Missing by Gabrielle Lord

percent happy about it. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I know it looks like me coming onto the scene and taking over. But it’s not like that. It makes sense, Ryan. You’re out of action with that ankle. Think about it.’
    Eventually, Ryan said with a sigh, ‘I guess you’re right. I go into hiding and you take over my life here?’
    â€˜I’m just standing in for you—while you’re injured. I’m not taking over your life.’
    He stood up, and tried to put some weight on his injured foot. ‘Argh!’
    â€˜Come on. Put your arm around me and I’ll help you up to higher ground and find a good hide-out for you. I’ll give you my binoculars and you can keep an eye out for anything suspicious. You might even get to spot one of the runaways and find out what on earth is going on.’
    As we made our way through the jungle and up the sloping mountain side, Ryan briefed me about the daily routine of the resort. ‘Morning call is at seven, with showers and breakfast, and then rollcall at eight thirty. There are general activities till lunchtime and then free time in the afternoon. They’ve got movies and computer games in the recreation centre, plus meditation and self-esteem classes. Outside there’s rock climbing, swimming, surfing and water sports, but you need stinger suits to go in the water. You’re not allowed to go around to the western side of the island,’ said Ryan, ‘because of the dangerous surf breaking over the jagged rocks. And by the way, we’re out of bounds right now. Did you notice those orange flags on the side of the path?’
    I had, but I hadn’t taken much notice of them.
    â€˜We’re not meant to go higher than the flags—because of the pythons and the Gympie Gympie trees. And the runaways. At least that’s what they tell us. I think Damien is a bit of a control freak.’
    We’d reached the massive fallen tree trunk against which I’d stowed my gear. Ryan and I scouted around and found a better hiding place for him—a scooped-out overhang in the rock, behind a curtain of jungle vines. I gave himmy emergency provisions, my binoculars and camping gear.
    â€˜How are we going to keep in contact?’ I asked as I went to leave.
    â€˜Phones are handed in to Damien’s office while we’re here,’ Ryan said. Then he grinned, pulling his mobile out. ‘I kept mine. But you’ll have to be careful and keep yours hidden too.’
    I paused, not sure how to ask the next question. ‘So, bro … you never did explain why you came here in the first place?’ I asked quietly.
    Ryan’s face clouded over and he was silent for a long moment. ‘Let’s not get into that now, we’ve got bigger things to think about first.’
    â€˜Fair enough, another time,’ I said. Pushing him seemed like a bad idea. I started to head off back down the mountain. ‘Hey, Ryan?’ I added. ‘You didn’t send me a weird text message with a map and skull and crossbones, did you?’
    â€˜No. Got some new pirate friends, have you?’ Ryan joked.
    â€˜Worth a shot,’ I shrugged, turning to leave.
    â€˜Cal!’ Ryan called out after me. ‘Remember to limp!’
8:19 am
    As I hurried down the mountain, I was really starting to wonder about this place. Ryan hadmentioned so many odd things—kids disappearing, runaways who raided for food, counsellors who acted like guards.
    Caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the palm frond sticking out over the rough track. I jerked back as my jacket was caught by a dozen sharp little hooks. I’d walked straight into a Wait-a-While palm! I tried pulling away, but only succeeded in getting more entangled. It took me ages, and a couple of painful jabs to my fingers, before I finally freed myself from all the hooks.
    As I neared the resort complex, I noticed a group of bodysurfers running