Nim's Island: Chapters 8–11

Somehow the hero would have to make the rocks seem more dangerous, the reef more terrifying, the pale sands bleak and lonely—make the whole island seem like a creepy, scary place.

The boat had nearly reached the first gap in the reef. It was close enough for Nim to see the people inside, wearing pink T-shirts and purple caps with a stuffed fish on top.
Suddenly the gap disappeared in a swirling, thrashing sea lion storm. The boat idled on past, looking for another place to get through—but the sea lions followed. The king roared his roar and the others bellowed; the splashing sprayed higher and the boat rocked wildly, and was slowly, ferociously, pushed out to sea.

The king roared his roar and the others bellowed; the splashing sprayed higher and the boat rocked wildly, and was slowly, ferociously, pushed out to sea.

Chica lumbered up from the water, a smug look on her face and purple paint across her shell.

Nim scrambled up and collected shirtfuls of putrid sea muck.

Nim clutched her seaweed and tumbled down boulders to the Hissing Stones....she dumped the seaweed onto the steaming vents and ran back to hide, out of the stench and out of sight.

The gentle breeze wafting out to sea turned into a gray, choking, sick-making fog. The ship turned and steamed out of sight.

Very slowly she hobbled down to the rocks with a breakfast coconut.

The tide was going out, and when they’d finished the game, Nim lay on her stomach and dug for clams with an old shell, while Selkie and Fred galumphed around the wet sand and Chica watched and nodded.

It was even more beautiful when it was clean, more wonderful than a shell’s gleaming inside whorls, because it was whole and perfect.

She felt angry and cheated, tricked and stupid, lost and lonely, sad and confused—and the feelings were stronger than the words could say. They jostled and shoved, spun, crowded, and exploded.

Selkie, barking worriedly, lolloped across the sand.

Scrabbling in the dark, she found sticks and branches for a fire and, when it was blazing, threw her letter on top so that the smoke would carry it far, far away to wherever Alex Rover lived, and she would smell it and know just how angry Nim was.

“Well, not exactly lied,” Nim muttered, and rubbed tears on Selkie’s warm fur, “but she’s not a hero. I thought I knew who Alex Rover was…he was my friend and now he’s gone!”

The giggle became a laugh, the laugh became a bellow, and she was rolling over and over on the sand, hiccuping and laughing, or crying, she didn’t know which, until Fred sneezed and Selkie barked to make her stop whichever it was.