The Desert Island

CHAPTER 1:

THE WRECK

Just one more piece. That was all Noah Leota needed to complete his masterpiece. But where had he put it? Under the shade of the tallest tree in the garden, he cast his eyes to the ground and brushed his fingers through the grass. His nails skimmed over something soft and tissue-like. Grasping the material, Noah picked it up and inspected it.

The once white napkin that he had taken from the kitchen drawer now had smudges of dirt across it. Well, it kind of looks like a sail, Noah thought as he poked a hole through the paper with a stick and attached it to his model boat.

After gluing it in place, Noah brought his hands away and slouched back to admire his creation. The mast looked a little on the wobbly side and the sail drooped over the cardboard structure like a leaf in the rain, but otherwise, it was stable enough to stand on its own.

Noah couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He lifted the boat with one hand, allowing it to bob through the sea of grass, and mimicked the sound of waves by pursing his lips. Warmth crept across the back of Noah’s head as the sun blinked through eyelashes of clouds. The light cloaked the model boat, illuminating its every imperfect feature.

“Gosh, it’s hot today,” Noah puffed as he shook the fabric of his favourite blue t-shirt. A warm sea breeze swept by to ruffle his dark mass of short curls, the humidity clinging to each strand like hairspray.

Suddenly, Noah flinched as a loud squawk shot through his ears. The boat in his hand tilted as if battling a heavy storm. He looked up to see a pearl-white cockatoo perched on a branch, its beady, black eyes staring down at him.

“Well, hello.” Noah placed his model boat in the sea of grass and stood up to lean against the bark of the tree. “What are you up to?”

The cockatoo blinked back at him and let out another squawk, this time raising its wings.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak cockatoo,” Noah replied as he tapped his fingers on the tree trunk. “But you have no idea what I’m saying, anyway.”

As if to prove him right, the cockatoo shuffled along the branch towards a cluster of leaves, already losing interest.

“Hey, don’t go,” Noah called up. In a bid to gain the bird’s attention, he started clicking his teeth, but something else responded to him, instead.

A distant bark diverted Noah’s attention away from the tree. He turned to see a bundle of golden fur bounding towards him, tongue flailing from its mouth like a pink fish.

“Oh no! Imminent danger!” Noah turned and crouched behind the tree, feigning alarm. Peering around the trunk, he spotted his model boat sticking out of the grass. It took him only seconds to realise what was about to happen.

“Wait! Bentley, stop! That’s my —”

But it was too late. In just a few strides, the golden retriever trampled straight over the boat like Godzilla himself. A crackling sound, like that of spiral fireworks, came from under the weight of paws. Noah raced forward to inspect the damage, hoping that it wasn’t as bad as it had sounded.

Pieces of cardboard stuck out of the mud, offering shelter to the creepy crawlies. The mast lay in two pieces, both of which Noah picked up and hurled into the air. Seizing its chance, the wind snatched up the sail and scattered it across the garden.

“Look what you’ve done, Bentley!” Noah yelled before he was attacked by a series of licks to the face. He pushed Bentley’s head away with enough force and frustration that the dog flopped onto the ground and rested his head in-between his paws. His huge chocolate eyes looked up at Noah sulkily, but Noah knew better than to fall for his puppy-dog charm.

“Noah, what’s going on?” A low, gravelly voice drifted from the back door of the house. Noah dropped his head into his hands. Talking was the last thing he wanted to do — especially with Dad.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, he peered through the cracks between his fingers and saw a brawny figure looming over him like a spectre. A hand ruffled his chaos of curls, as if trying to smooth them over. They resisted by bouncing back into place.

“I heard you shouting from inside. What’s wrong?” Dad’s voice never seemed to sound as soothing as he meant it to, but despite his mountain of a body and the thick, black tattoo that covered his entire bicep, he was more of a panda bear than a grizzly.

Reluctantly, Noah pulled his hands away from his face and resisted looking into Dad’s midnight eyes. Noah’s eyes were exactly the same. Dark and moonlike. As a matter of fact, nearly all his features were. He’d inherited his dark skin and broad shoulders from the Samoan side of the family. Dad was a reflection of Noah in twenty years. They had the same curly hair that looked both perfect and wild at the same time. The same diagonal smile. Even the same mannerisms. The only similarity he shared with his mum was an Australian accent.

“Ah, I see.” Dad’s eyes skimmed over the destruction that lay on his lawn, saving Noah the trouble of having to answer the question — not that he was going to, anyway. Silent moping was always his go-to in these situations.

“Bentley’s a stupid dog,” Noah muttered as he tossed a piece of cardboard into the air.

“Now, now,” Dad replied in a level tone. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” He squeezed Noah’s shoulder, but it did little to comfort him. A reassuring touch wasn’t going to magically repair his boat.

“But it’s completely ruined!’ Noah pointed a stubby finger at the wreckage. “It doesn’t matter whether he meant to or not; he’s broken the whole thing!”

“Well, at least it didn’t fall apart like the model car you . . .” Dad trailed off upon seeing Noah’s fiery scowl. It was best not to talk about any of his previously failed projects.

“Why don’t you rebuild it?” he suggested instead.

“There’s no point,” Noah grunted. “Bentley will probably break it again.”

At the mention of his name, Bentley looked up encouragingly. He waddled over to Dad, his tail swishing like a feather duster.

“Make him go away,” Noah groaned. “He’s crushing all the cardboard!”

“There’s tons of cardboard in the cupboard,” Dad replied. “Don’t be so grumpy. How can you stay mad at Bentley? He’s such a good boy. Yes! Yes, you are!”

A puff of air escaped Noah’s puckered lips. He rolled his eyes at Dad’s soppy interaction. All the cuddling meant that strands of golden fur flitted into the air before they were whisked away by the wind. Noah slouched and folded his arms, refusing to acknowledge either of them.

“Okay, why don’t we go for a walk on the beach?” Dad suggested. “We’ve got time before dinner.”

A spark of interest flickered in Noah’s eyes. He turned his head in Dad’s direction, his lips separating to reveal the small gap between his two front teeth.

“Just you and me though,” he said. “Not Bentley.” It was Dad’s turn to smile. He nodded and took Noah’s hand.

***

Noah had kicked off his shoes long before reaching the beach. He always braved getting his feet burnt on the scorching gravel. In fact, most of the time, he left the house without wearing any shoes at all.

Noah scurried along the esplanade, darting between groups of people like a gecko. Behind him, Dad called out for him to slow down, but Noah was never one to listen the first time around. He sprang onto the sand, kicking up grains of it into the air, completely oblivious to the people rubbing their eyes nearby. He heard Dad mutter an apology, but instead of slowing down, he raced towards the water’s edge.

The sea beckoned to him like the open arms of a grandparent waiting for an embrace. Noah dug his toes into the sludge of sand and waited for the water to curl around his ankles. Rays of sunlight danced across the waves, making the water look like stained glass. Brilliantly blue but as equally transparent.

Glancing up at the sky, Noah noticed how the sun hung like a fiery bauble. For some strange reason, he imagined it dropping into the sea and turning the waves orange. It wasn’t the first time his imagination had conjured up a crazy scenario.

“Noah, I thought I told you to slow down,” came Dad’s stern voice. He appeared beside him, almost puffed out.

“I knew you’d catch me up.” Noah grinned, risking a cheeky comeback in the hopes that he wouldn’t get scolded.

Dad raised his eyebrows, whether in amusement or displeasure, Noah wasn’t quite sure. “Can I go for a quick swim?” he asked. His toes shuffled further into the shallows.

“Not today. Don’t you remember what happened last time?” Dad replied firmly.

“I was on a surfboard,” Noah protested. “That’s why I went out so far. I won’t swim where my feet can’t touch the ground. Promise.”

Dad shook his head. “No — you know how strong the current can be.”

“But . . .”

“No buts, Noah. You can go swimming another time.”

Noah’s gaze drifted over the waves as if his eyes were surfing them. He knew there was no point trying to argue. When Dad said no, he meant it.

With little else to do, he amused himself by watching brown socks of sand form around his ankles before they were pulled off by the sea. He attempted to splash Dad twice, but Dad was too quick and Noah ended up drenching his own shorts instead.

Ten minutes of goofing around ended when Dad spotted one of his co-workers from the fishmongers and strolled over to speak with him, leaving Noah to his own devices for the time being.

But it was no fun on his own. Being an only-child definitely had its perks, but the loneliness was the worst negative of all. There were only so many things that Noah could do by himself before boredom struck. He often wondered if life would be more exciting with a sibling.

As Noah fantasised, he almost didn’t see the jellyfish, clear as glass, hovering beside his leg. “Ah!” He jerked back and hoisted his leg out of the water before the jellyfish could touch him with its spaghetti-like tentacles. His sudden movement caused a slight commotion in the water, sending ripples scattering across the surface. Unable to flee from the oncoming ripples, the jellyfish was swiftly swept up and hurled through the water. It spiralled out of control like a helicopter seed.

Noah felt somewhat responsible for the jellyfish’s misfortune, and the stab of sympathy urged him to follow it. He waded through the waves, now waist-deep, and brushed back the water with his hands.

Eventually, the jellyfish stopped spiralling and simply floated as if nothing had happened. Noah watched with intrigue as its body began to pulsate like a heartbeat. It seemed unfazed. With every throb, it began to drift away.

It was only when Noah took his eyes away and looked up at the beach that he realised how far he’d wandered. Dad’s silhouette was nowhere to be seen and the people gathered on the sand were slowly starting to disperse. Noah wasn’t concerned; home was so close by that he knew Dad would either find him or meet him back there.

As he started striding towards the shore with the weight of water pulling at his shorts, as if begging him to stay, something unusual caught his attention.

Hidden under the shade of a cluster of trees was what looked like a pile of wooden planks. Intrigued, Noah drew closer and saw that the planks made up something much bigger — the wreck of a wooden rowing boat.

Someone must have dumped it here, Noah thought as he lifted a fragmented plank that dangled from a single nail. He peered inside and saw a lonely oar resting on the bottom of the boat. It looked like part of it had been snapped off.

As Noah ran his fingers over the wood, flinching at the prick of splinters, an idea began to formulate in his head. He could rebuild this boat. There were plenty of tools, nails, and extra bits of wood in Mum’s workshop that he could use. All he had to do was make sure that he did everything right. How hard could it be?

But what to tell Dad? Should he even mention it? No — bad idea. Noah couldn’t be sure how he would react. Even if he was allowed to rebuild it, there was little chance that Dad would allow him to take it out on the water on his own, which was exactly what he wanted to do.

So, how was he going to go about hiding it? That was the problem. Noah didn’t think he could carry the boat back to the house, let alone hide it from his parents. Maybe patching it up wasn’t such a good idea after all. It would be hard enough trying to get away from home and he had school on Monday, which really only left him tomorrow to make repairs. Would it even be possible to fix the boat in one day?

Despite all these doubts, the more Noah stared at it, the more he wanted to make the boat his own. Imagine what he could do with it once it was rebuilt, or where he could go. He would be free to drift across the waves, to places unknown. The sea had always beckoned to him and each time he’d tried to resist it. The one time he’d found himself giving in, the waves had tried to steal him away, prompting Dad to leap superman-style into the water to rescue him. But if he had the boat, surely he’d be safe?

Noah’s decision was made. There was no changing it. He would bring what he needed to the beach tomorrow and start repairing the wreck.

Fearing that someone else might discover it, Noah gathered some snapped branches and fallen leaves and tried to conceal the boat as best he could. Satisfied that the overhanging trees would drape it in shadow, Noah turned and started walking back along the sand towards the esplanade.

After failing to find Dad, who had no doubt gone looking for him as well, Noah made his way home with a bounce in his step. His bare feet slapped against the concrete to a noiseless tune; he barely felt the heat beneath them. This was the biggest secret he’d ever possessed; even bigger than the school detention he’d managed to keep from his parents. He’d told them he was getting extra practice with spelling from one of the teachers and, thankfully, they believed him.

Noah turned down a corner and followed the leafy path that led to his front door, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He must have looked suspicious since he had no reason to be so happy after what had happened earlier with his model boat.

Attempting to straighten his mouth, Noah slid open the flyscreen door and curled his fingers around the door handle. He’d barely moved it before Dad opened the door.

“There you are. I was wondering where you went. What are you so smiley for?”

“Smiley? I’m not smiley,” Noah mumbled as he marched inside, relieved for the slap of cold air to his face.

Dad stepped aside and ruffled his mop of hair. “Where did you go anyway? I looked for you but figured that you headed home.”

Noah pushed Dad’s hand away and ducked out of reach. “I just walked along the beach, that’s all. Anyway, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

“Dinner’s nearly ready, so go and set the table,” Dad replied, ushering him towards the kitchen area.

Noah spent the entire evening thinking of nothing else but the wreck he was going to repair. As he sat at the dinner table spooning peas into his mouth, visions of being out at sea consumed him. One by one, the peas began to fall off his spoon.