Wil Neuton had just gotten used to city life in Madison, Wisconsin, when his family moved again -- this time to a small house in the woods, far away from the nearest town. At this point in the story, Wil has gone for a bike ride and has discovered a lake with an abandoned rowboat pulled up on its shore. It took him only a minute to jump in, push off with an oar, and get settled on the old dry seat in the middle. As heavy as it was, water-soaked for years, the boat still moved easily to the oars, and in ten more minutes he was bumping against the small rocks at the south edge of the island. He hopped out, standing in the water in his tennis shoes, and skinned the boat up onto the rocks. Then he turned it on its side and stuck the oars up inside and turned and looked around. “See,” he said aloud. “See what I have found -- an island all for myself.” He felt only a little strange talking to himself, and he smiled and walked along the shore wondering why he had taken the boat out to the island in the first place; what pull had brought him? He had seen other islands, yet there was something about this one. It . . . fit him, somehow. Seemed to fit him. He went to the right and soon was up on the north end of the right side of the U, where he turned left, started around the corner, and came to the large, square table rock that jutted out into the bay.

Two mallards lifted off the bay -- a male, all green-headed with white wing flecks, and a dappled gray-brown female -- and Wil jumped when they took off. There were birds singing, and some insect sound, but the sun was keeping the mosquitoes down and the quiet was very peaceful. He walked onto the rock and sat on the outer edge, letting his feet dangle over the side. His heels almost touched the water, and when he rocked his toes forward they just broke the surface; some small sunfish came to investigate the disturbance, which might be a meal. They hovered in the shade of the rock, darted in and out with each ripple, flashed their sides in the sun, golden blinks that came up through the water into Wil’s eyes and into his mind. He sat for some time, watching the fish, looking across the bay, listening to the birds, and the place felt, in a way, like home. It felt like he was supposed to be there, and when he stood and brushed the rock dust off his pants and walked back to the boat, some of the day was gone. But the newness filled him, and he did not think of Madison or feel lonely as he rowed back to the main shore, left the boat upside down in the brush, found his bike, and got out on the road. He did not think of Madison or his friends there; he thought only of the island, the sunfish coming to his toes, the mallards jumping into the sky the way they did, the sun, the birds. And he knew he would come back. He knew it with a kind of basic, fundamental knowledge; he would breathe in and out -- and he would come back to the island.

Which statement from the passage best shows how important the island is to Wil?
“He hopped out, standing in the water in his tennis shoes, and skinned the boat up onto the rocks.”
“He went to the right and soon was up on the north end of the right side of the U, where he turned left.”
“He walked onto the rock and sat on the outer edge, letting his feet dangle over the side.”
“He sat for some time, watching the fish, looking across the bay, listening to the birds, and the place felt, in a way, like home.”