The Art of Not Breathing(65)

I stop for a rest and to check the time, and my stomach lurches. I have forgotten to put my diving watch on. It doesn’t matter. All I have to do is get to the bottom.

Something rumbles above and the wire shudders. Boat waves must have knocked it. My jacket billows out where water has seeped inside. Cold water swills around my middle, chilling my core. I slip farther down, pointing the flashlight toward the bottom.

My chest starts to spasm. I can’t have been underwater for two minutes already.

The dust cloud is beneath me—all I have to do is get through it and Eddie will be waiting. As I descend, I reach for the T-shirt in my jacket pocket. The flashlight keeps getting in the way. I remove the loop from my wrist and tuck the flashlight into my weight belt so I can grasp the T-shirt. The red looks colorless down here.

My chest has stopped pulsing. Damn. I have let out some of my breath by mistake and now I need oxygen. I’ll have to surface for air and try again. I’m not leaving the Black Isle without saying goodbye to Eddie. I summon the energy to frog kick back up. As I push my legs down, there’s a loud fizz and a pop. I’m back there, on that day.

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

“Come on. We need to get you dry.”

“No. I want Dillon.”

“Dillon’s over there. He’s probably with all the dolphins because he’s not splashing about, making a racket. Get up.”

Eddie doesn’t move. I reach down and take his hand. His hands are colder than mine.

“I want fins!” he shouts at me.

“Fine, go on. Go and find Dillon. That’s where they are. Go on—go and swim out to the dolphins.”

“I don’t want to go on my own.”

“It’s about time you started doing things on your own. I won’t always be here to look after you.”

I shove Eddie’s hand away from me and turn around to look for Dad again. He’s still not there. Eddie clambers to his feet, then throws himself into the water and starts to swim.

“Eddie, no!” I cry. I wade after him and grab his arm. “Eddie! Come back!”

Something knocks me off my feet. My head goes under, just for a second, as a wave washes over us, and when I pull myself up, Eddie is gone.

“Eddie,” I gasp. I look down my arm to my hand because I can’t feel anything. Eddie’s hand isn’t there. In its place a thick, slimy piece of kelp has wrapped itself around my wrist.





Finally, the last gap in my memory. It was my fault all along. It doesn’t matter where Mum and Dad were, or Dillon. It doesn’t matter that Tay could have pulled his body out of the water. It doesn’t matter because I’m the one who sent him into the sea.

I make my decision: I’m not going back up.

My body fights my decision. Go up—you need air. You can escape, go up north, start a new life. Not so fast. Stay down—you have nothing to go back for. I let go of the wire and kick toward Eddie. I remember Jasper the frog tucked into my weight belt and pull him free. I look down just as the flashlight slips away. I watch the beam tumble into the murkiness and fade. This is it. This is my time. Sorry it took me so long to find you, Eddie.

The light comes back at me, blinding me. The angelfish are not in the sky—they’re here. . . . Then everything goes dark.





CELIA: Which fish go to heaven when they die?

EDDIE: Angelfish! But I don’t believe in angels.

CELIA: Angelfish are not angels. They are more beautiful, and they are brighter than anything in the sky.

EDDIE: Brighter than the brightest star?

CELIA: Brighter than all the brightest stars put together. You’ll never get lost if you follow an angelfish.





1



RAIN FALLS ON MY FACE IN SHARP SPLINTERS, STINGING MY CHEEKS. I sit up. Danny has tied the Half Way to the side of another fishing boat, and we are moving slowly back to the harbor. The mist clings to the rocks around Chanonry Point, and even in the purple night I can see the swell of the ocean rolling back out from the shore.

“You followed me.” My voice is groggy and muffled.

“You stole a boat.”

I feel like I’m weighed down with sandbags. I reach down to unbuckle the weight belt, but it’s not there. Neither is Eddie’s cross. My wetsuit has been rolled down to my waist and I’m wearing the hoodie I had on earlier.

“The ribbons!” I shout. “Where are they? You’ve got to stop the boat. I need to get them.”

I scramble toward the outboard motor and reach for the cord, but a firm hand on my shoulder pulls me back.

“Joey!”

He drags me between his legs and wraps his arms around me. I wrestle out of his grip and grab his collar.

“You’ve ruined everything!”

“You could have died!”

“I wanted to die,” I sob.

Joey shakes me. “No!”

I punch him in the arm until I run out of energy.

I turn away and hang my head over the side of the boat. A white frothy line snakes away from the back of the boat, like a giant foam ribbon.





2



AT THE HARBOR, MICK AND REX ARE WAITING WITH MICK’S CAR.