Free The Bungalow by Sarah Jio Page B

his shirt pocket. “ Atea here is the only shopkeeper who can track down my Lucky Strikes. She saves a pack for me every Thursday.”
    Atea looked proud standing there, bare chested, not the least bit modest. Her eyes sparkled. She gazed at no one but Lance.
    “Are you coming today?” she said, unaware of the awkward stiffness in the air.
    “Not today, Atea,” he said, dismissing her with a self-conscious nod. “You be a good girl and rustle me up some more, if you can. I’ll be back in a few days.” He tucked a coin in her hand and then reached for Kitty’s arm. “Now, let’s go see the rest of the market.”
    “That was strange,” Stella said, leaning in to me a few moments later.
    It was strange, but I wasn’t going to discuss it with her, not when Kitty might overhear. “What’s so strange about Lance buying cigarettes from a female?” I said instead.
    Stella smirked and continued on, stopping at a table of brightly colored beads.
    “You OK?” I said to Kitty, once Lance was a safe distance away.
    “Of course,” she said. “Why?”
    Good. She wasn’t upset by the interaction. Then I’ll just leave it alone. “Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just wanted to make sure the heat wasn’t getting to you.”
    She took a deep breath of the humid island air and smiled. “I’m having the time of my life,” she said gleefully.

    Stella laid a blanket out on the beach, careful to secure a spot next to Elliot. “I’m starved, are you?” she said, attempting to catch his attention, but he merely shrugged and muttered, “I ate a big breakfast,” before leaning back against a large piece of driftwood wedged into the sand, snuffing out all further conversation by pulling his hat over his eyes.
    We’d driven back around to the other side of the island, close to base. Though we selected a spot beneath the shade of a palm for our picnic, the white sand still radiated heat. I shifted my legs uncomfortably as Kitty set out a loaf of bread, a cheerful bunch of miniature bananas, four bottles of Coca-Cola, and a wedge of cheese—our improvised lunch cobbled together at the market.
    We ate in silence at first, watching the waves crash onto the shore. Then Kitty pointed to the sea and said what we all felt: “It’s hard to believe there’s a war happening out there. This corner of the world is too beautiful for destruction.”
    I nodded, helping myself to another banana. They tasted different than the bananas at home, a little tarter, with a hint of lemon. “But there is,” I said practically.
    “And a serious one, at that,” Lance added. “Just yesterday, the Japs shot down three of our planes.”
    Stella looked worried. “Do you think we’ll see fighting right here on the island?”
    “I think we might,” Lance said gravely. “Colonel Donahue doesn’t see it that way, though. He’s a fool. I tell you, we’ll be all asleep in our bunks when the Japs fly over, bombarding us when we least expect it.”
    Kitty looked up with concerned eyes, then shook her head. “Colonel Donahue will protect this island.”
    Lance shrugged. “If you say so.” He smirked, before muttering, “I could run this operation better blindfolded.”
    The statement was too boastful for a man of twenty-five, but Kitty must have been unaffected by his arrogance, because she laid her head lightly in his lap. I could tell by his smile that he liked it.
    Elliot began to snore. Stella brooded.
    “I think I’ll take a walk,” I said, standing. Kitty’s eyes were closed in pretend slumber as I adjusted the brim of my hat and kicked off my shoes. “I’ll be back,” I said, though I don’t think anyone looked up.
    I walked down the beach, stopping occasionally to examine a rock or a shell, or to marvel at the growth patterns of the palms, reaching out to the sea in horizontal fashion. Years of wind and tropical storms had sculpted their trunks, but I liked to think they grew that way because the sea was calling. It made me