High Tide (9781481413824) (10 page)

Joy? Where are you?

I squinted into the tossing waves.

Joy?

Joy had disappeared beneath the waves.

I was too late.

S
omeone groaned.

Raina?

I turned to look, but I couldn't see her. I couldn't see anything. Everything had gone totally dark.

The groan came again. Louder this time.

I'm groaning, I realized. I'm the one who is groaning.

I turned back the other way. Something soft and heavy hit my face.

I reached over to shove it away.

And woke up, clutching a pillow in my hand.

My pillow, I realized, as I gazed around the room. I'm in my bed. My apartment.

I sat up, confused. “What . . . happened?”

Ian entered the bedroom. “You
are
awake,” he said. “I thought I heard you stirring. How do you feel?”

“Ian!” I cried. My throat still burned. I felt so weak.

“Ian—was it a hallucination?” I choked out. “Please—tell me that it didn't happen. Tell me that Joy didn't drown.”

Ian lowered his head. “I'm sorry, Adam,” he said softly.

“Sorry?” I cried, hopelessly confused. The room tilted. I felt as if I might tumble out of bed. “Sorry? What do you mean? Was it real, Ian? Or did I imagine it?”

Ian bit his lower lip. “You didn't imagine it,” he replied grimly.

I gasped.

“The head lifeguard brought you home, Adam. The doctor was here. He just left a few minutes ago.”

“I—I don't remember any of that,” I stammered.

I grabbed the bed sheet tightly, so tightly my hands ached. I could still feel the tossing currents, the hard, cold slap of the waves. The whole room rocked and tossed.

“Please, Ian,” I begged. “Tell me it was just another crazy hallucination.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I wish I could. I wish I could tell you that everything was okay, Adam. But—” His voice cracked.

“But your friend drowned,” he continued, avoiding my stare. “You did your best. Everyone on the beach saw you. Everyone said you did what you had to do.”

“But—Joy drowned?” I whispered.

Ian nodded.

I've killed another girl!

The horrifying thought burst into my head.

Another one . . . I've killed another one.

“You saved one,” Ian said softly. “You can feel
good about that, Adam. You saved one. And you saved yourself.”

“I wish I had drowned!” I screamed.

“No. Come on, man,” Ian said. “Don't say that. You were really brave. That's what the head lifeguard said. That's what everyone said. You had to do it all on your own, since Sean left you there.”

I fell back on my pillow. I felt so weak. So totally exhausted. I couldn't talk anymore.

“You okay?” Ian asked. “Should I call the doctor back?”

“No need,” I muttered.

I shut my eyes and saw Joy again.

Mitzi and Joy. Joy and Mitzi.

Ian stood up and crossed the room. He picked up the phone.

“Who are you calling?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“I have a date,” Ian replied. “I'm going to call her and cancel it so I can stay home with you.” He started punching numbers on the dial.

“No. Don't cancel it,” I said. “Go ahead. Go out. I'm just going to sleep. I—I can't really talk anyway.”

Ian hesitated, the receiver in his hand. “You sure? You sure you'll be okay?”

I sighed. “I need to be by myself,” I told him.

Ian set the phone down. Then he made his way to the closet and pulled out a black and green wind-breaker. “The wind's whipping up out there,” he told me, shrugging into the jacket. “And a bunch of mean- looking clouds are rolling in.”

I pictured the clouds over the ocean. Dark. Mean-looking, like Ian said. With the wind up, the water would turn mean too. Rough and choppy.

And Joy's body was somewhere out there.

Would she wash up onshore?

Or was she gone for good, buried under tons of water?

I shuddered, then raised my eyes to Ian. “Is that my new windbreaker?”

“Yeah.” He grinned sheepishly. “You don't mind if I borrow it, do you?”

I started to say yes, then changed my mind. What did I care if he wore it? What difference did it make? “Go ahead,” I told him.

“Thanks. Hey, I'll even hang it up when I get back.”

“Huh?” I felt dazed. Shattered. I couldn't even hear him. I still had the roar of the ocean waves in my ears.

And Joy's frantic cries  . . .

Ian started to zip the jacket, then stopped. “Are you sure you don't want me to hang around? It's no big deal to break the date. We could watch the tube or play cards or something. You know. To take your mind off what happened.”

“No, you go on,” I insisted.

“What are you going to do?” he asked. “Are you really going to sleep? Do you think you should call Dr. Thall?”

“Too many questions,” I groaned, rubbing my head. I sank back into the pillow. “Too many questions  . . .”

“Well, take care of yourself,” Ian said. “I'll call you later. You know. Just to see how you're doing.”

He paused at the door and turned back to me. “I'm real sorry, Adam. After last summer, you deserve a break. You really do.”

I didn't know what to say. So I stared up at the ceiling, wishing the bed would stop tossing and heaving.

The front door slammed.

The refrigerator hummed, then kicked off.

The apartment grew quiet.

Outside, I could hear the dull roar of the waves. Breaking against the shore. Falling back. Then rushing in again.

Over and over.

Joy's out there, I thought.

The ocean is tossing her around like a piece of seaweed.

What does she look like now? Are her eyes still wide and filled with terror? Is her mouth still open in a soundless scream?

As I squeezed my eyes shut against the image, I heard Joy's voice again, pleading with me not to leave her. I shook my head and clamped my hands over my ears.

But I still saw the image of her horrified face.

And I still felt the horrible guilt.

With a gasp, I swung my feet to the floor and stood up. Do something, I thought. Don't keep sitting around thinking about things. If you do, you'll definitely freak out.

Go for a walk? Maybe later, I thought. I still felt wiped out.

If only I could sleep. But if I slept, I knew I'd dream. And the last thing I wanted was another nightmare.

I went into the living room and slipped a CD on. The throbbing bass of the rock band filled the apartment, shutting out the sound of the ocean.

My stomach rumbled, so I fixed a bowl of cereal.
Okay, I told myself, I'll eat, thumb through some magazines, listen to the music.

Anything to keep Joy out of my mind.

Anything to stop feeling guilty.

As I started to sit on the couch, the bowl of cereal tilted, sloshing cold milk and soggy cornflakes down the front of my T-shirt.

I set the dripping bowl on the coffee table, then quickly pulled the shirt off. Time to change anyway, I thought with a shiver. Air's getting colder.

Back in the bedroom, I pulled on a pair of jeans, then rummaged through a drawer for a sweatshirt. As I straightened up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My eyes stared back.

I quickly turned away. I couldn't stand to look at myself.

You killed Joy, my eyes were accusing me.

But I couldn't save them both! I argued.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

And the phone rang.

I stumbled to the table and picked it up. “Hello?” I answered shakily.

“Adam,” a voice whispered. The whisper was so low, so hoarse, I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl.

“Adam, you're going to pay for what you did to me. I promise you. You're going to pay soon.”

M
y heart stuttered, then began pounding as hard as before. I tried to speak, but my throat closed up.

“You're going to pay for what you did to me.” The hoarse whisper sounded like an ocean wave, breaking in my ear.

“Who  . . .” I choked out. “Who is this?”

A click.

Then a dial tone.

I slammed the phone down, then stared at it tensely.

Would it ring again?

Who was it? Who had a grudge against me?

Sean does, I thought.

And Leslie is furious with me. She said she'd find a way to pay me back. I didn't think she meant it.

But maybe she did.

Or maybe the call was just a prank.

In the living room, the CD ended. The apartment grew quiet again.

The phone didn't ring.

My heart still jumped around in my chest. My palms felt sweaty, and my foot tapped nervously on the floor.

Get out, I thought. Get out of the apartment and walk until your mind is a total blank.

Yanking the sweatshirt down over my head, I put on my sneakers and hurried out of the apartment.

Outside, I took off in a fast jog, running across the road and scrambling over the dunes. My legs ached from kicking so hard, so desperately in the ocean. But I didn't care.

I just wanted to run and run. Run away from myself . . .

After a few moments I stopped, staring up and down the empty beach.

I could hear the waves rolling in and out, but I couldn't see them.

Thick fog blanketed everything. It rolled along the sand and swirled around me like billowing smoke.

Cold. Wet. Eerie.

Maybe I should go back, I thought. The beach feels so creepy with all this fog.

No, I decided. Walking around is better than being inside.

Walk. Don't go back until you're so tired, you'll sleep without dreaming.

I trotted closer to the shoreline, then began to walk down the beach along the firm, wet sand.

The fog seemed to grow thicker, blanketing me like
wet cotton. Except for the sound of the waves and a distant foghorn, I heard nothing.

And saw no one.

Every time I thought of Joy and Mitzi, or heard that hoarse, whispered voice in my head, I picked up my pace. Grabbed a piece of driftwood and tossed it into the waves. Ran until my legs ached even harder.

Anything to keep from thinking about what had happened that afternoon. The horrible choice I had to make . . .

As I ran, an outcropping of dark, jagged rocks suddenly appeared through the fog, only a few feet in front of me. Waves crashed against them, splashing and churning.

I stopped, winded and exhausted. And my mind felt as tired as my legs, I realized. Good time to go back. Just hit the bed and sleep.

I pressed my hands on my thighs and bent over for a few seconds to catch my breath.

When I straightened up, a figure stepped out from behind the rocks.

“Hi,” I called out, peering through the fog. “I thought I was the only one on the beach tonight.”

The figure moved a step closer. Didn't speak.

“Hi,” I repeated.

A gust of wind came up. The fog swirled and lifted for a moment.

And I saw that it was a girl. Barefoot.

I squinted hard, trying to see her face.

But it was hidden in the thick fog.

She stepped closer. She moved silently, as if floating, floating with the swirling fog curtain.

Why did I suddenly feel so cold?

Her windbreaker flew up behind her, like a cape. In the dark mist, she looked almost transparent. As if she were part of the shadows, part of the fog. As if I could see right through her.

I took a step back, suddenly chilled.

Suddenly afraid.

If only I could see her face.

The dark windbreaker billowed in the wind. Wisps of fog appeared to circle her.

“Adam
 . . .” she whispered.

I gasped. She knew my name!