I turn back around and survey the distance between myself and shore. Half a mile, 800m. I can do this. I went to state champs for this event.
I got second place in thisevent.
My blood turns cold even before I dive back into the unforgiving water.
It shocks my system every time. The lake is so murky, I can’t see or hear through the walls of water on every side of me. I don’t know where the others are. Vendredi must’ve made it to the dock by now, probably Carter, too. Maybe even Dean.
I don’t even know if I’m swimming in the right direction—but I can’t think like that right now, so I swing my right arm over my head, and then my left, my right, my left again, pushing myself through the water as hard as I can, over and over for what feels like an hour.
And then something grabs my foot and pulls.
I scream. Lake water floods my mouth as I’m dragged under. Whatever it was lets me go, and I quickly bob back up, hacking and coughing, my ears ringing. Scrubbing the water out of my eyes, I whip my head to both sides.
Two feet in front of me and cutting through the water with the ease of a shark is Carter.
No. Fuck.No.
I swim faster than I ever have before. Even faster than at state championships when I thought Appa was watching. In no time, my knee hits a rock, and the next time I swing my arm, my hand slams into a pebbled shore. Pain shoots up my wrist, but I ignore it.
I lift my head up, the ground finally shallow enough that I can kneel. Carter collapses on the algae-covered rocks in front of me. The adrenaline from almost drowning ravages through my body. I can’t stop shaking. I push myself up on weak, trembling legs and limp over to him.
“You fucking cheater,” I hiss between my teeth.
Carter pools his strength enough to crane his neck up and look at me. Between pants, the corner of his mouth twists up in a grin. “What are you going to do about it?”
He jerks his head to the side. I notice then that the film crew, Garrett, and Blake are already here, the Land Cruisers that brought them parked to the side.
Pure, white-hot rage batters against my rib cage. I bite down on my tongue until the pain nearly blinds me.
The sound of somebody gasping and clambering up the shore has me turning around. Vendredi.Vendredi.
I look to the water, where Dean is still trying to pull himself to shore.
That’s it! That’s the conclusion of our semifinal challenge!
Carter is our winner, with Seyoon in second place, Vendredi in third, and Dean in fourth.
Still twenty meters out, stranded in the lake, Dean bobs like a lost buoy.
It’s some time later when Dean finally drags himself out of the water and onto the rocky shore. I gnaw on my bottom lip, conflicted. I’m pissed at him. I’m devastated he got last. I’m relieved he made it at all.
It doesn’t matter that our partnership—our friendship—is over to him. It isn’t to me. I still care about him.
I care a lot about Dean.
“Are you alive?” I bite, standing over him where he lies on the ground. With his eyes shut, he nods, just once. My lip trembles. I bite my cheek until it stops. I think about early-morning chats inour bunk beds, floating on the lake together, his lips on mine, and everything in between.
“Why?” I ask, hoping he hears what I mean without having to say it all.
He finally cracks open his eyes. Dean weakly reaches out and wraps his hand around my ankle with a touch gentler than the one that dragged me underwater, running one finger along the back of my Achilles’ heel.
“You’re bleeding,” Dean says, brows pinching.
I look down, surprised to find blood running from a huge gash on the side of my hand, dripping onto the rocks below. I must have cut it when I slammed it onto shore.
“Why?” I repeat.
His eyes glimmer with that samesomethingthat shone in his eyes on the dock last night. It gives me hope for one brief, fleeting moment.
