Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Ten minutes pass, then fifteen. I pick it up and open it at a random page. My heart is racing in my chest. I feel like a thief. It looks like some kind of journal . . . an essay? The words bleed into one another, like they were written in a great hurry.
It’s two in the morning and he thinks he is going to jump. Maybe jumping is all that’s left to do. And is it pathetic that a part of him doesn’t want to jump because he is afraid of what his boss would say when he doesn’t show up at work tomorrow?
But that’s exactly the problem. The reason why he is here, on this roof, in the first place. He worked so hard making a living, he forgot to live. Now this cliché that you can find on a cheap mug at a dollar store has brought him to the point of suicide.
He had his chance and he blew it.
He should’ve run after her faster.
And when he almost reached her, he should have yanked the back of her shirt without caring what it’d look like.
He should have told her she was perfect.
But he didn’t, so now he needs to jump.
Jump . . . or do something else. Even more ambitious. Pack a bag and go to New Orleans. To look for her.
My eyes sting. It looks like a short story. Or the beginning of a novel. I flip the pages, eager for more, but an array of blank pages stare back at me.
A hand presses against my shoulder, making my head jerk up.
“No reading, missy!”
Pippa is all drunken, swaying limbs. I sag with relief because it’s not the owner of the notebook. I also slump with disappointment—for the exact same reason.
“Come. Get shit faced. Live a little.” Pippa tosses the notebook to the sand, then pulls me up and dances her way to a cluster of people. A ring of bronzed bodies moves around us, trapping me in. I shift my feet from side to side, awkward like the skin I’m in has been newly sewn onto me. I try to guess who the journal belongs to. The girl with the locs? The guy with the chest tats?
I drift away from Pippa. She is dancing with her new friends, shouting all the lyrics to the songs in their faces.
I make my way toward the sea. By the shore is the only slice of sand that’s not populated. I stop. Take a closer look at the famous Neptuno de Melenara. It’s a four-meter-tall sculpture of Neptune rising from the sea, not too far away from the coastline. The water is metallic blue. It glimmers under the stars. I dip a toe into it. The temperature isn’t freezing. I could swim my way to the statue. I’m a strong swimmer. My brother and I grew up surfing. Renn (his name means “reborn” or “little prosperous one”) has even made a career out of it.
A small voice inside me tells me I’m being a dumbass. That getting into an unfamiliar body of water in the pitch black is a rookie’s mistake. But the sculpture is less than a hundred feet away, and there’s a whole freaking party behind me. It’d be hard to lose sight of that.
I slip out of my bodice dress. I traipse into the sea. I swim toward Neptune in sharp strokes. The water is choppy, colder than I expected. I’m thrown off by the currents. I wasn’t expecting them. The sea looked flat from the outside. Inside, I can feel it carrying me with it, no matter how I try to swim in a straight line. I lift my head to see how far I am from the statue and realize I’m about fifteen feet sideways.
Goose bumps roll over my skin. I’m in trouble, and I know it.
I turn around and make a U-turn. Just as I do, a huge wave thrashes me against a large rock. I push off it with my feet before I smash into it again. Salty water fills my mouth, and I swallow some of it. Fear morphs into panic.
Don’t flail. Let the current take you, then recalculate.
I’ve known these things to be true—learned about them in summer camps. But now that I’m in the situation, I’m freaking out. I start calling for help.
What if I’m going to drown? What if I’m going to die? What if they never find my body? Would Pippa think it was her fault? Would I ruin her life too? Do I even care? She’s the one who insisted I come here tonight.
Mom. Mom. Mom.
Dad and Renn would be devastated, but Mom wouldn’t be able to survive.
I can’t die. With that understanding, I begin to fight back, knowing I’m the underdog.
The currents are strong. Still, I push through, trying to keep my head above water and see where the shore is. Another wave rips through my body. It sends me a few feet away. I let it take me, crane my neck, and blink amid the blackness around me. It takes me a few seconds to realize the wave has brought me closer to the beach. I can see a thin golden necklace of lights twinkling back at me. An upsurge of relief rolls through me. I begin swimming. My muscles are burning, my body is shivering, but the adrenaline numbs the pain. I’m a mermaid, running away from pirates who want to gut me.