June 7, 1954

10:45 A.M.

Right before I got on this plane, my parents gave me this journal. It's a journal to make sure I make the trip to my aunt's memorable. I don't even get why their making me write in this. I guess I'll do it, just to humor them. But don't think this will become my last resort of fun.

Anyway, this flight is the cheapest, but it's all we can afford. It came with one stipulation, though. I have to be a boy. Too bad I was born a female. In order to get on the plane, I had to be dressed like a boy.

My older brother, Toby, had some pants that were much too small on him, but just right on me. My other brother, Timothy, had a shirt that was baggy enough on me to not show that I was a girl. I also had to cut my hair. Just short enough that it wasn't long, but it was short enough to be considered a boy hair. It wasn't enough to just change my appearance. My name also had to changed.

My name, on my birth certificate, is actually Aryanna. My family decided on the name Aaron. That's my name now. That's how everyone is going to know me. Not as Aryanna, the shy girl with the brown locks of silky hair that went halfway down her back. They'd know me as Aaron, the quiet boy who is content with keeping to himself. The boy that doesn't actually talk about anything, or do anything. The one who no one talks to.

I'm getting tired, so I'm going to slip this into my bag and try to take a nap before I get to the airport.

Sometime later

When I wake up, I am laying in the sand and the plane is in pieces. Have I just slept through a plane crash? The thought that scares me: Were there other survivors? If there are, would they know that I'm a girl?

I look down at my clothes. They're a little torn, but the boys shouldn't be able to tell. Standing up and wincing, I take look around. There's nothing around me but trees. But behind me is a lagoon and a beach. And then I hear the sound of a deep, harsh note that scared the local birds. I follow the sound to meet two boys on the beach, with others soon appearing, including a boys choir.

One is tall and athletic, with fair hair. His shirt is stuck to him with sweat, as is his hair. The other isn't as tall or athletic, by the looks of it. He has glasses, which keep sliding down to the end of his sweaty nose. It was clear that they had called the survivors.

The bigger one is asking what our names are. Johnny. Sam. Eric. Then it finally gets to me.

"What's your name?" the boy asks.

"Umm. . . Ary. . . Aaron." I almost blew my cover, and I'm on an island full of boys. This would not be as easy as I had been assured it would be.

"We'd all better have names, so I'm Ralph," said the athletic boy.

"We got most names. Got 'em just now."

"Kids' names. Why should I be Jack? I'm Merridew," said the choir leader.

The other one who had called them to the beach had been saying something, and a second later, Merridew told him to shut up and called him "Fatty." This Merridew kid is starting to make me mad, and I don't even know him.

"He's not Fatty, his real name is Piggy!" Ralph proclaimed, alerting everyone of Piggy's name.

All of the boys started laughing, and Piggy got very pink in the face. He stood outside of the circle of people, and cleaned his glasses, which still slide down his nose because it is slick with sweat.

After a little more laughter (from the boys, not me. I was sympathetic.), Jack spoke. "We need to decide on how to be rescued."

Ralph said something along the lines of, "We need a chief."

There was a quick vote on it, and Ralph was chosen to be leader, just because he looks the part and he has the shell which had summoned us. It is also decided that the choir boys are the hunters. Ralph had the idea that three people (Ralph, Merridew, and another choir boy named Simon) should go up the mountain and determine whether or not the landmass we are on is an island or not.

They come back, and they tell us that we are indeed on an island and there is a coral reef which enclosed one side of the island. As they were walking back, they said, there was a pig. Merridew had drawn his knife and hesitated before making a move to kill it. In which time, the animal had gotten away.

"Next time," he had said, "there would be no mercy."