A heaving breath shudders through me. “I lost theirs, too,” I say, pointing. “Yet they open their arms for me.”
I laugh tightly. “You’re right. Itisdifferent. That’s family.”
I rip my gaze away, to the sand, to the ocean, to?—
Where’s Holly?
Cold fear ices my spine.
A small hand rises from the water. Too far out.
No screaming. No cry for help.
It’s the silence that scares.
“Holly!”
I’m already running, snatching the boogie board, plunging into the sea.
Behind me, Mum’s scream splits the air.
The same sound from that night, through the phone, over broken glass.
The water pushes against me, shoving me back. I bash through it. Holly’s drifting farther out.
She’s trying to swim against the riptide.
I’m coming!comes out as “Holly!”
At my waist, the current grabs me. Pulls me forward.
Good. Towards her.
A wave lifts. She can’t get atop it.
Behind me: “DYLAN! DYLAN! DYLAN!”
A plea. A demand. A declaration:the play is over. Dylan.
It gives me strength.
I fight towards her.
She’s sucked under.
“Holly!”
I loop the board string around my wrist and dive.
Snatch her arm. Kick up. Up!
We break the surface. Another wave crashes over our heads.
We spin underwater. Fight against the pull away from shore, from safety, from family.
Bubbles, salt, fire in my lungs.
I grab her under the arms. The board.Hold on.
