Free The Voice inside My Head by S.J. Laidlaw Page A

reader. Fact is, I used to love reading when I was in school, but I’d kind of lost sight of that in the last little while. I read that book from cover to cover. I kept meaning to tell her how much I liked it. I had this plan that maybe we’d discuss it a little; maybe I’d even ask if I could borrow another. It was probably a dumb idea anyway.”
    “Why? I’m sure she would have liked that.”
    “I don’t know. The kids who come here don’t necessarily think about us like that.”
    I give her a quizzical look but she grimaces. I think maybe she’s wishing she hadn’t started.
    “Come on. I told you stuff.” I grin playfully.
    She grins back but immediately ducks her head. “I think the kids who come here don’t see us as real people,” she says. “Maybe it’s because they think they’re more educated or because they’ve traveled. Maybe it’s because we’re always picking up after them in one way or another. I can’t explain it, but there’s this divide. They come here with their drugs and their drinking and are rowdy till all hours. And we go to church, look after our families and try to make a living. It’s like, for them, Utila is a break from real life but, for us, this island is our life.”
    I look down at her slim brown fingers laced through my own and try to feel the truth of what she’s saying. She’s the first person in a long while I’ve actually wanted to connect to in a way that wasn’t mostly about sex or getting high. And just because she cleans cabins for a living doesn’t mean that’swho she is. I want to tell her this. I don’t know how to put it into words, though, without sounding preachy or lame.
    “I best be getting back to work,” she says abruptly, pulling her hand out of mine.
    “You know why I think eagle rays jump?” I say quickly, wanting to hold her back and explain something that’s been brewing in me since Pat left. “I think sometimes they just want to see what other possibilities are out there. Sometimes the ocean is just too small.”
    Reesie takes my hand again and looks me right in the eye. “Even if your sister was set on getting away from your family, it doesn’t mean she wanted to leave you.”
    “Maybe,” I say, wondering how long her sympathy would last if I told her the whole story of how my sister ended up here. I want to tell her. I think it might feel good to finally get it off my chest, but just as the words are forming, we’re interrupted by the sound of the Shark Center boat pulling up to the dock.
    “Catch the line,” Pete shouts, throwing me a rope from the front of the boat.
    “I thought you were gone for the day.” I stand up carefully, so as not to dislodge my towel, and catch the rope, hesitating because I’m not an expert on nautical knots.
    “Tie it up,” Pete orders, so I do. If the boat drifts away, he has only himself to blame.
    He jumps off and ties up the back.
    “What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Bonding with Reesie?” I notice for the first time that she’s already off the dock and heading down the footpath, pail in hand.
    “Is that a problem?” I ask.
    He smirks like it’s a big joke. “It’s none of my business.”
    “You got that right.”
    Fishboy’s an asshole, but I can’t get on the wrong side of him until I’ve found out what he knows about Pat.
    “You need any help?” I ask.
    “You a diver?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Would you mind hauling some tanks to the boat? That would be great.”
    “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”
    I take my clothes to my room, throw on my shorts and a T-shirt and head out to the shed where they keep the dive gear. Pete’s hauling out tanks. He gives me the job of loading weights into the dive belts. Despite the number of years Pat’s been diving, I’ve never looked closely at the equipment before. Each nylon belt has a row of pockets to snugly encase half a dozen solid lead weights.
    “You mean people actually leap into the water with these