Love and Other Drama-Ramas! (16 page)

Seth pushes my hair back off my face. “Amy, I think your instinct’s right. This beach is about the only place he feels happy at the moment, and he loves teaching those kids. But we need to keep looking. We’re not doing any good standing here, worrying.”

I nod, and we start walking silently up the beach, side by side. Then suddenly Seth stops dead. “Is that a surfboard?” he asks.

A blue-and-white board is lying in the marram grass, a black rucksack beside it. I riffle through the bag and pull out a black T-shirt with a skull design and a wet suit.

“It’s Bailey’s T-shirt. I’ve seen him in it.” Seth looks concerned. “But where’s Bailey?”

And it’s then that I spot something in the waves. A boy with jet-black hair is standing shoulder deep in the water, staring out to sea.

It’s Bailey!

“But what’s he doing?” Seth asks when I point out Bailey to him. “He’s not moving.” Seth pauses for a second, then says, “I’m going in,” and ripping off his T-shirt, jeans, and Converse, he runs down the beach.

I run after him. He winces as his bare feet hit the pebbles, but he doesn’t let it slow him down, and he enters the water quickly. “Shoot, it’s freezing,” he says as he begins to wade toward Bailey while I wait on the beach. “Hey, Bailey, what are you doing?” I hear him call. “You’ll turn into an ice cube if you stay in any longer, man.”

Bailey doesn’t turn around, so Seth continues out to sea until he’s next to him. Seth keeps talking, but Bailey still isn’t shifting. Finally, Seth looks back at me and puts his hands in the air as if to say,
What now?

“You have to get out of the water, Bailey!” I shout. “You’ll get hypothermia. Seth, tell him.”

Seth says something in a low, soothing voice, snatches of which drift back toward me on the wind. “Talk to me, mate . . . Say something . . . Your teeth . . . chattering . . . Your . . . blue . . . Come on . . . don’t be stupid.”

Seth looks back at me again, his face panicked. “He won’t budge!” he yells.

“Then you’ll have to pull him out.”

“OK, I’ll try.” Seth puts his arms around Bailey’s upper body. At his touch, Bailey suddenly comes to life, thrashing about and elbowing Seth in the face.

“Ow!” Seth shouts. “What are you doing? That hurt.”

“I’m coming in,” I yell, throwing my jacket down on the pebbles. As it lands with a thud, I remember that my iPhone is in my pocket.
Siúcra!
I hope I haven’t smashed the screen. Plus, I’ve forgotten to ring Mills and to shout at Mum; she’ll be halfway to Bray at this stage. Too late now.

I run into the water and gasp as icy fingers seem to prick my feet, then my thighs, my waist, and finally my chest. Seth was right. The water’s arctic and deep. I’m on my tiptoes by the time I get to the boys, the waves splashing over my face.

“I can’t get him to move,” Seth says, his face pale. “Can you still stand?”

“Only just.”

“I’ll hold you up.” He puts his arms around my waist and lifts me up out of the water.

“Bailey, listen to me,” I say. Close up, his face is gray and his lips are blue and quivering, and his eyes, which are staring out to sea, are glassy and unfocused. “I’m so sorry about the whole Finn business. It’s all my fault.”

Finally he opens his mouth and speaks. “No, I’m the one who me-messed it u-up,” he says, his words shaky and distorted. “Hitting him like th-th-that. He must h-h-hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Bailey, I swear,” I say. “Please come out of the water before you freeze to death.”

“Amy’s right,” Seth adds. “Come on, buddy.”

Bailey just ignores us.

There’s a noise from the beach. Turning, I see Mum standing by the edge of the water. “Amy!” she yells. “Is he all right?”

“No! We can’t get him out of the water.”

“Hang in there.” Mum begins wading through the water toward us, still fully clothed.

“He won’t move, Mum,” I tell her when she’s close enough to not have to shout. “We’ve tried talking to him. It’s like he’s stuck. He’s worried about hitting Finn. Said Finn must hate him.”

Mum nods at me. “It’s going to be all right, Bailey,” she tells him, stroking his head. “I’m Sylvie, Amy’s mum. Guess you’re having a rough day, yeah?”

Tears burst from his eyes. He lifts a hand to brush them away — but his water-crinkled fingers are shaking so much, he can’t move them properly, so Mum does it for him.

“Amy told me what happened on the beach,” she says as she does so. “And Finn told me all about it too. It really upset him, but he doesn’t blame you for thumping him. And his lip is fine.”

I stare at Mum. She didn’t say a word about
that
. Finn obviously swore her to secrecy. Bailey’s eyes are glued to her too.

“I think Finn needed someone to talk to,” Mum continues. “I’ve been writing your dad’s memoir, you see. So I know all about you, Bailey. Finn was devastated that you wouldn’t talk to him last weekend. He’s determined not to give up, though. He says he has finally figured out that his life isn’t worth living unless you’re in it.”

“But I’ve r-r-ruined everything,” Bailey says. “How can he want me near him n-n-now?”

“Do you know what else he told me?” Mum goes on. “He said there was
nothing
you could do that would make him give up on you. He’s changed, Bailey. He’s not the scared boy who abandoned you. He’s a different person. And he wants to get to know you. So come out of the water, please?”

“But he’s f-f-famous. And I’m d-d-damaged goods. S-s-someone will find out about my past, and he’ll be t-t-toast. His image will be r-r-ruined.”

“I don’t think he cares anymore,” Mum says earnestly. “He was even talking about putting your letters in the book — with your permission, of course. Or not publishing the book at all if that’s what you’d prefer. He just wants you in his life, Bailey, simple as that. And nothing that happened in the past was your fault. Do you understand me? It wasn’t your fault. Finn just doesn’t want it all dragged up again in case it hurts you. That’s all.”

“But sh-sh-she left me,” Bailey says through chattering teeth. “I must h-h-have done s-s-s-something wrong. I must have been a really d-d-difficult baby.”

“No!” Mum says firmly. “You were three, Bailey! You did nothing wrong. It wasn’t your fault. I want you to say it — say, ‘It wasn’t my fault.’ Go on, say it. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’”

Bailey looks at her, stricken.

“Mum’s right. It wasn’t your fault, Bailey,” I say softly. “You were tiny.”

“Go on, Bailey,” Mum says. “‘It wasn’t my fault.’”

Tears stream down Bailey’s face. “It w-wasn’t my f-f-fault,” he mouths. Then he says it louder: “It w-wasn’t my f-f-fault. It wasn’t my f-fault. IT WASN’T MY F-FAULT!” His words rattle out like machine-gun fire, getting louder and louder.

“That’s right, Bailey.” Mum smiles through her own tears. “Let it all out.” Then she hugs him before going on in a low, firm voice: “Now you listen to me, Bailey Otis, and you listen to me good: everyone has their own cross to bear. I lost my mum a few years back, and I thought I’d fall apart. Then my marriage ended, and I did go to pieces. But I got through it, and now things are good. Life isn’t easy for anyone, but you have to stick in there, ride the bad times out, and wait for the good ones to come. Because there will be good times. You’re only a teenager. You have your whole life ahead of you. So get out of the water, young man. Right now! Or we’re all going to die of hypothermia — because we’re not leaving you, Bailey.”

He shakes his head, his lips mashed together, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “I c-c-c-an’t,” he says. “I think I’m f-f-f-frozen solid.”

“I’ll help,” Seth says. “Let me carry you.”

Bailey closes his eyes and then slowly opens them again. “OK,” he whispers.

“Thank God,” Mum says. “Now everyone out, quickly.”

Seth sweeps Bailey into his arms and, helped by the buoyancy of the water, carries him to the shore. Mum holds my hand, and we pull each other through the waves.

On the beach Seth puts Bailey down gently. Bailey immediately huddles in a ball, shivering violently. It’s not surprising — he’s wearing a pair of board shorts and nothing else, and from the waxiness of his skin, it’s obvious he’s been in the water for far too long.

“Should I ring an ambulance?” I ask Mum.

“Yes,” she says. “Tell them it’s urgent. We need to warm him up now, though, or he may have a heart attack from the cold.”

I dial with wet, shaking fingers.

“Emergency services,” a calm female voice says. “How can I help?”

“We need an ambulance. It’s urgent. It’s my friend. We found him in the sea, and he has severe hypothermia. His whole body’s rigid, and his lips are blue.”

“Breathing?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll send out an ambulance immediately. Where are you?”

After I give her the details, she says, “Caller, I’m ringing it through now. Please hold the line.” Seconds later she’s back. “They’re on their way. In the meantime, you must try to keep him warm. But nothing sudden, understand? Keep your phone on and call us if there’s any change. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

I click off the call. “They’re on their way. The woman said to keep him warm.”

Mum has already put my jacket over Bailey’s chest and is rubbing his face gently with her hands.

At that moment, Mills appears. “What’s happening?” she asks, crouching down beside Bailey. “Why is he that horrible color? Bailey, are you all right? Can you hear me? Oh, what’s wrong with him?” She puts her hand over her mouth, and tears spring to her eyes.

Mum says, “Mills, listen to me. It’s important. You are the only warm person here. And we need your dry clothes.”

“But Bailey—” Mills says, her face crumpling.

“Concentrate, Mills,” Mum says. “You’re going to lie down and press your skin against Bailey’s back. We’ll layer all the dry clothes over the pair of you. The rest of us are wet and cold from the water — your body heat might just keep him alive. Seth, you’re going to sandwich him. I need you to run around and get as warm as you can.”

Seth starts doing jumping jacks and squats to warm up.

Mills’s face is a picture. “Do you mean
all
my clothes?”

“Mills, just get on with it,” I say. “Leave your bra and knickers on. No one’s looking.”

“I a-a-am.” Bailey manages to give a tiny smile — even though his breathing is ragged and his face is so pale, it’s practically translucent.

Reluctantly, Mills strips down. Then under Mum’s direction, Seth moves Bailey onto his side.

“Mills, quickly now,” Mum says. “Lie down against Bailey’s back and push your body hard against his skin.”

Mills nods and lies down on the pebbles, wiggling her body forward until as much of her as possible is pressing against his back.

“Holy moly, he’s an iceberg,” she says.

“That’s why he needs your warmth,” Mum says patiently.

Seth rolls his eyes at me. I know he finds Mills a bit ditzy sometimes.

“Hang in there, Bailey,” Mills whispers. She wraps her arms around him.

Mum turns to Seth. “You warm now?” she asks him.

He nods.

“Good. Press your back right up against Bailey’s chest. And then we just have to wait for the paramedics.”

As Mum and I cover the three of them with all the dry clothes, a woman in a silk headscarf stops beside us. “Everything all right here?” she asks, her eyes sweeping over the huddle of bodies.

“The lad in the middle has hypothermia,” Mum explains. “Spent too long in the water. Ambulance is on its way.”

The woman takes off her green puffer jacket and hands it to Mum. “Here, put this over them. Howard!” she shouts at a man holding a chocolate Labrador by its lead near by. “We need your jacket.”

He hands it over, and Mum layers the jackets on top of Mills, Bailey, and Seth. The couple sits down on the pebbles and waits for the ambulance with us.

“Do you know the boy?” the woman asks Mum.

“Yes — he’s my daughter’s friend. He was surfing without a wet suit.”

The woman nods. She seems happy with this explanation. But if it was as simple as that, then why didn’t Bailey leave the water as soon as he started to get cold? I exchange a look with Mum, and she gives me a gentle smile. “It’s going to be all right, Amy,” she says softly, seeming to read my mind for the second time today. “Bailey’s going to get the help he needs.” She doesn’t have to say any more. I can tell by her expression that she understands my concern.

After a few minutes, Mum asks Mills, “Does he feel any warmer?”

Mills nods. “I think so, but he’s very still. Is he asleep?”

Mum peers down at Bailey and says, “Bailey? Bailey?”

Nothing.

“Bailey?” She shakes his shoulder. “Bailey?”

Still nothing.

Swearing under her breath, she presses his cheek with her hand; her fingertips leave white imprints in his gray skin. “Bailey, can you hear me?” she says loudly. “You have to stay awake.”

“Come on, buddy,” Seth says. “Wake up.”

Bailey gives a low moan. His eyelids flicker but don’t open.

There’s a shout from farther up the beach, and, looking up, I see that two men and a woman are running toward us. The two men are carrying a stretcher between them.

“How’s he doing?” one of the men asks Mum as the other two paramedics crouch down beside Bailey to examine him: one checks his pulse, the other his body temperature. Seth and Mills are still sandwiching him. Mills’s cheeks have turned bright red, and I can tell she’s not looking forward to standing up half-naked in front of all these strangers.

“Not so good,” Mum says. “He’s just about conscious. We tried to warm him up as best we could.”

“You’ve all done a great job,” the woman says. “His core temperature is slowly rising. He’s not out of the danger zone yet, though. We’ll need to zip him into a survival bag and get him straight to the hospital.”

“It was mainly thanks to my mum,” I say proudly. “We just did what she said.”

“Well done,” the woman tells Mum. “Your quick thinking may just have saved this lad’s life.”

Mum blushes a little at the compliment. “I saw it on
Casualty
,” she admits with a shy smile.