Free Island Boyz by Graham Salisbury Page A

scratch of silt trapped under my eyelids.
    “Let’s get out of here!”
Willy said, pulling me up.
    We split up when we got near our street. I didn’t say a word to him, not even thanks for saving my life.
    I staggered home, burst into my room, and ripped off the poncho with trembling hands. I threw my clammy jeans and sweatshirt in a wet lump on the floor by my dumbbells, then wrapped myself in my blanket and sat on the lower bunk, still shaking, staring with blank and burning eyes at a swarm of ants already hauling off the rotting centipede parts.
     
    Later that day I skulked around the house. Mom didn’t seem to see the fine grains of sand that were stuck to my scalp. I don’t think she even noticed how quiet I’d become or caught the shock I saw in my red-veined eyes every time I looked in the mirror.
    But Stella did, studying me as if she knew something had happened but wasn’t sure what.
    I sat apart from everyone, out on the lanai under the overhang, watching the trees sway in the jungle beyond our backyard.
    Mom came out and sat next to me in a sagging white-and-yellow vinyl chair. For a while we didn’t speak or even look at each other.
    Finally Mom said, “Will this weather ever end?”
    I shrugged.
    My brain was numb, and Mom seemed a thousand miles away.
    “Joey . . .”
    I waited, staring at fat raindrops bouncing in the giant mud puddle under Darci’s swing set.
    I turned when Mom didn’t go on.
    “Do you . . . do you see any wrinkles around my eyes? I mean, have you noticed any?”
    “Wrinkles?”
    “Or gray hair, have you noticed any of those? Because I found one last week.”
    She paused. “Am I getting old?”
    I studied her profile, lingering on her smooth, perfect face, her long hair tucked back over her ear on one side, falling like golden brown silk on the other. She hardly looked out of high school. “You’re not old, Mom,” I whispered.
    We sat watching the rain, saying nothing. I wondered what Willy was doing. I was feeling kind of embarrassed now for what had happened.
    I jumped when Mom spoke again.
    “Are you sure I’m a good mother?”
    “What?”
    “Because I’m trying, Joey.”
    “I know, Mom.”
    “I’m really trying.”

Aumakua
    Kailua-Kona, Hawaii.
    Massive black sky. A zillion pin-prick stars sweep up and over the island. The moon is five hours gone and the morning birds have yet to gather.
    Seventy-six degrees and no breeze. Not a whisper.
    Jimmy Smith and Rats Aoki, both seventeen, wait in the early-morning darkness for a truck to take them to the pier. They sit on the rocks along the old coast road, a dark and peaceful sea lapping at their feet.
    But for the whispering water, it is dead silent. No cars have come or gone since they walked there from their dusty homes just inland. Its the third week of their summer job.
    They talk quietly.
    Hey, Jimmy. You like hear one awesome story?
    About what?
    Okay. Had one boat, ah? Sampan. Was
loaded
.
    Wait wait wait. This a story or is it true?
    True. My uncle told me um when he came our house last night.
    Oh. Okay go on.
    Like I said, had this boat and was
loaded
.
    With what?
    Tst, I getting to that. Shuddup . . . Okay . . . Was coming home from five, six days fishing out past Kauai. They was bringing back
ahi,
yeah? Hundred, hundred-fifty-pound kind.
Ahi,
the yellowfin tuna.
    I know whats
ahi.
Whose boat?
    I dont know. One guy, thats all. Anyways, there they was, loaded. The boat way down in the water, couple feet from the rail, ah? And it was rocking and rolling and hoo those guys on that boat was coming nervous, specially when they see the straight clouds coming in the sky. You know, straight from the wind, yeah? Sign of bad weather.
    Yeah yeah, bad weather.
    Not getting bad by the boat yet but coming bad outside by the horizon. Can you see it?
    What?
    Can you
see
it?
    See what?
    The straight clouds, the bad weather, the . . . Why I even try talk to you I dont know.
    Come on, Rats. Tell the story. Tell it.
    Tst.