Update--a little late, my bad. I got my grade for the story--98/100! Part of it was self-evaluation, and I gave myself a minus 2. Haha :P

I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit longer (only by a couple hundred words, though), but not as much... I dunno, action, I suppose. It'll get more exciting again, I promise.

Enjoy!

Gentle waves rolled onto the warm, placid shore before retreating back into the sea. The sand was warm under the summer sun—it bore down on the small beach mercilessly. Chelsea felt the hot rays on her face and slowly opened her eyes. She squinted into the light; her eyes weren't very fast to adjust. She sluggishly pulled herself up and into a sitting position, sand sticking to her damp back. She was surprised to find her bandana still attached to her head, and her rucksack was lying right beside her, however soggy it may have been. She glanced around the empty beach, a hundred questions flooding her mind: where was she? What happened to the boat? Was everyone alright?

"Oho, looks like you're awake now!"

Chelsea gasped slightly and turned around, searching for the owner of the raspy voice that had called out to her. Her gaze settled on a small old man with a large walking stick and tattered overalls. He had only liver spots atop his head—no hair to be seen, save the very large, bushy mustache that nearly covered his mouth.

Chelsea felt very uncomfortable under his stare.

"Um, who are you?" She squeaked, standing up shakily. Her legs felt like lead.

"The name's Taro—I'm a retired farmer. And you are?"

Chelsea raised her eyebrows. She felt it ironic that she'd been stranded on an island with another farmer. She did not, however, feel any more comfortable around this man—his little bead-eyes were giving her the creeps.

"I'm Chelsea," she replied, making sure her voice stayed strong, "Where… are we?"

The old man shrugged. "I don't have any idea."

Before Chelsea could express her panic at his answer, another chorus of voices sounded from somewhere behind Taro.

"Grandpa, we found some buildings and an old farm! It looks like people used to live here."

Chelsea leaned to her right and looked around the old farmer. She saw three people, all with matching pink hair. There was a woman with a gentle air about her—she appeared to be in her forties, maybe—who had a calm smile on her face. She walked with a subtle grace that impressed and, more importantly, comforted Chelsea. This woman did not seem harmful at all. The other two people seemed to be about Chelsea's age; the taller one—a lanky, glasses-clad boy with a clumsy walk—seemed very nervous as he walked onto the beach. The other one—a girl with a pretty face and a hard stare—marched up to Taro with her lips set into a triumphant smirk. The girl saw Chelsea and cocked her head questioningly.

"Who's this, Gramps?" She asked. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her half-apron.

"I-I'm Chelsea," Chelsea said, stepping around Taro and offering the girl her hand to shake.

"Chelsea," the older woman repeated from her spot near the boy, her voice soft and airy, "What a beautiful name."

Chelsea could feel her cheeks heat up some at the compliment. "Um, thank you, ma'am."

"I'm Natalie," the girl said, eying Chelsea's hand for a moment before shaking it. She motioned behind her to the boy and woman. "This is my mom, Felicia, and my wimp of a brother, Elliot."

Chelsea noticed the boy's face flush from embarrassment. She offered him and the woman a friendly smile; these people were quirky, but nice. Taro started walking in the direction that the others came from, off the beach. Natalie turned and glared at him.

"Wait up, Gramps!" She called, "Where are you going?"

"Let's see this old farm you say you found. It may be a good place to set you young'uns to work!"

Chelsea furrowed her brow as the pink-haired family followed the old man up the path. Why were they all so calm? Did they know where they were? Sighing, she ran after them.

She jogged up a dirt pathway that cut between a few run-down houses—this must've been a small town at one point, Chelsea thought. She came up a small hill and stopped near the family at the northernmost point of the village. It was the entrance to the farm.

Chelsea glanced around the premises. There was a tiny farmhouse that seemed to be in excellent shape, along with a nice stable and material shed. Behind those was a huge empty field—well, empty of crops. It was totally littered with weeds, branches, and stones. It was a sad sight for Chelsea; she believed that farms were places of life—growing crops, raising animals, starting a family—not places meant to be empty and lonesome.

"Hm," Taro said, surveying the farm himself, "looks like a lot of work to get this place up and running again. Too much for me, and I know you grandchildren of mine aren't too set on so much hard labor…"

"What about one of the houses in the town, Father?" Felicia said, her face serene. "The house closest to here looked like it would be easy enough to fix up."

Taro nodded slowly. "A good idea. Elliot, Natalie—why don't you go and clear it out now?"

The two siblings sighed and left, Natalie muttering complaints under her breath. Taro turned to follow them, but Chelsea stopped him.

"Wait! Are you guys really going to… live here?"

Felicia giggled. "Of course, dear. We were looking for a nice, not-crowded place to move, and what's less crowded than a deserted island?"

"B-but…" Chelsea objected weakly, her shoulders slumped in bewilderment, "How can you live on a deserted island? Don't you need… I don't know, stores for food? Clothes?"

"Oh, I've already contacted the mainland to let them know where we are. It's always handy to carry a radio," Felicia winked, giggling behind her hand.

Chelsea gaped at her, her mind blank. They were actually going to live on the island… Suddenly, an idea blinked in Chelsea's head. Her face lit up as she glanced around.

"Taro, Felicia," she started excitedly, "do you think that I could work this farm?"

Taro's bushy eyebrows shot up. "You sure a little one like you can handle such a huge farm?"

Chelsea nodded fervently. "Yes! Yes, I know I can!"

Felicia smiled warmly. "Well then, I suppose that settles it. If you need any help, just come ask us—we'd be delighted to lend a hand. Maybe we can make this island into a nice little town, if the farm does well."

Chelsea's eyes burned with determination as she studied the field—her field. She'd managed to get an even larger farm than she could have in Flowerbud, and for free, too! Chelsea couldn't help but let the grin on her face grow. This was it. This was her dream.

* * *

He set the newspaper down on the small table of the fast food joint, sighing. There had been a bad storm overnight and a ship had gone down a few miles off the coast—luckily, they'd rescued all but five passengers: one family of four, and a young woman. He really only began reading the front-page article because he knew it would affect his work. All passages were postponed from the city's port for 48 hours, so he would be late arriving in Flowerbud Village to deliver their weekly order of feed.

"Vaughn, man, what's the matter? You haven't touched your fries."

He sighed again and glanced up at the man across from him from beneath his hat. "Not hungry," he muttered.

"Aw, c'mon. There's gotta be more to it. Is it 'cause we'll be late on the job?" The man pressed, his amused eyes watching Vaughn.

"Quit talkin' so much, Riley," Vaughn mumbled, massaging his temples in annoyance. He didn't even understand why this coworker had started talking to him in the first place, back when he started the job.

"I was just worrying about you. Jeez."

"Don't waste your energy." Vaughn muttered, rolling his eyes.

"You're the coldest person I know, Vaughn." Riley frowned, picking a french fry off Vaughn's plate.

"Thanks."

Tada. Bad ending, and I know that it's probably a little confusing, but... I tried my best ^^;

Comments? Critique? Questions? Alliteration? Review! :P