Strong Like the Sea, стр. 28
A breeze rustles leaves high in the canopy of the banyan tree and twines through hanging roots to cool my face and tease my ratted hair.
It’s the Castle’s way of welcoming me home.
Perched on top of the university hill, Castle Tree lords over its domain with hundreds of roots trailing from its branches like jellyfish tentacles. The young ones sway in the wind, some of them thin as vines not yet touching the ground, but others pierce the earth and stand thick as trees.
I climb over and through, reaching higher until I reach the heart of the Castle, a natural room with a slanted dirt floor and walls made of roots.
Here with my Castle Crew friends, we’ve fought a thousand battles defending our secret kingdom from unseen foes. With sticks and imagination, we slash and parry, poke and block. We scurry up and down, ducking under and through the web of roots, chasing our invisible enemies away across Tree Field, until Castle Tree is safe again.
I thought my friends and I were the first to ever imagine Castle Tree to be a real castle in a magical kingdom, but turns out, Mom already knew how many vines made up the walls inside the heart. She played here too, even kept the perfect stick “sword” leaning against the same nook in the roots as I do. More sticks sit in a hollow on the other side of the room, ready for our Castle guards. Seems it’s always been the perfect place to shield or conquer a hidden realm, depending on what game we play.
Today, my game is called “Pretend last night didn’t happen.”
Hidden inside the protection of my castle walls, I sweep chunks of sandstone and limestone aside and sink down onto a bare patch of volcanic red soil. Tiny green shoots push up through fallen leaves that crowd the roots and edges of my secret room. Breathing deep, I rake the damp soil with my fingers, crumbling handfuls inside each fist as I sort the chaos inside my head.
Maybe everything’s fine. Maybe Mom’s okay. Maybe.
Maybe not.
Nestled in the heart of Castle Tree, I hug my knees, rest my forehead on my arms, and rock back and forth. One, two, three—this place is a kingdom of pretend. Four, five, six—and while I’m here, I’m Queen. Seven, eight, nine, ten . . .
Queen of pretending.
I can pretend that Mom will be fine. And if I pretend hard enough, it’s sort of the same as believing. Maybe if I try hard enough, I can believe that she’s safe.
Safe, steady, and strong.
I imagine that belief cutting through the tangle of nets twisted inside my chest, freeing my heart, and letting me breathe again.
Ninety-eight, ninety-nine . . .
I rock and tap every number with my toes.
. . . Seven hundred thirty-six, seven hundred thirty-seven . . .
I keep counting, keep pretending, until my little room in the heart of the tree is all there is left of the world.
The canopy whispers peace to my soul and I forget to count, or think, or worry. Just me, and the banyan tree. Hidden by secret passages through roots and shadows, I could live here forever, a clown fish safe in her anemone.
Castle, my friend, playmate, and protector.
A root cradles my head as I lean against the tree, my insides still shaky but empty of the panic that used to be there.
A gecko scurries across the red dirt floor and disappears into a pile of leaves on the far side. Birds flutter through the branches, and flying things buzz from one sunbeam to the next.
“Alexis, you up there?” Malia’s voice from below shatters the spell.
I rub my eyes with the back of my wrist and blink up at sunbeams winking through the leaves from high over the canopy. How long have I been here?
I should answer, but . . . I don’t.
“Alexis . . .” The crunch of Malia’s feet on fallen leaves circles the tree, but part of me still wants to pretend, and I listen in silence.
“So . . . I heard about the missed call.”
I rest my head against the Castle’s living walls and close my eyes.
“And the typhoon.”
I groan. More of a soft exhale, but it’s enough.
“Ha! Heard you. I knew you were up there.”
“No,” I mumble. “Nobody’s here.”
“Okay, darn. I’ll keep looking. Thanks.”
That almost makes me smile—not quite—but almost.
She slips through the roots into the heart of the tree, slides down beside me, and drapes an arm across my shoulders. “I’m sorry you’re upset.”
“Last night was awful.”
“I know.” She squeezes me tight against her side, and the cold inside me loses the worst of its bite. “But it’s still just a storm. And your dad says submarines are strong. There are no reports of a sub being damaged or lost or anything. He says he was going to talk to you this morning and tell you not to worry, but you snuck out early and ran off without your phone.”
Not to worry? Why not? He was worried. I’m sure of it—or at least, I think he was. Was it really a misunderstanding?
She pulls my phone from her pocket, clears her throat, and speaks with a fancy made-up accent. “Eh-hem. I beg your pardon, miss, but I’ve been sent to deliver this speaking device to the beloved Queen Alex of Castle Tree. Is she here?”
“Nope.”
She gasps and stands, then dashes to the side of the inner room, her hand against her chest all dramatic. “No? Queen Alex has fled the castle? I must find her. I’ve sworn an oath. I must search the kingdom until I find her and report to Lord Brody Force—” She cups her hand