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One
Last Night
We burst outside with the first rumble of thunder, sprinting along the sea cliffs. Four of us, hair streaming. Four sets of feet pounding the grass. It’s long past midnight, the stars swallowed up by dark clouds, and rain lashes our cheeks as we run.
Crack.
Lightning forks between the clouds, jabbing at the earth half a mile away, and the air around us sizzles. There’s a wild burst of laughter. Goosebumps ripple down my bare arms.
“Wait up,” I call, but the wind snatches the words and tosses them over the cliffs. Far below, the dark sea surges against the rocks.
Cursing, I push myself to run faster.
Usually, I’d be at the front of the pack, goading everyone else to keep up, but my left knee is stiff. It’s been stiff for days, no matter how much I stretch it.
Lungs burn; elbows pump. The others are farther ahead now, screaming with laughter, pretending to push each other off the cliff.
Did they see me follow them? If they did, they’d have slowed down—I’m sure of it. But I was last outside, slowest to run, and I fell behind before they knew I’d come too.
“Hey,” I call again. It’s no use. My voice is reedy from breathing so hard.
The wind flaps my white dress against my thighs as I slow to a walk. The fabric is soaked from the rain, sticking to my bare legs, and it’s probably gone see-through. Am I wearing a bra tonight?
I pat my hard nipple through the dress. Nope.
…Perfect.
Well maybe it’s good, then, that I fell behind so fast. Saved myself the embarrassment.
A plume of orange fire bursts above the group, followed by whoops and cheers. Artur’s fire-breathing again. How does he have the spare breath?
They’ve stopped in one place now, but maybe I’m not sold on catching up anymore. Who wants to be the bedraggled loser who chased the rest along the cliffs, desperate to join in? Not me. No sir.
Another rumble of thunder shakes the ground. I turn on my heel, lightheaded from sprinting so far.
It happens so fast.
One minute, I’m grouchy, plucking at my dress on the clifftop edge. The next, my foot slides on the wet grass, pain flares in my knee—and then I’m weightless, twisting in the rain, mouth stretched open in horror.
I fall for so long. An eternity.
When I hit the waves, all the air slams from my body. It’s like hitting concrete, flecked with foam.
No.
Panic claws at my throat; it strains the tendons on my bones. Don’t know which way is up, or how I got here, and the water is so cold, so cold. Like icy needles stabbing my limbs.
Help.
I fight to raise my head, to call out one last time, but a current gets hold of my ankle and drags me under. Seaweed brushes against my cheek, and everything goes black.
Two
Mac
Ilock my front door, then jingle the keys in my pocket as I walk the beach path to the marina. It’s just past dawn, the sky blushing pink, and the air is vinegary with brine.
The ocean is calm on one side of the path, lapping at a long stretch of sand, while houses sleep on the other, curtains drawn.
