“Here,” Jas shouts; he barely stops the Jet Ski as he heaves Belle in my direction. I fit my hands underneath her armpits and pull her up onto the deck. She moans softly. Jas circles back for Pete, and together they scramble onto the boat, leaving the Jet Ski behind.
“Go!” Pete shouts at the captain.
“What about the Jet Ski?” I ask dumbly, looking out at the sea. Belle’s board is left out there somewhere, too.
“Forget it,” Jas says, kneeling down beside Belle. It’s then that I see that the deck is covered in blood. The right leg of Belle’s wetsuit is slashed open and blood is pouring from the opening.
“Oh my god,” I say softly.
“The fin of her board must have sliced her,” Jas says.
He and Pete are working together, tying towels around her leg to stanch the bleeding. Now I’m freezing; I can’t stop shaking. The motor roars and spits as the boat takes off, the captain navigating his way through the chop, desperately trying to lead us back to shore. But ten, twenty, even thirty minutes have passed, and we’ve barely moved. I can still hear the roar of Witch Tree behind us. Smaller but still massive waves rise in front of us. It feels like we’re trapped between mountains.
Jas pulls me down onto the deck beside him and puts his arm around me. Pete shifts Belle’s leg in his lap, pressing his hands tightly over her wound. I think if he could wrap his whole body around her to apply more pressure, he would.
“What do we do?” I whisper to Jas. Belle looks small and pale, and the pool of blood beneath her leg continues to grow; Pete’s grip and the soaked towels we tied around her haven’t made a bit of difference. Jas shakes his head.
Belle moans; softly at first, and then louder. “Just the same,” she says. “Just the same.”
“Shhh, Belle,” Pete murmurs. “Just hang on a little bit longer.”
But Belle shakes her head and struggles to sit up. Her eyes flutter open and she looks right at me.
“Just the same,” she says, and it seems that it takes every ounce of her strength to speak. There is something she’s determined to say, and I know enough about Belle to know that once she makes up her mind to do something, she will do it, even when each breath she takes is an effort. I’m surprised to realize that it’s something we have in common, that look that we get on our faces when we’re absolutely determined to do something, the look that Jas recognized when he watched me surf on my own.
So I ask, “What’s just the same, Belle?”
“The ocean,” she says. “Same today as it was that day.”
“What day?” I ask.
Belle’s gray eyes haven’t lost any of their steel; they lock with mine as she says, “The day that your brothers went missing.”
I feel like a balloon someone has just sliced open; all of the air goes out of me and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to take a breath again.
“I was there,” she says, struggling on every word. “Six months ago. I was there. Here. They were on dust,” she says, her eyes flickering from my face to Jas’s.
“They surfed Witch Tree on dust?” Pete says, incredulous. “You can’t even surf Kensie on dust.”
Belle nods weakly. “I tried to stop them,” she whispers; I can barely hear her above the wind and the rain. “I swear I tried. But they wouldn’t listen.”
She’s crying; or maybe that’s the rain on her face. I can’t tell whether the water on my face is coming from inside of me anymore either.
“I almost told you,” she adds. “Before you left our house, I almost told you, but I just couldn’t.” She shakes her head. “Just couldn’t,” she repeats, her unspoken apology floating in the mist between us.
I almost laugh at the idea of this girl, this powerhouse who didn’t hesitate before she splashed into the ocean today, unable to tell me anything.
“I watched them,” she says, desperately. “I kept my eyes on them every second, until…”
The words she doesn’t say hang in the air; she watched them every second until she couldn’t watch them anymore. Until they disappeared. I shake my head, thinking about the figures I saw on the beach last night, the voices I heard. They must have been ghosts.
Carefully, pressing against the soaked deck and then grabbing at the side of the boat, I stand up. The boat is heaving and pitching; the captain is shouting at me from his place behind the controls.
“Sit down, Wendy,” Jas says, reaching for me. “It’s not safe.”
I shake my head, carefully backing away from him. I have to keep my hands gripping the edge of the boat to keep from falling as the ocean tosses us around like a wild mustang. The captain keeps shouting, pointing at something behind me. I begin to turn; a wave twice the size of any I’ve ever seen is building in front of me.
My brothers are dead. Jas and I can search every wave around the world, we can follow every swelclass="underline" we will never find them. They vanished six months ago, just like everyone said. I was wrong to believe I could find them and bring them home, more wrong than anyone has ever been about anything. More wrong than Jas was to sell them the drugs, more wrong than Pete was to lie to me, more wrong than Belle was to hide the truth.
I let go.
The first thing I feel is the cold. I thought I was cold on the boat, but this is something else entirely. It’s a cold that shocks me to my very bones, blinding me so that I can’t even see the boat anymore. I wonder just how far the wave flung me. For a second, before I hit the water, it felt like I was flying.
Water is not soft on impact. It’s as hard as ice against my skin. Instinct has me struggling to stay on the surface of the water, wrestling with the waves that plunge me down deep, over and over.
I flail my arms desperately; soon I can’t tell which way is up. Maybe I’m swimming deeper when I think I’m swimming for the surface. I open my mouth to gasp for oxygen, genuinely surprised to find that I’m underwater, and instead of air, my mouth is filling with liquid.
I wonder how long I can hold my breath. I’ve always heard that in situations like this, you discover that you can survive without oxygen for longer than you ever imagined.
Belle and Pete and Jas all swam in this water before me and survived; but then they had their flotation vests on and all I have is this sweatshirt that feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
How long did my brothers fight in this water? How long were they able to hold their breaths? Did they stay together or did the waves drive them apart? Did one of them drown first? Did the other have to watch, helpless, as the person he was closest to on the planet disappeared under the water for the last time? Are they here now, floating somewhere beneath me, waiting for me to join them?
Suddenly, I want to swim down, down, down, into the depths of the icy water below me. There is still one way I can find my brothers, even if I can’t bring them home the way I planned. But I can join them. I throw my hands above my head, trying to propel myself deeper.
Then someone is grabbing me, pulling me higher.
“Hang on to me,” Jas says, his voice thick. He must have jumped in after me; of course he jumped in after me.
He’s holding me tighter than I’ve ever been held before.
“Hang on to me,” he says again, but I can’t seem to make my arms wind around him, can’t make my fingers hold on. Maybe they’re frozen from the cold or maybe they just don’t want to. Maybe my body has already made up its mind; it’s ready to let go.
My head slips beneath the surface again, and Jas struggles to pull me up.
I picture my lungs filling with water every time I go under, just a little more each time. Who knew it was possible to drown so gradually?