Something stringy brushes against my fingers. Like seaweed. Or hair.
Then, skin. I kick forward, not sure what limbs I’m grabbing, and not caring. I haul Margot into my arms, wrapping one tight around her waist, using the other to swim for shore. My legs scream and burn, but I don’t stop until my bare feet scrape against the rocky shore.
I haul Margot out of the water, her legs and mine still in the muddy bed. She lies limp in the grass, eyes closed. And for a moment, there is a flash on her other side: a girl with blond hair and gaunt features. Ingrid. But she’s gone before my mouth forms the beginning of her name, and the unmoving Margot in front of me takes precedence.
Finn stands beside us, still.
I bend down, my ear next to her mouth. Where there should be a warm puff of breath, there is nothing. Panic leaping into my throat, I press my ear against her chest. It doesn’t rise. Doesn’t fall. Doesn’t do anything.
No pulse. No heartbeat. No Margot.
The panic swells, crests, and as suddenly as it came, it goes away.
I have to save my sister.
“Finn,” I say. “I need my phone. It’s in my room.”
We both know it’s a weighted request. As far as I know, he’s never carried anything for an extended period or distance. But he is my only option. This is the only round of his silly spoon toss that really matters.
“Jo, I don’t—”At my expression, he stops. His lips pull together.“I’ll get it.” Then he’s gone.
My gaze drops to Margot.
I never really thought I’d have to use my CPR training, but I never thought a lot of things that have happened were possible. The rules of the world change every day.
First, open the airway. I don’t think, don’t allow myself to see the girl on the ground as the sister who used to fight off my nightmares. I start compressions, singing that ridiculous song in my head. Thirty compressions, then two breaths. Check for a heartbeat.
Nothing.
“Damn it,” I say.
Compressions. Two more breaths. Compressions. Two more breaths.
“You don’t get to die on me, Margot Griffin. You don’t get to leave me. Not you, too.”
Two more breaths.
Margot jerks, water spewing from her blue lips, eyes snappingopen. I push her onto her side, and she hacks into the grass. She falls back against the slope, gasping.
I slump back, hands flying up to my chest. Relief is a warm blanket against the freezing night. I think I might be crying.
“Margot.” I exhale.
Her eyes find mine.
“What happened?” she asks. Her voice is hoarse. Her eyes flick to the creek, to the trees, to the stars overhead.
I let out a laugh, dropping my head against her forehead for a beat. When I lift it, I sweep the wet hairs off her face and give what I hope is a reassuring smile. “You took a little midnight swim.”
Finn materializes at my side, the phone falling from his hands the second he does. It smacks hard against my thigh. I scrabble for it before it bounces away, jabbing the emergency button on the screen.
“Oh, thank god,” Finn says, dropping to his knees.“She’s okay.”
“She’s okay,” I say, giving him a thankful smile. He smiles back.
Margot freezes. Her gaze snaps to my right. To Finn.
“Who the hell is that?” she asks, and promptly passes out.
