The Art of Not Breathing(26)

“Is that why you ran away? You were scared of him?” I joke.

Tay does a nervous laugh and then places his hands on my shoulders.

“Scared? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why did you run off?” I ask, trying to keep the resentment from my voice.

“I just noticed the time and had to go. I’ve got a strict dad too.”

I’ve seen his dad, and he’s even scarier than mine. Not sure I’m buying his story, though.

“So Dillon doesn’t know you’re here?”

“God, stop stressing. He’s not going to beat you up. He was drunk, that’s all. He doesn’t really care who I’m with.” Although that might not be true.

Tay wipes the rain from his face and ushers me toward the edge of the wall.

“Come on—let’s get in the water.” He looks at my worried face. “Don’t worry, we’re not jumping.”

We climb down the metal ladder attached to the side of the wall, Tay first and me hoping he doesn’t look up and see my enormous backside. I hear a light splash and look down to see him already in the water.

“Come on, slowcoach,” he shouts to me. “Not afraid, are you?”

Now is not a good time to be ridiculing me. It makes me want to turn around and go home. When my foot reaches the last rung, I slip and fall into the water. It’s so cold that when I try to swear, I discover I have no breath. Tay grabs me and pulls me upright. The water is only waist deep here, but it is freezing.

“Got you. Now just crouch down, like me.”

He pulls off his wetsuit hood, which was around his neck, and tells me to put it on. I’m too cold to argue. I’m too cold, too afraid, to do anything but follow his instructions. We swim a few meters out to a buoy, and I hold on to it, shivering while Tay does a test dive to make sure everything’s okay. I hold my hand above the water and feel the rain bouncing up. Rain falling on water doesn’t make as much noise as rain on the roof of our house, and because I’m already wet, I hardly notice it. Out here, I feel like I’m in another world.

The mist blocks my view of the mainland and there is no one in the harbor. Other than Tay below me, I am the only soul around. No one is yelling or crying. It’s magical. I’m enjoying it so much, I’m slightly disappointed when Tay comes back to the surface.

“Are you ready for your first freedive?” He fist-bumps me and places a heavy rock in my left hand. “To help you get down. Hang on to it until we come back.”

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“Three deep breaths on the surface, slowly, then on the fourth one we go down. Hold the rope—it’s two meters to the bottom. We’ll kneel there until you give the thumbs-up sign to say you want to go up.”

I pull my mask onto my face, and after three breaths we go down. The pressure quickly builds in my ears. I swallow, and my ears finally pop. It takes only a couple of seconds to hit the bottom, and the sand is soft. Tay gives me the okay sign, a circle made with his thumb and forefinger, and settles on his knees with his arms folded and his eyes fixed on me. He has no hood, no mask, and no booties. He is definitely hard-core. With my right hand gripping the rope, I shiver gently, trying to focus on counting instead of the cold water. At thirty, I finally look around and discover I can see quite far. The visibility down here is actually better than on the surface. A small fish swims past and then turns and swims back again. I let go of the rope and draw patterns in the sand. Tay shakes his head and places my hand back on the rope. My chest is pulsating now. I try to hold on for another twenty counts and take in my surroundings. I want to remember this forever. This is the coolest moment of my life so far. If only I hadn’t waited sixteen years to try it. It’s totally amazing.

To my left is an anchor covered in green slime. And something white. It looks like a shoe, half wedged into the muddy bottom—a shoe, and one that looks very familiar. A scuffed white trainer.

Boom. I’m back there again.

Eddie’s hand squeezes mine as he steadies himself on the rocks. He nearly takes me down with him. We stand ankle deep in the water, and today we celebrate our eleventh birthdays.

“Just stand still, Eddie,” I snap. “The fins won’t come if you’re splashing about.”

He whimpers. I look over to where Dillon is, far out in the water beyond the Point, and wave my arm, beckoning him back. I shout, too, but he doesn’t even look over.

“I want the fins,” Eddie says again, and stomps his feet. This time he yanks his hand out of mine, and I’m not quick enough to catch him as he splashes into the water. The cold spray hits me in the face. The wind is picking up and the waves are getting bigger. It’s too cold to be swimming—at least Dillon has his wetsuit on.

“Get up!” I shout to Eddie. “Come on—we’re going back.”

I hold my hand out, but he refuses to take it. It’s so typical that this day is only about what he wants. I look to see where Dad is so he can come and take Eddie in. I can’t see him anywhere. He’s not sitting down where we left him. Eddie’s trainers are on the beach, but Dad is not. I’m so cold that my hands have gone blue. I breathe on them, but it’s not enough.

“Hurry up, Dillon,” I say under my breath.

“Where are the fins? Where’s Mischief? Where’s Sundance?” Eddie asks, still sitting in the water as the waves break around him.