Page 7 of Wild Life

I didn’t understand what he meant. Why were they talking about bodies? And where were Mom and Dad?

“Thank you,” Aunt Sherri said.

The door clicked, and she entered. Where Mom had blonde hair and eyes that reminded me of my friend Jessica’s tabby cat, Aunt Sherri had brown hair and small eyes that were glued to me through her eyeglasses.

“You’re awake.” That was how she spoke…never asking questions.

“Aunt Sherri, what’s going on? Where’s Mom and Dad? Are they okay?” I held my breath, hoping her answer wouldn’t hurt my feelings, like my belly knew it would.

Her attention moved from me to the TV that showed a photograph of a boy around the same age as me. He had short dark hair, almost black, and brown skin. He had a nice smile, so wide that I could see the teeth that he’d lost. The background of the photo was the same blue color that Mom had chosen for my school photos this year. Blue was a good color for him. He looked like a nice person.

The helicopters came back on the screen and then the words, “New Zealand exploration family, including child, missing in the Pacific.” Then under the school photo of the boy was a name, “Aleki Taylor.”

Aunt Sherri stared at me again. If I could have erased her next words, I would have.

“Your parents are dead.”

My breathing stopped. My stomach flipped upside down, and a sour taste filled my mouth.

I had wished to never see my parents again, and now I couldn’t take it back.

Chapter 4

Ship Happens

Maris

“He’s not here.” Malcom’s attention remained on his laptop screen as he shoveled a spoonful of fruity O-shaped cereal into his mouth. The Internet was spotty at sea, but it wasn’t needed to review data, since everything was backed up onto an external hard drive when we couldn’t access the cloud.

The boat swayed, propelling me into the crew mess. I quickly regained my composure, as if I had meant to tumble-walk to the booth. “Who?”

Malcom clicked through his spreadsheet, his cleanly shaven jaw working through chomps of fruity cereal. “Your boyfriend.” For a grown man, he sure did relish in harassing me like a snotty teenager.

I slouched back into the ripped cushion of the bench seat, flashing him a prime view of everyone’s favorite finger. “Fuck off.”

He might’ve been my research lead at work, but I would always see him as my undergraduate roommate’s smart-mouthed boyfriend. I had spent four years sharing a closet-sized dorm with Sibley and the love of her life, Malcom Jones—aspiring conservation resources management biologist. Having been subjected to the sight of his disgusting cum-stained boxer briefs on the bathroom floor one too many times should have granted me a pass from his heckling. Since then, Malcom and I had earned our doctorate degrees, yet he clearly still retained his immaturity. He might not have been a part of Sibley’s life anymore, but he had been a fixture in mine for the past two years while on his research team at the university.

Malcom was a great scientist and fantastic leader. I honestly couldn’t imagine working for anyone else, even if he knew the right buttons to push to irritate the hell out of me. He was like that annoying big brother whom I shared no DNA with yet couldn’t get rid of.

His umber eyes glittered with amusement, nearly matching the color of his smooth skin. “Fucks before breakfast? What a way to start the day!”

Fran stumbled into the mess like I had, except with much more poise and a well-rested face. If she hadn’t been such a sweet person, I’d have despised her for her porcelain skin and pin-straight hair, the kind I could only achieve after an hour with my hair straightener.

Fran Park was the kind of woman who didn’t need makeup to look presentable. I, on the other hand, needed a shit ton of foundation and concealer to smooth out my nearly translucent skin stained withparty marks—the dark spots that took your face hostage when you didn’t get more than three hours of sleep on a regular basis. It would be fine if my sleepless nights ever involved dancing on tables and doing body shots off male models. But no, my insomnia was mainly because of my pitiful need to cuddle with any man who showed me the least bit of attention. Why was I such a hot mess?!

My colleague was so enviably perfect from the time she woke in the morning until the time she went to bed. In my defense, she was our resident ornithologist, which by default made her a morning person—early to bed, early to rise and all that deal. Bat people, on the other hand, were not morning people. Nighttime was our time to shine since most species were nocturnal.

The boat sloshed, and my stomach dropped. The water was unruly. If it kept up, one scopolamine patch to fight nausea wouldn’t be sufficient.

“Water’s getting kinda rough, huh? Eat something so you don’t throw up.” Fran served me a bowl of marshmallow cereal before sliding into the booth next to me.

“Thanks.” I wasn’t hungry, although it was my favorite, but I forced down a spoonful to express my gratitude.

“Everything okay? I heard you and Eli talking last night.” Her low voice didn’t keep Malcom from minding the conversation.

“We’re calling ittalking? The entire crew had surround-sound audio of you two howler monkeys fucking and fighting. I was ready with a bucket of cold water to break you two up.”

“Malcom!” Fran scolded. He had managed to finagle two faint wrinkles between her brows that I hadn’t known she was capable of.

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