Antillia

By Eric Stanford

An adventuresome coming-of-age story with a romantic island setting and a theme of hope

 

It's the summer of 1980 and 16-year-old Trick Horngold feels like a failure at high school and life. Somehow he's got to make a fresh start. So when his absentee dad unexpectedly invites him to the Caribbean island of Antillia, Trick agrees to go. If nothing else, the trip might provide an opportunity for Trick to get back at his dad for missing so much of Trick's childhood.

 

But once he arrives in Antillia, Trick finds himself thinking less about his dad and more about the beautiful Nikki Robinson, daughter of a reclusive business tycoon. Nikki introduces Trick to her friends Cat and Kit and their colorful island days. Antillia is far from paradise, though, as the four teens find themselves entangled in a life-or-death conflict between Nikki's father and two outsiders bent on revenge—just as the biggest hurricane in decades heads toward their shores.

 

Taking Shakespeare's The Tempest for its inspiration, Antillia is a story of family and friendship, danger and romance, and the tenacious longing for new beginnings. It is perfect for fans of young adult fiction who want a novel that isn't weighted down with heavy messages but instead tells an entertaining story with a positive perspective on growing up.

 

"Like a cleaner Outer Banks, both exciting and touching, for 13- to 17-year-old readers."

 

86,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: ABT Publishing
• Release date: Feb 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987478318

Book preview

Prologue

Squad member Kit

Morning, Monday, January 14, 1980

Through the Land Rover’s windscreen, the narrow neck of land leading to the Kingdom of Robinson swung into view. Here were the usual sea prospects off both sides of the isthmus, the shell-rubble road, the lava-rock wall and its black iron gate. Kit had seen them many times. But today someone was sitting in front of the gate with a hand on the bars, looking in.

Kit sat up straighter in the passenger seat and said, Who’s there?

As Kit’s mother ground the Rover to a stop, and she and Kit got out, the stranger stood up, tottery on his legs. An aged black man, with white hair and patchy white beard. Clothes threadbare and loose about his frame. Cheeks hollow.

Good morning, sir, Mum said. I work here. May I help you?

My name is Gun, the man replied wheezily.

Mr. Gun, you don’t look well to me. May I take you to see a physician?

Ah. The man smiled, revealing tooth gaps. The physicians and I, we’ve done with each other.

Mum. I see. And why are you here?

Gun. I found God in Her Majesty’s Prison.

Kit. What was He in for?

Mum. Christopher!

The old man ignored Kit and continued to look in his mother’s face. Superintendent let me out to die, but there’s one other thing I have to do before I do that.

Mum. And what is it?

Gun. Tell.

Mum. Tell what? I don’t understand.

Kit. He’s got a confession to make.

Mum. Is that right? You wish to unburden your conscience about something?

Gun. I have already unburdened my conscience, as you put it, in prayer. But Mr. Robinson deserves not to believe the lie any longer. If you don’t let me through these—he rattled the gates—he’ll never have another chance to know what really happened. The man’s wheezing was louder now.

Although Kit was put off by the old jailbird’s religious talk and bodily decay, and doubted he was right in the head, Mum was regarding him with consideration, weighing, calculating. She wasn’t really going to—

Very well, she said. My son will assist you in getting into the vehicle, Mr. Gun. I’ll take you to see Mr. Robinson.

Chapter 1

SIXTEEN

Trick

Morning, Saturday, May 31, 1980

Trick had been sitting in the basement of the county courthouse for so long that he was starting to wonder if he might never get out of there. The waiting area, the signs on the walls, the strangers slumped in their seats no longer offered any interest. There was only the waiting.

Twenty-five.

The fluorescent lighting in this underworld made Trick squint. Realizing he’d been sweating under his Drylands Farm cap, he took it in his hands.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-seven.

Trick’s eyelids met. His head ratcheted forward.…

Thirty-six.

! Trick was instantly wide awake and jumping out of his seat.

The much-pregnant attendant behind the counter, representing the Nebraska Department of Motor Vehicles, rested a forearm on her belly and said, Well, hello there, Trick. Weren’t you here not long ago?

That’s right. I took the driver’s test last month, Mrs. Jensen.

Uh-oh. Got to take it over again?

Ha, no. I just came for my license.

You didn’t have to come in and wait around this place on a Saturday. We would’ve mailed it to you.

I know, but I wanted it today.

Oh, I think I see.

Mrs. Jensen shuffled through a doorway marked Employees Only and soon came back with a small card in her hand. Look it over. Make sure it’s accurate.

There, on the Provisional Operator’s Permit, was Trick’s own face looking out at him from under his blond mop. And

Richard James Horngold Jr

111 River View Rd

Fremont NE 68025

Sex M

Hgt 6-0

Wgt 160 lbs

Eyes GRN

DOB 05 31 1964

Looks all right to me, said Trick. Thanks. Smiling, he waved with the card and turned away from the counter.

Happy birthday! Mrs. Jensen called after him.

As Trick climbed the basement stairs, his footsteps quickened and his spirits rose. His face broke out in a smile when he emerged into the brightness of the courthouse parking lot. This was going to be a good day—he felt it.

Trick slipped into his red Fiat X1/9, its targa top removed and its caramel leather seats softened by the sun’s warmth. As beautiful as it was, this car, in the two years he’d owned it, had given him no end of trouble, including early-onset rust, untraceable rattles, and electrical problems that made it seem positively haunted. But today was special, so he had had the car gone over preventatively at the mechanic’s and then had caressed it into spotlessness himself. Nothing would go wrong with it today.

He started the X and felt pleased with the little car’s plucky exhaust roar.

The main use that Trick had in mind for his car was to take place tonight, but right now he wanted to pick up Danny Willis for a ride. At last he was able to do so.

Two years before, when Trick’s parents were divorcing and his mother was preparing to move from New York City to her hometown with her two children, her main inducement to secure Trick’s cooperation had been to assure him that in Nebraska fourteen year olds could legally drive themselves to school. His father had given him money to buy the X, and as promised, Trick drove himself to Fremont High, starting the first day of freshman year. Only now that he was sixteen, however, was he legally allowed to drive a friend.

He headed in the direction of the Willis house, but before he’d gone two blocks, Trick passed Danny walking with somebody else on a downtown street lined with brick commercial buildings. Trick reversed neatly into a parking spot on the side of the street and shut off the car. Kneeling on his seat, he shouted through the open roof, Hey!

Danny walked over in his loose-limbed way. He had brown hair and was dressed in shorts, a T-shirt portraying Yoda, and grass-stained sneakers.

With him was John Larramee. John wasn’t so much a friend whom Trick and Danny enjoyed hanging out with as a presence they had difficulty avoiding. He projected toughness and had a swaggering walk that made his shoulders rise alternately.

Danny. Trick.

Trick. Danny.

John. Trick.

Trick. John.

Danny. Well, we got that out of the way.

Trick. What are you doing here, D?

"I’m supposed to buy some clothes. Lucky me, I ran into John on the street. What’re you doing here?"

Uh, thought I’d see if you wanted a ride, actually. A little awkward, with John standing there.

You got your POP—right. I finally get to go someplace in your ‘fast’ car.

Not as fast as it looked, but reality isn’t everything.

As Danny opened the two-seater’s passenger door, Trick said, Sorry there isn’t room for you, John. Another time.

Oh, I’m coming now.

He and Danny bickered over who was going to sit on whose lap. Neither would give in, so they squeezed in side by side on the passenger seat.

Trick started up the X and took off, darting his eyes around to look for police cruisers. He didn’t remember seeing it on the driver’s test, but he figured there must be something illegal about driving three people in a car made for two. He headed north out of town.

The radio was on, as always when Trick was driving. John evidently didn’t share Trick’s preference for the happier sort of pop songs, because he reached around Danny and tuned the radio to a station that played harder-edged music. ♪ Love stinks, yeah yeah.

Soon houses were giving way to outlying warehouses, with farmy countryside beyond.

Over the sounds of music and wind, John said, Trick my man, what are you doing this summer? The school year had come to an end that week.

Working at my grandpa’s farm.

Sounds fun. Sarcastic.

I haven’t started yet, but it’ll be okay.

Better you than me.

Better me than us.

What?

So, Trick, put in Danny, it’s your birthday. Congratulations.

Birthday? John said. I didn’t get an invitation to the party.

No party, said Trick. This was true. For the first time he wasn’t having friends over for a birthday party. He’d told his mother that it was because he was too old for birthday parties, but really he wasn’t sure he had enough friends left to hold a decent party. Just a family dinner.

Danny said, Is that big dumb farmer still hanging around your mom? Because you know I’m going to marry her.

I wish you’d stop saying that. It’s creepy.

Fine. Is your dad going to be there?

He said he would. But then he said he would come out here for Miracle’s birthday, too, and Thanksgiving, and the state swim championships.

Anyway, tonight’s gonna be a big night. Huh? Huh? Danny’s eyebrows were going up and down comically.

What’s so big about it? John asked.

Trick’s going on his first date, Danny said. Sixteen and never kissed a girl.

Shut up, Willis.

"Well, all ri-ight, Horngold, said John. Who’s the unlucky girl?"

Trick. Rosa DeRosse.

John. Who?

Danny. My cousin. She goes to St. Pat’s.

What are you doing with her? John asked Trick.

Just taking her out to dinner. Guillermo’s.

Fancy! said Danny. You have to wear a tie there, you know.

John asked, And after?

We’ll see, said Trick.

"Oh ho, so there is a party tonight, John said. Am I right, Horny?"

Trick shot John an under-brow look. He hated that nickname and suppressed it all he could.

Soon they were out in the country on highway 77. The cloudless sky was immense. This time of year, the crops running in rows over the hills and saddles were as green as they would get. At intervals the boys passed farmhouses, each on its grassy plot notched from the cropland.

A new song came on the radio. ♪ Uh-huh, make me tonight. Tonight make it right.

Trick’s nose went up—he thought he smelled something burning. Probably just somebody incinerating trash at one of the farms they’d passed, he told himself. Then moments later Blondie’s voice started cutting in and out. Not again. I just had it checked.

Trick?

Wait.

Usually it helped to restart the car. Trick pulled the X over to the side of the highway, shut it off, and then pushed the key in the ignition. Again, and again, and again—it absolutely wouldn’t start. Trick lowered his forehead to the wheel, groaning.

All three climbed out of the car. Trick strode down the roadside, away from his traitorous automobile. Danny and John followed him.

Cool down, said Danny, putting a hand on Trick’s arm and stopping him. We’ll go over to that house there and call a tow truck.

Yeah, what’s the big problem? said John. You can get it fixed within a couple days, probly.

"No, you don’t get it. I need this car for my date with Rosa. Tonight."

Oh. Oh, yeah. John laughed.

It’s not funny. I’ll have to drive the station wagon. Mom’s Oldsmobile VistaCruiser, gold, with faux wood paneling. No!

Sorry, man, said Danny. But I don’t think Rosie’ll care.

Looking down the highway, John said, I see a statey coming.

Trick followed John’s gaze and saw from the roof profile of the oncoming vehicle that John was right. I don’t think I’m supposed to have three people in the car. Could one of you guys kind of disappear? Like, go hang out behind a tree in that farmyard until the cops’re gone?

Danny. Yeah, um, no.

John. Way the hell no.

Don’t worry about it, Trick, said Danny. The cops aren’t gonna care about us. They can call a tow for this thing and get our parents to come pick us up.

John was enjoying the situation now. First day with a POP, and your car dies, and you get in trouble with the cops, and your date’s ruined. He laughed again.

I don’t need this, John.

Why do you drive a car like this, anyway? You think you’ve got such a choice set of wheels, but you can’t keep it running. You’re a retard!

For a moment Trick went still; then his face grew hard and he swung a fist for John’s mouth.

Trick

A little later

Disheveled, agitated, sniffling, Trick slid into the back seat of the Goldsmobile and thumped the door shut behind him.

Trick, what’s wrong? Trick’s sister, Miracle, slid toward him across the seat and put her arms around his neck, shedding sympathetic tears over him. She was twelve years old, she had Down syndrome, and she loved everyone in her family with a pure love, her brother most of all.

Sharon Horngold got into the car, started it up, and flicked her eyes into the rear-view mirror. She had passed on her eye color as well as her exact shade of golden hair to her son.

Trick glanced out the window at the highway shoulder. The state police officers were gone; Danny and John had departed in Danny’s mom’s car; only the tow man was left on the side of the highway, winching the wretched X.

What was that about? Mom said.

Of course she was referring to the fight. Trick shook his head, close mouthed.

The officer said you threw the first punch at that other boy. You’re lucky you didn’t get charged with assault, you know.

Miracle now was leaning her head against Trick’s shoulder, gripping his hand with both of hers.

Sharon started up the car and executed a U-turn on the highway.

She didn’t say anything else until they’d reached the Lakes area, near home. Then she burst out, Trick, I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately. The speech had begun. I was sure you’d adjusted to this place, but now… Moodiness. Anger. Impulsiveness. The usual. This time Mom added, You’re alienating the other kids. Danny Willis is the last friend you have!

She muttered, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. She’d been a family therapist prior to Miracle’s birth, so if Trick had exhausted her parenting resources, that was saying a lot.

Trick hated his own tendency to cry, but now, while he stared out the window, hot tears filled his eyes. As they drove beside a lakeshore, an empty rowboat tugged forlornly at its tether.

Trick

That evening

The phone rang

and Sharon Horngold took the call in the kitchen. The phone cord was an extra-long curlicue, enabling her to tuck the handset under her cheek and keep tending pots while she talked. Since this was Trick’s birthday, and the meal was in his honor, Trick was not helping to make dinner. Instead, Grandpa’s farm manager, Steed, was helping Trick’s mom, passing between kitchen and dining room carrying plates. He was wearing a frilled apron that Sharon had tied high under his arms as a joke. When the door to the kitchen swung shut, Trick couldn’t hear what his mother was saying on the phone.

In the living room, he was watching Miracle play with animal toys on the floor. Outside, past the bluff, the Platte River was turning copper, and taking its place, the interior of Trick’s family’s home was beginning to reflect in the windows. Nearby, in an armchair, sat Trick’s grandfather, Karl Nyland, grunting occasionally while reading a newspaper with a headline about the nomination of Ronald Reagan for president. Grandpa was gray haired and bespectacled, and he would inevitably groan when he pulled himself out of the chair, but at more than sixty he was still the most commanding presence in every room he occupied.

Trick wasn’t sure whether Mom had told Grandpa about his fight, but he was thankful in any case that the old man hadn’t mentioned it. Perhaps his eyesight wasn’t sharp enough to spot the graze on Trick’s cheek.

Okay, you guys. Get it while it’s hot. That’s what Mom said to signal the start of every family meal.

Sharon, wearing a skirt, blouse, and high heels, was affixing a pink sweater with a button at her neck. Usually she wore blue jeans, any old shirt, and a ponytail around the house. She was dressed up now, not so much because it was Trick’s birthday, but because Steed was present at the dinner party.

Steed was forty, intimidatingly tall, manly, a squeaky-clean Baptist. More than twenty years after his first failed attempt, he was again courting his former classmate Sharon Nyland Horngold.

Trick didn’t like Steed dating his mother and could be rude about it. Why did she want a boyfriend, at her age, anyway? And if she did, why Steed? Trick couldn’t deny that Steed was gentlemanly with his mother and gentle with his sister, but he believed the towering farm manager wasn’t good enough for either of them. Steed wasn’t bright or interesting, and he had an over-hearty manner, delivering punishing handshakes and bruising back slaps.

Trick received one of those back slaps now as Steed pushed him toward the table. You first, birthday boy.

At the table one of the six seats was empty. Trick wouldn’t glance at the vacant place as he took his own seat.

Miracle sat at his side, as she always did, so he could help her with cutting her food, if she needed it. Under the hanging dining room light fixture, the old scar bisecting her left eyebrow showed.

Grandpa prayed like a patriarch and then the food began to circulate. Steak, gravy-soaked potatoes, rolls with butter, corn, and a log pile of steamed asparagus. These were some of Trick’s favorite foods—and he was going to have to hold back from eating much of them!

Steed asked Trick about his car breaking down. So Mom had told him about that. Trick had to describe how it died and to agree that it might be beyond resurrection this time.

Tough luck. Let me know if I can help.

Probably it would have been more polite for Trick to say thanks to Steed than to just sit there glumly.

Grandpa. Why aren’t you eating more, Trick? That’s not like you.

Mom. Yes, Trick. I made this meal with you in mind.

Trick. Yeah, sorry. You can keep some for me in the refrigerator, but right now I’m trying to save room. I’m going out to dinner later. You know, on my date.

Steed. No kidding, a date? Good for you—

Mom laid a hand on Steed’s arm. Then she said to Trick, I assumed you were taking her to a movie or something like that.

He had been planning on taking Rosa to The Empire Strikes Back, but then he’d changed his mind; he wanted to make it more special. No. Dinner.

Steed. How are you going to get there? Your car got towed.

Mom gripped Steed’s arm so tightly that he turned to look at her in surprise.

As Trick took a bite of steak, the conversation moved on to the family’s summer plans. Steed said he wanted Trick to join the crew at the farm on Monday, but Sharon insisted he take a week off to have some downtime at the start of his summer vacation. After that, he could live at the farmhouse during the weekdays when he was working and come home for the weekends. Apart from room and board, he wasn’t going to get any treatment different from what the other teenagers and men working on the farm would get.

Grandpa and Steed got into some technical talk about farm-work logistics, until Sharon changed the subject. Trick, that was Letty on the phone earlier.

Trick froze in the act of lowering a spear of asparagus into his mouth. He hadn’t heard that name in a while. Leticia Gonzalez was a lawyer and the number two in Trick’s father’s small investment firm, Horngold Ventures, in New York City.

She wanted to confirm that your father wasn’t going to make it here today. As everyone had already figured out: the empty place at the table. She said she was sorry.

Letty saw to it that Trick and Miracle got Christmas and birthday presents from their father. She processed the check that came every month for them to live on. Now, apparently, she was making Dad’s apologies for him.

I wasn’t expecting him, Trick said. But he had been hoping; a small-sized hope.

There was something else, Trick’s mom went on. Letty said your father is going to call you at two o’clock, our time, on Monday.

What about?

Grandpa growled, Hopefully to say he’s sorry for missing your birthday. He should.

No, I don’t think it’s that, Mom said. I don’t know what it’s about, and Letty said he wanted to explain it himself.

Steed asked Trick, How long’s it been since you’ve seen your dad?

Trick. I went to New York spring break last year.

Steed. Was it fun?

Trick. Yeah, we had a good time. I thought. But he hasn’t even called me since then.

Mom. You called him.

Trick. More than once. And he wasn’t there. And he didn’t return the calls.

Mom. He’s sort of an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type.

Grandpa. The ‘out of mind’ part is right.

Miracle. What?

Mom fixed a glare on her father.

Let’s face it, said Trick, dropping his fork beside his plate. He doesn’t care about me and Mir at all. When you guys separated, he said we’d see him as much as ever. He got that apartment in the same building, and yeah, for a little while he was around, then less and less.

Grandpa said, That’s why your mom moved back here. It wasn’t just to help me with your grandmother. She knew you and your sister would have a better life here. She was right.

But he’s still our dad. He should be involved.

You’re right, honey, Mom replied. "And he was involved… some."

Until it got to be too much trouble.

He takes his work too seriously.

So here we are in Littlesville, no dad, and he’s not even pretending anymore.

Miracle. Trick?

Look, Trick, his mom said, I’m sorry about all this. But the separation was three years ago. You’ve lived here two years. Now, maybe this call on Monday means your dad wants to start being a part of your life again, or maybe not, but either way, I think it’s time you let go of these disappointments you’ve had with him. Focus on all the other good things that are out there for you.

Trick. Excuse me. I’ve got to go change for my date.

Miracle. What about the presents?

Trick

Strange to think

now, but the high school years started out well for Trick. Not only, as a lowly freshman, did he drive up to school in his own sports car, but also, being one of a handful of new kids that year, he received a lot of attention—favorable attention. Enough of the girls found him cute to set off chain-reaction whispering down Locker Alley. Word soon spread that he was from New York City and yet he had family in the Fremont area. When guys asked if he played sports, he could say yes: he was planning to go out for swimming; probably track or baseball too. Trick was popular.

But something unexpected happened after that. He didn’t know how it was, but it seemed to him that, as the freshman and sophomore years slid by, his social credit slowly cheapened.

He never settled into any of the existing friend groups. He got along reasonably well with most of the students, but he never managed to really belong. He could help out at his grandpa’s farm, and try to talk and act like a Nebraskan, but to the others he was still a city boy, an outsider. It was like, once the other students got used to him, they stopped noticing him.

On one occasion his mom told him, If you have confidence in yourself, then others will naturally want to be around you.

"But I don’t have confidence."

"Then act like you do. As others warm up to you, you’ll develop some real confidence. And then you’ll be even more attractive, which in turn will make you more confident. It’s a self-reinforcing cycle. See?"

He did see. But being insecure and getting the blank stare from others could be a self-reinforcing cycle too.

His hurt made him sensitive and brittle. He acted more independent than he really wanted to be and more indifferent than he felt. He came off as proud to others, because they interpreted his reaction with That guy thinks he’s too good for others. In reality, he was starting to fear he wasn’t good enough.

Socially, he got by with some one-on-one friendships with other guys. Danny Willis was his most enduring school friend, though Danny spent less of his time with Trick than he did with a group obsessed with making sci-fi movielets using a super 8 camera.

As for the girls at school, they were so not-him that they offered the potential of infinite fascination. Yet while his proximity detector was always on alert for attractive girls, and he imaginatively tried some of them out in the girlfriend role, and while he was pretty sure that some of them would like to be his girlfriend, he could find no particular girl who interested him enough to go after. The more he waited to discover the right one, the greater grew the pressure to not get his choice wrong. It