Page 58 of Adrift

“What’s your name again?” I squint up at the owner’s son. Haley and Zane are hovering over me, too.

“Easton. What month is it?”

“June.”

“Good, and where are we?” Easton’s eyebrows rise.

“Fuck if I know. But you don’t either, so I’ve got my memory.”

“He’s fine,” the engineer huffs from the other side.

“Calvin! Let Easton do his tests,” Haley scolds.

“Who’s the president?”

“Sunak, Trudeau, Albanese—which one? Except they’re all prime ministers.” I know the fucker wants me to say the American president, but I refuse, not because I care about American politics, but just on the principle of Americans thinking the damn world revolves around their axis. Even though I’m from Pennsylvania, I’ve spent enough time outside of America.

Easton scowls at me. “What’s your full name?” He’s not giving up.

“Dante Saffron Jones.” I close my eyes.

“Your middle name is Saffron?” Haley asks.

“His middle name isn’t Saffron—it’s a damn joke. He’s fine.” Calvin’s not giving up either.

“I think Calvin’s right. You’ll be good. But we still have to move into concussion protocol now that you’re not unconscious anymore.” Easton gives my shoulder a light tap.

“Here, have some water, Dante.” Haley holds a small cup to my mouth, and I drink. It’s warm and tastes like it’s been tossed around under my car seat in a dented water bottle for two years, but I’ll take it.

“Where’s everyone else?” I hold her gaze because Haley can’t lie for shit. I asked her last night—or was it the night before? Whenever. When we were still on a mega yacht, not a kid’s blow-up pool. I asked her what the owner’s wife said about the lobster bisque I made for lunch, and Haley told me she liked it. Her eye twitched, and her voice rose as if she was asking a question.

“Most are on the other raft. We got separated sometime yesterday. Are you warm enough?” Haley straightens a towel on my legs. Light skips low across the way, but my head can’t figure out if the sun is setting or rising.

“How long?”

“Going on the second day.” Calvin shifts in his seat.

I grunt back but close my eyes. It hurts like shit, but I’ve had worse hangovers. Too bad there’s no tequila here. A few shots and I wouldn’t feel anything. Instead, I give my grandma’s meditation nonsense a try.

Next thing I know, the owner’s son shakes me again.

“I’m sleeping. Leave me alone. Fuck me, my head hurts.” And that’s an understatement.

“You haven’t thrown up in a while. We voted, and you can have some of the pain killers.”

“Voted? Is this Animal Farm?”

A soft giggle makes me smile. At least someone thinks I’m funny. And I have a pretty good idea who the aspirin police is. The engineer. It’s always the grunters. I take the pills from Haley and swallow them down. The water sloshes in my stomach, but I’m not hungry. I’m asleep again.

This time when I wake up, it still hurts, but I’m better. I’d be even better if the buzzing would stop. Haley’s in a pile between the engineer and the owner’s son. I watch them for a while. She’s facing Calvin, her head on his life vest, and Easton is spooning her. Both guys have hands on her sides.

I smack at a bug and end its life. Hopefully, it’s the only death for the day. I ease myself upright. Zane’s awake. “Are there any rations?” I ask Zane, who is staring out the side window. He tosses me a bar.

The crackling of the wrapper echoes.

Haley

Captain Sam is standing behind me, pulling me to him. We’re dancing, swaying to the music. The bulge in his pants grinds on my backside. But then he’s in front of me, pulling me to him. The music is beating in my ears.

---