I rush forward and jump in. The water resists my running through it, and I have to swim. Jamie’s sinking body is halfway to the bottom of the deepest point in the pool.
There’s a loud splash as my dad jumps in, too.
I dive and grab Jamie’s arm under the shoulder. As I’m dragging him to the surface, my dad’s leg blocks our ascent.
Not wanting to waste time fighting against Dad’s interference, I drag Jamie in the other direction. I expect my dad to grab us and prevent me from pulling away, but thank God, he doesn’t.
When I reach the shallow end, I get my feet under me. As I stand, I move my chest under Jamie’s back so I can prop his head and neck above the surface.
My dad swims to the edge of the pool, but his attempts to climb out fail. I guess he’s extremely drunk. Lucky for me.
I manage to lay Jamie on the steps. His blue lips make my heart clench. What the hell? Is he dead?
I pinch his nose and blow breath into his mouth. There’s so much resistance it’s hard to get air into him. My seal on his mouth keeps breaking, so my breath escapes rather than going into his lungs.
Come on!I knee him in the side, trying to wake him as I continue to do my best to breathe life back in.
After a minute or two, I feel my breath being sucked inward. It’s faint, but he’s trying to breathe. I raise my head a couple of inches. His color is less blue.
“Jamie?”
His body twitches, but he doesn’t draw a new breath. I give him a couple more of mine, my heartbeat hammering in my throat. Why isn’t he breathing? There’s no blood or sign of injury. He looks perfect.
But he’s dying.
His body tries to slide down the steps, and I have to stop rescue-breathing long enough to drag him back up.
Motion at the edge of my vision causes my eyes to jerk in Dad’s direction. He pulls himself along the edge of the pool from the deep to the shallow end. He’s only a few feet from us. I swear to God if he tries anything I will shove him under the water.
“What did you do to Jamie?”
My dad ignores my yelled question. Wobbling, he claws his way up the steps on his hands and knees. When he’s out, he shoves his foot against Jamie’s shoulder and pushes. He’s trying to get Jamie back underwater.
My screech is more animal than human. I rise up over Jamie and slam my palms against my dad, causing him to fall onto the cement like a fish flopping onto the deck of a boat.
I shove his leg away from us. Fortunately, my dad’s push was too weak to move Jamie, whose muscles are heavy, especially since he’s dead weight.
As I lean over him and press my lips against his, I feel his mouth move under mine. Jerking my head up, I watch his lids flutter open.
Jamie pulls a deep breath in, and his brows pinch together in confusion. His body shifts under mine. In a hoarse voice, he mumbles, “Sauce?”
“Jamie, oh, my God. Can you get up?”
His head lolls slowly to the side and he looks around, his eyes squinting as he tries to focus. Dropping his hands underwater, he pushes off the steps to sit upright. My hands dart out to steady him as he sways.
“Feel strange.” Shaking his head to clear it, he half crawls, half climbs up the steps. “Am I drunk?” he slurs.
As I help him, I spot a piece of plastic clinging to the skin between his shoulder blades. I think it’s garbage that blew into the pool, but when I have to tug to pull it free, I realize there’s adhesive around the edges.
Jamie looks over his shoulder.
I jerk it off his back and hold up the clear plastic. “What is this?”
He turns and leans over. Just as I read the word Fentanyl, my dad launches himself forward, slamming into me.
I fall backward, crashing into the water and landing on the bottom of the pool with him on top of me. A moment later, Dad is jerked off and Jamie lifts me up.
Sputtering, I blink water from my eyes.
