Jill scanned the horizon, searching for the course buoy. At this point, it didn’t really matter if she knew its exact location because all they had to do was trail the other boats. At least they weren’t dead last. That honor belonged to Charles and his skipper. Their boat was close behind a boat from the Huntington Yacht Club, and Jill wondered if Tony was deliberately antagonizing the rival team.
She could see Charles’s red head bobbing around as he responded to Tony’s orders.
He must be miserable, Jill thought. She knew Tony would call him Upchuck. Then he’d ask who Charles’s favorite character was fromGilligan’s Island, which would lead to jokes about Ginger. Tony would ask the same question aboutScooby-DooandThe Flintstones. No matter what Charles said, he’d be Ginger or Daphne or Wilma for the rest of the race.
Though Jill felt sorry for Charles, she had her own problems.
It seemed to take forever to tack around the first buoy and zigzag toward the second, which was floating closer to the opposite shore. By the time they approached, webbed fingers of fog had crept farther out from the shore. Soon, the buoy would be engulfed.
Most of the instructors were waiting near the finish line or motoring in wide circles at the edge of the fog to be sure that none of the junior sailors went too far off course and ended up stuck on a sandbar.
There were piles of jagged rocks near the shore as well. They’d tear through a Blue Jay’s hull like it was made of crepe paper, leaving the sailors no choice but to wait for help or swim parallel to the shore until they cleared the rocks. Only then could they make for the safety of the beach.
“Coming about!” Allison shouted.
They rounded the second buoy and Jill gave her skipper a thumbs-up. Two more buoys and they would cross the finish line and be done.
As their mainsail swelled with wind, the bow knifed through the waves. Jill’s ponytail streamed out behind her head like a comet, and for a few heartbeats she felt her anxiety loosen.
Almost there. We’re almost there.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Charles’s boat and the Huntington Yacht Club team had dropped even farther behind.
Their boats didn’t look right. They were so close that their sails seemed to overlap. Jill couldn’t tell exactly what had happened—they were too far away—but in her gut, she knew that Tony had rammed the other boat and now both boats were stuck. They were a floating tangle of lines and sails and masts.
“Earth to Jill!” Allison cried. “We’re tacking!”
Jill snapped to attention seconds before the boom whipped across the centerline. As she shifted her body to the other side of the boat, she saw a dark mass in the water. It was approaching their boat from the east. From under the fog.
She’d seen shadows created by schools of fish, but as this mass grew closer, she knew it wasn’t made of fish.
It was too dense. Too dark. It was like a sea within a sea. It undulated and roiled like boiling water. But it wasn’t water. It was athing.
Jill was immobilized by fear.
Shark.
It can’t be. The shape is wrong.
It was like an interstellar cloud—black and irregular. But as it slid under their boat, she closed her eyes, gripped the nearest cleat, and braced for impact.
Nothing happened.
Their boat kept its steady pace north. She heard the water slapping at its sides and the whoosh of wind filling the sails.
She opened her eyes and looked down.
The mass was already to the aft of their boat. Watching it recede, Jill expelled a lungful of air.
She was about to turn away when she saw its speed suddenly increase. It was headed directly for the last two boats, which were still locked together.
The next course buoy was coming up, so Jill had to face forward and prepare to come about. But out of the blue, Allison lost hold of the tiller. Their boat turned directly into the wind. The sails shuddered and their momentum stalled.
Allison grabbed the tiller and pulled it toward her, steering the boat the wrong way. As the sagging mainsail blocked Jill’s vision, she listened for Allison’s command.
Allison didn’t give one.
Jill gave the boom a shove and bellowed, “Turn toward the shore!”
