I didn't trust these people anymore. What happened to the alert, crazed-with-determination people I came here with when the storm had first blown us onto the island? Where have they gone? Who's this girl saying that we're on her island? She must be joking. Or lying. And what's this new guy here? Dean, he says his name is. And he only has one hand. Interesting.
Everyone else is saying that Angela had brought them to this house. I, personally, think that Angela is nuts. Completely and utterly crazy. Maybe that's why she lives by herself alone on an island. Too crazy for the modern world.
They had taken the gauze away from my ankle and I was allowed to move around more without it. They told me to keep my arm the way it was, though--and even gave me a real sling for it.
She must be a dream, this girl. I didn't really trust her. The house that had been made was more of a makeshift shelter, made crudely out of the palm wood and held together mostly by palm fronds and mud. It was more of a very large hut than a house. But she did have real supplies, and cots to spare. The house/hut had been made in a clearing in the forest.
I didn't like it. I liked sitting on the beach more, and sometimes people even came to visit me. But they usually left before they stayed for a solid five minutes. This is where I was now, watching the sun as it hovered just over the horizon, as if deciding whether or not to plunge the world into true dark or stay up for just a few more minutes.
I felt someone's eyes on me. I turned and saw Cassidy, fiddling with her hair.
"May I sit?" she asked me.
"Sure." I suddenly felt self-conscious of everything--My unbrushed hair, my dirty clothes and unwashed skin. But there was nothing I could do about it now. She sat next to me and tucked her legs up and rested her chin on her knees.
"So," she said. "What's up?"
"Where to start..." I muttered, and she smiled. "Well, first of all, there's a guy with one hand. And Aporale was half dead. And there's this girl here with a house. A house. And... I want my hand to be healed. And where the heck did the hurricane go? It was here yesterday. And now it's gone."
Cassidy shrugged. "I'm not a hurricane specialist. I don't know where they go. Maybe you scared it off. Your hair is quite terrifying."
"I wouldn't be talking, Ms. Wilson. I'm no expert on hair, but I'm sure that's a crime against humanity." I shook my head in mock disappointment. "Being stranded on a deserted island is not an excuse to let it do that." I pointed to her head of not-so-tangled blond hair. I don't know how it was staying so perfect, when we were in fact stranded on an island in nearly 100% humidity.
"I'm sure that my hair is twenty times better than yours." We both turned when we heard shouting in the distance. "Come on," she said. "Those are the others. Angela probably managed time travel or something--The others treat her like a goddess."
She offered a hand and helped me to my feet.