“Okay,” the prince said.
Mary Lou pushed aside the leaves and stuck her head out a bit farther. “Did — did you say okay?’
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“You’re not scared of me? You don’t think I’m some kind of unnatural girl, a beast?”
He gave her the smallest smile. “Nah. Well, I mean, all the best people have a little beast in them. I’m Tane, by the way.”
Mary Lou could taste desire in the back of her mouth like a sugary caramel. “Josephine,” she said, using her old name from the days before she knew of her curse, when she was weightless. “Queen of the Wild Girls.”
“How’d you get here?” he asked.
Mary Lou was jolted back to her predicament — the plane crash, the survivors, the need for rescue. But she felt less in danger at this moment than she ever had. It was like being inside a living dream that she could control. Later, she would tell him. Yes, there would be time for that later. She just wanted to stay with this moment a bit longer.
“I’m not really here. You’re just dreaming,” she answered and stepped out from behind the covering of the plant. He registered her na**dness with a small intake of breath, followed by the lightest of sighs, and this pleased her. She gave his neck another sniff. He smelled of fire smoke, salt breezes, and man. “And since this is a dream, I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
She bestowed the blessing of a wild girl’s lips.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In the morning, Adina offered to help Mary Lou find her ring.
“Oh, that old thing. Don’t need it. Thanks anyway,” Mary Lou said with a smile, and watched Adina shake her head in confusion.
The next night around three, Mary Lou ran through the jungle full-bore, relishing the freedom. It did not feel like a jolt of panic anymore, this change in her body, but like a part of her was being integrated into all the other parts. She was full.
She came to Tane, waking him with a kiss, and they swam in the cool waters of a lagoon. She told him about the plane crash and all they’d done to survive. They talked about what it might be like to sail around the world for a year. How hard it was to be yourself in the world. Tane told Mary Lou about the wing structures of birds and evolution, and the time he had to pee on his little brother’s jellyfish bite to stop the sting. Mary Lou told Tane about the family curse, about Billy and the Dinosaur Pit, the world’s largest pile of shoes, and Annie and Jacques-Paul’s ill-fated romance.
“I knew he wasn’t the one. He didn’t smell right, and his hands were weak. He said he liked the wildness in her, but I don’t think he really did. I think he was sort of threatened by it. And she wanted so much to make him happy that she forgot how to make herself happy,” Mary Lou said, resting her head against Tane’s chest.
“That’s not happiness. That’s a kind of murder, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Mary Lou said.
“There’s something I need to tell you, too. I had to be sure I could trust you first,” Tane said. His voice was no longer playful.
“What is it?”
“I’m not just looking for birds. I’m an eco-warrior. This island used to belong to my people before The Corporation pushed them out and took it over.”
“But this island is deserted. We’ve been here for weeks. I swear, there’s nobody here.”
“They were here. My people talk about it still. How they came to drill and mine. They violated the land and tested products on the animals. Made them very sick, killed a lot of them. They say the Venus bird was so sad, she flew away and was never seen again. The great volcano goddess was silenced, her fire extinguished by her tears.”
“That’s awful.” Mary Lou had rolled onto her stomach so that she could see Tane’s face.
“A few years ago, my people lost all contact with the island. The Corporation closed us out. Whatever they’re doing here is top secret. And the authorities are all paid off. So I decided to come on my own, see what they’re up to. Tomorrow I have to go to the other side, near the volcano. Might be gone a bit. Then I’ll go get help, get you off this island. I’ll be back — I promise.”
Mary Lou pictured Jacques-Paul climbing into his Impala and kicking up dust as he pulled away forever. “Don’t promise.”
He lifted her chin with his finger. “I promise. I’ll even leave my bedroll and lantern here.”
Mary Lou didn’t want to cry. Pirate queens were not weepy. They lived and died by their own code. “Look at that moon. Pretty happening tonight.”
“Yeah. Impressive,” Tane said, but he was not looking at the moon. “Tomorrow it’ll be even bigger.”
“You never know about tomorrow,” Mary Lou said. She pulled Tane to her for a deep kiss.
Under a three o’clock sky, they explored each other with their mouths. He slid down along the curve of her stomach until she could no longer see his face and her hands were in his hair. It was exquisite, this thing he was doing to her, and she closed her eyes tightly and cried out, and it joined with the shrieking of birds who took to the unfettered skies with the powerful push of their wings. When this happened, she was sure that all those things she’d been taught about feeling shame were wrong. It was not a curse to fully inhabit your body. You were only as cursed as you allowed yourself to be.
After, when they were a sweaty tangle of limbs, she told him, “I’m not ready for the other things yet.” He was quiet and she wondered if this would drive a wedge between them. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’m starving and I have a candy bar in my bag. You want half?”
It was caramel and nougat, her favorite. She licked the chocolate from his fingers, which led to more kissing and exploring, and when the moon paled against the dawn, Mary Lou tucked her St. Agnes medal into Tane’s pocket. She inhaled the scent of him so that she’d have it with her no matter what.
“You have really good hands, Tane Ngata,” she said and kissed the sleeping prince good-bye.
Mary Lou was not the only girl awake under a three o’clock sky. The sound of rain had woken Jennifer. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and remembered fragments of a dream in which she was Wonder Woman and Sosie was Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. From under her pillow — a wadded-up evening dress — she brought out her pen and notepad and began to draw. Her style was rough; her people had heads too big for their bodies, but Jennifer liked the feel of drawing the same way some people enjoyed singing in their showers.
In the panel, the Flint Avenger and her loyal sidekick, Sosie, had been trapped in the island lair of the archvillain, Madame Travatsky.
“You vill tell me ze location of ze nuclear submarine or I vill use ze ZombieRay on your little girlfriend, Flint Avenger!”
Jennifer mouthed the words while she drew.
“Don’t do it, Flint Avenger! It’s a trap!” Sosie’s speech bubble said. In the panel, she was clearly signing.
“I can’t let her hurt you, Sosie! Because …”
“Because … what?”
“I love you!”
Jennifer concentrated on the next panel, Sosie’s face. The light dusting of freckles across her pert nose. The dark eyebrows that gave her face a brooding quality. Silk-straight bangs. She worked hard on the eyes, and in the panel, they were very open with surprise and a sudden joy.
“What are you doing?”
Sosie’s voice startled Jennifer. She dropped her pen.
“Nothing.” Jennifer patted around on the sandy floor in the dark. Sosie reached over her for the notebook. Jen tried to swipe it back, but Sosie was too quick. Giggling, she sat down to read. She stopped giggling and stared at Jennifer. The last time Jennifer had felt like this, her grandmother was holding her copy of Women’s Basketball Weekly in one hand. But Jennifer hadn’t really cared too much about Grandma Huberman. It was different with Sosie.
“Give it back,” Jennifer signed. “Please.”
Sosie gave her the notebook. Then she took Jennifer’s hand in hers, gently bending Jen’s fingers to form the letters. “R U G-A-Y?”
Jen’s heart beat faster. She nodded. Then she bent Sosie’s fingers to form her own question. “R U?”
Sosie wasn’t sure how to answer. Since she could remember, she’d had crushes on both girls and guys. They were person-specific infatuations — Brian Levithan’s wicked sense of humor was every bit as sexy as Valerie Martinez’s sweet smile and amazing krunk routines. It seemed odd to Sosie that she had to make some hard-and-fast decision about such an arbitrary, individual thing as attraction, like having to declare an orientation major: I am straight with a minor in gay.
With her hand waiting in Jennifer’s, she thought about this now. She liked Jennifer, liked her lack of pettiness, her tough-but-fair stance, her honesty. If Jennifer were a dance, she would be the Agnes de Mille dream sequence from Oklahoma! Strong. Romantic. Forthright. Graceful. No wasted movement. Sosie didn’t know if she was a lesbian; she was, however, a Jenniferian. And so she leaned forward and kissed her.
To Jennifer, the kiss was like a silent communication full of meaning. It wasn’t the best kiss she had ever had. That honor belonged to LaKisha Damian on a Friday night in September behind the bleachers while the South Side Panthers marching band played “Baby, One More Time” and LaKisha wiggled her hand into Jennifer’s jeans without ever losing her lip-lock. Sosie’s kiss was tentative but warm. A question more than a declaration. Jennifer kissed her back with more assurance. The third time they banged mouths.
“Ow!” Jennifer said, rubbing her lips. She tried again, and this time, they fit. Sosie’s mouth was warm, her tongue skittish. Jennifer made small circles around it with her own, drawing Sosie more into her mouth. She pulled back, cradling Sosie’s face in her hands, kissing her intently, hungrily. Shifting onto her back, she drew Sosie on top of her, letting her hands rest on the muscular curves at the back of her thighs, letting one hand wander to the small of Sosie’s back, pressing gently there.