Stranded


Chapter Eleven: Katrina White

Katrina White pulled her dirty blond hair away from her face and tied it up with a piece of twine. It had been nearly three months since Flight 314 hand crashed onto the shores of a deserted island. Nearly three months since they had had any real shampoo. The hot, muggy weather made Katrina's dirty-blond hairy frizzy and hard to control, and it was very hot on her neck.

The thirty-eight survivors had almost given up hope of rescue, and instead were forging new lives on the island. When they moved their campsite, they were lucky to discover wild boar and hens, and so were delighted to and bacon, chicken, and eggs to their fruit-and-fish diet.

Katrina was slowly making herself at home in the hut that she shared with her father. Her cats, Neko, Keiko, and Fluffy lived in a large pet crate that had once belonged to her German Shepherd, Callie. Katrina could feed them fish and chicken, and would take them out on a leash one at a time.

Callie slept in the sandy grass beneath her master's hammock. The trauma of the plane had scared the puppy, and she stuck to Katrina like glue.

Now Callie chewed on a stick as Katrina worked on building a desk to keep her books on. Her father, Louis, had let her check an extra suitcase that contained her small library, and it had miraculously survived the crash. Her priceless collection was undamaged. Now she lent them out, knowing that the boredom of the place could almost drive a person out of their skin.

In all actuality, Tony Levine had built most of the desk, and Katrina was just putting the finishing touches on it before her father would move it for her.

Callie's tail started thumping the ground, signaling that someone whom she had deemed friendly was approaching.

"How's it coming?" Tony asked. As a sort of 'chief-architect' of the entire camp, he was still busy, designing showers, latrines, a kitchen, anything that the survivors would need. Katrina was surprised that he had taken the time to help her.

"I'm just about done," she said as the man bent down to scratch Callie behind the ears.

"Looks pretty good," Tony said, shaking the little desk to test its sturdiness.

"Thanks," the girl said, grinning.

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"Leaving behind a grieving husband and child, we must comfort them." The preacher droned on, but to the six year old girl, his words barely described her beautiful, happy mother. At least her name, 'Eleanor,' was spoken often. Katrina's father sat rigid beside her.

He glanced down at the little girl who he barely knew. He had spent most of her six years away on deployments. Most recently he had been sent to California for six months, while his wife and daughter stayed behind in the Wisconsin town which they had all grown up in.

Now he was back, to retrieve his daughter from his mother-in-law. She had been caring for Katrina since the awful night. It seems Katrina was running a 104 degree fever and Eleanor had braved the icy roads to take her to the emergency room. On her way, she was hit by a drunk driver, who, being a visitor from Arizona, didn't know how to drive in snow. Eleanor was killed on impact, but little Katrina in the back seat had barely sustained a scratch.

He offered the little girl a small smile. Katrina's expression didn't change.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered, leaning down. "Daddy's here now."

Katrina climbed up into his lap. When the ceremony was over, Louis walked behind the casket, cradling his sleeping daughter.

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"Are you ready?" Danietta Coleman came over to Tony. A pack was strapped to her back, and she was carrying several hunting spears, which were actually very sharp sticks. "Steve and Stuart already went on ahead. We'll have to go double time if we want to catch up."

"May I go too?" Katrina asked, brushing the sand off of her jeans. Tony looked to Danietta, who shrugged.

"Sure, but hurry." Katrina ran back to her hut, and grabbed Callie's leash. She tied it to her belt and clipped it to the dog's collar. Katrina pulled one of her father's old baseball caps over her head and retied her tennis shoes. She was ready.

The excursion brought back two wild pigs. Katrina helped clean up the hunting gear before washing off in the stream and returning to her hut. When she entered the zone where the huts were located, her father immediately homed in on her.

"Where have you been, young lady?"

"I went with the hunting party."

"Never again!" Louis exclaimed. "I was worried sick!"

"I had Callie with me. And I didn't go wandering alone. I was perfectly safe!" Katrina cried. She had forgotten how much Marines loved to yell.

"How was I supposed to know that? Did you even think about asking my permission? You're fourteen years old."

Katrina's eyes fell at the mention of her age. She stopped arguing with her father and simply gave in.

"I'm sorry Dad. It won't happen again."

"It certainly won't. You're grounded to the camp. No errands, no fishing, no hunting. Any free time from your regular chores will be spent helping Dr. Walters in the infirmary. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Sir," Katrina mumbled, heading for her hut.

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In fourth grade, Katrina's class read a book called "The Dragonling." The teacher, Miss Jonson gave the children an assignment to draw a picture of the part of the book that they identified with. Herby Koller drew a big blue dragon flying over stick-figure warriors. Greta Murphy drew a picture of a mother, hugging her young son, Derek. Peter Fletching drew the dragonling when he was scared, stuffed beneath Derek's shirt, tail hanging out.

Katrina White drew the grave and headstone of Yoren, a boy who had died in the book. Concerned by this, Miss Jonson called a parent-teacher conference. Katrina waited in the hallway after school while her father went into the class room to talk with her teacher. But Louis White didn't know that to close the classroom door, it had to be pushed until it clicked. Otherwise a small crack remained, letting sounds from within flow into the quiet hallway.

Katrina watched to see that no one was coming down the hall, and leaned closer to the crack. Miss Jonson was speaking.

"I just think that it's a little morbid. Girls her age are usually drawing princesses or unicorns, but Katrina just depicts despair." Here she paused. If Katrina could have seen them, she would have seen Miss Jonson hand a manila folder to her father. He paged through the papers, which were other pictures and some sad stories by Katrina. "Your daughter seems to have some major issues, not only with her mother's death, but with you as well. Her fairy tale was Cinderella, but in her version, Cinderella's mother died, and her father was evil. There are similar signs in that folder. I think that she should see a counselor."

"I understand your concern, Miss Jonson," Katrina heard her father say after several moments of paper shuffling. "But Katrina is very … needy. She took the loss of her mother very hard. Try as I might, I'm just not a suitable replacement. Please, just give us a chance to work this out before you call in counselors."

At this point, Miss Jonson apparently discovered the open door, and pushed it closed with a click. Katrina pulled her back pack closer and took out her math homework.

Katrina added silently for five minutes. Then the door opened.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. White," Miss Jonson said, patting Katrina on the head. "You have a very bright little girl. I don't want her to end up having issues with you. I can give you another chance, but if there is another incident, I will have to refer her to our counselor."

"Thank you, Miss White," Louis said, steering herby her shoulder, out to their car.

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"Did you even think about asking my permission? You're fourteen years old."

The words rang through Katrina's head. Fourteen. Not today. Today she was officially fifteen. How could he forget her birthday?

Katrina was born on her parent's first anniversary. Before her mother died, she used to joke that her father had no excuse for forgetting the day.

Would she have thought a plane crash was a viable excuse? There was a calendar posted near the pavilion dedicated as the mess hall. Steve marked off a day every morning.

"Katrina?" a voice asked, startling her from her thoughts. She looked up into the dusky light that shone through the door.

"Hi, Dr. Walters," Katrina said.

"Blayr's baby is a little colicky, and I was wondering if you would go help her for a few hours," Joyce said. "Will likes it when you read to him." Katrina pasted a smile on her face.

"Sure," she said.

Within minutes, she had gathered a book of fairy tales and she set out with Callie to Blayr's hut. Will was crying and Blayr was swallowing a pair of Tylenol.

"Boy am I glad to see you," Blayr said over the crying. Katrina smiled and pulled out a book.

Some time later, they had settled the baby down, and he was sleeping fitfully.

"Thank you, Katrina," Blayr said. "It was nice of you to take time and help me out on your birthday."

"How did you know that it's my birthday?" Katrina asked. Blayr pulled a book off of her shelf and flipped through the pages.

"You let me borrow 'Little Women,'" she said, flipping through the pages. There, stuck on the page where Beth March passes away was a hand-drawn card. It read 'Happy 14th Birthday, Kat!' obviously written in an adult's handwriting, and colored by a young child. "The back is dated," Blayr said.

"My cousin Luke made this for me last year. He's three now," Katrina said.

"You know, I want to give you something," Blayr said, rummaging around in her suitcase. She fished a Ziploc bag out and handed Katrina a small, plush box. "No girl should turn fifteen without some kind of jewelry." Katrina opened the box slowly, revealing a gold heart, trimmed with a single tiny diamond, dangling from a thin gold chain.

"I can't take this," Katrina said.

"Sure you can. I bought when I was your age. I had to save a lot of birthday money for it. But it just isn't as important to me as it used to be," Blayr's baby started to stir and she stroked his cheek softly. "I want you to have it. I know you'll appreciate it. And you have helped me out tremendously."

"But-" the girl began. But Blayr cut her off, clasping the chain around her neck.

"No buts. Say 'Thank-you, Blayr.'"

"Thank you, Blayr," the girl repeated with a grin.

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"How would you like to go and get some ice cream?" Louis asked.

"Before dinner?" Katrina asked, eyes wide.

"Sure, we'll just eat backwards tonight," her father said, pulling into Dairy Queen parking lot. They ordered a banana spit and two spoons. Louis gathered extra napkins and settled his daughter across from him in a booth. Katrina dug her spoon into a mound of ice cream.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said.

"You're welcome, Sweet-heart," he said, watching the nine-year-old eat daintily. "Katrina why did you draw that picture at school?"

"She asked for it. Miss Jonson told us to draw what we related to. When we read about Yoren's death, it just reminded me of how sad I was when Mommy died," the girl said, wiping up fudge that she had drizzled on the table.

"Do you really think that I am evil?" he asked. Katrina looked up, startled.

"Of course not! I love you Daddy," she said practically.

"Oh? Then how come Cinderella's daddy was so mean?" he asked.

"Because everyone else in the class had an evil stepmother in their story and I wanted mine to be different," Katrina said. "Anyways, I just write what I feel. When I'm sad, my stories are sad too. I bet Miss Jonson didn't show you any of my happy work, huh?"

"I guess not. Kat, you do know that I love you, right?"

"Yep-yep!" she said, batting her eyes at him and giggling.

"Alright, I want you to start writing more happy stories for Miss Jonson, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." She looked up at him and laughed. "You have ice cream all over your face," she said, pointing to her own cheek. Louis wiped at his face with a napkin, and discovered cherry syrup, he smudged it farther up onto his cheek.

"I that better?" he asked. As Katrina giggled, Louis cleaned the syrup off of his face, and then off of his daughter's. They left the ice cream shop hand in hand.

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Katrina left Blayr and went to sit in the sand near the mess pavilion. Settled with Callie in a patch of torchlight, she tried to concentrate on her novelization of "The Phantom of the Opera." Eventually she gave up, and dropped her book at her side, leaning back into her dog's warm fur and gazing up at the stars.

It didn't matter anymore that her father had forgotten. He was busy, and they had been through a trauma.

At least someone had said 'happy birthday.' The light shimmered from the diamond on the necklace. The chain was a little long, but Blayr had assured her that she'd grow into it.

Suddenly, she was startled by a voice singing.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you." It was her father. He was carrying a "Little Debbie" cupcake, with a single candle glowing. "Happy birthday, dear Katrina. Happy birthday to you."

Louis held the cupcake near Katrina's face, and she blew out the candle. He cut the little cake in half with his Swiss-army knife, and they savored the chocolate in silence.

"I'm sorry, Katrina," Louis said at last. "I feel like such an idiot. I can't believe I forgot your birthday."

"No excuses, right, Dad?" the girl said with a sad smile, remembering her mother.

"No excuses. It was my fault. Please forgive me." Katrina leaned over into her father's embrace.

"Of course. And I am sorry that I went off without telling you. I won't do it again."

"So you're fifteen," he said. "Mom would be so proud."

Katrina smiled.

"She'd be proud of you, too Dad," she said.

As father and daughter finished their cupcake and then went back to their hut, they were oblivious to the fact that a crew from Carnival cruises was testing a new route. The ship was just 50 miles off the coast of their little island.

A/N: I guess it's pretty obvious what is coming, but that's okay. I think I may have a twist that's unexpected, involving a nice you ER doctor/barbeque restraunt operator... Please review and tell me what you think. MoreAmanda-Mark-Alex-and-Jesse coming up soon.