“That’th a terrible thing to do,” Colin said.
“Yes, well, the judge’s hands were really quite tied, I’m afraid. It’s an elected office. He had to give the people what they wanted.”
“I meant it wath a terrible thing to do to the gardener.”
“Oh,” Francis sniffed. “Well. It didn’t end well for me, either, as you see.”
They all chewed in silence for a while.
“How does the refrigerator work?” Jonathan asked. Everyone stopped chewing and looked at him. “I mean, there doesn’t seem to be electricity here. It’s all torches and candles. What’s running the fridge and freezer?”
Walter scraped a piece of jelly bean out from between his teeth and looked at it stuck to his finger.
“Oh, there’s electricity. There’s a coal generator downstairs that we all get to take turns shoveling coal into. Makes just enough juice to run the fridge, freezer, and the Admiral’s TV.”
“Oh.” Jonathan swallowed the last bite of his second sandwich and considered going to make another one. “And the freezer’s big, too, like the fridge?”
Walter nodded. “Yeah. A little smaller, I guess, but still a walk-in. Why, man?”
Jonathan shook his head. “No reason. Just wondering.”
But Jonathan’s head was still buzzing with dark dreams. And he did have a reason for asking about the freezer.
Eight reasons, in fact.
The sixteen students of the Slabhenge Reformatory School for Troubled Boys stood at the gate, looking out at the white-capped waves of the ocean. Somewhere out there across the sea was the mainland and home. Home. With meals, parents, beds. A happy place. For most of them.
Sebastian had crept up and unclipped the key ring from Mr. Vander’s belt, and they’d opened the heavy wooden door to the outside. They stood in the shadow of the stone arch, looking out at the water and waiting for the boat. The eight bodies still lay in the drizzling rain behind them.
They leaned with their hands holding the rusty iron bars. Some of them still chewed on crusty bread or chunks of cheese.
“How much longer?” a kid asked.
“I told you, any minute,” Benny answered.
“What should we say?”
“What do you mean, what should we say? All the grown-ups got killed by lightning and we want to go home. Dummy.”
The rain was just a constant gentle tapping now. The thunder and lightning were gone, but the clouds were still night-black and the world was dim and dark.
Then, thin and lost somewhere beneath the sound of the waves smacking the stone walls, there came a low buzzing sound. Like a fly caught between the window and the screen.
“There!” Miguel called out, his voice excited. “There! I see it!” He pointed. Other fingers joined.
“Yeah! I see it!”
“There it is!”
The boat was a dot, still far distant, fighting its way through the wind and the waves. To bring them back to the real world. Jonathan chewed on the inside of his cheek. He looked at Sebastian, leaning in the corner where the gate met the stone wall. Sebastian was the only one besides him who wasn’t smiling. His scowl was as grim as the deadly clouds, his eyes as full of dark thoughts as Jonathan’s. Their eyes met. Jonathan thought he saw a wet glimmer of tears in Sebastian’s eyes before they looked away from his.
All the boys’ voices fell silent as they watched the little boat make its way toward their gloomy island.
Jonathan took one deep breath and then spoke his voice into the silence.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
Heads snapped his way. Sebastian’s sour face turned sharply toward him.
“What?” Walter asked.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” Jonathan repeated. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell what happened. Yet.” Sebastian’s eyes stayed locked on his. His jaw clenched. Jonathan cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. And then Sebastian nodded.
“What are you talking about?” a kid asked.
Jonathan raised his voice and put some strength into it.
“I’m talking about staying. Without the grown-ups. Without any grown-ups. I’m talking about all of us staying here at Slabhenge. Alone.”
“Stay? Why would we do that?” Francis asked.
“Why shouldn’t we?” Jonathan answered. “Were any of us really that happy out there? I mean, we’ve got a chance here. We can live here. Without grown-ups. Without rules. Not forever. Just for a while. We could live here—free. Doing whatever we want.”
Eyes blinked at him.
“Think about it,” Jonathan argued desperately, knowing the boat was getting closer by the second. “Out there we’re just … troublemakers. Punks. Here we could be kings.”
“You’re crazy!”
“No, he’s not.” The voice was Sebastian’s. He pushed himself off the wall and faced them all. “He’s right. We’ve got a winning lotto ticket here. And we’re just gonna throw it away? Without spending any of it?”