Locked by Parker Witter Read Free Book Online Page B

heaven.
    â€œHere,” Noah says. He holds out a long spear—a sharpened stick with a piece of metal at the end of it.
    I shake my head. “I’m not going to be able to do this,” I say.
    Noah told me how hard fishing is. How few fish there are. He’s only caught two in a week and has been going every day.
    He cups my elbow with his palm. It’s cool from the water. “You will,” he says. “Trust me.”
    He sets his pack down on the rocks and takes off his shirt. I notice the outline of his torso—the way his muscles move like waves down his back.
    â€œYou ready?” he asks, turning to me.
    â€œYeah.”
    He stands perfectly still until the water stops moving around him. He holds a spear out in his hand—hovering there, like a bird about to dive for prey, and then he plunges it into the water. I gasp, jump back. The stream heaves and sighs with movement and then he pulls out the spear, and sure enough, stuck to the end, is a foot-long silver fish.
    â€œImpressive,” I say.
    Noah smiles. “I’ve been practicing. There are more every day.” He glances at me when he says it, then back at the water.
    I think about all the days this week he’s spent with the tribesmen, the chief. Learning how to be one of them. I think about how things are changing here. Something flares in my stomach—some specific fear—but I push it back down where it came from.
    Noah hands me the spear. “Your turn.”
    â€œI don’t know,” I say. I’m looking at the fish’s bloody carcass. “I think maybe this isn’t my thing.”
    â€œIs eating your thing?”
    I roll my eyes and take the spear. Noah comes around behind me. “Here,” he says. He places his hands on my waist. His touch feels electric, and my knees buckle under the contact. “Hold it this way.”
    He takes the spear and reorients it in my hand, then mimics the motions. Whoosh.
    â€œYou have to be sharp,” he says. “Quick movements, or you won’t catch them in time.”
    His hand finds my back. “See that?” he whispers, pointing downward. I try, but it’s hard to focus on anything with him this close to me.
    I follow his gaze to our feet under the water. Three fish swim by lazily. I nod. “Yeah.”
    I hold the spear low, and then plunge it down when the fish angles left. I close my eyes, but I feel nothing at the end—just space and rocks.
    â€œGood try,” Noah tells me. He takes his hand off my back and comes to stand next to me. “I think you’re hesitating,” he says. “When you see him, you gotta go for it. One split second of fear, and he’s gone for good.”
    â€œI don’t blame him,” I say under my breath, and Noah eyes me.
    â€œJust focus,” he says. He takes a deep breath; I follow. Exhale. “Good,” he whispers. “Now what do you see?”
    I look down. About two feet over from me is a large silvery fish, about twice the size of the one Noah caught. I don’t think. I just lift my spear up and stab. But this time the tip is not met with space and rock. I feel it make contact with something spongy. And then the spear starts to shake in my hand. The fish is trying to squirm away. I’ve caught one.
    â€œI have him!” I scream. Noah and I both look down at the fish. His tail is thrashing furiously, the spear stuck in his side. I have a flash of myself on the beach—the piece of metal in my ribs.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I say to Noah. I pull the spear out gently, and the fish swims away, a trail of blood behind him.
    â€œYou’re kidding, right?” Noah says. He turns to me, his hands on his hips. “There goes dinner.”
    I point to his two fish on the rocks. “What about those?”
    â€œHey,” he says. “Don’t you think it’s kind of unfair I have to be the one who kills, while your soul