Free Fathomless by Jackson Pearce Page B

being healed. When I get thigh-deep, an especially large wave crashes in front of me. It almost knocks me backward, sweeps me back to the shore, but then it’s perfect, it’s beautiful, it holds me like it loves me. I fall forward, and the water envelops me, swirls my hair around me like a blanket. There’s no pain. There’s nothing but simplicity, nothing but beauty as I slip away from the shore and dive deep, deep into the ocean, into the silence, into the cool water and the smooth sand that coats the ocean floor.

Celia
     
    I feel shaken, confused when I get back to the dorm. There’s still sand stuck to my legs and salt coating my hair, and my cheeks are raw from the wind.
    I don’t like reading memories. I don’t like carrying anyone else’s burdens, don’t like seeing the things so horrible that even they’ve blocked them out. And I certainly don’t like intentionally doing it. But the look on Naida’s—Lo’s?—face when I helped her remember…. It was like each memory was a breath, something that sustained her till the next one. I never thought my power could be useful. What if I can help Lo remember Naida? What if I can bring Naida back entirely?
    Lo scares me. She lives in the water, for starters—something I still have trouble believing—and the way she talks…. It’s disconcerting, like she’s a very old person in a young body. And yet, Naida is someone I could be friendswith. Naida is someone who needs me. My power can help her in a way even Anne’s and Jane’s couldn’t; my silly, useless power might turn out to do a greater good than theirs combined….
    And she’s forgetting her past. I think of my father, of the blank look in his eyes when I tried to help him remember. No one should forget their past; no one should lose their memories. Not if I can stop it.
    I drop my bag on the counter with a sigh and realize Anne and Jane are still out. They’re likely at the Pavilion, by the place I just left—yes, when I check my phone, I see a text from Anne suggesting I join them there. Then another, advising me to bring the boy I saved. I roll my eyes, wonder how I’ll explain why I didn’t see him tonight. I can’t tell them about Naida, can I? My secret with her seems as sacred as the one between Anne, Jane, and me. But they’re my sisters. I can’t keep it from them forever.
    I get in the shower, fight with the dozens of shampoos and cleansers and conditioners that line the side of the tub, then head to the couch with my hair still wet. I slept in too late to be tired at midnight, but I want to do something mindless, something to help me forget that I saw a girl run into the ocean and vanish less than an hour ago. I turn on the television, find a movie, and stare at the screen until the people start to look like shapes and the words sound like noises. When the phone rings, I don’t hear it at first—it takes several rounds before I blearily sit up. A number I don’t recognize—I sigh and answer the call.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, this is… this is weird, but is your name Celia?”
    “Yes, who is this?” It’s after I’ve said it that I recognize his voice—I didn’t hear it out loud at much more than a whisper, but I heard it in his memories.
    “Hi. My name is Jude Wallace, and I believe you saved my life last night.”
    “I… yes…”
    “Well, I was calling to say thanks, which sounded a lot more genuine and less lame before I said it out loud, and now I think I just sound like a lunatic. I’m not crazy—I sneaked a look at my chart at the hospital, and your information was on it and… yeah.”
    I laugh a little. This is easier than talking to someone in person, where I worry they might brush past me, might come too close, might share their memories without meaning to. “It was nothing,” I say. “The paramedics did all the work.”
    “They say you pulled me out and did CPR. That’s not nothing. Trust me, my lungs would know if you’d done nothing.”
    “Well…