All the time, dynamite blasts shake the ground. Ships are bringing materials.

Men everywhere. Handsome men. In uniform!

Father is nowhere close to here. He has written Mother and told her to tell the Navy to get off. Which is laughable. Then he wrote to explain he had no choice because if he hadn’t yielded to the military’s demands they would have moved Mother and me off the coast and into an internment camp.

The nasty old man made this occupation our fault. Even Mother is rousing from her sorrow about my brother… We got his body back, and buried him here on the island.

Father came. He’s in a cold rage, seeing the men on his island. Morgade Island. The Navy calls it Isla Parai’so, which is what it was called before Father bought it. That makes him angrier. He hates seeing men here who are young and handsome, who use slang and don’t care who he is or whether he’s important. He hates having no power.

He tells me to speak only to the officers. But they’re old. Most of them are over twenty-five. I met one private first class named Beaufort Rash. He has a southern accent, he’s cute, and he’s twenty. He worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad before he joined up. He joined on D-Day, but he promises he doesn’t blame me for what the Japs did. I looked him in the eyes. I told him my brother died that day, because my brother joined before it was glamorous. I was proud of myself; I didn’t ask Beaufort if he’d yet lost any relatives, and he shut up.

Hermione laughed when I told her, then told me not to take it to heart. She said most men like that have been spoiled by their mothers and sisters, and don’t realize they should be careful what they say. She says I taught him a lesson, and good for me.

Today I got a letter from my sister. Bessie heard about the Naval occupation of the island and writes to warn me to take care, for all these soldiers and sailors wanted only one thing from me, and that was my virtue. I wrote back and told her I had so concluded. I am not as stupid as everyone seems to think.

But there is one boy…

“What? A boy?” Rae’s eyes were shining.

The spark plugs were laid out on the workbench, cleaned and polished. The wires were straightened and inspected. Luna rested her head against Kellen’s thigh. Rae was sitting on the F-100’s fender. Max leaned against the grille. They were both listening raptly.

“Is this boy going to rescue Ruby from her wicked father?” Rae asked.

“Listening to Ruby’s story, I think she’s going to rescue herself.” Max gathered the spark plugs, muttering, “I’ve got to re-gap these.”