“Or we’re going to have a problem,” Graham warned. He’d never been in a fight, but he wasn’t afraid to defend himself.
Deke stepped closer. “I think we already do.”
A couple of their other friends—Trevor and Evan—stood nearby, tense and waiting to see how the situation would escalate. Graham knew that whatever happened, they would side with Deke and Brian. Though no one in their group had shown blatant homophobia before, aside from a few jokes, their true colors were beginning to show. None of them would defend a queer.
“I think so, too.” Brian squeezed, his fingers digging into Graham’s muscle, the flesh flushing a deep red around his fingertips.
Graham clenched his jaw and didn’t flinch, though a burning pain webbed out from his bicep as Brian clamped down on a nerve.
“Too bad this ain’t a pirate ship,” Ryan slurred. “We could make him walk the plank.”
Deke snorted. “We got a surfboard.”
“That works.” Ryan laughed. “Where is it?”
Minutes later, some of the guys had wedged the end of the surfboard beneath an inner metal railing at one end of the pontoon boat.
“Come on, queer boy.” Brian dragged Graham toward the surfboard.
“Get off me!” Graham jerked against his iron grip, shoving Brian.
Deke grabbed his other arm. “You love your precious lake so fucking much, we’ll give it to you.”
Graham struggled and pushed against the two athletes as they forced him to the end of the boat. He wrenched his arm free from Brian and elbowed the guy in the ribs. Brian grunted, swore sharply, and sucker-punched Graham in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. The fucker could hithard. Graham had seen him fight, and Brian kicked ass every time.
With Trevor and Evan's help, the two men forced Graham onto the surfboard, which protruded precariously over the water. The other drunken passengers were getting into the spirit, shouting and chanting in pirate brogues for Deke and Brian to“Banish him to the deep, matey!”
Deke jabbed Graham with the handle of an oar, shoving him farther onto the board as a chorus of“Yoho! Yoho! It’s a pirate’s life for me!”echoed from the drunkcrew. Graham took a cautious step forward and felt the board creak beneath his weight. Surfboards were sturdy but weren’t designed to carry weight over open air. With only the back end of the board wedged under the railing, it was likely to snap in two if Graham moved much farther out.
The oar handle stabbed Graham in the lower back, knocking him forward another step. His balance wavered as the board began to dip a little, and he felt thestrainin the makeshift plank. He looked down into the dark depths; he wasn’t afraid of the water—he knew how to swim—but last night’s incident on the lake, mixed with the strange dream, left him anxious. He’d almost drowned. And though his “near-death” experiencewas due mostly to his drunken state, he felt uneasy about taking another plunge into the dark waters.
“Got nowhere else to go,” Brian jeered. “Might as well jump. ‘Cause you ain’t getting back onthisboat, faggot.”
Graham glanced behind him. Wendy hung on Ryan, wicked glee on her face. The others were a faceless mob of clamoring drunks that Graham had once believed were his friends. Discovering he was wrong felt like no great loss now. They had never been the type he felt comfortable confiding in. They were his social hangout, that’s all. Hisgrandfatherwas the one who listened to Graham’s heart. A knot formed in his throat as he looked at the water where he had spread his grandpa’s ashes last night. Had some of his spirit gone into the lake along with ashes?
Tears stung his eyes. The jeering betrayal of his “friends” magnified the loss of his grandfather, reminding him how alone—andlonely—he truly was. He loved his parents, but he’d never had the close relationship with them that he’d had with his grandpa. They had dismissed his awakening sexuality and were pleased when he seemed to take an interest in girls. Graham knew they’d never disown him, but he didn’t think they wanted a gay son.
“Whatcha waiting for, queer?” Ryan howled. “Faggot ass afraid of the water?”
Graham stared at the gentle ripples beneath him, the lights of the boat reflecting across the surface of the water. Tears welled up as his sorrow consumed him.I miss you, Grandpa.The old man was all he’d truly had in the world, the only one who understood him and honestly loved him for who he was. Graham thought about the journal… and the way his grandpa had written about Lochlan, the depth of passion, reverence, and consuming love. The shouts behind him faded as an ache webbed through his heart.I want to love like that… just once in my life.
A phosphorescent blue-green glow shimmered beneath the surface as something moved through the deep water, sending ripples that lapped against the pontoon boat. Graham frowned, watching the water, convinced it was just a trick of the boat’s lights. The noise of the railing “crew” faded into a dull roar as his focus shifted entirely to the lake.
A powerful, swirling current that seemed to form out of nowhere hit the pontoon boat, causing it to spin partially. Graham gasped as he lost his balance, plunged into the dark water with a loud splash, and sank straight down.
Graham’s feet struck something solid long before he should’ve reached the lakebed. His shoes slipped on its silty—slimy?—surface, then it retracted like a flexing muscle and sprang back, catapulting him toward the lake’s surface.
He burst into open air, bobbing and hacking. The pontoon had already drifted away, and shadow-figures of his former friends leaned over the port side of the boat, mocking and howling insults when they spotted him.
“Swim to the dock, fuckwad!” That was Trevor, who’d spent most of the night trying to shotgun beers with his left hand and not cry over being dumped by his last girlfriend, who’d caught him cheating with a rival team’s cheerleader. Brian and Evan joined in, their voices blending. Maybe Heather said something, too, but Graham’s head rang, the world a blur of stars and algae, and the only thing he could hear for sure was his own blood pounding in his ears. He kicked his feet, churning through the long weeds that reached up from somewhere below, their filaments snagging his ankles, until the pontoon was a dull lantern behind him.
He let himself float, treading just enough to keep his nose above water. The boat lights winked as the pontoon floated toward the far side of the lake, spaced like Morse code. Then he curved his neck, his eyes turned to the night sky, and he absorbed the starlight as he bobbed in place. The gentle rocking of the water was almost lulling, an odd comfort amid the turmoil.
Graham thought about his last moment there on the plank… the glow in the water… something moving beneath the surface.
It was nothing—a trick of the light.
What had caused the pontoon to suddenly jolt, knocking him into the water? Where had the sudden current come from? The lake was practically placid most of the time.
