In case you’ve ever wondered, all us missing kids aged 2-6 wind up on Candy Island.
Candy Island SOUNDS great. But it ISN’T. It’s a big, scary island. There are lizards bigger than me. We lost three kids last week.
All day, every day, all we think of is HOW TO GET OFF CANDY ISLAND.
We tried building a boat. We found all these branches, made this huge pile. But none of us knew how to make them stick together. Jake’s dad’s a carpenter. He said maybe we’d need carpenter’s glue. But none of us had any of that.
I thought … if we made water shoes, we could just walk home. We could cut coconuts in half, and tie them around the bottoms of our sneakers. But none of us were strong enough to break open the coconuts. And then Madison disappeared. She was the only one who knew how to tie.
We even tried swimming. But the water got really deep, and we were scared of sharks. So we all swam back. Except for Parker. He just wouldn’t stop. We saw him sink down under the water – his head, and then his arm, and then his hand. We told Sarah he was just snorkeling, and he’ll be back someday, with pearls. I don’t think she bought it.
We’re all waiting. I’M waiting. For my parents. They’ve probably checked in the garage, and the closet, and under the bed by now. You’d think … they’d think to check Candy Island, too. When you’re looking for something, you can’t just check everywhere EXCEPT such-and-such a place. Cuz such-and-such a place is always where things wind up.
Maybe no one’s looking anymore. Maybe they just don’t care. Mom was pregnant. She could have another Billy by now. With blue eyes.
This was our last Coke bottle.
I hope somebody finds this.