Sharks & Boys (17 page)

I sleep
and I sleep and I sleep. Why? For the sake of dreams. To push away my hunger and my thirst. Because as my body creeps closer to exhaustion and death, my hope, my light, my soul shrinks. It’s late afternoon. My sleep is broken when I hear Munny’s voice.

He leans over and whispers in my ear, “I think Skate is dying.”

This news makes me feel like a person again. I’m alert. I have something to tend to. I look to Skate. His eyes are sunken. His body is covered in sores, and he’s running a high fever. I feel helpless. I don’t think that there is anything any of us can do.

“How are you feeling, Skate?” I ask. My voice is raspy; it’s painful to talk.

Skate’s eyes flutter and open. “Is Burr back yet?” he asks.

Skate holds his brother’s shoe on his chest. He’s delirious. He’s forgotten that Burr is never coming back. Do I tell him his brother is dead? Do I lie to him? I’m sixteen. How am I supposed to know what to do? I’ve had my driver’s license for less than a year. I struggle with trigonometry. Issues concerning death are beyond me. I think of the monogrammed towel in the bathroom. The Riggses. They are gone. Burr is gone. Skate is barely here.

Dale stays on one side of Skate, and I move to the other side.

“He’s not back yet,” I say.

“My mom bought us these for college. They’re weatherproof,” he says. “Good in snow. Good in heat. Utah has both.”

He’s talking about the shoe. His hands look so white holding it, like there isn’t any blood in them. I smile down at him. The shoe is a soggy, ruined leather mess. “They look real nice,” I say.

“If I fall asleep, when he comes back, will you wake me?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say.

Skate doesn’t respond. I can’t tell if he’s passed out or asleep.

“We shouldn’t lie to him,” Dale says.

I glance at him. He’s far gone, making the tent shade with his Windbreaker for Skate. Dale looks ready to put it on again. “Everything is okay,” I tell Skate.

“I know you don’t believe that,” Dale says. Should I be telling Skate the truth? Am I making things worse by trying to make things sound okay?

“I’m doing my best,” I say. “I never imagined I’d be adrift on a ship with a bunch of guys in the middle of the Atlantic. I’m doing my best.”

“This is a raft, not a ship,” says Dale. “The ship sank.”

The sound Skate makes as he breathes doesn’t remind me of breathing at all. It’s like air is escaping out of him.

Dale isn’t looking at Skate. He’s watching the water.

“How is the log?” Dale asks Landon. “Do you want me to hold it?”

How can he even be thinking about the log? “Yeah,” Landon says. “Your turn.”

Dale and Landon change places. Skate moans a little as the raft shifts beneath him. “It’s okay,” I say. I lean back. I close my eyes. I listen to the water. It ripples and ripples and ripples.

At the sound of Skate’s voice, I wake up. It sounds happy, and I have no idea why. It’s twilight. I imagine that the sharks have returned. It’s the beginning of our third night in the water.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Skate says. He’s speaking to the air in front of him. He lifts the shoe up. “I got it.” Skate happily nods his head. His neck looks so thin. “Yeah,” he says. His voice is growing softer. “I’m ready.” I realize that his eyes are closed.

“Skate, buddy, are you okay?” Dale asks.

We’re all staring at Skate. We want him to open his eyes and tell us that he’s been dreaming. Skate rests his head back into the raft’s side. We’ve been adrift for over forty-eight hours, and the inflated walls have softened. Skate’s lips are still moving, but we can’t hear him. I lean in very close to him. I don’t talk to him. I don’t want to interrupt whatever is happening.

“Enid,” he whispers to me.

I’m surprised that he knows that I’m next to him. I thought he was totally out of it.

“I think I’m gonna go,” he says.

I remember Burr jumping overboard, and I don’t want Skate to do that.

“No,” I say. “You’re safe in the raft.”

“I know,” he says. He’s speaking so softly that I have to lower my ear to his cracked lips. His breathing is shallow. Even though my face is right next to his mouth, I can barely feel air touch my cheek. “I miss Burr. I miss my family.”

I squeeze his hand. “I know you do,” I say. “I miss him too. We all do.”

There’s a pause.

“I think I’m gonna go,” he says.

My throat constricts. I am shattered. I think I can feel my heart. Inside of me, everything feels hot with pain. “No, try to stay.”

Nobody else says anything. They’re letting me do all the talking.

“No,” he says. “I can’t stay.”

I take his hand and squeeze it. I’m so tired. I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell him.

“Okay,” I say. “If that’s what you want. You should go.”

His lips curl into a smile. He exhales several small breaths. “Thanks, Enid.”

His fever is so high, I feel like I’m sitting next to a space heater. He struggles to inhale a few more times. His breathing is shallow. Then, I feel one long breath warm my cheek. Skate’s fingers loosen around my hand. I let go of him. I look at him. His eyes are closed. He’s still clutching Burr’s shoe.

“Is he gone?” Munny asks.

I nod my head.

“What should we do?” Wick asks.

Nobody answers. We drift for what feels like an hour, but it’s probably only a few minutes.

“We shouldn’t keep his body in the boat,” Munny says.

I can’t imagine getting rid of Skate. He is our friend.

“Let’s just sit here for a minute,” Dale says. “I’m not ready to do that.”

We drift. The raft feels so quiet.

“I need to say something,” Munny says. “But I don’t want anybody to get upset.”

I have no idea what Munny is going to say.

“We won’t get upset,” Wick says.

“When people get lost at sea, they’ve been known to eat whatever meat they can to survive,” he says.

“You think we should eat Skate?” Landon asks.

“Turn into cannibals?” Wick adds.

“I’m not saying I want to do it,” Munny says. “I’m just saying it’s something that’s been done before.”

“There’s no way,” Landon says. “We’re not eating Skate.”

“You’re right,” Munny says. “I don’t think we should do it.”

“You are crazy,” Dale says. “Nobody eats their friends. What’s wrong with you? I know what’s wrong with you. You’re saying this shit because that’s the kind of people you come from.”

“Wait. I don’t want to eat Skate,” Sov says. “I think it’s a bad idea.”

“I thought I should bring it up,” Munny says. “It’s happened.”

Dale is so frustrated he looks like a different person. His face is wrinkled and upset. “It has never happened, Munny, that a group of friends go sailing and their boat sinks and some of them die. Some of the unlucky bastards cease to be, and then their friends eat them. Never,” Dale says.

Munny continues. “I’ve read about it happening with whaling ships. Some of the crew of the whaleship
Essex
, a Nantucket ship, ate crew members, because there was nothing else. If they hadn’t, they all would’ve died. I’m thinking about all of us and our survival.”

“Dude, I’d eat the damn raft before I’d eat Skate,” Dale says. “Besides, nobody’s even heard of the whale-ship
Essex
. Your fact box is broken. I think you’re making it up.”

“Herman Melville had heard of it.
Moby-Dick
is based on the
Essex
,” Munny said.

“No!” Landon says. “Stop! No more fighting. This is stupid. Look. Look at what’s happening to us.”

We all stare at Landon. He sounds so certain.

“Skate’s body can’t stay in the raft,” Landon says.

“I agree,” Sov says.

“Yeah,” Munny says.

“I guess we have to do it,” Wick says.

“We just dump him?” I ask.

Landon nods. I cannot believe this.

“Okay,” I say. But I don’t know if it is okay.

“Wait,” Dale says. “Could you hold the log for me?”

Wick agrees and extends his arms out, gripping the enormous piece of driftwood at one end. Dale digs in his pocket. He pulls out the pale pink pebble. “It’s from the cemetery. I picked it up after the funeral, right after the Riggses were buried. It got stuck in my shoe.” He stares at the small rock. “I’m not sure what I was saving it for. But I think it should go with him.”

We silently watch as Dale takes the pebble and slides it into Skate’s front pocket.

Even though we’ve all agreed that Skate needs to be taken off the raft, at least five minutes have passed and we’re still staring at his body.

“It’s time to take him off the boat,” Landon says.

“We’re going to have to lift him into the water,” Wick says.

“Dude!” Dale hollers. He stands up, which surprises me, because I don’t think I’d have the strength to do that. He locks his knees and his legs wobble. “We’re on a freaking raft, not a boat!” Then he sits down.

We’re all so tired. I look at Skate’s body, then I close my eyes.

“We’ve been at sea for two days,” Landon says. “We need some rules.”

I’m surprised to hear Landon saying this. Up to now in life, he’s been a pretty much a follower.

These are Landon’s rules:

Rule one:
It’s okay to call the raft a ship.

Rule two:
We are all family on this ship.

Rule three:
You can never drink the ocean.

Rule four:
If you die, we’ll roll your body into the sea.

I’m happy that he stopped at four rules, because I don’t think I’d be able to keep any more than that in my head. I’m relieved. I like the rules. When Landon’s finished explaining the rules, Wick asks Munny to hold the log. I think we should release it. We’re wasting so much of our energy. But I don’t want to start a fight. That wastes energy too. Landon, Wick, and Dale carefully lift Skate into the ocean. They treat him like an extremely fragile package, like he’s made entirely of glass. Skate’s body slips in and floats facedown. Now in the water, the dried blood from his wound begins to dissolve, and his blond hair splays like a fan.

Dale takes the log.

“We should all close our eyes,” Munny says.

“Why?” I ask. For me, it’s sad but comforting to watch Skate peacefully drift away. Then I spot the dark fins. I shut my eyes. I hear the sound of splashing. I feel water being sloshed into the raft. I feel the raft being jerked and bumped. One shark must be feeding on Skate from beneath the raft. I can feel it under us. It’s big and strong and pushes the raft dangerously close to tipping several times. I lower myself to the raft’s floor and kneel. I can feel the shark’s body moving powerfully beneath my legs.

Only rubber separates us. He slams against my shins.

“I’m losing the log!” Dale says.

I hope he does. Landon puts his arm around me.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he says. “I can feel it.”

I decide not to feel anything. I make my mind, my body, everything go blank. Then the shark beneath the raft rams us hard, trying—I believe—to make us flip. When it does this, I realize that I hate the shark. If I had a gun, I would aim it at that fish and sink bullet after bullet into its lousy gray head. I totally understand why they blew up Jaws at the end of the movie. If I had explosives, I’d reduce each shark out here to liquid and guts. God, I really hate them all. Then, I have my own small epiphany: I hate these sharks because I want to live. And I’m glad to know this.

When I open my eyes I see a red drop of water running down my thigh. I wipe it off with my good hand. I rub and rub until the skin on my leg is absolutely dry. I bring my fingers to my lips and kiss my hand. Then I press it against my heart.

I close my eyes again. Six out of eight, I wonder. That’s possible. Six out of eight can survive, right? I’m not asking for the impossible, am I?

It’s
dark and frigid, much colder than last night. My teeth chatter as Landon and Wick huddle over me.

“Sov, Munny, join us,” Landon says.

“Dale, come over,” Wick says. “Cuddle up. It’ll be warmer.”

“No. We need to keep the raft balanced,” Munny says.

“We should huddle three and three,” Landon says. “Dale, join them.”

“No,” Munny says.

“What do you mean, no?” Landon asks. “Do it to survive.”

“Not with Dale,” Munny says.

“I’m not a big fan of yours either,” Dale says.

“Come on,” Landon says. “Remember rule number two: We are family on this ship. Families suck it up and stick together. Families huddle for warmth.”

My head is down. The bodies hovering over me block the wind. I can’t see Munny’s face. I can’t tell what the problem is.

“Dale is an ignorant racist, and I refuse to huddle with him,” Munny says.

“Me too,” Sov says.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Dale says.

A cold wind blows against my right cheek. Landon and Wick both sit upright, taking away my wind barrier.

“What are you talking about?” Wick asks.

“Ask your brother what he meant when he said that me and Sov wanted to eat Skate because that’s the kind of people we were, the kind of people we came from?”

“He didn’t mean anything by that,” Wick says. “He says stupid crap all the time.”

“Hey,” Dale says. “Watch the insults.”

“He’s a racist,” Munny says, “and he knows it.”

Nobody is in the huddle anymore, and the wind is smacking my neck and face and tunneling into my ears.

“Maybe I did mean something by it,” Dale said. “So what? I apologize.”

“Nice apology,” Sov mumbles.

“We need to stick together,” Landon says. “Come on.”

“Dale, what kind of people do you think I come from?” Munny asks.

“I know I’ve made mistakes. You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know when I’m acting and not acting like an asshole?” Dale asks.

“Yes,” Munny says.

They should stop fighting. I don’t think they’re accomplishing anything. But then, what did Dale mean by that comment? When he said it, it went over my head.

“What did you mean by it?” I ask.

“They’re Cambodians. I read that they eat their own dogs there and stuff.”

“Where did you read that?” Munny asks.

Dale shrugs. “I guess I heard it. I had a third cousin who fought in Vietnam. At a barbecue I heard him talk about how sometimes people ate other people’s dogs.”

“You’re an idiot. Don’t ever talk to me again,” Munny says.

I don’t know whether it matters that people eat dogs during a crisis. I say something to try to buffer the tension. “Didn’t Lewis and Clark eat dogs when they were exploring and ran out of normal food?” I ask.

“Isn’t there a country that eats black dogs in winter?” Wick asks.

“Is it Cambodia?” Dale asks.

“Shut up,” Munny says. “You don’t know geography. You don’t know history. You don’t know anything. For instance, Cambodia and Vietnam are separate countries.”

“But they touch each other,” Dale says.

“You suck,” Sov says.

“Do you separate the U.S. from Canada? Or Mexico? Or is that all the same to you, too?” Munny asks.

“That’s totally different.”

“Only to you, Dale. You are such an ignorant racist,” Munny says.

“Don’t call me that. I was guessing at which countries eat dogs,” Dale says.

I’m not surprised that Munny is so bothered about this. But I don’t think it helps him to get this upset. He shouldn’t waste his energy on Dale.

“Be mad at him later. Focus on yourself,” I tell Munny.

“Right,” Munny says.

This isn’t like Munny at all. He’s usually pretty mellow. I guess everybody has a limit. Dale sits still. I sort of expect him to lunge at Munny or flip him off. But he doesn’t. He probably doesn’t want to let go of his precious log. I close my eyes. I wish there were a way to close my ears.

Dale makes sounds like he’s close to crying.

“You’ve never asked me anything about Cambodia,” Munny says.

“Or Ireland,” Sov says.

“So you know, our grandparents died in the Killing Fields. Our mom barely escaped,” Munny says.

I’m surprised that Munny’s mouth is making enough spit for him to utter all these syllables. I couldn’t.

“Don’t you have anything to say now?” Munny asks.

Dale doesn’t respond. I bet he feels like a huge jerk. I feel a little bit like that, and I’m not even involved with the fight.

“Calm down,” Landon says. “You’ve made your point.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Wick says. “He’s always saying stuff that he doesn’t mean.”

My head rests against Landon. When he speaks, I can hear the sound coming from deep inside of him. I listen to his heartbeat. I think about how at one point the two of us were both curled up inside my mother’s womb. I don’t know if it’s normal to think about the start of your life during times like this or not. I guess it makes sense. This could be the end.