Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

01 | The Anticipation of Uncertainty

Farley pushed off the wall, done his grilling for the final time. "Fine Jeanne and say goodbye," he said. "I'll meet you at Shark's later."

Archer raised his eyebrows, suspicious. Farley had never liked Jeanne; he'd once called her a 'blonde distraction'. While it might be uncharacteristic for him to encourage a relationship with the island sick girl, Archer wasn't about to start asking questions. He fled back into the dimming sun, sure he'd find his mentor racing back out after him to give him one last challenge, but none came.

He had his fist raised to knock on Jeanne's door when shockingly cold water drenched him over the head. He looked up to the source, spitting seawater.

"Farley talked to you, didn't he?" he shouted up to Jeanne, who was innocently leaning out of her second-story window, holding an empty bucket.

"We may have come to an agreement," she said mysteriously. "He said you have to look up when you go through a doorway. I thought I'd help remind you."

Archer put a hand to his heart. "I'm forever grateful. I'm also starving."

Jeanne grinned and disappeared back into the house, returning moments later through the door. She skipped forward, taking his face in her hands "Did you change out of your fishing clothes?" she said, impressed. She brushed her fingers down his shirt, smoothening the wrinkles.

"Just for you," he said. Her fingers shook a little, her breath coming in quiet wheezes. Jeanne was the kind of sick that killed unreasonably young. "You're okay?" he asked, reaching up to take her pulse. If it was too high, she shouldn't walk all the way to Shark's.

She swatted away his hands, then adjusted the yellow band that was holding back her hair and said, "Absolutely fine. You don't think I look fine?"

Archer lifted his arms in surrender. "I think you look great," he said. "Stunning. Prettiest woman in the ocean, of course—"

"Well, now that's not believable," she said, but she smiled anyway, wrapping her fingers around his arm as she led him down the street.

Around the back of Shark's restaurant, the patio was decorated for a feast, with wax candles lining the fence and white cloth pulled over the tables. There was a little sign hanging down from the yellow awning that read, good luck, Archer! with three different coloured exclamation marks.

Archer took his usual spot, seating Jeanne first. Shark immediately served them the freshest he had, insisting they eat while it was warm.

Jeanne turned quiet while they ate, her water-drenching attitude loosened. He hadn't ever known her to be silent, but the reason for the switch was no mystery to him.

"I caught these near the border," he said, gesturing to their fish. "It's beautiful out there." She'd never seen the turquoise water of the Cobalts, so he said, "I'll take you someday."

"Yeah? When?" Her tone was innocent, but they were fighting words. He wouldn't get the chance to take her, most likely.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He didn't want an argument, but he knew it was coming, so he waited.

Finally, she spoke. "You haven't said goodbye."

"I'll say goodbye when I leave, Jeanne."

"You know I don't mean a temporary goodbye."

He shook his head and told the truth, "I don't want to fight tonight."

She held up one hand to silence him. "I'll talk, you'll listen."

He avoided rolling his eyes as she began. "I turned twenty a few weeks ago," she said, her usual convincing sob story. "I wasn't supposed to live past fifteen."