The Art of Not Breathing(17)

“In a wee while. We’re waiting on Danny to finish in the cellar,” Tay says.

Damn, that’s bad news. I bet as soon as he sees me, he’ll tell me to get lost.

“You gotta judge on who made the biggest splash,” Joey says, stretching. “I think I’m the winner.”

“Eejit,” Tay says.

“Twat face,” Joey responds.

I suck my cigarette, playing for time as they rib each other.

“I’m not sure. You’ll have to do it again,” I say.

As they line up, Danny emerges from the clubhouse wearing a white T-shirt and heads toward us. I pretend not to see him. Rex goes first again, leaping into a star jump, tucking himself into a ball at the last minute.

“Fuck, yeah!” he shouts when he eventually resurfaces. Joey and Tay go together in a synchronized back somersault, landing almost at the same time, Joey with a loud crash and Tay hardly making a sound at all.

Rex shoots water from his mouth. “Your turn,” he shouts up to me.

It’s okay to go near the water; just don’t go in it. I shake my head. “No f*cking way,” I yell, but my words get swallowed by the wind.

“Chicken!” Tay calls. “Come on—it’s fine. I’ll catch you.”

I take a step closer to the edge and watch the white foam swilling around the base of the wall. The drop must be three meters. I imagine myself falling, belly-flopping. I try not to think about all the seaweed down there—it’s kelp, the worst kind, thick and slithery.

“Come on, Elsie! Don’t be such a girl.” Rex makes chicken noises and flaps his arms, making the sea froth up around him.

“Well, she is a girl. What do you expect?” Tay shouts back, and then holds his arms out as if to catch me.

Danny is climbing the steps up to the wall. I’m sure he’s going to stop me.

“Don’t even think about it, Elsie,” he calls. “It’ll hurt.”

What does he know about pain? The others keep calling me into the water, hollering and clucking. They don’t think I can do it. Loser, I hear in my head. Loser. Danny is up on the wall, his footsteps getting closer. It’s now or never.

“All right! Move out the way, then.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. My hands shake as I unzip my jacket and kick my trainers off. I leave my socks on, hoping they’ll protect my feet from the cold. Below, they are cheering—Tay the loudest.

“Don’t . . .” I hear Danny call from behind. But it’s too late, I’m already running to the end of the wall, and then I’m flying, falling, the surface rushing toward me.

The cold rides up my body as I go down, piercing my bones like a thousand glass splinters. The liquid swarms around my head, pushing me down and down, the cold chilling my brain. My eyes feel as though they are being pulled from their sockets, and the salt stings. The water looks black in every direction as I fall headfirst into the immense space below. I kick and try to pull myself up with my arms, but the water slides through my fingers. It’s like crawling through iced gel. My rib cage heaves and shudders, my whole body goes into spasm. I’m dying. Let me breathe. Let this be over.

Then there’s a silence in my head, a quiet that seems to grow and grow, and I let the current take me. My body wavers gently like a stray piece of seaweed floating out into the unknown.

There’s a flash like a light bulb exploding, and boom, I’m back there on the day Eddie went missing, searching for him, the icy water nearly up to my waist. Dillon’s frantically swimming back toward the shore. Then he gets to his feet and wades in my direction, his cheeks bright red with exertion as he fights against the current. But then I see he’s not looking at me. He’s looking over to his left, past the lighthouse.

“Dillon,” I call. My words are tiny in the huge mass of water.

“Dillon, he’s over here, this way.” I point to the water, right where Eddie was standing.

“Not now, Els,” he calls back. He pushes hard against the breaking waves with his thighs. What can he see? Is Eddie over there?

“Can you see him?” I shout, moving toward Dillon. The waves knock me about.

“I’ve got to find her. Did you see her?”

“What? Dillon, is Eddie there?” I ask again.

Dillon turns to me, breathing hard. He stops and scans the water. Then he scans the beach.

“Where’s Eddie?” he asks urgently.

I point to the water, and the color drains from his cheeks. He dives straight toward me and thrashes about. Our arms and legs tangle as we both plunge down trying to find Eddie. I can’t stay down for long. When I come up for air, I’m alone. I search the surface of the water, and then I search the beach. Dad isn’t where we left him. There are a few people clustered near the lighthouse looking out at the dolphins, but he isn’t one of them. I call for him. I call for help.





“Drag her in,” I hear. It’s Danny’s voice. And Tay is saying, “It’s okay, we’ve got you.” There’s an arm around me, someone’s cheek against mine, their breath in my ear. Another flash of an image—my father running toward me, something blue in his hands.

I open my eyes and see only the sky.

“My legs,” I murmur. I can’t feel them. The pebbles rotate underneath my spine as the boys drag me up onto the beach. Dried, spiky seaweed digs into my head when they lay me on the ground. I shiver violently.