Lily and I stretch out on the sand, and the grains scratch at my legs, feet, back and arms. The sunset casts the beach in brilliant orange hues, and we listen to the rolling, rolling, waves that never stop.

  “Hey, Lily?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re not leaving this way, are we?”

  “Nah.”

  After all, playing a death game is far safer than sailing into an endless blue.

  Going through the skylight, navigating the roof, and wandering down the moldering fire escape had been unexpectedly easy. But the game’s masters don’t need fences when they have an ocean, and even here there are guns on poles, their red lights blinking, muzzles twisting and aiming right towards our hearts, in case our collars weren’t enough. This entire island was the Cat God’s domain, and we had never truly escaped.

  I watch the seagulls dive for fish, and a strange peace washes over me; it’s no longer my fault if we decide to stay. On this island, I feel like I have a purpose, and I can spend as long a time as I wish with a girl I’d only spoken to for a mere handful of hours in the Elyssia Isle.

  Lily shifts besides me, and her voice cuts into my thoughts. Her face is blotchy red; I suppose she sunburns easily.

  “Yuri, what are you going to do when we’re back?”

  “When we return home? Shouldn’t that be an if?”

  “We’ll both make it back. I’m sure of it. So, what do you think?”

  Home for me is a messy dormitory. The bed is unmade, and the last time I dusted, cleaned and changed the sheets was… I don’t really remember.

  “You go first,” I stretch out towards a pure, cloudless sky. The girl besides me rolls herself up, her eyes flicking between me and the pristine sea.

  “To me, home is an empty place,” Lily says. “My dad’s a researcher, so when he comes back, it’s always after midnight. I know his work is important—it’s supposed to be a drug that saves people’s lives—but sometimes I still get lonely.

  “And being on the disciplinary committee makes it hard for me to be friends with anyone at school, either. It makes me wonder if anyone really knows me.”

  “I see you in front of school every day! You’re diligent, confident, and kind. And when I was ‘sick,’ I saw you…”

  My face flushes and my voice withers away. I go back to rubbing the sand. On the other hand, Lily searches the horizon, beyond the rolling waves, beyond invisible cargo ships and fishing boats, beyond other shoals and islets and all the way to our island city, our school and the place called “home.”

  “I overheard your talk with the Rat,” she says.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Lost in thoughts that run in circles and chase their own tails, the words Lily just said don’t feel real. The only way I prevent myself from melting into a puddle on the spot is the slim chance that this is a dream.

  “I don’t know you that well, Yuri. And you don’t really know me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Every day at school, every day when you were sick, you weren’t seeing the real me. What you saw was a class rep, disciplinary chair, cool, calm, collected. Maybe you thought I was ‘kind,’ but really I was just being dutiful.”

  “What exactly did you overhear? I mutter.

  Lily gives me a long look. Her brown eyes now meet mine, and I glance away.

  “When we return home, I’d like to talk to you, to really meet you, as if for the first time. And I want you to decide what we do together then too. Okay?”

  “What do you mean, by ‘decide what to do’? Like… a hangout, or a…?”

  “Hmph! Hangout or first date, it doesn’t matter. I’m just saying that I’ve only known you from this game and the school gate. I can tell that you’re good at mafia, but I want to understand what you’re passionate about in our everyday lives.

  “And I want you to get to know me too. I don’t want to be a band-aid for a hole in your heart, a prophet you turn to for answers, or even the school disciplinary chair. I just want to be me.”

  What she’s saying might be true. Do I really like Lily, or do I just like the idea of ‘a person who cares about me?’

  But even if she’s right, and Lily’s more a stranger than a childhood friend, I think the kind of person who would caution me with those words is someone I’d still care about, regardless of whatever else they might be.

  I look back at her. “I don’t know you. But you’re someone I definitely want to know more about. When we escape this place, I swear I’ll learn everything about you.”

  I casually—suavely— jut out my hand. Lily shakes it, and sand grits between our palms.

  “And you’ll tell me all about yourself,” Lily agrees.

  “I guess so.”

  “You will!”

  She wraps my hand in both of hers and squeezes it. They’re warm; warmer than the setting sun, and an intense shiver runs through me. Lily’s eyes have an odd glint, a spark that had begun dancing as soon as I barely muttered the word ‘date.’

  She rolls over, wrists and knees against the beach, uniform dipping from the gravity into a careless V. She looks up at me.

  “But… just a handshake, really?”

  She’s moving closer, closer. Huh? Huh? I thought she wasn’t this assertive. Not like that. Ah!

  “I think I’d rather promise like this—”

  She kisses me, and the waves continue to roll. If this is a dream, I think it’s a good dream, and a long one.

  ***

  Lily gestures behind her as voices rise from beyond the dunes.

  “We did it,” cheers a girl’s bright voice. “We defeated those stupid doors!”

  “Guess busting through the front entrance does make more sense than escaping through an elevator,” someone else rasps. “Well played, Horse. Well played.”

  “I’m not slowing down for any of you! Let’s go slackers!” calls another girl in a biting tone, and then I see someone’s dark-haired head:

  “Don’t worry. We have plenty of time,” the Dragon slowly says.

  They reach the dune’s apex and the voices die, drowned out by the sprawling blue. The Rat turns back wordlessly, and the others follow one by one. The Rabbit… the Ox… the Pig… the Horse… the Tiger.

  One person sits down. The Dragon watches the sun sink into the ocean. As the sun disappears, so too do the lights in his eyes.

  “So this is how it has to be,“ he says, his words as low as the breeze.

  Seagulls fly from the beach out into the open sea. That’s the last time the girl known as the “Dog” and I ever talked.