PARADISE PARADOX (#1 PARADISE ISLAND duology)

-- four --

Unfortunately, Miles couldn't help it. No one could—there was no time to reach out to parents, to communicate the news, to beg their forgiveness. Between the moment Kera, Miles, and Vick were told to pack their bags and given their date of departure, twelve hours had passed. Their phones, laptops, and tablets were confiscated.

When Kera had retired to her dorm-room after the meeting in Mr. Reynolds' office, she'd found her quarters trashed, topsy turvy, as if a tornado had swept through and left nothing standing in its wake. Drawers had been opened or tossed to the ground, clothes strewn over the bed and floor, books overturned—some with bent spines, yikes—and papers crunched or thrown all over the place. Kera had nearly slipped on spilled water upon entering, and shrieked when she turned on the light.

"Was that necessary?" she'd wondered, spending hours rocking back and forth on her mattress, panic unfurling in her gut. She'd surrendered her phone at the end of the meeting, but hadn't expected to find all her other electronic devices taken upon returning to her room. Nor had she anticipated spending her last night of freedom in such clutter, but there was no way to tidy up this much wreckage, nor did it make sense to. It wasn't like she shared the space with anyone else, and she'd be gone for a while. No one would judge the mess but her.

She'd gotten herself together enough to pack—light but appropriate clothing, sneakers, hiking boots, one piece bathing suits, cover-ups, long-sleeved pajamas with pants. Clothes that were discreet and simple, to avoid temptation, per Mr. Reynolds' rules. His list was confusing and strange, but unable to dispute it, Kera obeyed it to the letter.

The next day, Mr. Reynolds was tight-lipped through the ride to the airport. He'd all but thrown them into a black-windowed minivan straight out of a nineties spy movie, and refused to acknowledge any of her questions. Kera quit asking them after a few minutes; Miles and Vick were quiet, likely having given up trying to escape this punishment a long time before Kera had.

Kera still believed she'd been wrongly accused, and should have had more say in her own reprimand.

"We should have been allowed at least a phone call," she grumbled, stuck in the back middle seat, between a stiffened Miles and a fidgety Vick. "This is ridiculous."

"It's kidnapping," said Vick, his voice coming out gruff and gritty. "And it's your fault."

"Shut up, Vick," said Miles, reaching around Kera to smack Vick on the head.

Silence reigned for the rest of the ride, but there was no silence in Kera's mind. Within it were screams—of betrayal, of confusion, of fright. Were her parents okay? Did they know she was okay? Were they aware of where she was going, what Mr. Reynolds had decided for her? Had they already started to take down the portraits of her that lined the halls of their home? Were they denying any attachment to her, erasing her from their lives because she was a failure?

No, not that.

Her parents would never shun her. But her frantic fear was eating her on the inside and causing hallucinations, visions of the consequences of her actions. All she'd done was sneak into a party; why was her entire life being uprooted and ruined because of one tiny, stupid mistake? These guys—Miles and Vick—she got why they were being punished. Bad as she felt for Miles, because he was a nice guy, she understood why he was being sent to this unknown tropical island for supposed brainwashing. But her? A straight-A, straight-laced, minds-her-own-business scholarship student? It wasn't fair.

Despite their protests—Miles spewed profanities, Vick kicked and punched—they were blindfolded before exiting the vehicle. They all asked why, but no replies were given. Was it a secret airport? Were they not allowed to see the plane they'd be boarding? Did it indicate where they were going?