His words are ambiguous in a way I don’t think he intends. Am I like Sid in that scenario, or Tom? I almost ask which he means, except the answer doesn’t matter. Both are true. I’m untrustworthyanduntrusting. I hate that I have anything in common with Tom Sullivan, even though it shouldn’t surprise me. Sometimes, it feels like he’s the only person on this island who’s properly paranoid about outsiders.
“Enough about me. When did he give you the extra demerit?”
I tuck my legs into my chest. “He was at the hospital when I went to pick up April.”
“Damn, that was weeks ago. Too late to appeal it.” Sid pulls another match from his pocket. This time, he manages to light his cigarette. “Though he probably wrote you up for aggression, which is tough to dispute. It’s your word against his. Court almost always sides with Tom.”
“Honestly, if I had to argue with Tom in front of a court, I would probably end up strangling him right there,” I say. “But hewoulddeserve it.”
“Just don’t let him hear you say that.” Sid takes a drag on the cigarette.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the demerit. Will it get you in trouble? As my sanctuary host?”
He exhales smoke, clearly mulling over the question. “I won’t lie. It’s notgreatfor optics. We might have a harder time getting future sanctuary cases. But overall, it’s fine. Lots of newcomers get demerits.”
“Still. Iamsorry.” I get the sense he’s minimizing the situation, trying to protect my feelings. He probably doesn’t want me sobbing all over him again. “If I ever can do anything for, um, optics? You just tell me.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Maybe not, but I’d like to,” I say. “I mean… you worry about me.”
“I worry abouteverything. Just ask the guys.”
“You broke the rules for me.” I reach out and touch the scar on the back of his hand. His fingers tighten around the cigarette, as if he’s startled by this tiny gesture. “And I’m beginning to realize that’s a pretty big deal for you.”
For a beat, we hold each other’s eyes. I think he feels the shift between us. Ever since I came, he’s been diligently offering his help, and I’ve thrown up walls every time. I’ve certainly never offered anything back before. My cheeks grow warm, so I speak out of a need to break the spell.
“You’re a citizen, right? If I surrendered April, couldyouadopt her?” I ask.
“Surrenderher? Why would you want to do that?” Sid straightens in his seat.
“Well, wouldn’t that mean she would belong to Salt Spring? They would have to give her medicine.”
“What? Did Tom tell you that?” Sid thunders, and I wince. Even if he’s angry on my behalf, it’s more than I can handle. “That piece of shit! He knows better! If he’s playing me—”
“Woah! No, it wasn’t Tom. It was the doctor.”
Sid falls silent as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. When he blows out the smoke, his voice is calmer, but a hint of rage still shimmers beneath the surface. “Right. Okay,newpiece of shit. The doctor shouldn’t have said that to you, Kayla. That’snothow safe surrender laws are supposed to work.”
“Safe surrender?”
“It’s a law that allows Salt Spring to accept unaccompanied minors as citizens. Or—just as important—kids whose guardians want to drop them off with us.”
“Want to drop them off? What does that mean?”
“So, imagine this not-so-hypothetical scenario.” Sid’s gaze grows distant. “Lots of people out in the wilds don’ttrust us. They don’t want to live with us. That’s fine. That’s their choice. Now, imagine someone out there gets pregnant. It’s not what she wants. No safe way of terminating it out in the bush. She ends up carrying the child to term, and instead of abandoning it after birth, she comes to Crofton and lights the signal fire. We show up. We let her surrender the baby. No questions asked. She leaves. The baby grows up here, a full citizen.”
“That’s happened to you, hasn’t it? You’ve taken babies at the border?”
He nods; his eyes still fixed on the inky darkness beyond the duck pond. “And I’ve brought over a pregnant girl who gave birth in the hospital a week later. She left on the next ferry off the island. It’s a shitty situation. But the whole end-of-the world thingiskind of shit. That law isn’t supposed to be for fifteen-year-olds with diabetes. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe he’s right. I mean, it’s not like I can take care of her.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I don’t evenwantto be here. At least April does.” A part of me understands the women who made the choice to leave. There’s something tempting in the idea of letting April live her life here, while I’m free to go back to Vancouver Island and everything I know. But what would be the point? With no one to love, why bother clinging to survival?
“I’m sorry, Kayla. You’re caught in a stupid government oversight,” says Sid. “Most of the laws about the hospital and citizenship are designed that way because we can’t hand over our stash of pain meds to any random person coming from off the islands. But April isn’t going anywhere. The legal framework should be different for chronic conditions. If you talk to Tom about it, maybe he could raise the issue with Council.”