Free On the Island by Tracey Garvis Graves Page A

drew a checkerboard in the sand. We used pebbles for the checkers and played three games.
    “One more?” T.J. asked.
    “No, I’m going to take a bath.”
    I was already worried about our soap and shampoo supply. I’d packed a lot of each, but T.J. and I had agreed to only bathe every other day. Just in case. We stayed somewhat clean since we swam a lot, but we didn’t always smell the greatest.
    “Your turn,” I said, when I returned from the shore.
    “I miss showering,” T.J. said.
    After he bathed, we went to bed. T.J. closed the roll-down door of the life raft and lay down next to me.
    “I’d give anything for a Coke,” he said.
    “Me, too. A big one, with lots of ice.”
    “And I want some bread. Not breadfruit. Bread. Like a big sandwich, with potato chips and a pickle.”
    “Pizza, Chicago style,” I said.
    “A big sloppy cheeseburger.”
    “Steak,” I said. “And a baked potato with cheese and sour cream.”
    “Chocolate pie for dessert.”
    “I know how to make chocolate pie. My mom taught me.”
    “The kind with the chocolate shavings on top?”
    “Yes. When we get off this island, I’ll make you one.” I sighed. “We’re just torturing ourselves.”
    “I know. Now I’m hungry. Well, I was already kinda hungry.”
    I turned onto my side and got comfortable. “Good night, T.J.”
    “Good night.”

    T.J. laid the fish he’d caught on the ground next to me and sat down.
    “School’s been in session for a couple weeks,” I said. I made an X on the calendar, put the datebook away, and started cleaning our breakfast.
    T.J. must have noticed my expression because he said, “You seem sad.”
    I nodded. “It’s hard for me, knowing another teacher is standing in front of my students right now.”
    I taught sophomore English, and I loved shopping for school supplies and selecting books for my bookshelves. I always filled a big mug on my desk with pens and there wouldn’t be any left by the end of the year.
    “So you like your job?”
    “I love it. My mom was a teacher—she retired last year—and I always knew I’d be one, too. When I was little I wanted to play school all the time, and she used to give me gold stars so I could grade my stuffed animals’ homework.”
    “I bet you’re a really good teacher.”
    I smiled. “I try to be.” I placed the cleaned fish on my cooking rock and positioned it close to the flames. “Can you believe you’d be starting your junior year?”
    “No. It seems like I haven’t been to school in a long time.”
    “Do you like school? Your mom told me you were a good student.”
    “It’s okay. I wanted to catch up with my class. I had hoped to get back on the football team, too. I had to quit when I got sick.”
    “So you like sports?” I asked.
    He nodded. “Especially football and basketball. Do you?”
    “Sure.”
    “Do you play any?”
    “Well, I run. I ran two half marathons last year, and I ran track and played basketball in high school. Sometimes I do yoga.” I checked the fish and pulled the rock away from the fire so it could cool. “I miss exercising.”
    I couldn’t imagine running now. Even if we had enough food to justify it, running around the island would remind me of a hamster on a wheel. Moving forward but getting absolutely nowhere.

    T.J. walked up with a backpack full of firewood. “Happy birthday,” I said.
    “It’s September twentieth?” He threw a log on the fire and sat down next to me.
    I nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you a present. The island mall sucks.”
    T.J. laughed. “That’s okay, I don’t need a present.”
    “Maybe you can have a big party when we get off this island.”
    T.J. shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”
    T.J. seemed older than seventeen. Reserved, almost. Maybe facing serious health problems eliminated some of the immature behavior that presented itself when you had nothing more to worry about than getting your driver’s license, cutting class, or breaking curfew.
    “I can’t