18
CHARLEY
DAY 13, EARLY EVENING
I sat on the bed while Natalie messed with my hair. It was the latest surreal Nil moment of the day. LessSurvivor, more likeAmerica’s Next Top Model, island edition, but I still felt completely out of place.
Outside Natalie’s hut, twilight approached, flickering like torchlight. Using the final moments of daylight, Natalie was crafting an island updo, so intent on her work that she didn’t speak, although I sensed that her thoughts dwelled on something more important than my hair. She’d barely spoken since I’d returned from the Flower Field. I had no idea what to say to make her feel better, because the thing was, I didn’t feel so great myself.
Eighty-six days.
Three hundred fifty-two days.
Eighty-six days.
The numbers flashed like neon signs in my head.Once you know, you start watching the days, and you never stop. Thad was right. But it washisdays that I was stuck on. Three hundred fifty-two seemed like a lifetime compared with eighty-six.
“Natalie.” I turned, and she hit me in the nose with her comb.
“Sorry!” It was the first smile I’d seen from her this afternoon.
“Listen, Thad told me about the days.”
“I know. He had to.” Her voice was hard.
“I’ve been wondering. How many do you have left?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Thirty-three?” I jumped up. “Why aren’t you on Search?” From what I knew, it seemed pretty darn clear she should be out hunting shimmers, not sitting here combing my hair.
“Yeah. But when Kevin left, I kind of lost it. I had to know if he made it, and I was afraid to leave, afraid I’d miss the news, or find—” She stopped, her free hand fingering the shell bracelet on her wrist. “I’m leaving in the morning. I just confirmed my team with Thad.”
Thad.Thad, with eighty-six days, busy taking care of me and apparently everyone else—like Natalie, who looked less than excited about going on Search.
“Don’t you want to go?” I frowned.
“I do. But today, it was a reality check, you know? A reminder of how tricky it is to catch a gate. Sabine’s gone, and she wasn’t here long enough to get a haircut. And then there’s Li, who’s got less than two weeks.” She twisted her bracelet so hard the shells dented her wrist. “I might not make it, Charley,” she whispered. “I might not see Kevin again. There’s no guarantee. Not here.”
“Not anywhere,” I said. “But you can’t think like that.”
She stared at her bracelet.
“Natalie, I haven’t been here long enough to know how you feel, and I’m not going to pretend I do. But Kevin made it, and you can, too. You can’t give up. You’ve got thirty-three chances, and more than that if you think of how many doubles might be out there, too, not to mention triples or quads. But you can’t catch one if you don’t try.”
Now she looked up. “Quads?”
“Yup. I saw one on my first day here. My point is, don’t quit. Noton Kevin, not on yourself. And not on me, okay? You kind of remind me of my sister, Em—unless you quit.” I squeezed her hand, thinking I pretty much stunk at the whole rah-rah thing.This is why you were never a cheerleader, Charley,I thought. That and the fact that you’re six feet tall.
She hugged me so fiercely it was like she’d channeled Em. “Thanks, Charley. I’m so glad it was you who found Kev’s clothes.” She paused. “You didn’t find anything with the clothes, did you?” The hope lighting Natalie’s eyes belied her casual tone.
“Just sandals. Why?” Thad’s words from this afternoon popped into my head.Our job is to sharpen them and not lose them.“Oh, are you talking about a knife? Is that what I missed?”
Natalie looked taken aback. “A knife? No. It’s nothing.” Then she regarded me with the same critical eye my mom gave me when I’d cut my bangs in sixth grade. “Now, we’d better get to it if we’re gonna finish that hair before tonight.”
Thirty minutes later, Natalie announced, “Done.”
Using two thin sticks, she’d swept part of my hair into what Natalie assured me was a very a fashionable ’do. The rest trailed down my back. Then she’d smudged my eyes with charcoal and glossed my lips with something that tasted like pomegranate. Stepping back, she looked at me like a painter studying her canvas. “You look amazing. I’d kill for your coloring, not to mention your legs. There’s just one thing missing.” She raised one finger and grinned. “Got it.” Reaching over, she broke a single white blossom off a wreath by her bed and tucked it behind my ear. “There,” she said, nodding. “No bunches of flowers in the hair, too fussy for you. But this”—she adjusted the flower—“is perfect.”
