Page 11 of Reckless Girls
Amma emerges from the cabin, and even though it’s stupid, there’s something about seeing her there, in her bikini top and shorts, her expensive sunglasses taking up a third of her face, hair caught up in a messy bun, that makes something dark and animal briefly rise up in me. She looks good standing there, she looksrightnext to Nico, both of them exuding a comfort with their setting and their bodies that I’ve never felt. That I certainly don’t feel now in my cargo pants and Tevas, with a white button-down thrown over my tank top as extra protection from the sun.
“Can’t be a snob about Spam when you’re at sea,” Nico says, oblivious to my dark thoughts as he makes his way over to the dock,one hand on the line as he casually vaults himself off the ship. His boat shoes make a thump on the planks, and when he comes over to me, he smells like sweat and salt, plus that faint metallic tang that always clings to him when he’s been working in the marina.
“You ready for this?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Awesome,” he says again, and then he nods back to the boat. “Will you do me a favor and take those bags over to Hal’s office?”
Hal is the marina manager, an older guy with skin like leather and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. The boat sways slightly under my feet as I cross the deck and heft the bags Nico had gestured to.
One, a red duffel bag, is filled with what look to be stray parts—bits of broken metal and a couple of rusty tools.
The other, another reusable grocery sack, is a lot lighter, and when I glance inside, I frown.
“Um, these are mine?” I say, hefting the sack, and Nico turns back to me, shading his eyes.
“Babe, you don’t need that many books on one sail, come on. They were taking up too much space in the cabin.”
There are maybe a dozen paperbacks here, some newer ones, but also my mom’s old Agatha Christies, and that Thailand travel guide, nearly every page dog-eared.
I hadn’t just put them on the boat to read—they’d been part of my efforts to make the space a little homier, a little moremine.
Nico has also stuffed one of the throw pillows I bought into the bag, as well as a couple of framed photos. One is of the two of us when I first got to Hawaii, standing on the beach, our arms around each other, my freckled skin pale against his tan.
The other is of me and my mom when I graduated high school. We’re both squinting because the sun is so bright, and I remember that we had to ask my friend Mallory’s mom to take that picture for us, since we didn’t have any other family there.
It’s one of the few keepsakes I brought with me from San Diego,and it’s been sitting in my suitcase the entire time we’ve been crashing on that living room floor. I was excited to finally have a place to put it on the boat.
And now it’s been shoved into a grocery bag.
“Hal will hold onto them while we’re gone,” he goes on, then gives me that patented Nico shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
It’s not. It’ll be here when we get back. And I get that space is at a premium with four of us on the boat. Still…
Amma comes over, looking down into the bag. “Oh, it’s not that much stuff,” she says, then raises her head to call to Nico. “Besides, I actually forgot to bring a book. We can easily make room in our cabin.”
She takes the bag out of my hand with a bright smile, setting it back on the deck, and I smile back at her. “Thanks.”
Nico just shrugs, affable as ever. “Fine by me, then.”
I know that Nico didn’t mean anything by it, and I don’t want to spoil the day, so I drop it, taking the other bag to Hal’s office. Within an hour, we’re pulling out of the harbor, leaving the tall forest of masts behind us, motoring past yachts a hell of a lot bigger and fancier than theSusannah.Brittany and Amma stand at the bow, their arms loosely around each other’s waist, wind blowing their hair. If my phone weren’t belowdecks, I’d be tempted to take a picture of them, put a pretty filter on it, and give it a sappy caption. That’s exactly what they look like right now—an aspirational social media post.
As the boat slides out into the open water, my stomach dips. For the first time, it’s really sinking in that we’redoingthis: we’re heading out for a literal deserted island with these two strangers, and I don’t know if what I’m feeling is excitement, fear, relief, or some giddy combination of all three. I just know that as theSusannahglides across the glassy water, something in my chest finally seems to loosen.
“It beeeegiiiiins,” Brittany sings out, lifting her arms and spreading them wide as she tips her head back.
“Fuck yeah!” Nico hoots back, and Amma looks over her shoulder at both of us, smiling.
It begins,I echo in my head.
And I don’t just mean this one trip.
SIX
I knew theSusannahwas small, but I’d never really felt justhowsmall until that first night, when all four of us were down below.
The main cabin is both kitchen and sitting room, with a sink, fridge, and a small stove on one side, and a cushioned bench that wraps around a table on the other. That table is also our bed tonight. It folds down to be level with the bench, then we can slide the back cushions over it, turning it into a serviceable if not very luxurious sleeping space.
