Deep breaths. Don't lose your head. How did you get here? Try retracing your steps.
I looked up. Light beams peeked through the leaves, and the wind brushed my skin with cool whips. I let out a breath. God, I hated this place.
I scanned the area. Gigantic green trees in every direction, and the hum of insects—the kind that wait for you to drop dead so they can feed on your flesh.
This was all my fault. I'd been so caught up in my thoughts that by the time I noticed, I was already lost.
Twigs cracked in the distance. I turned toward the noise, instinctively holding my breath. Someone was approaching. I scanned my surroundings. There was no way in hell I was dying in this place, on this island, in the middle of nowhere. I ran behind the biggest tree I could find.
A moment later, I rolled my eyes at my own behaviour. What was I even hiding from? Definitely not the old people in the village, who didn't have the time of day or the strength to walk this deep into the forest. This was all Ray's fault, always filling my head with deadly "what ifs."
The footsteps stopped. I took a peek at whatever I'd been hiding from. I narrowed my eyes in confusion.
No one was there.
"I must be going crazy," I whispered to myself.
"You must be."
A voice breathed against my ear. I screamed in shock and swung, my fist connecting with the owner's face. I scrambled backward, taking stock of the damage.
"Jesus, woman!"
My breathing slowed, and I held back a laugh. It was Ray—one of the few young people on this island. He rotated his jaw, glaring at me. He had really cute eyes, even when they were trying to kill me. Along with the fact that he was the entire reason for my paranoia in the first place, I enjoyed hitting him far too much because of how stupidly handsome he was. He was something I knew I might never have, and it felt damn good knowing I could punish him for that. I got to my feet.
"What do you want, errand boy?"
He stopped rotating his jaw and walked toward me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stretched out his hand, and in the same moment, a shaft of light caught his face, highlighting his all-too-perfect features. I was so mesmerized I almost took his hand—but I swatted it away just in time to save myself.
I knew why he'd come. It was exactly why I'd gotten lost in the forest to begin with. He stepped back, an amused expression sliding across his lips. I rolled my eyes, brushing dried leaves from my hands and butt.
"Fine, Australian moth," he said. "Your work awaits."
I scoffed, knowing I should just walk away. But how could I?
"Go fu—"
A bug flew directly into my open mouth and lodged itself in the back of my throat. I couldn't breathe, and the more I choked, the further down it went. My eyes watered. I couldn't see. Almost immediately, Ray wrapped an arm around my waist, and before I could process what was happening, his free hand slammed into my upper back. The bug came plunging out of my mouth.
I looked down at the despicable little insect, gasping.
"What is that?" I managed. My throat was raw from our encounter. The thing had glistening yellow wings and enormous, bulbous eyes.
"It's a corn bug," he said. "Corn bug." He stifled a laugh.
"Are you laughing at me?" My voice came out hoarse.
"Me? Nooo. Noooo." He shook his head, entirely unconvincing. I glared at him and began walking.
"Not that way, Cornella."
I huffed, biting my lip, before heading in the direction he pointed. This time, I decided, it was best if I didn't answer. My big mouth was what got me into this mess in the first place. I walked ahead of him.
He faked a cough. "Corn bug. I swallowed a corn bug. I'm dying. Save me." He coughed again, clutching his throat, and in that moment I knew—if I didn't kill him, my name would no longer be Mia Amelia Stennett.
I would have made good on my promise if he weren't so damn fast. He bolted, and eventually, even though exhaustion set in, I had to keep going because I had no idea how to get back on my own.
When we finally reached the village, he stopped. I was too worn out to even look at him. I collapsed onto a patch of nearby grass, trying to catch my breath.
"Aren't you tired?" I managed.
He hadn't shed a single drop of sweat. He looked completely unfazed, and we'd been running for over a mile.
He gave me an uninterested glance. "You need to take better care of your health. What if someone tries to kidnap—"
"Ray, for the last freakin' time, stop asking me dumb crap like that. I'm on an island. We're surrounded by sea and freakin' old people. Who the hell would even—?"
I trailed off. He was giving me that face again. The face meant I'd done something to piss him off. I replayed my last few sentences in my head.
"What?" I asked.
"Just shut your face and go to work." He huffed and disappeared before I could respond.
I sighed, forcing myself up and trudging toward the godforsaken place.
I'd been here, on this island nicknamed "Paradise," for almost four months now. My father claimed it was his way of giving me an escape for what I'd done. But it wasn't an escape. It was more like a correctional prison managed by elderly people. It wasn't all bad, though—they were genuinely entertaining old people. Still, something about this place felt wrong. I felt wrong.
I swung the library door open. It was one of the largest buildings on the entire island, and I had the honour—cough, cough, sarcasm—of working here.
"Mia! It's so nice to see your face again," Mrs. Ida Hoe greeted.
I smiled. Ida Hoe. As in, I da hoe. Get it? It never failed to crack me the hell up. Her mother must have hated her.
Mrs. Hoe was one of my favourite people on the island. She had a filthy sense of humour, was somewhere in her late fifties, and possessed a deep affection for creepy spiders and old vases. She also looked faintly like a spider herself—her hair dyed black-and-purple, her eyes so tiny she had to cover them up with thick glasses.
"Yours too. You have a very… um… satisfying face," I said.
She threw a book at me. It missed my head by a lucky inch and landed on the floor beside my dusty foot. My eyes widened in genuine shock—not because I hadn't expected it, but because the book was so enormous.
"Pick it up. And if you ever get here late again, I will rip those beautiful eyes out." She smiled. I knew she meant it.
I did as I was told, then took a seat at my desk. I sighed. How many more days would I be forced to sit in this place and watch Mrs. Hoe flirt with random old men before I was allowed to return home? I started adjusting my chair—not because it was uncomfortable, but because I was desperately bored. When I began receiving weird looks from the other people in the library, I resorted to playing with my thumbs.
That's when I noticed the pile of folders on the corner of my desk.
Interesting.
Mrs. Hoe must have left them by mistake. I opened the first one. It was about someone named Kyle—everything from the colour of his eyes to what had brought him to the island. I picked up another. Miss Ven, the restaurant lady. My other favourite person on the island.
'Aborted a—'
I closed the file. These were personal profiles of everyone on the island. I glanced around. No one was paying attention. If they had profiles on everyone, I wanted to see mine. And Ray's. I smiled to myself. They said everyone on this island had something to hide. I wanted to know what Mr. Perfect's secret was.
I found my file. I couldn't find Ray's anywhere. Eventually, I gave up, sighed in defeat, and channelled all my focus onto my own folder. It took a disturbing moment to work up the nerve to open it.
When I did, there was nothing.
I flipped through the blank pages, just to confirm my eyes were working properly. Empty. It was like I didn't exist—or like there was nothing to me.
I smiled. Probably my father's doing. I was grateful. There was no use in letting everyone know the horrible thing I'd done. I tossed the file onto the desk, and it slid off the edge. I sighed in frustration, bending to pick it up.
I froze. A single loose page protruded from the folder. I could see words written on it. I tore it free and brought it into the light.
The words vanished.
I narrowed my eyes, then lowered the page back into the shadow beneath the desk. I grinned. God, I'm smart. The words returned.
"What are you doing?"
I jolted upright, shoving the paper under my thigh. Mrs. Hoe stood over me. I turned, holding up the empty folder.
"It fell," I said, my voice a little too high.
"You didn't look in these, did you?" Her tone had turned deadly serious.
I shook my head. She stared into my eyes so deeply I thought I might crack in half.
"Okay." She nodded, snatched up the stack of files, and carried them into her office.
I exhaled, shaky with relief. Then I pulled the hidden page from under my leg, crouching low to read it. It was a continuation of a previous page.
Dammit. I didn't have the whole thing.
I began to read what I could make out:
'…danger. The truth about her life is being kept from her and may result in future implications. She must…'
"I knew it. Hand it over."
My stomach knotted. I turned. Mrs. Hoe stood there, hand extended.
"It's mine. About me. I have the right to read it—and keep it." I placed the paper flat on my desk.
She tilted her head, as if considering this. "You're right." She made to walk away, then paused, turning back.
"I'm sorry," she said, and smiled.
I frowned. "About what?"
She picked up the water bottle from my desk, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. I shook my head, turning back to the paper—
Just as water came spewing all over it.
"What the—!" I yelled, drops soaking my shirt.
"About that," she mumbled, and walked away.
I shook the water from my hands and grabbed the paper. It tore and crumbled into tiny, unreadable fragments. My anger boiled. I looked up at the sceptical glances around the library. Everyone pretended not to see a thing.
I replayed the words I'd managed to read.
'Danger. The truth about her life is being kept from her.'
What truth? What did it mean? And why was she so desperate to keep it from me?
The questions kept piling up. I needed answers.
And I was going to get them. At all costs.