Daybreak on Raven Island

Raven Island was a forgotten place. Sure, you could see the massive rock from the Pacific coast. On a clearer day, you may get a glimpse of the prison, or the empty dock that used to welcome boats and ferries. You could even see the lighthouse, once proud and bright but now extinguished. Forgotten.
The ravens were perfectly fine with this situation. It was nice and quiet without humans. People could be noisy, and they’d just shoo the ravens away or give them a slightly terrified look. Ravens were dark and scary to people. Here on the island, they got to live in uninterrupted peace.
Without the humans around, it was easy to forget that Raven Island was once the site of a supermax prison, the kind of place you sent the toughest, most dangerous criminals. Like Big Mickey, that notorious mobster no prison seemed to be able to tame—­he was sent to Raven Island back in the 1930s for multiple murders and racketeering. He got sick and died there. And there were dozens of stories just like his. Raven Island Prison was not a happy place.
One Friday morning, the oldest raven sat perched on the bell tower of the prison—­her favorite spot. And she’d earned that prime location fair and square: she was the leader. The owner (more on her later) of Raven Island called her Poe—­after the author Edgar Allan Poe—­even though ravens didn’t normally take on names. Poe was female, which the owner didn’t know.
But Poe was proud of her name. She was the leader, so she was special.
The wind was steady and soft on the island. It was deceptive: the weather felt nice, and the sun was even peeking through the clouds to warm the land, the prison, and the bell tower where the raven was perched.
But you could feel it coming if you stood on Raven Island. You didn’t have to be a smart raven to sense it was on its way.
Trouble. Change, too, though that felt different, a little more hopeful, if you were so inclined.
Poe felt her talons stiffen as the temperature shifted. And she didn’t like change, not particularly. She preferred quiet, for herself and for the other ravens that called the island home.
Only now there were visitors coming.
It was bad enough that the owner, Ms. Chavez, was already here, along with that other human. Never mind the ghosts of Raven Island—­they were stirring in their graves. Not that they liked to stay buried. Especially not at night.
But the ravens didn’t mind the dead. It was the living they had to watch out for.
It was why Poe sat on the bell tower: to protect the dead. The humans had long forgotten about these ghosts—­prisoners were the castaways of the world. But the ravens didn’t think so. The ravens never forgot the dead. People would sometimes confuse the birds as a bad omen. Legend had it that ravens were the keepers of lost souls. And Raven Island had its share of those.
Out on the water, still far away but approaching rapidly, visitors were coming. Children, to make matters worse.
Didn’t they know that Raven Island was no place for kids?
The ferry was already fighting the current and the choppy waters. The waves were slapping against the hull, telling the visitors not to come. But they weren’t listening. Another half an hour and they would be here, on Raven Island.
If you were a bird expert, you would be able to observe Poe’s discomfort. The way she adjusted her talons, then stretched her wings and flew away to join the others.
But the kid visitors on their way to Raven Island were no bird experts.
If only there was a way to tell them to stay away from Raven Island . . . 


1
Friday, 9:45 a.m.

Tori was so angry, she felt like she wanted to kick something. Preferably a soccer ball, but right there on the school bus, all she had were the metal bars under the seat in front of her.
And kicking those got her a nasty look from Liam, who was sitting in front of her. “Tori, you mind?”
Tori flipped her brown braided hair back and glared at Liam with her pale blue eyes. She knew she should’ve apologized, but she just couldn’t get herself to do it. So Tori shrugged. She was tall and muscular, built to play soccer. She knew Liam would rather let it go than pick a fight.
“Everyone!” Mr. Thompson raised his voice, like all the seventh graders on the bus couldn’t hear him. “Find your buddies!”
Tori thought the whole buddy system on a school field trip was kind of ridiculous. All it did was make everyone feel like they had to prove that they had a friend—­and if you got left behind, it looked like no one wanted to be your friend.
Like Noah, the new kid. He sat up front, next to Mr. Thompson. He was the odd one out without a buddy, so he got to hang out with the teacher.
Tori called his name. “Hey, Noah.” But the bus was so rowdy, he couldn’t hear.
Tori’s friends—­or was it former friends?—­were at a soccer tournament right now. Last month, she planned to be out there with them. But with her failing grades and unruly behavior (Mr. Thompson’s words), she was benched and off the soccer team for the foreseeable future. Tori felt like an outsider.
So much for their team motto: No one gets left behind. Tori could practically hear the calls on the soccer field and feel the ball smack against her palms as she defended the goal.
No more of that.
“Noah!” she called again. He was one of the few Black kids in class, and he was always by himself. Tori wanted to turn her anger into something better and have him join her and her assigned buddy, Marvin. But Noah had his earbuds in.
Tori imagined her friends, huddling before the game.
In all fairness, her best friend and soccer teammate, Tanika, offered to tutor her to get her grades back up, but Tori refused. They barely hung out anymore, and Tori used to practically live at Tanika’s house. It was Tori’s choice. She just didn’t know how to act without telling Tanika the truth about what was going on. And Tori wasn’t ready to do that, not yet.
So now here she was, on this field trip rather than playing soccer. And she got paired with Marvin, who just kept his nose in a comic book the whole time. Some buddy.
She itched to get off the bus (Tori was the type who liked to keep moving), but with Mr. Thompson keeping an extra eye on her, it was better to get off last.
“Stick with your buddy!” Mr. Thompson hollered from outside the bus. They were at the ferry dock, waiting to get on. Tori hoped she could find a spot outside. This bus was making her feel dizzy—­there was no air, and nowhere to go.
Finally, the last of the seventh graders and the parent chaperones made it off the bus. Tori pulled herself up, ready to go.
Marvin was still hunched over, reading. Tori couldn’t tell what the title was, only that Marvin was completely into the comic book.
“Yo, buddy!” Tori yelled. She was in a foul mood indeed. She was looking at a day of shuffling around, first onto the ferry, and then on this prison island. Any other day, she’d be all over a field trip. It was better than sitting in class, hands down. But right now, all she could think about was the soccer tournament she was going to miss, the chance to stand in front of the net and catch the ball.
“Hey, Marvin,” Tori tried again. She knew she could be nicer. Marvin was a lone wolf: the only Korean kid in class, and since his best friend moved away, he mostly kept to himself. He was usually deep into a comic book or sketchbook. He wore a black beanie, pulled over his ears. Off in his own world. “We gotta get off this bus if we want to catch the ferry.”
Marvin looked up, like he needed a minute to remember where he was. “Huh? Yeah, all right. The ferry.” He smiled when he remembered where they were. “The prison!”
“Yeah.” Tori resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his absentmindedness. “Come on.”
They all took their backpacks and made their way off the bus. Noah stood all alone in the back of the crowd. Tori thought of calling him over to join her and Marvin, but Mr. Thompson gave her a stern look.
“Everyone!” Someone really needed to tell Mr. Thompson to stop yelling. He did it so often that people were beginning to tune him out. Seventh graders had a knack for that.
Tori shuffled onto the ferry and found a spot at the front. Marvin followed her; his walk was slow and bouncy, like he had a tune that he was dancing to inside his head.
“You want to sit inside?” he asked Tori.
They both looked at the crowded space.
“I’m fine out here.” Tori was relieved to find a seat outside, despite the cold wind and cloudy weather. There were a few other kids out there—­probably happy to get fresh air, too.
Tori looked out onto the water. A few miles into the Pacific, there was Raven Island. She thought she spotted a bird, though she couldn’t be entirely sure.
“It’s weird,” Marvin said next to her.
“What—­the island?” Tori asked. From where they sat, you couldn’t really make out the prison, but an old stone mansion was clearly visible.
“This field trip is weird,” Marvin said. “Last-­minute, to some abandoned prison on an island. Why let a bunch of seventh graders run around if you kept it all locked up for so long?”
Marvin was right: that was odd. But before Tori could say anything, there was a loud foghorn.
Weird or not, they were off to Raven Island.