On the Island by Tracey Garvis Graves Read Free Book Online

reaction.”
    “What about that one?” T.J. asked, pointing at a white bottle.
    I glanced at him and looked away. “That’s Imodium. It’s an antidiarrheal.”
    He snorted when he heard that.
    The life raft inflated with a carbon dioxide canister. When we pushed the button, it filled with gas so quickly we had to jump out of the way.
    We attached the roof canopy and rainwater collector. The life raft resembled one of those bounce houses my niece and nephew loved to jump around in, though not nearly as tall.
    “This should hold about three gallons of water,” I said, pointing at the water collector. Thirsty again, I hoped the afternoon rain came early.
    Nylon flaps hung down on the sides and attached to the life raft with Velcro. Leaving them up during the day would allow light and air inside. The roll-down mesh doors provided a small opening.
    We pushed the life raft next to the lean-to and put more wood on the fire before walking to the coconut tree. T.J. cut the husk off a coconut. He split it open by sticking the blade of the knife into the coconut and hitting the handle with his fist. I caught the water that spilled out in one of the plastic containers.
    “I thought it would be sweeter,” T.J. said, after he took a drink.
    “Me, too.” It tasted slightly bitter, but it wasn’t bad.
    T.J. scraped out the meat with the knife. Starving, I wanted to eat every coconut on the ground. We shared five before my aching hunger dissipated. T.J. had one more, and I wondered how much food it took to fill up a sixteen-year-old boy.
    The rain came an hour later. T.J. and I got soaked, smiling and cheering, watching the various containers fill to the top. Grateful for the sheer abundance, I drank until I couldn’t hold any more, the water sloshing around in my stomach when I moved.
    Within an hour, we both peed again. We celebrated by eating another coconut and two breadfruits.
    “I like coconut better than breadfruit,” I said.
    “Me, too. Although now that we have a fire, maybe we can roast it and see if it tastes better.”
    We gathered more firewood and found long sticks for spearing fish. We threw the tarp over the top of the lean-to and tied it on with the rope for added protection from the rain.
    T.J. carved five tally marks on the trunk of a tree. Neither of us mentioned another plane.
    At bedtime, we built the fire up as high as we could without burning down the lean-to. T.J. crawled into the life raft. I went in after him, wearing the shirt he’d given me for a nightgown. I closed the roll-down door behind me; at least we’d have some protection from the mosquitoes.
    We lowered the nylon flaps and attached them with the Velcro fasteners. I spread the blankets out and put the seat cushions down for pillows. The blankets were scratchy, but they’d keep us warm when the sun went down and the temperature dropped. The seat cushions were thin and smelled of mildew, but it was luxuriously comfortable compared to sleeping on the ground.
    “This is awesome,” T.J. said.
    “I know.”
    The life raft was a bit smaller than a double bed. Sharing it with T.J. would leave only a few inches between us. I was too tired to care.
    “Good night, T.J.”
    “Good night, Anna.” He sounded drowsy already, and he rolled onto his side and passed out.
    Seconds later, I did, too.
    I woke up in the middle of the night to check the fire. Only glowing embers remained, so I added more wood and poked it with a stick, sending sparks into the air. When the fire burned strong again, I went back to bed.
    T.J. woke up when I lay down beside him.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked.
    “Nothing. I put more wood on the fire. Go back to sleep.”
    I closed my eyes, and we slept until the sun came up.

Chapter 8
    —
    T.J.
    I woke up with a hard-on.
    I usually did, and it wasn’t like I had any control over it. Now that we weren’t almost dead, my body must have decided all systems were go. Sleeping so close to a girl, especially one who looked