So I did neither.
Brushing past her, I headed up the beach. “Come on, time for breakfast.”
“Hey, wait.”
I cringed against having to tell her the truth but she shot in front of me and pushed out her bottom lip. “Can we have rabbit food?” Pointing at the camp, she added, “Puffin is sick of clams.”
The mention of her cuddly toy fluttered my heart. “Wait. He’s sick of clams, or you’re sick of clams.”
“I’m sick of them.” Her face brightened. “But rabbit food would be good.”
“What on earth is rabbit food?”
“That’s what Daddy used to call it.”
I frowned. “Salads and veggies and things?”
She nodded.
“What’s your favourite veggie?”
She contemplated before answering. “Celery sticks.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Celery sticks?”
“Yep with dip and stuff.”
I pushed aside my dripping hair. “I would’ve expected you to say you hated veggies and wanted chocolate.”
Pippa made a gagging noise. “Eww, no. I’m allergic to chocolate. Makes me itch and swell.”
Allergic.
Allergy.
My brain exploded with what the word meant.
Of course!
An allergic reaction was the body’s way of saying we couldn’t eat something. It wasn’t packets telling us ingredients or companies manufacturing food.
It was millennia of trial and error. Eat something and see the results. Try something and...see if there was a reaction.
Grabbing the little girl, I kissed her. “You’re a genius.”
Dashing up the beach, Pippa followed.
I held up my hand. “Stay here. Tell the others I won’t be long.”
The fire crackled, smouldering a little as it begged for new wood. The A-frame we’d fashioned with branches and Galloway’s rope guarded our belongings on the forest edge. The shady shelter was handy during the day, but it wasn’t practical to sleep in.
It was too small.
Moving past Galloway, he continued sleeping. Conner, too. Along with getting used to sleeping outside, we also slept deeply. As if living in the wide open vastness drained us faster than elsewhere.
Not looking back to see if Pippa obeyed, I slipped on my flip-flops and dashed into the forest.
My feet had grown tougher the past weeks. The hot sand scorched my soles and pricks from twigs leathered my delicate skin. But today, I didn’t know how far I would have to go. And I didn’t want to have to turn around before I was ready.
This could royally backfire.
I shoved the thought aside. I didn’t worry that I might die if I chose wrongly. That I might suffer tummy cramps and embarrassing after-effects of eating something my body didn’t agree with.
Because if I did this and it worked...
Food wouldn’t be so hard to come by.
Dashing to the first bush that looked innocuous and tasty, I tore off a leaf and brought it to my mouth.
“You can always test food another way. Care to answer what way that is?” My old biology teacher’s voice popped into my head. God, it’d been so long since I’d done biology—ever since I changed my mind from being a vet because I couldn’t stomach the thought of cutting up animals even if it was for their own good.
What had Professor Douglas said? Something about not eating it but...
The teacher tapped the blackboard. “Don’t eat it. That’s entirely too dangerous. Rub it on your skin first. Your body will let you know if it’s safe or not.”
Of course.
Doctors did that for new drugs and ointments. Before full use, they recommended a scratch test and a twenty-four hour wait.
I straightened out my left arm and dragged my fingernail across the underside.
Pain flared but I didn’t draw blood. I scraped deep enough to make my skin pink but not deep enough to do damage. I crushed the leaf between my fingers and rubbed it over the scratch—dousing my skin with foreign flavours.
If I remembered correctly, if in twenty-four hours my skin was hot or puffy, my body had rejected the leaf and it wasn’t safe to eat. However, if there was no reaction, it was okay to take to the next level and sample by eating.
My stomach growled at the thought of devouring something new.
Drawing an X on the soft mulchy ground, I moved toward another bush. This one smelled vaguely of thyme. Repeating the process, I scratched the inside of my right arm and smudged the pungent leaf over the irritated skin.
This time, I left an X with the Roman numeral I beside it.
Let the wait begin.
It would be the longest twenty-four hours of my life.
I stared longingly at the other undergrowth. If I tested each one tonight, then by tomorrow, I could have a smorgasbord of things to cook. But then, I wouldn’t know which set off a reaction if I suffered.
No, this is the only way. Two at a time and no more.
Striding back to camp, Galloway and Conner had woken and Pippa had filled the water bottles to share. My adopted family looked up as I returned.
“Where have you been?” Galloway’s intense blue eyes narrowed. “Pippa said you just ran off.”
“Oh she did, did she?” I scowled at Pippa, faking annoyance. “I hope she didn’t tell you anything else.”
The little girl shook her head. “Nuh uh. I did what you said. I waited and told them you’d gone. That’s it.”
My lips curled at how literal she was. She hadn’t quite captured the knack of sarcasm yet. “Well, I’m glad that you kept my secret about you know what and where I was with you know who this morning.”