Well, the man seemed friendly enough. Max, in his mind, rehearsed a dozen different wisecracks he could make, but it seemed a bit early in the game to start making enemies- not everyone appreciated his abrasive humor. But hey, like they say, you either laugh or you go crazy. Not that the two were mutually exclusive.

"The flight was like any other I've taken," Max said with a shrug. "Sacramento to O'Hare, then from there to here. Stuck in a narrow metal tube 20,000 feet above the earth and wondering what keeps it from falling, the usual." He didn't laugh. Because it wasn't funny.

Everything about this island just sounded. . .off. Even in the dang brochure. The constant fog, these eerily punctual ferries, even the brief snippets of history he looked up on Wikipedia and whatever. No wonder Dad had been so keen on him attending this school. It appealed to the old man. Thing was, Max didn't even know if he was making a mistake or the greatest decision of his life. It just all seemed so flat and pointless.

"So, Cherry Bomb," he asked the counselor. "Suppose I miss the ferry, or just plain don't want to take it, or whatever. Are there, I don't know, water taxis or something like that?" He was more just trying to make conversation than anything else. Max knew the question was inane. Once again, he wondered what he was doing.