The Island

The Poet's Wish

~Lizzie~

I lay on a large rock overlooking the sea, my legs up in the air and swaying slowly. It was warm on my bare back, the only thing covering it was a tight once white tank top that I had rolled up to almost my neck. My bra was worn and dirty, very visible against my tanned skin, but nobody was around to see me, as I was in a special place that nobody knew about. Well, almost nobody.

Simon sat at the bottom of the hill of rocks, throwing pebbles into the endless blue sea, softly reciting poem after poem to himself. He didn't know I was there, he thought nobody was there. Every once in awhile he'd stop talking and listen closely to the sounds of the trees moving, and the cold sea water splashing against the rocks.

I watched him closely, noticing a lot more then I had since I first met him. He looked younger, a few years younger then I once noticed him to look. His voice sounded younger too. It was like I was so caught up in him that I never noticed how we are so different from each other. He is a solid three years younger then I am, yet I acted as if he was older then me.

"What are you doing?" I heard a small voice ask from behind me. I quickly rolled down my tank top and turned to look at my peace ruiner. It was Roger, the creep.

"I'm looking at the water, duh. What does it look like?" I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.

"Look, I'm trying to be nice, here." He handed me a coconut full of weird coloured liquid; probably blood.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked.

"Put it on your face. Here, lemme help." He sat down and took the coconut back. "You wanna make the lines curve along your cheekbones, sorta like mine." He explained, rubbing the blood on my face. He then took another coconut full of black stuff and rubbed that on my face too. After he finished h looked at me; proud of his work he'd done.

"My face feels weird." I scrunched my face; the now dry blood and black stuff felt sticky and hard.

"You'll get used to it, we all did. Now you know who you belong to." He smiled.

"The dirty face clan?" I asked sarcastically.

"No, Jack. Specifically. If you haven't noticed, Jack has different face markings then the rest of the group, so do you. You have the same markings as Jack." He explained.

"Great." I muttered under my breath. "Is that it?" I asked, clearly annoyed.

"Well, no. I would like to ask you a question." He said.

"Alright, ask the question." I rolled my eyes. I was beginning to get a headache just from being around him.

"Do you want to be Jack's? I mean- you don't have to go for him, there's plenty other boys here to choose from."

"Honestly, Roger. Do you really want to know the truth?" I asked, he nodded. "Honestly, I don't wnt anybody. Not Jack, Ralph; you or Simon; Piggy or Robert." I began explaining. "You know what? I just want to live my life without having to worry about boys or love or any of that shit. Jesus christ Roger! Don't you know how it feels to not want to worry about anything!?!" He nodded again. "No, you don't! All you know is how to be a fucking asshole and force me to do things I don't want to do!" I yelled, gaining Simon's attention. I looked down at him to see he was looking right back up at me.

"God dammit yes I do! I know exactly what it feels like, and the only thing I can do to make myself feel better is to be rude and force people to do things because I CAN'T FUCKING CONTROL IT, OKAY? I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO!" He screamed. Simon scurried up the rocks and stood next to me, his face twisted in confusion. "Look, don't tell Jack. He'll think I'm off my rocker or something. I just- I don't know what else to do, and it kills me that I do these things, but-" He didn't continue. He started crying softly, slowly getting louder and louder until he was full on sobbing. I pat his back softly, trying to get him to stop.

"What do you got on your face?" Simon asked.

"Blood and dirt I think. Feels weird." I twisted up my face again and giggled a little. I turned back to Roger and watched him until he stopped crying. Simon got a coconut full of fresh water for him and I wiped his face with my tank top. "Now you're lucky we have the face paint because yours is all washed off." I began putting the paint back on his face, trying to make it look like it was before.

"Good as new," Simon smiled. "Now drink this, it'll keep you hydrated after your big session. Dad always said to drink water after you cry or else you'll get dehydrated easier. I don't know if it was true or if he just wanted me to drink something other than soda, but I stayed hydrated. Besides, it's hot out; making it easier to get dehydrated." He explained. Roger drank the water and half-smiled.

"You're an okay kid, Simon." Roger said and Simon smiled proudly.

"Well enough chit-chat, you need to get back to camp before Jack wonders where you are." I said to Roger, who nodded and walked back to the camp. Before he dissapeared down the hill, he turned around and yelled,

"Don't worry, I wont tell Jack you're with Simon!" I nodded in appreciation and he dissapeared back to the camp.

"I wish he was like that all the time." Simon mused, sitting down beside me and looking out into the sea.

"Well a poet's wish always comes true." I smiled.