When I was younger my friends would play the 'deserted island' game, where we'd all pick who and what we would take if we washed up on the beach, fully equipped with all the luxuries we needed to be safe and happy. In school we read some books where people were shipwrecked, but reading through the pages would never compare to how it felt, once it happened to me.
My ship was sailing across the ocean so I could visit my brother, Mark at his new home and spend the summer with him. Well, I guess the boat had other reasons to sail across the ocean, but that was my goal anyway. It was a small ship, compared to the huge cruise ships I had seen on television, but the testimonies of all the crew told me it was the steadiest, most unsinkable ship since the Titanic. That should have been my first clue, but I guess I was naïve. I'd always been deathly afraid of airplanes since I'd seen a plane crash in a movie, so I didn't have much other choice in transportation. I mean, you can't really drive across the ocean.
The trip was smooth sailing at first. Literally. I didn't even feel it when we departed; I just looked out the window and, BAM! We were on the ocean! I was a little surprised that such a dinky little ship could sail so smoothly. There were maybe one hundred other passengers on the boat, and some of them invited me to eat lunch with them. For the first two days, everything was going great.
On the second night, however, there was a storm. The giant waves were the first time I could actually feel the ocean, and I felt so sick when I tried to sleep. The moment I drifted off, an alarm sounded. As much as I wished, there was no snooze button, and an urgent message sounded over the intercom, telling us all to report to the lifeboats.
At first I felt pretty stupid, walking down the hallway in my pajamas, and you'll never know how much I wanted to chuck my shoes at the blaring siren. It was destroying my hearing, I was sure. The deck was freezing at night, and I shivered in my thin T-shirt.
Everyone on deck was in a frenzy; pushing past each other towards the few lifeboats on the ship. Still delirious with sleep, I shuffled into the crowed, letting myself get pushed to the railing. What was the big deal, anyway? And then it struck me. The ship was going down and we were going to be stranded in tiny lifeboats in the big, freezing, unfriendly sea forever.
Well I can tell you one thing: that woke me up. Shots of adrenaline raced through my body as I hustled with the rest of the crowd, a flashing red light illuminating the chaos in timed bursts. The metal rails were so cold they cut into my side, especially as the rush of people grinded me harder and harder into them. I tried to push myself upward, get a gasp of fresh air, when a wave leaped out of the ocean and pulled me back into the sea. I fell backwards, over the rails, landing with a splash overpowered by the sounds of panic on the boat. I heard several people scream from the wave, but no one seemed to notice my fall.
Hitting the water was the worst part. The water cut through my clothes and sunk into my skin, paralyzing me with cold. I was frozen stiff for a minute before I realized my lungs were starving of air. With all my might, I broke through the surface and gulped in air, only to be pummeled by waves and sea spray. The current pulled me under again, and I was out of it.
The first thing I saw when I woke up was a pair of huge, brown eyes. I couldn't figure out what they were at first, my eyes contracting in the sunlight, black dots dancing in my vision. I wondered for a second why the eyes were so close to me. Eyes don't normally hover inches from your face, do they? It took a moment for me to remember that eyes were normally on a face. Then I noticed a nose, and two scrunched up eyebrows. I held my gaze with those eyes, and the face pulled backwards, revealing a mop of bright pinkish orange hair.
"She's alive!" There was a mouth under the nose. I blinked, and suddenly it all came into focus. There was a mouth under the nose, and the eyes had been right in front of mine, and I could breath, and, ACK! He had done CPR on me, hadn't he? That was like a kiss, right? A lifesaving kiss, and this guy was a stranger? No, my first-aid instructor had told me not to think of it as a kiss when I performed CPR. But, I wasn't performing CPR, was I? No, I was receiving it, and oh my goodness, my head hurt so badly. Did the same rules still apply to receiving CPR? Oh my goodness, my first kiss, from a stranger.
My breath came out in short huffs. I felt like I could only dispel air, not take any in. I coughed a moment, rough, painful coughing, and my lungs cleared.
"Natalie, go get mom; she's alive and awake!" The boy said. Alive? Well of course I was alive, why wouldn't I- The memory of the crashing waves lit up in my mind, and I threw up in the sand. My body hurt so much, and I couldn't stop until I emptied all of my stomach, trembling in the sand as the boy held back my hair. Tears rolled down my face as I curled up in the sand in pain.
"It's alright, you're safe now." The boy whispered, gripping my arm. "My mom is going to come back and fix you up. You'll get something to eat and get cleaned up and then you'll be alright." The idea of food was disgusting. How could I even think of putting anything into my fragile stomach? But then again, it was the promise of relief. If I could just get some food and get cleaned up, then I would be better. It was a goal to fix my jumbled mind upon.
"She'll be here in just a minute now…" He trailed off and my mind flickered. Keep talking! I thought desperately. Keep talking and distracting me from my pain! As if sensing my discomfort, the boy started up again.
"Okay, so my name is Elliot, and I'm 19 years old." He kept a firm grip on my arm. 19…wasn't that how old I was? "My family and I live here and sell goods off of this island. It's a pretty cute town, and we can take you in for a while. I mean, until we can get suitable transportation for you to get home." Home. The thought of it brought tears to my eyes and they stung my cheeks. I'd had enough saltwater to last be a lifetime.
The boy saw my anguish and quickly changed the subject. "Okay, okay, not home. Um, how about my house? I have a mother and a grandfather and a sister. My sister's name is Natalie and she is 17. My mom used to be a nurse, so we can get you all fixed up an-Oh! Here she is." I felt my head go light as he removed his sturdy grip on my arm. Everything felt dizzy, and suddenly I was in the air.
Elliot held me like a princess, his arms under my knees and back, my head lolling around until it finally relaxed against his chest. A CPR kiss and being carried like a princess: this was some kind of day. I felt sick again as I bounced up and down in his arms, and the moment I was put down, sinking into a soft plush bed, my body tried to make me throw up again. Someone held a trash can up to me, but it didn't matter. I was asleep again before my head even hit the pillow.