“No.”
“But Miss Smith said we need to gather everything we can because we might could use it.”
We don’t need a monkey suit or a ball gown. And I gathered exactly what I need.“Just leave it there.” “But what if a wave comes in? See? The water’s almost hitting it now.”
Yeah, the tide’ll take it, which is fine with me.
He glanced at the kid’s worried expression. He reached out and ruffled his red hair. “I’ll get it later, kid.” He turned away and strode down the beach, knowing he wouldn’t come back for the trunk. He would, however, come back to dig up those bottles.
He could hear the kid running to catch up, could hear Theodore’s rushed breaths. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his small arms churning and his feet scampering in an effort to match his own long strides. He slowed his steps until the kid was keeping an easy pace with him.
“Hank?”
“Yeah?”
“You said you were an orphan.”
“Yeah.”
“I was wondering...”
Hank stopped and looked at him.
“What was the orphanage like?”
Hank squatted down and absently poked at a pile of kelp with a stick.
“Hank?”
He looked at the kid, then stood and faced the sea. The kid was beside him, waiting.
“Cold.” Hank stared at the waves, then he turned and pitched the stick into the water. “It was cold.”
“You mean they didn’t have any blankets or fires or anything?”
He looked at Theodore, and for a minute, he saw himself some thirty-five years before. Naïve years. He didn’t explain but just turned away. “Look, just because I had it tough doesn’t mean you will.”
“You said orphanages are like prisons.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Long,” Hank said. “Enough questions, kid. Come on.” He started back down the beach, heading for the clearing beneath a cluster of palms where they all had slept. He was halfway there before he realized the kid wasn’t dogging his steps. He turned back.
The boy was standing where he’d left him, staring out at the ocean with his back to him.
“Hey, kid! Did you grow roots? Come on!”
The boy swiped a hand across his eyes a couple of times, turned, and ran toward him. A few feet away, he stopped running. His eyes were red and his face was blotchy. He didn’t look up at Hank, just stuck his hands in his pockets and stood there, staring at a piece of slimy kelp.
Hank looked down at the kid’s bowed head. “I have a riddle for you.”
Theodore looked up. “What’s a riddle?”
“A question game.”
“How do you play?”
