Page 66 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

He flicks the cigarette out over the railing, and the ember arcs away, swallowed up by the ocean.

“Are you scared, Ace?” I whisper, stepping closer to him as a cool breeze trickles over me.

“No. I ain’t afraid of dying, Gracie. Not even a little. But when it comes to you... fuck, the thought of not makin’ it out with you by my side scares the fuckin’ shit out of me.”

I reach for his hand, the heat of his palm grounding me as I press my body against his. “You won’t. I’m not that easy to kill.”

He glances at me, eyebrow cocked. “I hope you’re right, kid.”

Me too.

Fuck.

Me too.

14

“GRACE! WAKE UP!”

I groan, rolling to my side, hoping that this has all just been a dream and I will wake up on the yacht, still holidaying with my team.

“Grace!”

Aggie’s voice is persistent, so I let my eyes flutter open. I don’t know what time it is, or if it’s light or dark outside. I passed out around lunchtime, exhausted from the night before. We are all exhausted. Someone watches Tati at all times, and we take turns. Adrian just keeps working until he can’t work no more, then he rests.

His words, not mine.

“What is it?” I say, forcing myself to sit up, even though all I want to do is go back to sleep.

“Adrian has got the radio making noises, like crackling noises. I think it is working. This could be it!”

There is an excitement in her voice that makes me think she is holding every ounce of hope left in her that this will work.

We all are.

I throw off the one thin sheet and drag myself out of bed. Aggie rushes out into the hall, and I follow. She is clutching a mug of something steaming, her hair wild and eyes impossibly wide. She doesn’t say anything else, just turns on her heel and speed-walks for the stairs leading up to the captain’s station.

As we near, I hear it—a low, variable crackle that isn’t part of this ship’s usual sounds. I follow Aggie and the noise right to Adrian’s little workstation. Inside, every available body is crammed around the main console. Adrian is hunched over the radio, elbows planted on an old desk, one crutch propped precariously against the wall beside him. Wires snake out from the panel and across timber, some joined by twisted bits of foil. Kellen and Zeke stand close behind, and Ace and Kaylee hover over Adrian’s shoulders, staring at the radio like they could will it to work.

“It’s working?” I breathe, stepping into the room.

Adrian looks up. “It’s so close...”

Zeke scans the horizon through the front windows, the muscles along his jaw clenched tight. He looks back at Adrian. “If there’s anyone out there, what’s the plan?”

Adrian shrugs, still fiddling with a dial. “We find their position, try and see where we are, anything is better than nothing. I’ll get someone on the line, just give me a—shit. Listen. Hear that?”

It’s faint, but underneath the static, I catch a voice—a real voice, not our own, not a hallucination. It’s masculine, muttering something about “weather northwest” and “fish on deck.” I freeze, afraid that if I breathe too loud it’ll scare the voice away.

“Did you hear that?” Aggie screeches, so loudly we all flinch.

“Oh my god!” I gasp.

“Is it working?” Kaylee says, her hand over her mouth.

Adrian leans in, fiddles around frantically, twisting dials and jiggling wires. “Can anyone hear me?”

“Just be careful who answers, we don’t want any more pirates,” Zeke points out.