Alejandro Cruz's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Alejandro Cruz stood on the shore and counted coins in his palm for the third time. Eleven. Not enough for a boat, not even a leaky one. Across the water, the small island sat low and green, its trees heavy with mangoes and coconuts he had watched swell for two hours that morning. In his shirt pocket, folded twice, was a paper from the town registry. Signed. Dated. Witnessed. The island was his on paper. He just had no way to reach it. He pushed the coins back into his pocket and started up the road. His uncle had died with strong hands and empty pockets because he never signed anything. Alejandro had signed. Now he needed wood, and wood meant a carpenter. He walked past the fine houses on the hill, past a mansion with a blue-tiled tower that threw a long shadow across the lane, and kept going until the road turned to sawdust. The carpenter's yard smelled of pine and hot iron. A young man in a stained apron knelt over a broken chair, hammer in his teeth, fitting a dowel with both hands. He was maybe seventeen. He did not look up when Alejandro's shadow fell across the work. "I need a boat," Alejandro said. "Small. Flat bottom. Enough for one man and fruit." Mather took the hammer from his teeth. "Boats cost money." "I have eleven coins and this." Alejandro pulled the paper from his pocket and held it open. "An island. Mine. Coconuts and mangoes, more than one man can carry in a season. Build me the boat and I pay you in fruit. Every trip. First load yours." Mather wiped his hands and read the paper slowly. A striped meerkat with a dark patch across one eye trotted out from under the workbench and sat by his boot, watching Alejandro like a second, smaller judge. "Paper is paper," Mather said. "I have seen men sign for water." Alejandro swung his pack down and opened one of the waterproof bags. He set a single mango on the plank between them. Golden skin, smooth, still cool from the shade. He had climbed the rocks at low tide and cut it from a branch that hung over the water. He had rowed home in a borrowed skiff with the owner shouting from shore. Mather picked up the mango. He turned it in the light. He pressed his thumb near the stem and smelled it. "How many trees?" "More than I counted." Mather set the mango down beside the paper. The meerkat sniffed once and looked away, satisfied. "Two weeks," Mather said. "Flat bottom, one sail. You help me cut and haul. I keep the first three loads, not one. And if the paper is a lie, I keep the boat." Alejandro grinned and put out his hand. "Start tomorrow." Mather shook it. The deal was struck. Now Alejandro had two weeks of labor ahead, a debt he could only pay in fruit he did not yet own, and a partner who would take the boat if the island failed him.