Page 80 of Forever is the Sweetest Con
“So would the swim take two hours?” I ask.
“Paddling is faster than swimming,” Kei says, scooping rice into a large stainless-steel pot. The bottom is scorched from being on the fire.
“So, what, three hours?”
“Maybe for me,” Sue-Ellen says, “if I were still in training shape, maybe three and half for me now. But for you—” she sucks in air through her teeth, appraising my total lack of muscle tone “—probably at least four hours, if not more.”
Four hours. Which sounds like not a long time at all. Four hours! That’s only four episodes ofLove Island, that’s nothing. But also,four hours. The longest of my swims since I’ve been here has been maybe forty minutes, and I was wrecked afterward.
“We’ll take it slow,” Sue-Ellen says, as if she were reading my mind. “And I think I should set the pace.”
I look at Kei, hoping he’ll vouch for me, but he’s standing with both hands on the edge of the stove, his head bowed and his eyes closed.
“Kei?” I ask, starting to stand.
He opens his eyes and gives his head a little shake. “Yeah, sorry. Just got a little dizzy. What were you saying?”
I search his face to see if he’s actually okay, but he’s showing no signs of distress.
“Cleo was pouting because I said I should take the lead on the swim.”
“That’s a good idea,” Kei says quickly, before I have the chance to object. My ego bristles at the idea of ceding power to Sue-Ellen, but I know it’s probably for the best, so I agree. Begrudgingly.
“So, four hours probably means we’ll be tired and hungry when we get to the other side,” Sue-Ellen says.
“Right. So we should take some food.”
“But how?”
“You could use these,” Kei says, holding up a pair of plastic bags I remember seeing under the sink. “Tie them around your ankles with food and water inside.”
“That’ll work. What do we have for food?”
Kei opens the door to the storeroom and peers inside. “Not much. Rice, a few onions.”
“Onions for lunch,” I say, trying—and failing—to crack a joke.
“You can take a few of my granola bars,” Kei says. “I’ve got some to spare.”
“Are you sure?” An image of Kei weak from hunger and low blood sugar crowds my brain.
“I’m sure. There’ll be rescue boats here by tomorrow afternoon, right? I won’t even need them.” He gives me an encouraging smile.
“Okay, so granola bars and water. What else, clothes?”
Sue-Ellen shakes her head. “They’ll just get wet and weigh us down. We’ll have to go in our bathing suits.”
“But what about shoes? We can’t do the hike in our bare feet.”
“How do you suggest keeping your tennis shoes dry during the swim?”
I look at Kei. He shrugs. “She’s right. The hike is only an hour or so. Just take your time, you’ll be okay.”
“Fine.” I hate it when she’s right. “What time should we leave?”
“You should leave as early as possible,” Kei says, pouring a pitcher full of water into the pot. “Sunrise is six thirty. You should aim to go by seven.”
Sue-Ellen groans. “I think eight will be fine.”
