The Different Girl

This place, without anyone knowing?”
    I didn’t understand what May’s question had to do with being hungry, but I told her that we’d been on the island for as long as we could remember, and then about the accidental plane crash and our parents. May snorted and at first I thought she’d choked but then I saw her shake her head, which shook her hair. She was smiling.
    “It isn’t funny, May.”
    “What?” It was like she hadn’t heard me.
    “It isn’t funny,” I repeated, firmly. “Being an orphan is very hard.” She didn’t answer. It was important, so I went on. “We girls are very lucky to have Irene and Robbert. We are lucky to have a home, and a school, and lucky to have each other. If we didn’t, where do you think we’d be?”
    I heard my loud voice echo across the yard. May didn’t say anything, like she hadn’t even listened.
    “Where would you be?” I asked.
    “You girls,” May whispered.
    I waited for her to say more. Instead she kept rolling the ball of noodles in the bowl. The smell attracted insects, flitting around May’s head.
    “When Robbert asks questions it can be hard,” I said.
    Then she turned to face me with a different voice. “How is it hard for you ?”
    “Because he knows what we’re supposed to say.”
    “I hate that,” said May.
    “That doesn’t make him not know. It doesn’t change what you’re supposed to learn.”
    “I’m not here to learn .”
    “What else would you do?”
    “Talk to a tree.” May put the bowl down and watched the insects settle, then pushed it so they rose in a cloud. “Talk to you.”
    “I’m not a tree.”
    “You’re not a girl.”
    “I’m not your kind of girl.”
    “I’m the only kind.”
    “Not here. And there are more of us than you.” I stood up, slipped the satchel over my shoulder, and bent down for her bowl. “I’m sorry for your feet, May, and for your boat, and your uncle, and your uncle’s friend Cat. I’m sorry you’re an orphan.”
    I walked down the steps, the bowl in both hands. Behind me May stomped back inside and slammed the screen.
    “You don’t even know where this is!” she cried. “You don’t even know!”
    Ahead of me I could see shapes in the kitchen doorway, and I knew May was wrong. For the first time I understood that Robbert and Irene were like the rest of us, orphans, too.

6.
    The next morning Robbert wasn’t there for breakfast. Afterward, when we sat on the porch while Irene drank her tea, Isobel pointed between the two buildings. Just visible in the distance was Robbert, coming down the path. We waved, even though he wasn’t looking in our direction.
    “Has Robbert been walking to the cliffs?” asked Eleanor.
    “Maybe he has,” Irene replied. “It’s a lovely morning.”
    “Will we walk to the cliffs, too?” asked Eleanor.
    The screen door squeaked and May stepped onto the classroom porch. She was wearing what she’d worn when I’d found her, canvas shorts and a black shirt with buttons down the middle. Most of the buttons had been pulled off in the water, but May had replaced them with pins. Her feet were still bandaged and in the flip-flops.
    I knew she’d been upset the night before, so I waved and called out. “Good morning, May!”
    Everyone else waved, too, but May didn’t wave back. She came down the steps and across the yard. When she got to the foot of our steps she stopped, possibly because we stood in a row across the top and there was no clear path.
    “Good morning, May,” said Irene. “How did you sleep?”
    “Well, thank you.” May’s voice was still raspy. Since the rest of her seemed better, I wondered if it was always raspy. “And I guess I’m hungry.”
    “Then you should eat,” said Caroline.
    May acted like she hadn’t heard, and spoke to Irene. “Where is Robbert?”
    “He’s right there,” Irene said, and she pointed. By now Robbert had reached the meadow. This time he saw us and waved his left hand. His right carried his red toolbox. Irene stood and brushed off the seat of her skirt. “Come on in, May. Let’s all whip up a meal.”
    “I want to talk to Robbert,” May said.
    “About what?” Isobel asked.
    May didn’t answer. Irene put a hand on Isobel’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude, May.”
    May kicked her flip-flop against the canvas runner that now covered the steps. “That’s my sail,” she said.
    Robbert came into the courtyard. He saw us standing together, saw May looking at him, and waved again.