Dare (13 page)

She felt the water breaking over her face, the choppy waves at her shoulders, sinking into the loose-weave fabric of her summer T-shirt. She could taste the salt water on her lips.

Her
lungs
were
burning, pulling. It didn't seem that far out when they walked the pier, but swimming back to shore was another thing entirely. Brynna stopped kicking and started to tread, her legs working as she spun in a circle, searching the slick top of the black water for Erica.

“Erica…” she sang.

But
there
was
no
Erica.

“Come on.” Brynna slapped at the water, cold droplets landing on her eyelashes and lips. “Fine, be that way.” She turned and started to swim toward shore again, certain that Erica, the stronger swimmer of the two, was already padding through the wet sand at the water's edge, cursing Brynna's name.

Brynna
pounded
through
the
water, feeling the slight tug of the surf pulling her backward. But she cupped her hands and stroked until her shoulders ached and her knees banked against wet sand close to shore then stood up, letting the weight of the water drip off her as she reached the pillowy dry sand. Her heart was thundering, and she was breathing hard but smiling, tasting the salt on her lips.

“Whew!” She threw her hands up in a victory V and danced around the beach, wriggling her butt and shaking her head. “That was awesome!”

Michael, Ella, and Jay were jogging toward her, hooting and whistling. “Nice job!” Ella crowed.

“Weren't you supposed to be naked?” Michael said, that sly grin not skipping a beat. He hiccupped softly, a burst of sugar-sweet, alcohol-scented breath commingling with the salty beach breeze.

“I took my top off. You must have blinked and missed it. Your loss.” Brynna stopped dancing and wrung the water out of her hair. “Okay, where's the big cry baby? Is she hiding because she doesn't want to admit that that was totally unreal?”

Michael
tossed
Brynna
a
towel
and
jutted
his
chin
toward
the
water. “She's still out there.”

Brynna
pulled
the
towel
around
her
and
turned
to
look. “Really? I thought for sure she'd beat me in.”

“Well…there you go. She's faster in the lanes and you're faster in open water. 'Cuz you're like a shark!” Michael snapped his jaws before planting a smacking kiss on her cheek.

Ella
scratched
her
head, squinting. “I don't even see her.”

“Erica's like a snake in the water. You don't even see her coming and then bam! There she is.”

“Okay,” Jay said, “then where is she?”

Brynna
walked
down
the
beach, letting the water crash over her ankles. “Erica?” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Erica!”

The
only
answer
was
the
sound
of
the
waves
smacking
the
wet
sand.

Brynna
turned
and
glared
at
her
friends. “You guys are so stupid. Where is she? She came in way before me, didn't she? Is she trying to make me think she's dead? Trying to prove some kind of Erica-point?”

Ella's face was wan. “No, really, Bryn. She didn't come in.”

“You're lying.”

Now
Michael
shook
his
head, and the action shook something loose in Brynna. “Really?”

“Seriously. Didn't you see her when you guys came up the first time?”

Brynna's chest started to tighten. Sweat beaded along her hairline and upper lip, even as she shivered in the night air. “I—I think so.”

“How could you think so? That was five minutes ago,” Jay said.

Brynna
looked
at
her
trio
of
friends
and
the
hard, worried looks on their faces. “I know but I—I mean, I'm sure I did.” She spun back to the surf. “Erica!”

Jay
was
stripping
off
his
shirt
and
Michael
kicked
off
his
flip-flops. The sound of their bare feet slapping the sand reverberated through Brynna's head. She took one look at Ella, chewing on her bottom lip, and dropped her towel, cutting ahead of the boys and diving into the foam-covered waves.

Brynna
plunged
under
the
water, feeling the sting of the salt water as she opened her eyes. The water at Harding Beach was murky even in sunlight, and at night, she was met with a wall of blackness. Her feet hit the sandy bottom, and Brynna launched herself, head and shoulders breaking water. “Erica?”

Her
voice
joined
the
chorus
of
Michael
and
Jay's. Brynna spun in time to see Ella running up the beach, her figure becoming smaller as she broke the wall of swaying kids on Jay's back patio.

Brynna
dipped
back
under
the
water, groping blindly, her fingers sifting through sand, her arms being slapped by kelp as she swam. Underwater, she started to cry.

Erica is playing a trick,
she
told
herself.
Erica is trying to teach me a lesson.

It
seemed
like
hours
passed, and every muscle in Brynna's body was screaming in exhaustion, rallying against the pain of pushing against another crashing wave, another swell of surf.

Then
she
felt
the
hand
on
her
shoulder.

“Erica!”

Brynna
opened
her
mouth
and
grinned, feeling the cold water slide through her teeth. The hand tightened on Brynna's shoulder, pulling her back toward shore. Brynna pushed off and broke the surface, gulping in a deep breath of salt-tinged air in time to see Michael in front of her, dragging her behind him.

Brynna
looked
around
for
Erica
and
felt
her
heart
swell
with
relief
when
she
stepped
onto
shore
and
spotted
Jay
swimming
in.

A
thousand
feet
seemed
to
pound
the
beach, and Brynna spun back to the beach house, seeing half the party vaulting toward her, led by Ella. Her cheeks were red and her lips drawn.

“Come in!” someone called. “Get out of the water and come in!”

“What's going on?” Brynna asked. “Where's Erica?”

“You can't swim there at night,” the same voice said. “There's a goddamn riptide. Get out of the water!”

Brynna
blinked. “A riptide?”

Jay
trudged
out
of
the
water, eyes darting across the sand and slicing through the group of kids. “Where's Erica?” he said.

“I couldn't find her, man,” Michael answered.

Heat
raced
up
the
back
of
Brynna's neck, and her stomach started to churn.

“Brynna?” Ella asked.

Bile
itched
at
the
back
of
Brynna's throat, and the world dropped into slow motion. The waves took their time swelling and curling; their crash was gentle and calm as fingers of frothy water crawled toward her feet before being sucked out again by the tide.

Somehow, Brynna knew someone was talking to her. She could vaguely hear the sound of her name, could vaguely feel people touching her, but she felt like everything was encased in cotton. Cotton stuffing her ears and muffling sound, cotton keeping her a thousand miles from the arms that reached for her.

“No.” She was finally able to push the word over her teeth. “No!” The towel that someone had slipped over her shoulders flopped into the sand, and Brynna was pushing forward, pushing through the crowd. “I have to get Erica. Erica!”

She
barely
felt
the
water
as
her
feet
plunged
into
it, as it slapped against her calves. “Erica!” she was calling, straining to be heard over the surf. “Erica!”

She
was
waist-deep before Michael grabbed her, bear-hugging her around the waist and yanking her backward. But Brynna fought back, clawing for the water, trying to dive out of his arms.

“My best friend is out there! Let me go! You have to let me go!”

She
dug
her
toes
into
the
wet
sand, praying for some traction, but Michael just hauled her backward as if she weighed nothing.

“Erica!”

Terror
like
an
icy
hand
gripped
at
Brynna's heart, and she struggled to breathe, her eyes darting across the undulating water. Every swell was Erica breaking through; every crash was Erica kicking her legs.

“She's out there,” Brynna whispered, the tears burning over her chapped cheeks. “I have to find her.”

Somehow, the paramedics made it down the beach with flashing lights and wailing sirens that Brynna didn't hear. A medic asked her some questions; she jostled out of the blood pressure cuff he tried to slap on her.

“No,” she mumbled.

This isn't happening.

Fear
like
a
lead
weight
settled
in
her
gut. Her skin felt too tight.
Erica was here. She was here.

Brynna
turned
out
toward
the
water
again, breaking away and darting for the crashing black waves, but someone was gripping her, the pain of their hands at the crook of her elbow surging up to her shoulder.

“Brynna—don't.” It was Michael, his eyes a flat black.

Brynna
looked
over
him
and
saw
two
police
officers
stepping
out
of
a
squad
car
parked
on
the
sand. They looked so out of place with their drawn faces and pristine black uniforms, pant cuffs clouded with sand, but Brynna beelined for them anyway.

“Have you found Erica?”

The
younger
of
the
two
officers, with a buzz cut and thick, black slashes for eyebrows, scratched his head. “Ma'am?”

The
other
officer
pushed
in
front
of
the
first
and
looked
down
at
his
phone. “Are you Brynna Chase?”

Hot
tears
clouded
Brynna's vision. “Yes, but it's Erica. Erica is the one who's missing. She's—” Brynna turned toward the water, something breaking inside of her.

Erica
was
gone.

Past
the
breakers, the ocean was glass-topped and flat. The red and blue flashing police lights reflected off the water, a terrifying stained glass window, the image searing itself into Brynna's mind forever.