“Yeah,” I answer quickly, dropping the book onto the blanket. “Come in.”
Heath pokes his head in. “I’m off,” he says almost apologetically. “Gotta check the nets now.”
Jessie wags her tail at him, and I manage a nod. Heath tilts his head to the side, concerned. “You all right?”
“Yeah!” I say. “I’m good.”
With a steady, unblinking look he examines me. Uneasy. And I ask, “Did you hear about the ghost shark?”
Something in his body softens, as if a weight has slipped off his shoulders. For a moment, anyway. “Wow,” he says softly, hand hanging loosely from the doorknob. “Thought you’d forgotten those stupid jokes I used to tell you.”
“They weren’t stupid,” I insist. “I loved them.”
“Really?” He gives me a smile, pleased. “I’m glad to hear that.”
He hovers in the doorway a moment longer, eyes misting. I wonder if he’s thinking of all the times we fished side by side as kids. Wonder if he’s thinking of the long lulls of silence and me, growing bored and restless, waiting for my rod to finally go off.
Hey,he’d say,what’s a sea monster’s favorite meal?
How do shellfish get to the hospital?
“Call me if you need me,” he says. “I’m only five minutes away.”
“De-fin-itely.”
“Nice one!” He grins, pulling the door closed. “Night, Min.”
I sit up. “Wait!”
He whirls around, surprised. “Yeah?”
I feel stupid. “The ghost shark,” I finally say. “It vanished intofinair.”
He offers a rare laugh, but his eyes are assessing, watchful. A heavy silence settles after. “I love you, Min,” he finally says. “See you in the morning.” He closes my door with a soft click, and Jessie rolls over again, paws in the air, eyes closing. I wait, jaw tensed. Heath’s car finally rolls past the bedroom window, towing theDeep Sea.And as soon as he pulls out of the driveway, I throw my blankets off and get to my feet.
—
I stomp down to Dad’sroom and pull his door open, bracing for the fishy smell. I head to the wardrobe, breathing shallowly through my mouth as I wrench it open. I find what I’m looking for and stuff it in my overcoat pocket.
It’s just past midnight when I rush out the front door, the wind relentless. My shoes slap against the pavement, the streetlights flickering overhead. The street’s empty, but the shadows feel alive. I glance over my shoulder for just a second, barely slowing down, my stomach rolling in fear. But no one’s out tonight. The neighbors’ cars are tucked inside garages; the lounge room lights are off. Everyone’s asleep. No one is going to witness what I’m about todo.
Go,I tell myself.Go!
I run as quietly as I can, headed for beach number 1.
—
The moon shines down likea weak torch as I climb the sand dunes, avoiding the roads. I step over rusty beer cans, stumbling through the sand, leg muscles cramping as the sound of the waves roars closer and closer.
By the time I reach the top, my forehead is covered in icy sweat and the stitch in my side makes me gasp in pain. I retreat to the shadows, hands on my knees, my breaths quick and shallow.
I straighten up slowly, looking over my right shoulder to the empty parking lot. Heath would’ve parked his car at the dock before climbing aboard theDeep Sea.I wonder if he’s made it here already, or if I beat him to it.
I’m still scanning the lot when I hear the sharp sound of laughter behind me. I drop to the ground, crouching low, gulping down breaths to stay quiet. My ears ache with the noise of the waves and, underneath it, the crunching of footsteps on gravel.
Soft laughter, a voice calling out, half lost in the wind, “Don’t go chasin’ the bloody wombats!”
Shit.
