

around her neck. It looks like it’s been slit down the middle. Aside from that, the only way she could look any more ‘cheerleader’ is if they’d made her bring pompoms.
    I smile back at her, look away, try to rein my judgements in. I can’t help assuming things about all these people and I’m sure they’re doing the same thing, but we haven’t been allowed to speak, or even look at each other so far. We were all taken back to the same hotel on Franklin Avenue - some arrived the same day as me, some arrived twenty-four hours later, and we were briefed in our individual rooms about flying in spread-out seats around a private plane.
    When we arrived, we were made to put on the exact same clothes we were collected in, so the viewers at home will think we were just sent straight here. In truth we all got a pretty good feast last night. I ordered five things off the room service menu.  I thought briefly of sticking some food between my ‘bum’ cheeks for the tough times, but Harri was right - we were all strip-searched before getting on the boat. I heard someone had a pair of nail scissors confiscated. I have no clue where they were hiding them.
    I made a couple of calls to mom and my cousin Evan. All things considered I’m doing pretty good right now. I don’t know about the others. Some of them don’t look prepared at all, especially one scrawny white guy, who won’t stop rubbing the saltwater spray off his glasses with his sleeveless sweater. The nerd? He’s sitting next a huge black woman - the mother-figure, perhaps? 
    The nerd nods with a head of frizzy brown curls as he catches my eye, just as a chicken’s loud squawk makes him jump. I look away before I laugh again. Does this nerd know he’s the nerd? Does the cheerleader know she’s the cheerleader? Damn... am I the homeless freak? Alyssa’s the celebrity, for sure. They’re probably hoping she’ll have some hissy-fit over a lack of tweezers, or a razor.
    The boat stops and everyone stands up. I scan the island we’re closest to. It must be a mile away. The water between us is a shade of blue I’ve actually never seen before with my own eyes. On one end I can see giant black rocks, stacked and cluttered like swept up puzzle pieces, but for the most part it’s just thick jungle and bright white sand. Adrenaline flares through me as Ed holds up a hand.  ‘Castaways, we’ve reached our destination.'
    The cheerleader looks green. 
    ‘This is as close as we’re going to bring you to your new home,' Ed says. 'Right now you have two minutes and thirty seconds to get everything you think you’re going to need for the next eight weeks off this boat and onto that island. OK. It's up to you guys, now. Work together. It all starts here. Good luck. Go! ’
    He’s barely finished talking before the ten of us are shooting into action and I’m throwing the bag they gave us all over my shoulder, grabbing for the spear. It doesn’t matter how many chickens are in those crates – with the spear I can feed us with fish for as long as we need.
    ‘Slash them!’ the big black lady yells at me, pointing at the ropes tied around the crates, though she doesn’t need to. I’m already on it. In seconds, the spearhead has sliced through them all and the others are pulling the tops off, checking what’s inside.
    ‘Throw them all over!’ one guy commands everyone as a camera swings up close – he’s taller than me, wide and clean-shaven, wearing an Abercrombie shirt. The jock.
    ‘Wait!’ I say, grabbing his wrist. ‘We need the rafts down there first, or they’ll sink.’ I dart to the other side, start untying the ropes holding the rafts on board. ‘Help me,’ I yell at the cheerleader who’s followed me, ‘and keep these ropes, we’ll need them!’
    The jock shoots me a look of annoyance, but he starts helping us anyway. Together we loosen the raft in roughly seven seconds and send it crashing into the clear blue water. I turn around. The others