"Is the barbeque still happening today?" I ask Evan and Roman, who are sitting silently next to us.
"No idea, but no one canceled it, so I’m assuming yes," Evan answers stiffly. He avoids my gaze.
Damn, this is starting to look like a pattern. Everyone is avoiding eye contact with me.
Am I really the problem here?
Well, I don’t press further. I assume the outdoor grill is on. Those events usually show up on our wristbands anyway, so Salt and I just head back to our module.
At home, I allow myself a long shower to calm my nerves. When I come out, Salt is still sitting on the bed, sketching. I glance at him. He’s wearing a fairly thin top, and I can see his slim shoulders and the subtly but nicely defined lines of his muscles. For a moment, the thought crosses my mind that we could pass the time with something physical, but I don’t have the nerve to suggest it. He probably thinks I’m an asshole now.
I do catch a few brief looks he throws my way, but I can tell this is not the right moment to start anything like that.
In the afternoon, the barbecue actually takes place, which surprises me a little, but once again it only highlights how bizarre this island really is.
The staff running the grill act as if nothing happened, their plastic smiles glued to their faces just like before.
The program participants themselves are different, though. It’s obvious that this morning’s events had an effect on them.
I keep noticing small clusters of people whispering to each other. At first I assume Salt and I will be isolated at our table, but I’m very wrong.
At one point, none other than Bashir and Fred walk up to us.
I stand up instinctively, unsure what Bashir is about to say or do.
But he just reaches out and grips my hand firmly.
"Thank you," he says seriously. "For everything. If you need anything, and if there’s any way I can help, you can count on me."
Well, look at that. I’ve gained at least one ally on this island. That’s something.
"It would be best if the situation on the island stabilized and no one needed help or interventions like this ever again," I add in a grim tone.
"I couldn’t agree more. But thank you anyway for what you did. Fred told me you offered help, and I’m guessing the video Drax mentioned came from you."
"I can assure you Fred’s face isn’t visible. His identity is protected."
"I figured," he says, his jaw twitching slightly.
This must be costing him a lot. As an alpha, and given our proud nature, the fact that he couldn’t protect Fred has to feel like a slap in the face.
I already know Bashir is one of the longest-standing participants in the program. When they arrived, he was twenty-five and Fred was eighteen. Now they’re both two years older. I assume he’s extremely protective of the younger beta, so what happened must be a nightmare for him.
"I’ll be honest, I’m thinking about putting in for a transfer to another facility, maybe one that uses hormone treatment. Even that sounds better than staying here."
"I’d give it a few days before you decide anything. Things on the island could change fast. I’ve heard that from someone I trust."
He tilts his head slightly, studying me, then sighs.
"We’ll see. This island feels tainted to me, but maybe there’s still a chance we can recover from this," he says, glancing at Fred, who looks pale but is pressed tightly against his side.
His light brown eyes meet mine, and he says just one word.
"Thank you. You kept your promise."
As they walk away, Salt shoots me a sideways look and says, "Wow. Look at youuu. You really are the white knight who tries to bring justice to those who need it. Too bad that doesn’t include my brother."
The bitterness of this jab hurts more than I expect, and for a moment I struggle to respond at all.
