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chapter twelve / law of salvage
Every person on the island dwelled behind a mask. Some were decorated in iridescent jewels, others remained a blank space. The daintiest of pearls and sundial shells embellished hers, reflecting the lowering sun's tirade and shielding the world from the myriad of subtleties inked into the lines of her face that would tell all the truths she was unwilling to confront.
In denial of past events of only twenty minutes ago, Ilyshah clobbered along the sand dunes in mental shackles ahead of JJ and Pope. She picked up the pace as she spotted Spencer failing to wrangle eight fourth graders on his lonesome, when they took wind of her approaching presence—not even the roaring force of nature behind them could drown out the jovial shrills as one by one, they engulfed her legs in a clambering frenzy.
"Miss Lyshah! Miss Lyshah!" They collectively exclaimed.
As she circled her Splash Surf Class clad in their rashies with lines of fading lime green zinc daubed on their faces, she was pulled in several directions; from the starfishes Melody and Briana painted on their short boards to Lucas stealing her attention to show off his backflip, the missing front tooth of Kai's and her mango lacquered surfboard they all collectively waxed for her. The sea breeze rippled through the sand banked classroom and diffused any lingering remnants of a hangover as she walked the fine line of an authoritative air dipped in a honey soaked tone.
Spencer gave a dumbfounded look as he approached, cradling in his arms a crying baby who looked no more than two-years-old, "where've you been?"
"Just got caught up that's all," she brushed off the subject quickly, gasping dramatically as she pinched the red splotchy cheeks of the baby in his grasp and raised the pitch of her voice, "whose bubba is this?"
Their student Morgan with long, brass curls raised her hand. "That's my baby brother Owen!"
"Since when did we become the babysitters club?" He asked dryly; Ilyshah shushed him and took the baby into her arms, calming him down by bouncing him on the crevice of her hip as Spencer herded all eight kids to take them through drills of paddling and mounting their boards.
JJ Maybank interrupted the class with Pope by his side, his surfboard glued to his torso as the sea dripped from the blonde strands curled at his temple. "This is cute. . . two Kooks trying to teach little Pogies how to surf."
She cocked her eyebrows at the insinuation as baby Owen babbled and played with her tousled hair. "Eh, think you can do better?"
"Ask anyone, I'm one of the best surfers around these parts," he insisted smugly then pointed out a boy with light mousy curls and beckoned him over, "Kai—he's my cousin—Kai, you think I'm the best surfer right?"
