Thunder smashes through the sky as I trudge a death march down the Navissis’ driveway toward my mom’s Hyundai. My chest rattles from the Gatling gun of sobs that have overtaken me. I’m a boring boyfriend and a terrible gay. I firebombed my whole life by coming out for, like, zero rewards.

And this was my one Ario visit for the week—all I have left is this recorder. I gaze down at the lawn, trying to deep breathe myself out of this relentless pity party, when a wave of spicy cologne forces my head up.

“Mr. Major,” announces the man standing in the cul-de-sac.

Reverend Packard leans, barrel-chested, against a dark green Taurus. My breath pauses at the sight of him, stopping me at the foot of Ario’s driveway before we draw any closer. “What are you doing here?” I ask, trying not to sound as freaked out as I am. It’s a strange violation—the Reverend doesn’t belong anywhere near Ario’s home. At my home or in church, sure; at Mr. Hannigan’s, maybe, but not this sacred space.

“What are you doing here, is the question,” the Reverend says, closing the distance between us. “Ricky Hannigan is waiting for his meal.”

Thunder booms again as I rake fingers through my sweating flop of hair. “Well, Mr. Hannigan isn’t until six—”

“It’s called responsibility, Mr. Major.”

A spear of pain twists through my chest. “Um…my friend Mackenzie lives here. I was just asking her about summer school—”

“No, this is where your boyfriend lives.” The Reverend’s darkened glare cuts deeper into me. “Ario…isn’t it?” Pins and needles strangle my hands as I listen to the Reverend swirl my boyfriend’s name in his mouth like it’s something revolting.

“How do you know his name?”

“Ricky Hannigan happens to mean a lot to me.” The Reverend tut-tuts his head. “He’s suffered a great deal. That you would make him wait for a warm meal while you snuck off to…do things with this boy…It’s not good.”

Ricky’s dinner might be less hot than it was half an hour ago, but it’s not as if I’m running late. No excuse matters though. The Reverend caught me cutting corners on the one customer he ordered me to treat like royalty. It’s over. He’ll ax me from the program, and I’ll never be able to sneak off to Ario again. I want to grab the bamboo recorder under my hoodie—“A little piece of me in case you get lonely”—but the Reverend would notice. He’d snatch it away…

“Please don’t tell my mom,” I beg like a two-year-old.

“Oh, Mr. Major,” the Reverend sighs, “I’m no good at lying.”

CHAPTER SIX

NIGHTLIGHT

TODAY

There’s no beaten path on the island. Barefoot, I limp along in the daisy chain of kidnappers through the jungle, which is so crowded with palm trees that the storm can’t break through. Rain sneaks in intermittently, but the bulk of it collects in a high forest canopy, which also stows away whatever illumination may have cut in from the last of the daylight.