Girl Underwater by Claire Kells Read Free Book Online Page B

the lake looks monstrous in the daylight. This scene, as savage as it is beautiful, reveals a sobering truth: We’re in the Rockies somewhere, probably hundreds of miles from civilization.
    Colin takes a few limping strides toward the water’s edge. All three boys trail behind him, imitating his every move. He picks up a burned piece of the fuselage, its edges charred black. He hands it to the older boy. It’s about the size of a notebook, but there are other, larger scraps floating on the surface. Luggage, too. Things we need. Things that could be the difference between dying and surviving.
    â€œI’ll go in—” I say.
    â€œNo,” he says, his expression hardening. “It’s too cold.”
    â€œWe have to try.” I follow Colin’s gaze to the boundless swath of the lake. “There could be food, medicines, supplies.”
    Colin stands in a contemplative silence, studying the horizon. Something orange, shapeless, and very far away catches my eye.
    â€œDo you see that?” I ask, squinting into the pale sunshine.
    He nods. “Could be an emergency kit.”
    â€œI hope it doesn’t come to that.” I keep my voice down so the boys don’t hear the desperation in that statement.
    â€œIt’s too far anyway.” He shifts his focus to other, closer objects: A pink purse a couple hundred yards offshore, bobbing next to a giant, shredded suitcase, which appears to be leaking underwear. Beyond that, a plastic box. Boots.
    I start peeling off my shoes. “I’m going in.”
    â€œAvery—”
    â€œThe sun’s out. I’ll air-dry.”
    â€œI’ll go,” he says. “You watch the boys.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œYou’re hurt, Colin! Has that not occurred to you?”
    â€œIt’s not that bad—”
    â€œIt
is
that bad. Last thing we need is you passing out in the middle of that lake.”
    Colin looks at the boys, at their eager, shivering faces. They don’t say a word, but the prospect of losing the only man in the group has made them uneasy. “Ten minutes,” he says. “Stop if you’re cold or tired.”
    I don’t tell him about the ache in my chest—probably a broken rib or two, based on my limited skills in diagnostics—but I’ve swum through pain before.
    â€œI will.” I fidget for a minute, unsure how to broach the next subject. “Uh, can you . . .”
    He watches me fiddle with the hem of my shirt. These are the only dry clothes I have, and it seems silly to swim with them on. He swivels his head quickly enough to cause whiplash. “Yeah, definitely. Of course.”
    He grabs the boys’ hands and turns them all 180 degrees so they’re facing the trees. He didn’t have to turn
everybody
around, but I’m sure he’d rather overdo it than underdo it.
    The lake is huge: over a mile across, bordered by looming pines and rocky shores. I wade in—toes first, then ankles.
Too slow.
I need to just dive in, the way I do every day at practice, but something in me resists. It’s a strange, aberrant feeling—an instinct gone bad. For the first time in my life,
I don’t want to swim.
    Colin still has the boys turned around, facing the trees. I can’t bear the thought of explaining why I’ve changed my mind, so I close my eyes and take a breath and plunge, fingers and hands and head first, under the surface.
    The cold swells up my spine and settles at the base of my neck, flowing through me like a drug. The water tastes absolutely pristine, smooth as milk. It is nothing like the chlorinated pools I’ve been swimming in for years. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced, really.
    The shuddering cold takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, my fingers and toes feel it first. Blood rushes to my core, but it’s a battle just to breathe, to think. I can’t seem to get enough air, and