Breaking Point by Lesley Choyce

to the shoreline to search for clams and mussels, but I was afraid to leave her. We kept the fire going for two hours until we were mostly dry.
    It was late afternoon, and the wind was getting stronger. We sat on the life jackets and wrapped up in the tent beneath the rocky outcropping. I meant to just close my eyes for a minute and rest, but I fell asleep. So did Brianna, I guess.
    I awoke later in the pitch-dark to the howling, horrifying sound of wind. Not far away, I heard a tree snap in half and topple to the ground. The fire was out, and rain was driving down in buckets. We were protected from the worst of it, but the sound was as frightening as anything I had ever heard. Brianna was awake as well. She was clinging to me, and I held tightly to her. She was speaking to me, but her words were lost in the sound of the storm around us. Trees were being uprooted and knocked to the ground. Branches were breaking off and flying through the air. We could not see a thing, but the sound was terrifying.
    We clung to each other for hours in the deafening roar. Alone on an island like this in the middle of a hurricane, I knew that our survival depended upon keeping our wits, staying put and doing nothing but wait it out.
    And then the wind began to diminish. I had never experienced anything like that in my life. We remained tightly wrapped in our tent like a cocoon. I had chosen well. The rocks had protected us. Eventually Brianna, still clinging to me, fell asleep. My plan was to try and stay awake until I was sure the storm was completely over but exhaustion overtook me and I fell asleep as well.
    In the morning when I awoke, I was alone. Brianna was nowhere in sight, and what had once been a forest on the hillside now looked like a war zone.

Chapter Fourteen
    I knew that Brianna was one crazy girl, but I wasn’t ready for this. I called out her name over and over as I began to stumble through the maze of fallen trees. I was hoping I was wrong, but I had no choice but to head for the shoreline. Nothing of the island looked like anything we had seen the day before. There were few standing trees left, and I had to climb over piles of fallen limbs and trees to make headway to get to the water.
    When I got there, the kayak was gone. My paddle was still there, and she had left me the backpack with the matches inside. There was a note on a scrap of paper inside the pack.
    Dear Cameron,
    I’m sorry. I really am. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I think I love you. I will send help, I promise, but you will never see me again.
    Love,
    Brianna
    The sky was blue now. The sea looked brown and frothy, and there were still large waves rolling by, but the wind was just a light breeze now. If I looked up and away across the water, it was as if nothing at all had just happened. I sat down on a smooth wet rock, feeling more alone and sad than I had ever felt in my life.
    She was out there somewhere, still headed toward Port Joseph, still planning to escape and run to Montreal. And she’d left me behind.
    Brianna was in real danger though. The waves would be treacherous out beyond the protection of shore. And she was alone. She was tough, but not that tough.
    I sat frozen for nearly twenty minutes. It was like I was paralyzed—my mind and my body. I wanted to shake myself and make this all go away. But I had to face the reality of what I’d let us get into. What I felt now was much worse than the fear I had felt during the hurricane.
    Finally, I got up. I looked around. I decided to walk the shoreline of the island. Maybe she tried to leave and was washed back in, or maybe I could see her if I looked in all directions. It seemed pretty hopeless, but it was the only thing I could do. I put on the backpack and picked up my paddle and began to pick my way along the rocky shoreline, heading east toward the seaward-facing part of the island. There was washed-up debris and fallen trees to climb over. It was slow