Page 82 of The Surfer

I see a body floating in the water.

Floating face down.

His dolphin tattoo is like a beacon to me.

Yeah, it’s him.

“Cove!” I hear Sandy scream out from the shore behind me as I rush over to him.

I tip his body over so that his mouth is safely out the water, his bleach blonde hair sticking to his face. His eyes are closed.

I feel no pulse.

He isn’t breathing.

Oh, please God, no.

With all my strength I take a hold of his six-foot-tall body and drag him through the surf towards the sand. He’s heavy, but I am determined. His body’s limp, but I am strong.

I have to be strong for him.

Sandy rushes in and helps me pull him out of the water and onto the wet sand.

I check his pulse again. Still nothing.

Please, please, please.

He is so still, so silent, and I am so scared.

Please, please, please.

I know what I have to do. I remember my nursing textbooks and the CPR section. All the notes I’ve made and all the pages I’ve read.

I want to be a nurse, and this is my chance to prove it.

I lay my hands upon his chest and start doing compressions, just like the textbooks say to do. I follow what I’ve learned.

This is Cove’s only chance. We’re miles away from the nearest hospital on a secluded beach with no path to get to.

I am his only chance of staying alive.

It all comes down to me.

My CPR skills are the only way to keep Cove alive, to bring him back to me.

I keep up the compressions as Sandy leans over. She calls out his name as I continue with CPR.

I’m going to do this. Don’t give in, Cove. Don’t give in.

“Stay with me,” I whisper.

And then he’s coughing. He is brought back to life so quickly I nearly fall over in shock. He wakes up with a bang, saltwater spewing out his mouth. He coughs again, blinking open his eyes.

He’s alive.

His blue eyes find mine.

He looks at me and only me. A shiver runs down my body.