Breaking Point by Lesley Choyce Page B

island. Yet, as I rounded the back of the island and the protected waters suddenly became calmer, I regained my strength and my resolve. I did not go ashore. Instead, I focused on the next, much smaller, island farther east. I rounded a sandy spit of land and charged out into the open waters again. There were hundreds of tiny islands out here, but I wanted to believe I could instinctively know where Brianna would go next.
    I forced myself to go ashore at the next island and stretch my legs, which were badly cramped. I ate a few blueberries that were growing there and stuffed more in my pockets. I found a tiny pool of fresh water left from the rains and drank deeply, wishing I had a container to carry some of it with me.
    Then I pushed off again, my dedication to finding Brianna stronger than ever. I fought off the demons of fear and doubt in my head and focused on the next, much larger, island in the distance. When I got slapped by two waves larger than the rest, I got drenched but kept the little boat steady, turning away from the waves until the swells had passed by. I bailed with my plastic bucket as best I could and, laden with water that would slow me more, kept the island in my sights and worked the paddle as if my energy was limitless.
    The bright sunlight sparkling on the water made me squint, and my vision seemed to blur, but as I neared the island, I saw something—something red. I paddled even harder.
    It was a kayak, for sure. Brianna’s. As it came into focus, I could see that it was floating near shore, upside down. I felt a cold wave of panic sweep through my head. I told myself to stop thinking. Just paddle. And I thought about those larger forces again. Not just the sea, the storm. But something was guiding me. I’d never been a religious person, and I can’t say I had a name for what the force was. But it was inside of me, yet something much larger than just me. Whatever it was, it drove the panic away, it made me feel stronger and it urged me on.
    I pulled ashore alongside of Brianna’s red kayak. She was nowhere in sight. I pulled her kayak up onto the beach and flipped it over. There was no spray skirt. No paddle. She had dumped it at sea. I scanned the water, hoping not to see what I feared most.
    I was about to head back out to search for her, not knowing if this just happened or if she’d swamped hours ago. It was as if time had ground to a halt.
    But then she appeared, walking along the shore toward me. I began to run to her, but my legs were cramped from being seated in the kayak for so long. I guess I looked pretty funny—limping along. Just as I was about to reach her, I tripped on a beach stone and fell right into her. We tumbled to the sand beneath us, and I couldn’t speak.
    As we lay there, all she said was, “Hold me, Cameron. Just hold me and never let me go.”

Chapter Sixteen
    We stayed on the island for two days. The weather was good and much warmer than usual for the Nova Scotia coast. We swam in the tidal pools in crystal-clear seawater. We found enough fresh water, and mussels and clams to eat, although we had to eat them raw. The matches were gone.
    â€œLet’s never leave,” Brianna said. “They’ll stop looking for us, and we can just stay here forever.”
    â€œI’d like that,” I said. But I knew it was a complete fantasy. While Brianna was sleeping in the morning, I had fashioned a usable kayak paddle from a piece of driftwood. I had cleaned up both kayaks, and they were ready to go.
    On the third day, the sea was completely calm and the sun was bright. We were both feeling a little sick from eating nothing but the shellfish. I was worried one of us might get really ill.
    â€œToday’s the day,” I said. “We need to go ashore.”
    Brianna looked at me sadly. “What about forever?”
    â€œI’ll stay with you,” I said. “I’ll go with you to Montreal like we planned.