“I am!” I say, tugging with both hands now. “It’s… it’s just stuck.”
Tech grabs the bars from the inside, shaking them. “What the hell?” His voice is ragged, frightened. “Noa!”
“I’m trying!” I yell, my words cracking. “It’s not moving.”
He takes a step back, his face going slack. “I can’t believe this,” he whispers, and then louder, “Am I locked in a 1920’s jail cell? Get me out!”
We both start yanking, pulling, shaking the door as if we can undo a hundred years of steel and salt and pressure with just our adrenaline and anger. The door doesn’t budge.
“Stand back,” Tech growls, and I scramble away. He begins to slam his foot into the bars. The sound rings out, a metallic gong, but the door stays closed.
Another kick. And another.
Still nothing.
I can barely breathe. The water swirls around my legs like it’s rising with each second we’re down here. I’m so scared, helpless.
“What do we do?” I ask, my voice small.
Tech turns, eyes locked on the window high on the back wall. “That,” he says. “We try that.”
He plunges his fingers into the sand that fills the frame, digging and yanking it away. But the moment he tears through the first layer, there is wet, sucking sound—a pressure released.
Seawater begins to filter in.
“Wait!” I shout, but it’s already too late.
It’s only then that I understand where the water is coming from. This part of the building is already submerged. The sand was keeping the waterout.
What starts as a trickle of water turns into a steady pour, then a flow. The water rushes in like from a fire hose. I pull on the door, tears stinging my eyes as I work desperately to save him.
“Oh shit,” Tech says. He drops to the floor, scooping up sand to try to shove back in the parts he gouged out of the window. “No, no, no…” he murmurs desperately, over and over.
But it’s useless. He can’t stop it.
I yank wildly on the bars, my hands raw and burning. I scream for help. I scream for Shawn. The metal doesn’t move. The water is at my thighs now.
“Uh, Noa,” Tech says, his voice breaking. “You’d better think of something. Fast. We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before I’m underwater.”
He comes over, and I grip his hands through the bars again, both of us shaking in the cold, in the darkness. And my pulse pounds in my ears as the water starts to swallow us up.
CHAPTER SIX
—JAMIE
The sheriff’s station is quietas we walk inside to report that my boat is missing. Jordan approaches the desk clerk, and he tells us to have a seat and wait for the sheriff. Jordan pauses there, seeming embarrassed by the dismissal, but then she walks proudly toward the chairs in the back.
I assumed having Jordan with me would help speed up the process, but the officer doesn’t seem impressed or intimidated by her—which is kind of surprising. Maybe even a little refreshing. I thought the Augustus Resort had pretty much taken over the entire town at this point.
Jordan sits outside the sheriff’s door, and I take a spot next to her in the hard plastic chairs. Looking around the station, it’s incredibly small—just three desks plus the sheriff’s actual office. The fluorescent lights above the entrance flicker and the air conditioner rattles in the window. It smells like burned tires, like old gym mats. Doesn’t appear that they’re working with a very big budget around here.
Just a few months ago, I was sitting in a much larger police station with my head throbbing and my body tense as I waited for my parents to pick me up. Turns out, sneaking away from your prestigious boarding school to go to a party at the local college is frowned upon,especially when you set off the fire alarm sprinklers while trying to get back inside. It didn’t go on my permanent record, but it did, in fact, get me kicked out of school. Which is why I finished my degree online, sabotaging years of gathering gold stars for my Ivy League applications.
Sitting here now, I’m starting to get a little anxious. How long before my parents notice I’m gone? What if they notice the boat is gone? I check my phone and see that I haven’t missed any calls, so that has to be a good sign.
Hoping for a distraction, I turn to Jordan as she swipes aimlessly through her phone apps, looking painfully bored. She’s out of place here, too elegant, too stiff.
“Thank you, by the way,” I tell her, drawing her attention. “I really appreciate this.”
