kneel down in the dirt for a few minutes, wiping my mouth on the hem of my shirt.
I guess I won’t have to lie about the vomiting, after all.
“Whoa, are you okay?” comes a voice.
I look up. Standing a few feet away is Nick Kelly. He’s been swimming. His hair is slicked back, and he has a towel wrapped around his skinny waist.
“Hi, Nick,” I say numbly. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His face is arranged in the classic expression of worry, eyebrows arcing upward, wide, sympathetic eyes, slack mouth. “That was . . . a lot of puke.”
“I’m okay, really.” I straighten. Nick takes a step forward like he’d like to help, but that would involve touching me, and he’s not sure he ought to touch me. I would laugh at how awkward we are, but I’m too worn out. “I should go in, though.”
He walks along with me to the door of the building and holds it open for me.
“Do you want me to call anyone? My dad’s a doctor. He could come look you over.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Wow. That was a dumb idea, sorry. I realize that everybody here is a doctor. Should I call your mom?”
“She knows. She’s coming.” My stomach rolls again, but I keep it down this time. Barely. “I need to go in.”
“Okay. Feel better, Ada,” he says.
But I know I won’t.
17
Morning again. My first whole day in which I know about Mom. We have one of those tour things, to the other side of the island.
“What’s on the other side of the island?” Abby asks at breakfast as I stand behind her, attempting to wrestle her hair into submission. Abby has long blond hair, but a darker, sandier blond than Afton’s or mine, and it’s curly, like mine but way, way more.
“A volcano,” I answer. I am trying—so very hard—to act like everything’s normal. Jokes and all.
Abby’s mouth drops open. “Shut up.”
“No, it’s true. And today we’re going to see it up close.” I finish braiding Abby’s hair, tie it off, and check my phone. “It’s almost time to go.” Right on time, the tram arrives. “Come on, Abby.” I take Abby’s hand. “Are you coming?” I ask Afton.
“Of course she’s coming,” Abby answers. “She’s not stupid, is she? She can’t not see a volcano. Duh.”
“We don’t say stupid, Abby,” I say. “And we don’t say duh.”
Abby scoffs.
Afton has her phone out, texting again. Always texting. Phone at the table, in flagrant violation of the family rules, but then Pop’s not here to enforce them.
I’m trying not to think about Pop.
The tram starts to beep. It’s about to leave.
“Let’s go, Afton!” Abby cries, and Afton throws her phone back into her bag. We all sprint to the tram. We barely make it, but we do.
“Where are we going?” Afton asks as we’re whooshed away.
I tilt my head to look at her. “Uh, the volcano?”
She closes her eyes like I am annoying her greatly. Afton’s never been what you’d call a morning person. “I mean, where are we going to start this wonderful trip to a real-live volcano?”
“Oh. There’s like a parking lot for buses where we’ll meet up. Off the floor under the front lobby.” Clearly she did not read through the folder of helpful information about the conference that was left for us in our room. With the stuff about schedules and the outings we’re taking and what we’re supposed to bring and where we’re supposed to be. I, of course, have read the folder cover to cover.
Abby is frowning. “The volcano’s not alive, is it?”
“No.”
“Afton said it was a real-live volcano.” Abby looks troubled. It’s difficult to say what kind of worries pass through my baby sister’s head.
“I didn’t mean it was alive,” Afton clarifies. “Hey, look.”
She points to outside, where in the center of its own small island there’s a large gray bird with a yellow Mohawk. I take a quick picture. Because that’s my normal behavior. I see a pretty thing, I take a picture. For painting purposes.
Abby spends a few seconds in appreciation of the startling bird. “I’m going to call him Walter,” she says. Then she tugs at my arm. “Is this the kind of island where they have to throw people into the volcano to appease the gods?”
I frown. “How do you even know about that?”
She shrugs. “Well, is it?”
“No. I don’t think there are any more islands like that. Or if there ever were islands like that, outside of the