CHAPTER FOUR

“Gee, that went well,” Adina snarked to Mary Lou as they searched for anything remotely flammable.

“Mmm.”

Adina stopped. “What’s that mmm mean?”

“Nothing,” Mary Lou said quickly. “I mean, I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything.”

“Mary Lou, I’ve just survived a plane crash, and now I’m stuck on a hostile island with no food and no way off. Trust me, you’re not going to make me feel any worse.”

“It was talking about how good you are at your school newspaper that turned everybody off.”

“What do you mean?”

Mary Lou picked up a dried frond and added it to the meager pile in her arms. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a Midwestern thing, but where I’m from, you’re not supposed to brag about yourself. That’s what my mom says. She says you should wait for people to recognize your good qualities. And then you should say, like, ‘Oh, no. I’m not really that great at whatever-it-is. I’m just okay.’ And then they’ll say, ‘No, really. You’re great.’ And you say, ‘I’m really not, but thanks anyway for saying so.’ And they’ll say, ‘Yes, you are. You so are!’ And you say, ‘Gee, do you really think so?’ And they’ll say, ‘Totally!’ And then people think you’re good at whatever it is you’re good at, but they don’t think you’re braggy about it ’cause that makes you seem like a real tool. Plus, it’s unladylike.”

Adina stared. “That is quite literally the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard.”

“Thank you. I’m not really that ludicrous, but thanks anyway for saying so. See? That’s how it works.” Mary Lou gave a shy smile. “Um, that was a joke, by the way. I do know what ludicrous means.”

“Thank God.”

Out in the ocean, waves crashed over broken fists of treacherous-looking black rock.

Mary Lou played nonstop with a silver ring on her left ring finger.

“Pretty,” Adina said. “Special?”

“This? Yeah. It’s, um, a purity ring?”

“Oh. The old patriarchal chastity belt. Now in convenient ring form,” Adina snarled.

“It’s not like that,” Mary Lou said, blushing. “It’s a symbol. It shows that you’ve made a pledge to bring your purity into the marriage. It’s the ultimate gift to your husband.”

“Really? Like you can’t just give him a gift card to GameStop or something?”

Mary Lou stopped smiling. “You don’t have to make fun of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Adina said.

“Some girls need protection,” Mary Lou mumbled.

“What?” Adina asked.

“Nothing. Jeez, I hope that thing isn’t active,” Mary Lou said, pointing to the volcano.

“No kidding. That’s all we need. Think we’ve got enough to make a fire?”

“Worth a shot,” Mary Lou answered.

Back on the beach, the girls built a signal fire from sticks, palm leaves, and paper from their morals clause contracts, rescued from their official “Welcome, Miss Teen Dream” folders. Taylor lit it with a book of matches that had survived the crash. Night crouched around them, a hungry, patient animal. The girls lay in the sand, exhausted. Some cried themselves to sleep.

“You’re on first watch, Miss New Hampshire. Don’t let us down,” Taylor said. She performed a few high kicks, stretched her long limbs, then settled under a tree to get her beauty sleep.