Free Sugar & Squall by J. Round

whisked away with everyone else, too?
    Reading me, he added, “But I’m glad you’re here.”
    “Me too.”
    “You’re glad you’re here?”
    I laughed. “You know what I mean.”
    I stretched my legs out in front of me. The denim in the legs pulled straight.
    “We should go back,” I said. “Hurricane Katrina’s coming in fast.”
    “You’re right,” he replied, standing up and brushing sand off before offering me a hand. “Come on.”
    I took it and he pulled me up before releasing my hand just as quick. I stuffed it into my sweater pocket still warm from his touch.
    Dinner was less of an event than lunch. We stuck another lasagna slab in the microwave until it seemed about right. Logan promised me he’d cook something proper if this continued, but it was late and we were both thrashed from tramping about the island and coming up empty-handed.
    People always tend to go straight back to the same desk in a classroom or the same chair at a table, even if they don’t consciously decide to; something about sticking to what you know. I’d read that somewhere and always tried since to mix it up in a small attempt to be just that little bit unpredictable.
    I hadn’t objected, however, when Logan took us back to that same table in the middle of the dining hall where I’d sat with the girls discussing boys, blowjobs and my embarrassingly sad love life.
    The lasagna was a little Antarctic in the middle, but eatable. I managed to get through half of it before surrendering my fork to the plate.
    I mused that if anyone were to find us we’d look like an old couple sitting together at the table, keeping our manners in check and politely asking each other to pass the salt.
    I scanned the hall windows often, looking for faces, apparitions – anything.
    Afterwards, we retreated back to my room. The lights would be on for another two or three hours, so we made do with a pack of cards I’d found lying in the hall. A few hands later my go-fish skills, or lack thereof, had been laid out – literally – for all to see. I threw myself back onto my bed while Logan paced the room with his hands behind his back.
    “It’s not a museum, you know.” I said, conversing with the roof.
    “I know,” he replied. “I just find it all interesting.”
    “Our things?”
    “Sure. For example, Jemma, right? She’s into all this cartoon stuff. It’s like everything she owns has a character on it. It’s, you know, cool in a way… cute.”
    “You think she’s cute?”
    Gotcha.
    That caught him. Clearly he didn’t know how to respond, starting with an extra-long ‘um’, his hands turning in themselves behind his back. “She’s not really my type.”
    I had to be careful. “Soooo, what is your type?”
    Well done.
    He paused at a pair of cotton panties prostrate on the carpet “I don’t know. Someone’s who’s unique, independent, not just another D&G clone.”
    I didn’t reply.
    He picked up a snow-globe that was sitting on a shelf, flipping it over.
    “I can’t believe everyone’s still missing,” he continued. “To be honest, I was expecting some boat or ferry to show up today and give us some answers. Now nothing will approach the island until this storm passes over. And that might be days.”
    I let myself fall backwards onto the bed. “An evacuation. That has to be it.”
    “F rom what?”
    “The storm, maybe? You said it looked pretty bad.”
    Logan continued pacing. “Maybe.”
    Right then the rain and wind really started belting down, rocking the window on its hinges and painting the glass solid with droplets.
    I watched it, hypnotized, for some time.
    “What’s this?” Logan said, having moved over towards my bed.
    In his hand was my diary, opened up to the page with the DNB list. There was nothing on the cover to indicate it was a diary, so I couldn’t really blame him for curiosity. One of those bitches must have left it there out in the open. My face flushed red. I wanted to spontaneously