Daughter of the Deep(36)

At one point, a sunfish cruises by that’s bigger than either of us. It’s a wonderfully weird-looking thing, like somebody fused a shark, a cauliflower and a chunk of iron pyrite and flattened it until it’s almost two-dimensional. Socrates ignores our visitor, since it’s neither dangerous nor edible. I wave and invite the sunfish to dance with us. It glides on by. I remember a humour column by Dave Barry that my dad read to me when I was little, about how fish only have two thoughts, Food? and Yikes! But there is a third fish thought, which this sunfish’s expression relays perfectly: Y’all humans are weird.

I wish I could stay underwater with Socrates forever, dancing in the silver swirls of bubbles with sunlight rippling through the green.

I guess I lose track of time.

I hear the sharp clink, clink, clink of a metal object being tapped against the hull. Someone is telling me to surface.

I give Socrates a high five for good work. Then I start my ascent.

Back on board, I feel much better. The sea always refreshes me. I secure my tank and rinse my gear as we get underway. The repaired engines hum smoothly. The weather has cleared, leaving us with smooth seas and a rich burgundy sunset. By the end of the day tomorrow, if we’re lucky, we should arrive at HP’s secret base. We might find help, safety, answers. And, who knows, maybe even a new supply of chocolate-chip cookies.

My good mood lasts until Gemini Twain pokes his head out of the bridge. ‘We need you.’ His tone makes it clear there is more bad news.

I find Tia Romero hunched over the comm station, clutching headphones to her ears. She frowns when she sees me.

‘We retrieved some audio from the school’s intranet,’ she says. ‘You’d better sit down.’





I think I’m prepared for anything.

I’m wrong.

When Dev’s voice comes through the headphones, I choke back a sob.

‘– major threat. Need everyone to EVACUATE. I –’

The recording breaks into static.

I pull off the headphones and throw them down. I back away from them as if they’re a tarantula.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Tia says. ‘There’s nothing else. Just feedback.’

My legs shake. I’m wearing only my bikini. Salt water runs down my legs, dripping on the rubberized floor around my feet. I’m not sure if I’m shivering more from cold or from shock.

‘Dev warned them,’ I murmur. ‘They might have got out. He might still be alive?’

Lee-Ann Best is the navigator on duty. Her ears turn red, a ‘tell’ that she is about to lie. Lee-Ann knows this about herself. Given her interest in counter-espionage, you’d think she would grow her hair long to hide her lie-detector ears. Instead, she keeps her black locks shaved on the sides.

‘Maybe,’ she says. ‘I mean, it’s possible, right?’

Gem frowns. ‘I don’t think there was time. Ana, the noise at the end of the recording …’

I know he’s right.

That jumble of static was most likely the sound of our school collapsing into the ocean. I imagine Dev was speaking over the school intercom. He was probably down in the security room, under the administration building. He wouldn’t have left until he was sure people were evacuating.

The drones captured no footage of anyone alive. None of the news reports mentioned survivors. Dev is really gone.

All I have left is a garbled recording of his last desperate moments.

I try to say something. I realize that if I don’t leave now, I will fall to pieces in front of everyone. I turn and exit the bridge.

I don’t remember making it to my cabin.

I curl up in my bed. I stare at the water sloshing around in Socrates’s empty tank.

I try to recapture the feeling of serenity I had in the sea, dancing with my dolphin friend. It’s gone. Guilt has clamped its metal claws on my gut.

I should have been there for Dev. Maybe if I’d been more insistent about what I saw: that strange reset of the grid’s lights … Maybe if I’d gone straight to the security team myself instead of taking time to eat breakfast … my brother might still be alive.

I never got to say goodbye to my parents. Not properly. They said they were going off on another expedition and they’d be back in a month or so. They told me to be good. I let them leave with nothing but a hug, a kiss and a roll of my eyes. Of course I’ll be good. You guys should worry about Dev! My mom said, We’ll be back before you know it. And I believed her. They always came back.

Now I’ve lost Dev, too. Why do I keep missing my chances to say goodbye?

The pain in my gut is getting worse. It takes me a moment to realize it’s not just from grief. My period has started.

Great. Like I don’t have enough going on.

I stagger to my feet and rummage through my bag for toiletries and some clothes.

When I open the cabin door, Nelinha and Ester are both standing there. They look sheepish, like they were just debating whether or not to knock. They register my pained expression, the box of maxi-pads clutched in my hand. They get out of my way, understanding that I need to reach the bathroom.

‘I’ll get the painkillers,’ Ester says.

‘I’ll fill the hot-water bottle,’ says Nelinha.

I mumble my thanks as I stumble past. They know the routine. Even with the B1 supplements, constant exercise and a good diet, my monthly cramps are torturous. I understand why periods were historically called a ‘curse’. Two and a half years I’ve been dealing with this now. Without my friends, I don’t know how I would have coped.