This Is What Happy Looks Like(64)
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll just keep an eye out, then.”
“Okay,” she repeated, and above their heads, a seagull let out a long cry. Graham tipped his head back to watch, wondering what they must look like from the sky, dozens of boats spread far along the water, a mirror image of the birds fanned out across the sky. And in the middle of it all, the Go Fish, moving steadfastly past a series of identical towns as it carried them farther and farther up the coast, leaving only a trail of foam in its wake, like bread crumbs meant to guide them home again.
–Know any good sailing jokes?
–I’ve got one about seagulls.
–Okay.
–Why do seagulls fly over the sea?
–Why?
–Because if they flew over the bay, they’d be bagels.
Chapter 21
The sun followed them like a spotlight, making everything shimmer under the intensity of its glare. Ellie could feel the warmth across her shoulders and on the back of her neck, the tip of her nose, and the pale line of scalp that was visible against her red hair. It had been more than two hours now, and still they were drifting.
Graham scratched at his forehead, which was already starting to burn. He’d forgotten to pick up sunblock earlier, and they were now out of water too. Every so often, they shifted to a lower gear, slowing enough to wave at a passing boat and then shouting their question across the blue space between them. Sometimes, an answer was lobbed back at them—probably another half hour at most, or four more towns, tops—but other times, they were met with only blank stares or helpless shrugs.
Ellie tried to tamp down the anxiety that rose and fell like a parachute inside her. She wanted to be back in Henley, drinking pink lemonade out of star-spangled plastic cups. But if she was going to do this at all—and she had to, not just for the money, but for other reasons too, for all the things that had been left unsaid all these years—then she wanted to do it now.
Behind her, she heard a tapping sound, and she turned to see Graham with one hand on the wheel. He was frowning down at the little dials that dotted the dashboard, and as she watched, he lifted a finger to drum at one of them again. Beneath her feet, Ellie could feel something deep within the boat groan in resistance as they slowed down.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, walking over to join him. She put a hand on the throttle and tipped it forward, but rather than the expected surge, there was a soft sputtering, an alarming rattle, and then the engine cut out entirely, and the needle that Graham had been studying so intently—which Ellie now realized, too late, was the gas gauge—fell onto the E with a stiff-armed finality.
Graham looked over at her, his mouth forming a little o of surprise, and for a brief and fragile moment, Ellie felt a lump rise in her throat. Her eyes stung from the salt and she could feel a sunburn setting in, so hot it made her shiver. Here they were, floating up the coast with not a drop of gas left in their stolen boat. Behind them, there were reporters and photographers and consequences. There was Ellie’s mom and Graham’s manager and the awful memory of last night. But what lay ahead of them wasn’t much better, and now they were stuck somewhere in between, and her eyes burned with tears at the helplessness of the situation.
Beside her, she could feel Graham waiting for her reaction, holding himself perfectly still, like a deer caught between crosshairs. But when she finally gathered herself enough to look back at him, she was astonished to discover that he was trying not to laugh.
“It’s not funny,” she said. He tried to compose his face, but he couldn’t help himself, and a laugh escaped him. He looked like a movie star then, with eyes as blue as the water that surrounded them, his head crowned by the sun so that he seemed as wavy and indistinct as all the rest of it. She had a sudden urge to stand on her tiptoes and kiss him, and she could feel her panic melting beneath his gaze. After all, it seemed to be saying, what better excuse was there to stay out here for hours, just the two of them, at the whim of the tides?
“It’s a little funny,” he said, and she moved closer, taking his hands in hers.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted, but just as he lowered his head, just before she could rise up and kiss him, the air was split by the sound of a nearby siren, and they both turned to see a coast guard boat barreling in their direction.
Graham dropped her hands, and Ellie staggered over to lean against the side, her eyes wide as she watched its approach, the prow raised high in the air as the water churned all around it, alarming in its rush.
“What are the odds,” Graham said, “that they’ve realized we’re out of gas and are just coming over to help?”
“Slim,” Ellie said, her heart thumping hard. She’d never so much as stolen a pack of gum before, never sneaked a cigarette or cheated on a test, and now here she was, about to get caught stealing a boat. It wouldn’t matter that she wasn’t the one to have stolen it. She’d gone along with the plan. Because Graham had stolen it for her, and she could almost feel the guilt scrawled all over her face as she watched the gap between the two boats grow smaller. Theirs was more of a ship, really, huge and white and angular, with blaring red lights along the top. When they were close enough, a man in dark sunglasses and a bright orange Windbreaker raised a megaphone.
“Please remain where you are,” he said, the words crackling. “Do not move your vessel.”