Chapter Fifteen

The tide rose far more than it should've, the day of Kate and Sawyer's frolicking at the waterfall. It rose and rose until it was not five feet away from my tent, threatening to wash my crappy little home away. I wanted to let it. It seemed only fitting. But move back to the caves? I didn't fear them, anymore. But it felt like open retreat, giving up again on Sawyer. A sad little cycle of strange hope followed by despair, ending in my moving to the caves. Again.

And then there was Jack. He hadn't spoken to me since I'd screamed at him outside Sawyer's tent a few days ago. I couldn't blame him. I felt half-ashamed of myself, half-justified. I definitely didn't want to go crawling back to him in any sense, even if it was just to live in the habitat he'd founded.

All day it ate at me, not the wanting to move to the caves, the wanting for things to be right between Jack and I. Jack was so good, so safe, so like a big brother I'd never had. And I'd brazenly disrespected him more than once. That wasn't right. I was raised better than that, disrespecting the one person who held our fragile little existence together.

I saw him on the beach, and I meant to wait and talk to him later, but before I knew it, my legs were carrying me right to him. His pace didn't slow when he saw me.

"Jack, I'm sorry."

He looked at me and did that silent thing he does, where you think he's acknowledging you, but you can't be sure. Not really a nod, just an aura of "okay . . . and?"

"You only have everybody's best interests in mind, I know that. In a way, you're right to want to protect me. I can be pretty stupid. But I'm fifteen. I need to feel like my decisions are my own, y'know?" I didn't feel like I was explaining it very well. "I'm super grateful for everything you do, for worrying about me like you do. And I feel really bad about taking that and slapping you in the face with it. It was sickeningly disrespectful and absolutely uncalled for. I'm sorry."

"Do you want to move back to the caves? Because you don't need my permission for that, Cammy. It's a free island."

I shook my head. "No, I think I'm going to stay on the beach for a while, if this tide ever goes down. I wasn't looking for permission or anything, I just don't want things to be bad between me and the one really solid person on this island. I was stupid and thoughtless and I want you to know that what you think does matter to me."

"It should. Because, Cammy, I'm going to tell you this only once. If he lays a hand on you, however much you think you may want it . . . that will be unforgivable. It won't be pretty, Cammy. Remember what lengths we –I- went to when we thought he had Shannon's medicine? Don't underestimate us –me-, Cammy."

"But, that's absolutely-"

"Reasonable. Where are you from, Cammy?"

"Seattle."

"Back in Seattle, we're talking Statutory Rape."

"Don't talk to me about rape, Jack." I said with quiet venom. I didn't want to fight with him.

He was silent a moment. "Did . . . what do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter. Let's just say that I'm happy to make decisions like this for myself, when I get the opportunity. It is a choice. Whether it's a wise choice . . ." I smiled lightly. "I don't know."

"It isn't."

"Thanks for your opinion. Not that it matters. He's not the man you think he is, Jack."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you and him aren't so different. Both of you have . . . firm morals."

"Morals? Sawyer?"

I shrugged. I didn't feel the need to convince Jack of anything. "It doesn't matter, one way or the other. Know that I can take care of myself, but I appreciate your concern. I really do." I walked away. I felt better about things between him and I, but I didn't like how much personal information I'd vaguely given up. I thought he'd probably look at me differently, now. Maybe with dishwater-coloured glasses to replace the rose. I think I preferred being thought of as poor, innocent Cammy. Jack's caring-doctor-mind was certainly already subconsciously labelling me rape victim Cammy, instead. Still, I'd rather he know than Sawyer, for some reason. Maybe I didn't want Sawyer seeing me as through a harsh, dirty film of sympathy, the way I bet everyone would see me if they knew.