I never got to say good-bye to my parents. Not properly. They said they were going off on another expedition and they’d be back in a month or so. They told me to be good. I let them leave with nothing but a hug, a kiss, and a roll of my eyes. Of course I’ll be good. You guys should worry about Dev! My mom said, We’ll be back before you know it. And I believed her. They always came back.

Now I’ve lost Dev, too. Why do I keep missing my chances to say good-bye?

The pain in my gut is getting worse. It takes me a moment to realize it’s not just from grief. My period has started.

Great. Like I don’t have enough going on.

I stagger to my feet and rummage through my bag for toiletries and some clothes.

When I open the cabin door, Nelinha and Ester are both standing there. They look sheepish, like they were just debating whether or not to knock. They register my pained expression, the box of maxi-pads clutched in my hand. They get out of my way, understanding that I need to reach the bathroom.

“I’ll get the Midol,” Ester says.

“I’ll fill the hot-water bottle,” says Nelinha.

I mumble my thanks as I stumble past. They know the routine. Even with the B1 supplements, constant exercise, and a good diet, my monthly cramps are torturous. I understand why periods were historically called a “curse.” Two and a half years I’ve been dealing with this now. Without my friends, I don’t know how I would have coped.

Once I’m dressed and back in the cabin, I curl up in my bunk again. I gulp down some Midol and press the hot-water bottle against my abdomen.

Yellow spots of pain dance before my eyes. What feels like metal grabber arms continue to clamp my gut.

Top trots over and kisses me on the nose. He wants to help.

“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DIE,” Ester tells me.

I laugh, which hurts. “Thanks, Ester. I always get through this.”

“NOT YOUR PERIOD,” she says. “I MEAN ON THE ISLAND.”

“Volume, babe,” Nelinha says.

“Sorry.” Ester sits at the table and begins flipping through index cards. “I’ve been writing down all the secrets I can remember. All the stuff I wasn’t supposed to tell you. It’s here somewhere.”

“Ester has been busy,” Nelinha tells me. “We’re just going to be sure to keep these cards safe from now on, right, Ester? We won’t leave top secret notes lying around where anyone can find them?”

“I put them down in the kitchen for a minute,” Ester confesses. “While I snuck a cookie. It’s fine. Nobody saw.”

Aha. So I’m not the only chocolate-chip cookie thief. If the crew mutinies, Ester and I will both have to walk the plank.