Free Storm Rescue by Laurie Halse Anderson

slide down into the water, push off, and let go.
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The water is a lot colder than I expected. And it’s moving around more than I realized, too, making me feel like one of Harshil’s toy boats bobbing in the bathtub. My vest doesn’t hold me up as much as I thought it would—I’m so low in the water that when a little wave comes toward me, it washes right over my head. For a second, I’m totally underwater! I forget to hold my breath, and take in a mouthful of water. There’s a weird sort of roaring sound in my ears.
    I thrash around until I pop up above the surface and can breathe again. I shake my head to get my hair out of my eyes. I cough and spit out water. It tastes disgusting. I try not to think of all the germs I probably just swallowed. I have enough to worry about right now.
    â€œAre you okay?” David calls.
    I can’t answer him. I’m too busy trying to spit wet hair out of my mouth without losing track of what my arms and legs are doing. Every time I let my muscles relax, it feels like I’m going to sink straight down into the water. So I keep my limbs moving around, trying to imitate what I’ve seen other people do while they’re swimming. With the help of my life vest, it seems to work pretty well.
    â€œYeah,” I gasp. “I’m okay.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” David calls. “If you get too scared, just yell, and we’ll pull you back in with the rope.”
    I don’t want to waste any energy answering, so I just nod. Then I turn around to face Mrs. Clark’s house.
    Okay, Sunita, I tell myself firmly. Time to swim.
    I think back to a hot, sunny day a few weeks ago. It was a slow day at the clinic, so at lunch-time, Dr. Gabe took us to the park for a picnic. Sherlock came, too, and while we were eating, he waded out into the pond for a swim. If you’ve never seen a basset hound swim, I can tell you it’s not a pretty sight. But he managed to get around pretty well, paddling energetically with his stubby front paws.
    As I try to imitate Sherlock’s swimming style, I see another ripple coming toward me. Not wanting to let my head go underwater again, I thrash harder with my arms to raise myself up in the water. The tiny wave washes by, splashing my chin. But my head stays up. I smile with triumph.
    â€œHey! Sunita!” Maggie yells from behind me. “Kick with your legs!”
    I do as she says. I’m focusing so much on my legs that I forget about my arms for a second. I remember them when I feel my face sinking lower into the water. Finally I have all four limbs working at the same time. That does the trick. Mrs. Clark’s house starts to get closer. Of course, that means the canoe must be getting farther away behind me. But I try not to think about that.
    â€œMrrwowrr!” Lucy’s voice floats out across the water.
    I glance up at the frightened cat, blinking the water out of my eyes. She’s perched in the window. The rain makes it hard to see clearly, but it looks like she’s watching me. The water is lapping at the house just a foot or so beneath the windowsill.
    I have to do this—for Lucy. I kick harder, aiming straight for the window. The house is only about six feet away now. If I were on dry land, it would hardly seem like any distance at all. But right now, it seems as wide as the Mississippi River—or maybe the Atlantic Ocean.
    I can see Lucy sitting there watching me, and that gives me the strength to keep going. When my fingers brush against the brick wall, I feel like cheering. Instead, I grab the edge of the windowsill. The window is open, and there’s no screen. Lucy jumps off the windowsill and back into the attic.
    â€œMrrrr?” she says uncertainly, rubbing the top of her head on an old trunk. When I peek in the window, I’m happy to see that the floor is still dry.
    â€œIt’s okay, sweetie,” I say breathlessly. I try to keep my