Free The Guardians of Island X by Rachelle Delaney Page B

a child of the sea.
    He may lack my charisma, and he does smell like algae.
    And yet the faithful Crab Cake has some talents of his own.
    Run for your life if you should see him reaching for a stone.
    On cue, Liam held up a pebble. “There is one good thing about this costume.” He pulled out a slingshot made of seaweed and driftwood, then loaded the pebble into its clamshell pocket and let it fly, just above the Lost Souls’ heads. The crowd’s laughter turned to
ooh
s of admiration.
    “Nice slingshot, Liam!”
    “Now that’s a good way to fight off those scalawags!”
    “Ah, but look what I’ve got!” Smitty cried, not to be outdone. He produced a bow of sorts, made with a curved stick and some thin rope. Then he took a stick that he’d whittled to a point at one end, fitted it into the bow, and let it fly. It sailed about three feet before nose-diving into the grass.
    The Lost Souls howled.
    “Nice try, Deadly Parrot!”
    “Give it to me! I bet I can do it!”
    Jem chose that moment to slip away. Costumes and new weapons were all fine and good, but he had tree houses to build. He’d wasted enough time already. With pirates and King’s Men on the island, he had to get to work.
    “Today I’ll finish the floor and start on the walls,” he muttered to himself, hurrying into the trees, “which shouldn’t be—
oof!
” Jem ran smack into someone hurrying out of the trees and tumbled backward into a shrub with very prickly leaves. “Argh!” He rolled to the side, trying to see who or what he’d collided with.
    Gil lay in a pile of leaves a few feet away, rubbing his elbow. For a moment he looked dangerously closeto throwing a temper tantrum, then seemed to change his mind.
    “You all right, mate?”
    “Fine,” Jem grumbled, although he felt as if a hundred tiny ants had marched up his shirt to sting his neck and shoulders.
    “Sorry ’bout that, Fitz. Didn’t see you coming.” Gil stood and offered Jem a filthy hand up.
    Jem grunted and picked himself up without Gil’s help. “What are you doing?”
    “Me?” Gil looked away. “Nothing.”
    “Nothing?”
    “Not really.” He brushed off his dirty shirt without looking at Jem.
    “You were in the jungle at daybreak doing nothing?” Jem asked, immediately suspicious.
    Gil sniffed. “If you have to know, I was…you know. Doing my business.”
    “Oh.” Jem couldn’t say much to that.
    “That’s right. And what about you?”
    “I’m going to build tree houses.”
    “Huh. Well, good luck with that.” Gil slipped past him, headed toward the clearing.
    “Wait, Gil, one second.” Jem couldn’t help but ask. “Have you…have you seen my pocketknife lately?”
    Gil stopped and looked back. “No. Why?”
    “Because it’s missing. And I…well, I just…” Jem trailed off. He really had no good reason to accuse Gil of stealing it. Except that, the last time it had gone missing…
    “Thought I stole it?” Gil snapped. “Oh, that’s nice. You didn’t think that maybe you just lost it. Or that someone or something else might have taken it. Nope, you just blamed it on me.”
    “Well, you
did
do it before,” Jem mumbled.
    “Well, I didn’t do it this time!” Gil shouted and stomped off.
    Jem watched him go.
I probably shouldn’t have said anything
, he thought.
Now he’ll be awful to deal with.
    He shook his head. “Focus now. The tree houses are what matter most. I’ve got to—”
    A rustling noise in a nearby fern made him freeze. “Gil?” he called, even though he knew Gil had stomped off in the opposite direction.
    The rustling stopped.
    Jem inched toward the fern, hoping that by some miracle it was indeed Gil trying to scare him. Or if not Gil, something harmless. Like an iguana. A friendly, toothless one.
    He paused and took a deep breath. Then he swept the fern leaves to one side just in time to see a large figure disappearing into the bushes behind it. A figure dressed in torn trousers and an old shirt.
    Without a