Free Sharks & Boys by Kristen Tracy Page B

his chin and spills down his chest. I want to disagree with him. I don’t know that I’m thinking like a girl. I’m thinking like a considerate borrower. The shoes aren’t mine to leave. Before I can say this, my feet slip. I almost slide into the water.
    “Drop them!”
    I let one fall, but I keep the other one tucked under my arm. Wick doesn’t notice. I let Wick take my hand. My body must be full of adrenaline. Wick’s firmly holding the hand I cut, but it doesn’t hurt. It actually feels good. His fingers wrap around mine, and his touch is solid and strong. He jumps first and tugs me in after him. But when we hit the water, we split apart. At first, I panic. I swing my arms out, trying to find him. But a wave crashes over my head, and my open mouth takes in water. I can’t panic. I need to swim. I know how to swim. I can do this.
    Enid, you’re a fish, I tell myself. I roll onto my stomach and extend my arms and legs. The water feels warmer than the air. It feels good to be in the water. The waves are powerful, and I have to learn to ride with them. But I can do this. My main concern is to get away from the ship. I don’t want it to pull me down when it sinks. And I think I can feel it. I think I can feel the ship sucking the ocean down around it. With my head down, I take long strokes. I’m moving in the direction that I last saw Wick. I keep going. I don’t look up.
    I’m worried about Sov and Munny. For some reason, they both flicker through my mind. They’re not strong swimmers. I saw them once in the pool. They weren’t exactly flailing, but they didn’t have any fluidity about their movements. They will not be able to swim under these conditions. I kick harder. Does this mean they’re going to die? That just like Gretchen , they’ll sink to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean and rot? I continue to unleash powerful kicks. I need to feel like I’m making progress. Now is not the time to think about Sov and Munny or what I’ll tell their bereaved parents.
    Where’s my brother? I need to find Landon. And Wick. I strain to keep my head high enough above water. The tall waves lift me up. I must be climbing an entire story. Then they flatten. I feel fragile. The sea picks me up and drops me down. I search the curling ocean for Landon and Wick. I don’t see anybody. The possibility that I’m alone fills me with terror. I swim back the way I came. The water continues to pick me up. The waves crest with deafening noise. It is so dark. The sea is so big.
    As I return to the sinking ship, I see something yellow bobbing in the water. I know that it must be a person. I think of Sov and his yellow shirt. It must be him. He’s not dead. I’m not alone. I can do this. I take a deep breath and push through the rough water, trying to reach that yellow mark, as something like happiness comes over me.

One of the first and most vivid memories I have in life is being surrounded by water when I was six. My father and I were seated on a giant plastic swan in a pond at an amusement park.
    At the last minute, Landon had refused to board his swan. He felt that it looked like a sissy. “I want to ride a boy bird,” he said.
    “That one is a boy bird,” my mother said.
    But Landon wouldn’t get on the swan.
    “It looks like it’s about to lay an egg,” he said. “Boys don’t do that.”
    My mother stayed with him. My father was amused. I wasn’t concerned about any potential egg-laying issues. I felt perfectly safe. He held my hand as we pedaled with our feet and circled the pond. At first, I liked it. I was on top of the water. I could reach in and touch it with my hand, drawing my fingers across its surface. But our swan was broken. We were supposed to be able to steer it by using a knob in the center console. On our first attempt to turn, it broke off in my father’s hand.
    Our swan’s rudder was stuck, and we pulled to the right. We began to drift past the roped-off area. Fear overwhelmed me. I didn’t