nothing to quell my turmoil.
“But you didn’t know. She never said anything?” Jesse expression softens. He places his arm around my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze.
The simple skin-to-skin touch, so rare in my world, invades my senses. I feel his warmth, smell the lingering aroma of the ocean, and see the salty droplets still running down his sea-soaked skin.
In the water, people rarely touch. Our dolphin Pairings are often the only ones we have physical contact with. Why is this? Has the apathy spread too far and too wide to care about such things? Because this … this simple touch brings so much comfort. I rest my head against Jesse’s warm shoulder and turn into the embrace.
“Jesse,” Captain calls. “There’s work to be done. You’ve done enough relaxing for the day.”
Jesse slowly separates from me and heads to the raft, which still hangs close to the waters. I watch him as he begins to haul the raft up.
Alone, Haku’s words echo through my mind. I will find you… Humans on Black Rock. They drive home the reality of the situation. I am being taken from the sea—from my home, from all that I know—and soon, I will set foot on Land .
I watch the sunshine dance across the Surface and gaze at the billowing sails as they flutter in the gentle breeze. The opportunity to see Land—to see above the Surface—is something I have always dreamed of. I cannot let this journey be ruined by my inner negativity.
I visualize all of the feelings that have weighed me down these last few years, and one by one, fling them back into the ocean. Goodbye, sadness. Good riddance, anger.
Jesse watches me from across the deck, ignoring his raft duties. I pull off my whistle and stare at it for a long moment.
I fling it into the sea. Farewell, betrayal.
When I get to my grief, though—so tied together with my memories of ’Bow and my parents—I cannot bear to throw it away. Instead, I imagine tucking it carefully inside of myself, keeping it close but sealed. Near my heart.
*
The boat bustles with activity. Jesse disappeared for several hours. He finally emerged, dripping wet and looking exhausted, and announced the raft maintenance was complete. Danny spent the afternoon teaching me nautical lingo, and I practice these new words, trying to commit them to memory. Captain holds the steering wheel steady as he examines his charts. Danny uses the halyard to adjust the mainsail. Sydney holds a scope to her eyes and scans the seas. Everybody has a job to do. Everyone except for me.
“There’s the float! Starboard side, fifty yards ahead,” Sydney shouts.
“Ah, lucky it’s windward today,” Captain calls back. “Jesse, ready the anchor.”
“I’m heading to help you, Jesse,” Danny yells. He lowers the sails, then hurries over to the rusty anchor. As the crew focuses on a certain area of the sea, I head to the side to watch. More questions bubble up. Why is their boat out here? What is its purpose? I haven’t seen anyone acquiring food. Having watched the group focus over the last few hours, the journey is clearly not for entertainment either.
I want to question Captain, but I stop myself. Under the waters, such inquiries are forbidden. The Committee considers such questioning a form of insubordination. Instead of answers, one receives infractions, consequences, heightened supervision. Captain claims he believes in a consensus model, but I cannot take the risk of angering him. What if he sends me back to the seas? How would I survive now that I have been stripped of my Skin? When I am alienated from my Pairing?
Maybe when we reach Land… I silently review my growing list of questions.
“Drop the anchor!” Captain calls. Jesse and Danny work together to heave the weighted hunk of metal into the waters, and the boat slowly comes to a stop. “Nicely done.” Captain leaves the steering wheel and looks over the side of the boat onto the water.
A large plastic platform drifts upon the Surface. Large