Chapter 1
Island Survivors
"You're not a boy, freak, so stop acting like one." The woman hissed violently at the girl she'd thrown on the floor. Stacy Nightingale hated the wench on the floor. She acted too boyish, not like a lady like she should.
"I know, Mama." Chelsea whispered, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear.
"Your hair is still ugly, no matter how much you move it behind your ears. You should've been born with my lovely blonde hair; you would've turned out better." Chelsea flinched, but didn't dare move any more than she already had. Any type of movement would make her mother mad when she was in one of these moods.
After Stacy's ranting was over, she stormed out of the room.
Chelsea stood nervously, as if her mom could still come bursting into the room and push her back down. She glanced nervously into the large mirror her mother used to make her stand in front of everyday and tell her what needed improvement. She tugged on her unchanging mud brown hair and wished she could change it. She didn't have the faintest idea of why she kept it so long when she hated the sight of it. Maybe, she thought, it was just a curtain to shield her from her mother.
She wanted to spit at the dull blue eyes she saw looking back at her-she wished they were green, like her mother's. She looked too much like her father, acted too much like him, and dreamed too much like him. In all essence, she wanted to be like him even if her mother was probing her with doubts and hurt.
After wiping the dirt from her black slacks and turquoise silk blouse, Chelsea went to stand by her window. These seemingly formal clothes were as casual as her mom allowed. She wanted jeans and t-shirts, and sneakers! Not heels that got stuck in the mud when she tried to chase after her friends. The cool feel of the glass felt good again Chelsea's hot cheek. She would not cry. It was stupid, this feeling of despair because she could wear hiking boots or shorts.
There was nothing to fret about, Chelsea told herself. Soon, she'd be 18 and be able to leave. She glanced around the purple room and grimaced. And hopefully, she'd never have to act like she liked this girliness again. Purple was the compromise in their decorating decision. Stacy had wanted Chelsea to be surrounded with pink-something that would surely make her more of a girl-but Chelsea wanted a blue or green wall, something calming. Her mother finally settled on purple, it was still girlish and it wasn't as frightening as pink.
A small smile worked its way up on Chelsea's face. Her birthday was sooner than soon, it was next week. She wouldn't have to deal with all of this after that. She loved her mom dearly and just wanted to be close to her, but her mom was so disappointed that her only child was more like her father. Chelsea missed her dad, and missed how he always ended their fights with his clever jokes. Her mom had loved her husband, more than anything in the world. Maybe all of the grief she'd given Chelsea was just her own grief.
For the next week, Chelsea wore her girliest dresses to make Stacy happy even if she was laughed at by her friends. She wore her hair in bows and ribbons, and went to her mother's parties with her.
On the day after her birthday, she emerged from her room with her long hair cut to shoulder length in nice, neat layers. She was proud of her handiwork as she tugged on her orange button up shirt over her yellow tank top.
"What are you wearing?" Chelsea turned to see her mother's red face and looked down.
"Shorts, and boots. And a shirt." She said with a grim smile. "I'm moving out, Mama. Don't worry, I'll write you as soon as I settle in!"
"You're leaving me?" Chelsea saw the tears well up in her mother's eyes and rushed to hug her.
"I have to be on my own, Mama. I'll be fine. I'm a strong girl." She wiped a tear away.
"That sentence should never be spoken. I'm sorry, Chelsea. If I promise to let you be you, will you stay?" Another tear slipped down Stacy's cheek. She realized all of these years of trying to make Chelsea like her had chased her away.
"No, Mama. I have to go. I have to do this for myself." And for dad, she added silently. She would go find a new home, and she wanted to be a rancher, like her dad had once been, before meeting her mom.
"Come visit, I'll even change your room so you'll like it when you visit." Chelsea didn't understand the sudden change in her mother, but skipped out of the house before she was talked into staying.
She happily boarded a boat, humming her favorite song as the ship took off. She'd be happy when she reached the island, but the storm brewing ahead of the boat worried her. They were headed for another city, but she wasn't sure if they'd even make it there with that storm.
Her fears were proven to be true when she woke up to the flicker lights and the boat swaying so hard it threw her into the wall. She cursed and stood, heading for the door.
"Get on a lifeboat!" The captain shoved her towards the boat that held an older man, a woman and two people her age.
"What about you?" She yelled over the loud, forceful wind. "What are you going to do?"
She refused to move an inch until she knew that he'd be okay.
"I have to try and save me ship!" He pushed Chelsea harder, successfully shoving her over the edge and into the lifeboat.
"You have to come with us! It isn't safe to stay here!" Chelsea adjusts the straps of her rucksack and prepared to grab the man to pull him with her. Two more men joined the captain in lowering the lifeboat into the water. Her mind was racing, why were they just staying on the boat? If it was safe for them to be there, couldn't she stay to help?
"We'll find you when the weather is clear!" The tone of the captain's voice made it clear that he was very doubtful either of the boats would last that long.
As she sunk down into her seat, Chelsea was very aware of the waves wrenching them away farther and farther from the ship but not one of the worried passengers spoke. No one lifted their heads to look at one another. The only moment anyone talked was when Chelsea pointed up as a large rock they were headed for. No one would have noticed if she hadn't happened to glance up at the old man to see how he was faring. She warned them all to jump before they crashed, making sure everyone else was as secure as they could be and were off of the small boat before she herself dived into the violent waters.
When Chelsea opened her eyes again, she vaguely recognized the older man standing above her.
"Thank Goddess you're okay!" A woman's voice drifted from behind the older man after he had pulled her up.
"I'm just fine!" She grinned at the two. "I'm Chelsea. It's nice to meet you."
"I'm Taro, this is my daughter Felicia. Those are my grandkids." He jerked his thumb behind him.
"Hey! I'm Natalie." The girl set down the sticks she'd been carrying. "This is my dorkish brother, Elliot."
"This island looks deserted, but the building are still here. We actually thought we should stay here." Felicia said in a sweet voice and put her arm around her father's shoulder.
"Well, I was heading to Mineral Town, but I guess I could be a rancher here!" Chelsea put my hands on my hips and observed the area around them.
"A rancher, you say?" Taro perked up. "I used to be a pretty good rancher, if I do say so myself. I saw a large field up ahead."
He took Chelsea's arm and tugged her behind him in a speed she would've thought impossible for an old man, he stopped shortly to show her the small shack his family had deemed theirs.
"You could live here! Your work here might bring this island back to life." He looked up at her.
"That's a lot of pressure." Chelsea mumbled and rubbed the back of her neck. "I can do it!"
She turned to the house and smiled. "It isn't that bad. I'll like it here."
"Settle in, Chelsea. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early!" He had already started to leave when she turned to wave at him.
Chelsea smiled again and went to her house. She jumped back in shock when the door fell in. She cursed and set it back up but didn't let it deter her for long. She could fix that, easily. She rummaged through what looked like an old tool box and found a semi-rusty screwdriver. The people who had lived here before sure seemed to leave a lot of stuff behind. Didn't they have the money to take everything with them?
She looked out a window and sighed. By the looks of things, she supposed that they hadn't. She fixed the door quickly and wiped her brow. It took more work with that rusty screwdriver than it should have. Maybe she could find a way to get new tools.
She cleaned the bed as best she could before falling into it, completely exhausted.
It was a week before any new faces showed up, besides Chen, Charlie, and Gannon. They had happened here by chance while looking for a small island to live on. Chelsea got her new tools, plus got some more people to socialize with. Natalie was her first friend on the island, though Chelsea was friendly with them all.
A plump woman stepped off of the ship one morning with her tall, blonde daughter. Chelsea felt a pang in her heart when she saw the girl. Her mom would've loved her if she'd been more like the newcomer. She didn't let it faze her when she went up to greet her and her mother.
Julia and Mirabelle were greeted with a small crowd of the smiling islanders. They were wonderful people, but soon Julia crossed her arms and tapped her boot on the deck.
"Vaughn, get your behind out here!" After a round a footsteps on the ship, a tall man stepped onto the deck.
"I was coming. Somebody had to get your bag." He grumbled and dropped the bag on her foot.
"Vaughn!" Mirabelle chastised him, and people stepped up to greet the man with the cowboy hat on his head. He shook their hands quickly and only nodded. He had a cold aura around him, but Chelsea was fascinated. She couldn't get enough of his silver hair or amethyst eyes. The way he acted-like his heart was hard or not even there-made her want to jump up and hug him.
"What are you looking at?" He snapped in a harsh tone, making Chelsea jump.
"I'm sorry, I'm Chelsea." Vaughn looked down at the petite hand and noticed the fresh marks of work on them, signaling that she was probably the rancher he'd heard about. He shrugged and pushed past her and frowned when he realized she could fall into the water. He turned quickly and held out an arm when he saw her flailing her arms out in an attempt to steady herself.
"Thanks." She mumbled as he stalked away, staring after him.
"Don't worry, Chels. He's just a jerk." Chelsea looked up at Julia, who had already gave her a nickname, and nodded mutely.
