The Islands at the End of the World by Austin Aslan

Author:Austin Aslan [Aslan, Austin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780385374217
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2014-08-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

We nap late into the afternoon on opposite sides of a king-sized pillow-top mattress covered in soft linens. We could have our own rooms, but we need to be together.

I dream.

I stand inside a big plant nursery on the outskirts of Hilo. Several hundred different species of orchids are on display along narrow counters, an elaborate garden project turned tourist trap. I wander the aisles, looking for the Emerald Orchid among the potted plants.

Kai darts between the aisles and ducks beneath one of the counters. I chase him, but he’s gone. Mom’s on the far side of a table, an orchid resting above her ear. She’s talking to me, but I can’t hear the words. A tita from school stands in my way, a pistol gripped in her hand. She raises the pistol at me. “Stay away, haole.”

I take a step backward, but freeze. No. I won’t run. I clench my fists and stride toward the girl.

She flees.

Kai and Grandpa are next to Mom. They race toward the gift shop. I chase them, but I can’t reach the end of the orchid aisle. No matter how fast I sprint, the gift shop only grows farther away.

* * *

It’s early evening. The dream rests on my chest like a lead X-ray apron. I nudge Dad awake.

“Bad dream.”

“I’m right here, Lei.” He puts his hand on my arm.

Later, Dad ventures outside and finds a drum of rainwater in the backyard. No more toilet tank. I know those tanks have clean water, but still. We drink as much rainwater as we can, and fill our water bottles. I finally brush my hair. We wash up—yes!—and I shave my legs—double yes! We collect the dried contents of our packs from the backyard clothesline. I change into new clothes. A small thing that has a big impact. I even smile when I look in the mirror.

I should just cut my hair; it’ll be way easier. I open drawers, searching for scissors. I find a pair, turn back to the mirror and put them down. I have my mom’s hair. I drape it over my shoulder and run it through my hands. Silky, velvety black hair. It’ll be a rat’s nest before too long, but I can’t cut it.

I braid it tightly. Cornrows would be even better. Mom would have done them well, but I’m not going to bother asking Dad. There’s a new tube of lip gloss in one of the drawers. The color is called “Kiss.” A light pink, almost natural. Perfect. I try it on and smile. I tuck the tube into my pocket.

I can’t shake the image of Mom talking with no sound; of me, sprinting to catch my family.

“I’ll get home. Nothing will stop me,” I say aloud.

I escape to the chancellor’s study, where I pore over shelves of books like I’m Kai in a candy store. A good book will distract me. After I redo my nails—I’m getting bored with spearmint, but oh well—I settle into reading a novel that I started at home, hunched over a quivering candle flame.

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