The ocean shimmered black under moonlight, stretching out in all directions like polished obsidian. Overhead, stars blinked to life in a sky clearer than any Maria had seen back home. From the deck, the water looked endless. Dangerous. Beautiful.

  She needed a break.

  Downstairs, the others had descended into party mode, drinks flowing, music echoing from the built-in sound system, Jake already trying to convince Clark to “do karaoke but make it sexy.” Maria had slipped away after the ceviche course and now leaned against the cool railing of the top deck, watching the distant silhouette of the island hover on the horizon.

  She heard footsteps approaching.

  “I figured you’d be up here,” said a voice, Emilia Heart’s.

  Maria glanced sideways. Emilia leaned on the rail beside her, still in her high-end swimwear, though now draped in a loose ivory cover-up that looked like it cost more than Maria’s entire senior wardrobe.

  “You surprised me,” Maria said.

  Emilia tilted her head. “How so?”

  “You’ve been...” She shrugged. “Nice. Not mean.”

  Emilia snorted softly. “We’re not in high school anymore.”

  “High school determines whether you're nice?”

  She sighed, grimacing. “No...yes. I’m done pretending. I’m going to like who I want to like.”

  Maria arched an eyebrow. “So…you like me?”

  “For tonight, at least,” Emilia smirked and took a sip from her glass, something with mint and lime. “Cassy doesn’t know how to be done. She can only dominate.”

  “I know.”

  “Yeah...”

  For a moment, they stood in silence. Maria finally asked, “Isla Nublar. Did you know?”

  Emilia shrugged. “Cassy mentioned it a week ago. Said her uncle’s company used to have property out here. Something about wanting one last adventure.”

  Maria squinted at the dark silhouette across the water. “We’re not actually going, right?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “You know people died there, right?”

  Emilia shrugged. “Yeah. But that was years ago. I doubt anything’s still alive now.”

  Below deck, the boys had taken over the lounge. The TV was on, PlayStation booted, controllers passed around. Jake and Samuel shouted at each other over a racing game while Clark sat cross-legged on the floor, silently demolishing everyone.

  Maria entered just long enough to sweep through the room and casually demolish their high scores. Jake demanded a rematch. She declined with a mock bow. “Outclassed and out-gamed,” she said, backing out to cheers and mock jeers.

  Later that night, as the group sprawled across the lounge half-asleep, Maria sat tucked into the corner of a wraparound couch, knees to her chest, watching them.

  Cassy held court, always in control. Jake never stopped performing. Sandra leaned against Samuel’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded, relaxed and smiling.

  Emilia sat cross-legged, flipping through a deck of cards one-handed with casual elegance, offering no opinion, only silence.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  It should have been fun. It almost was.

  Until Cassy caught Maria watching her.

  “What?” she asked, lips curled into that performative smile that always preceded something awful.

  Maria shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “You’re always so quiet. Like you’re just above it all.”

  “Not really.”

  “No?” Cassy tilted her head. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve been judging us since you got here.”

  Maria didn’t respond.

  Sandra shifted uncomfortably beside Samuel. Jake chuckled, sensing blood.

  “I mean,” Cassy went on, “you’re here on my vacation, drinking our wine, eating our food, and you can’t even be bothered to make small talk?”

  “I didn’t realize my gratitude required a performance.”

  “Oh, please…”

  “Enough,” Emilia said sharply.

  The room went quiet.

  Cassy blinked, surprised. “Excuse me?”

  “I said enough.” Emilia rose. “We’re not doing this tonight.”

  Maria stood too. “I’m heading to bed.”

  No one stopped her.

  Back in her cabin, she shut the door, locked it, and collapsed onto the lower bunk. Out the porthole, Isla Nublar loomed larger now.

  The morning's golden light danced across the water, gentle waves lapping against the yacht’s hull. Overhead, a few gulls circled lazily, calling out as if offering commentary on the group gathered around the outdoor breakfast table.

  Maria sat with a glass of pineapple juice, sweating beside her untouched plate. Someone had gone all out, eggs scrambled with fresh herbs, sliced mango and papaya fanned across ceramic platters, croissants still warm from the galley. It was the kind of breakfast you’d see in a magazine.

  Across from her, Sandra giggled at something Samuel whispered in her ear. Jake stacked pancakes with military precision while Emilia sipped black coffee and watched the ocean. Clark hadn’t said anything, but he was eating enough for two. Cassy, of course, sat at the head of the table, legs crossed, sunglasses on, fork dancing between bites.

  If anyone remembered the tension from the night before, they were pretending otherwise.

  Maria hadn't slept much. She'd stared at the ceiling of her cabin until the first hint of dawn, haunted less by the island and more by the gnawing sensation that she’d stepped into a story that was already written, and she wasn’t the protagonist.

  Cassy tapped her glass with the edge of her spoon. A light ting, ting, ting. Heads turned.

  “I just want to thank you all for coming,” she began, rising from her seat with effortless grace.

  Everyone braced.

  “This trip was my gift to myself. One last big adventure before we all vanish into lectures and dorms and ramen noodles.”

  Chuckles circled the table. Jake raised his glass. “Too avoiding ramen.”

  “But,” Cassy went on, “this isn’t just about champagne and tanning oil.” She stepped away from the table, now holding her mimosa like it was part of the act. “You’ve probably noticed the island.”

  She pointed toward the horizon. The silhouette was clearer now in the daylight, with sharp ridges, green peaks, and the hint of something long-abandoned on the shoreline.

  “That,” she said with a dramatic pause, “is Isla Nublar.”

  No reaction at first. Then Samuel gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, we figured. You said as much last night.”

  Cassy rolled her eyes. “Don’t interrupt meat head.”

  Emilia removed her sunglasses slightly.

  Jake raised both eyebrows. “Isn’t that, like... government land or something?”

  “Technically,” Cassy said, waving a hand, miffed that she was being interrupted again. “No one patrols it. Trust me. It’s been a decade. All the animals are probably dead. What’s left is just ruins and jungle. A ghost town.”

  Maria’s voice was quiet. “And you want us to go there?”

  “I want us to see it. A barbecue on the beach. Maybe explore a little. Take a few pictures.” Cassy’s grin widened. “Imagine the stories. College essays. Book deals. Urban legends.”

  “Or lawsuits,” Maria muttered.

  Sandra leaned in. “It does sound kind of cool. I mean, how many people can say they’ve been to that island?”

  Maria stared at her. “Really?”

  “It’s not like anything’s still alive,” Sandra said, trying to sound casual. “Right?”

  Cassy smiled. “Exactly.”

  No one else spoke. Not even Emilia. The silence stretched.

  Then Clark let out a low whistle. “Guess we better bring sunscreen.”

  Laughter broke the tension. Sandra giggled. Jake offered a mock salute. Samuel reached for the pitcher of juice.

  Maria didn’t laugh. She stared at the island on the horizon, Isla Nublar, infamous, cursed, and closing in.