Scar Island(37)

He turned back to the staring crowd. He raised the sword and pointed it at them all.

“No one helps him. No one feeds him. You do, you’re out, too. He’s dead to us. Got it?”

His angry glare scoured the group. No one said a word. His eyes stopped at Jonathan, a scary kind of mad shining in them. Jonathan didn’t lower his gaze, but he didn’t raise his voice, either.

“All right,” Sebastian yelled. “Get to work. Bring all that stuff in here.”

Without a word, they turned and walked outside to bring in the supplies.

They walked past the ruined Sinner’s Sorrow on their way to the door. Every pair of eyes secretly raced over the wrecked and ravaged torture device.

“Way to go, Colin,” Jonathan whispered under his breath.





Jonathan didn’t dare go back to visit the library that day. If he was seen ducking off into the passageways, Sebastian would be sure to think that he was helping Colin.

Sebastian spent the rest of the morning sulking in his room or storming around the kitchen, chewing and slamming cupboard doors. With their leader so ill-tempered, all the boys laid low. Some played cards or hung out on the stairs watching the water, but the Robinson Crusoe group lay on their mattresses and listened to Jonathan read more of the story. By lunchtime, there was only a thin pinch of pages left of the book.

Jonathan was halfway through his peanut butter sandwich when a shadow fell across the table. He looked up to see Benny’s sour face glowering at him.

“Sebastian wants to see you in his room,” he said.

“Okay,” Jonathan answered, taking another bite.

“Now,” Benny said. Jonathan put his sandwich down and followed Benny up the passageway to the adults’ rooms.

They walked past the door to the Admiral’s office, still closed and locked. The next door in the hall stood open, and Benny led him through it.

Inside, Sebastian was lying on a huge, high bed. It was fancy and old-fashioned, with a tall pole at each corner and thick curtains that ran between them. All the curtains around the bed were pulled open and Sebastian lay propped up on a pile of pillows, watching a TV that was blaring on a little desk at the foot of the bed.

“Here he is,” Benny announced proudly.

“Leave us alone, Benny,” Sebastian said with a bored voice. Benny frowned and gave Jonathan a dirty look and then walked out, closing the door behind him.

Sebastian sat up and scowled at the TV.

“The reception sucks,” he said. “You can’t hardly see a thing.”

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Sebastian blew out an impatient breath and slid off the bed. He sat down at the foot of the bed and clicked the TV off, then looked up at Jonathan.

“Where is he?” he asked.

Jonathan didn’t have to ask who Sebastian was talking about.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“You’re his friend,” Sebastian persisted. “And I know you’ve been creeping around this place.”

“I don’t know where he is,” Jonathan repeated. “This place is huge. He never told me he was leaving.”

“I want him back. I don’t like him being out there. It’s not … right. I’m supposed to be in charge, right? I’m supposed to be taking care of everybody. I should know where he is, right?” Sebastian’s eyes were sharp and troubled.

Jonathan shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he said at last. “He ran away. You didn’t make him leave.”

Sebastian looked away and nodded, then his eyebrows lowered and he looked back to Jonathan.

“If you do see him, would you tell me?”

Jonathan swallowed and looked away. He didn’t answer.

Sebastian frowned and shook his head.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” he said. “We could be doing this together, you know.”

Jonathan looked at him.

“Doing what?”

“Running this thing. Being in charge. You’re smart. This was all your idea, remember. You didn’t have to make me the bad guy.”

“I didn’t make you anything,” Jonathan protested.

“Yeah?” Sebastian jumped to his feet. Jonathan took a step back. “Someone has to be the boss. Someone has to make it work. How else do you make everyone write a letter? How else do you make sure no one tells the boat guys? How else do you get people to feed the furnace? Huh? How do you make it all work otherwise?”

Jonathan didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to be in charge. I just want … I just want …”

“What, Johnny? What do you want?”

Jonathan blinked hard and looked at the floor.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I don’t want anything, I think. And that’s the problem.”

He could feel Sebastian still glaring at him, could hear his angry breathing.

“Why did you even suggest all this? Do you like it here?”

Jonathan shrugged and looked up into Sebastian’s face.

“I don’t like it out there,” he replied. “I just didn’t want to go back to—all that. Here I can just be … nothing.”

Sebastian regarded him for a moment. Then he nodded one small nod.