Sharks & Boys (10 page)

Dawn
comes and there is no Coast Guard. The first glow of daylight illuminates the world through the raft. I can see everybody. We’re all here. I count our heads. Seven. I count my own head. I reach up and touch it and say the word “Eight.”

“What are you doing?” Landon asks.

“Counting heads. I’m eight,” I say.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s get out from under here. It looks like a clear day.”

He sounds happy. Nobody has sounded that way for hours.

I lower my head into the water and surface beside the raft. Daylight touches my face, and it feels warm and hopeful. I want to close the distance, to lift myself out of the water and feel baked by the sun until I’m dry. The storm has passed. Not quite flat, the water is calmer now, absent the never-ending, towering waves.

Munny and Sov are beside me. When I look at them they smile. Reflexively, I smile back.

“We made it,” Dale says. His voice sounds surprised.

“Maybe we should try to flip the raft over,” Skate says.

I turn toward him and see the back of his head. The wound looks worse than I remembered. It’s a thick red line nestled between two white folds of skin. I want to ask him if he’s feeling okay, but I don’t.

“Good idea,” Landon says.

Skate’s voice seems to be carrying power. Maybe it’s because he’s the wounded one.

“I think that could work,” Landon says. “Let’s everybody get on one side.”

In unison, Wick, Dale, Landon, and Burr punch at one side of the raft. They coax it with their arms fully outstretched, using the tips of their fingers, until it tumbles over, slapping the ocean’s surface. Once it’s flipped, the guys turn to me, but I wave them off.

“Munny and Sov first,” I say. I’m the best swimmer here. I don’t need to go in first.

The guys help Munny and Sov into the raft first. They push them by their butts over the raft’s lip. When they land they squeak across the raft’s bottom toward an edge.

“You next,” Burr says to Skate.

Skate swings his arms into the raft and tries to pull himself up, but he can’t. He throws one leg up, and hooks it on the side of the raft. But he doesn’t have the strength to pull himself inside. Munny and Sov tug at him. Finally, the guys push him and he rolls into the raft.

“Shit,” Skate says. “It’s cold.”

“It’s the wind,” Sov says. He’s sitting on one of the raft’s inflated yellow walls, the wind carrying pieces of his dark hair over his eyes.

“You next,” Landon says.

He lifts me halfway up, and I yell for him to drop me.

“What?” he asks. “What is it?”

“It’s warmer in the water,” I say. The wind is so cold it feels like it’s biting me.

“Once you get dry, it will feel warmer,” Wick says.

Dale pulls himself up into the raft without any problem.

“You shouldn’t stay in the water,” Landon says.

“It shows a lack of survival instinct,” Dale says.

What a jerk. His comment makes me want to prove him wrong and stay in the water even longer. “I’m fine,” I say.

Everyone sits inside the raft, spaced around the perimeter to help balance the vessel. It needs to stay balanced so it can ride out the small waves. The sun is visible for the first time in a long time behind puffs of gray clouds. I have my arm draped over the side and Wick is holding my hand. I don’t know why I feel so optimistic, but I’m certain that any minute I’m going to see the Coast Guard, that they’re going to take me home.

“Nobody is going to believe this,” Dale says. “We’re going to be able to sell this story.”

“Sort of depends on how it ends,” Munny said.

“I know how it will end,” Burr says.

My left arm feels tired. It starts to cramp. I let go of Wick’s hand. I switch so I’m holding the raft with my other arm.

“How’s that?” I ask. Not only am I curious, I want the distraction. Burr doesn’t answer me. Not being inside the raft makes me feel more extraneous than ever. I want to feel like I’m part of the group. My mind zooms to the e-zine again. I should not be thinking about that. It’s petty. I ask my question louder. “How’s that?”

Burr peers over the raft’s side so he can look directly at me. This gesture makes me (and my question) feel relevant, and I like that. “We’re still going to bob for a couple more hours. At some point we’ll empty our pockets and find out that one of us salvaged a candy bar. We’ll all split that. Then something will happen.” Burr doesn’t say anything else. The silence bothers me.

“What will happen?” I ask.

“I don’t know. We’ll all have to face some obstacle. And then one of us will emerge as the big hero. In every survivor story there’s always that one guy who does something that everybody says, ‘Holy shit. He was the hero.’ And then we get saved and end up on television.”

There’s more silence.

“That sounds good,” Wick says.

But I’m still thinking about what that thing is that’s going to happen.

“I wonder what kind of candy bar one of us salvaged,” Dale says. “Let’s empty our pockets now.”

“Let’s wait,” Burr says. “Let’s be mellow and hang.”

“The sun looks amazing,” Skate says.

It hits me that this was the reason they took the boat out to begin with. They wanted to watch dawn from the water.

“Are you okay?” Landon asks.

Nobody answers.

“Me?” I ask. “I’m fine. I’m going to float.”

I let my legs lift up and I recline. I stare up into the sky. Water enters my ears, and I can’t hear anything. I feel like I’m falling down staircases inside of myself. I close my eyes. I could stay like this for a long time. Hours. I’m hardly using any energy. Maybe by the time I’m tired of floating, a rescue ship will arrive. Maybe it will arrive
before
I get tired of floating. I need to stay positive. I feel a bump from beneath me against my right hip. I open my eyes. I see an arm flying at a frightening speed toward me. It’s Wick. He yanks on me hard. But I’m confused. I resist.

“You’re hurting me,” I say. His hand is gripped firmly around my arm.

“Get out of the water, Enid!”

I let him lift me. My legs still dangle in the ocean.

“Get your legs in the boat!” Wick says. “Now!”

I swing my legs in the raft. Landon’s arm has a hold of them, and even once I’m totally in the raft, he doesn’t let go of me.

“Jesus,” Dale says.

I look into the water. I can’t believe what I see. It’s a shark. Once I figure out what it is, I can’t stop staring at its dorsal fin. I am in shock. I see movement a few feet away. I let my focus widen. As I sit in the raft, shaking, I see at least a dozen fins.

“They’re everywhere,” Burr says.

“Do you think they’re man-eaters?” Landon asks.

I don’t say anything, but I totally think they are man-eaters. First, I once attempted to watch Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. Second, why else would they be here?

Did they come to eat the raft? Oh my God. A new fear sweeps over me. Do sharks eat rafts? I replay everything I can remember from the two hours I managed to endure of Shark Week, and then move on to
Jaws
. Didn’t the shark in that eat several people? And a dog? And air tanks? And a helicopter?

“I think they might be man-eaters,” Burr says. “Sharks in water this deep are opportunistic feeders. They think we’re their next opportunity.”

If it wanted to, when it bumped me, the shark could have eaten me in a few bites. And right now, instead of listening to Burr, I’d be dead. Dead. Me. Now. The circumstances of my life have become too crazy. I don’t want this. Boring as it is, I want my old life. Considering what I have here, I’d prefer an unvarying and tedious life punctuated by moments of ennui and weariness until I become a senior citizen. Then let me die. And let that death be shark-free.

“Are they real?” I hear myself ask.

“Real?”
Dale says. “We’re lucky they didn’t bite our asses off last night.”

“Your ass? They would have bitten our legs off first,” Munny says.

“Most likely,” Sov adds.

“Shut up,” Burr says. “Let’s try to stay positive. This is the thing that happens, and now Wick is the hero.”

I look at Wick. He is pale white, and his bottom lip seems to be trembling. “My girlfriend almost got eaten by a shark.”

It is ridiculous for my heart to leap at hearing Wick refer to me as his girlfriend. But it does. I’m happy I’m alive. I’m happy he saved me. I am thrilled we’re back together.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Dale asks.

We all look into the ocean. The fins exist. Some of the sharks are bold enough to bump against the raft with their noses and sides. I find it hard not to hypothesize, at least to myself, about the order in which a shark will eat my body parts.

“Why didn’t we see them before?” I ask.

“Sharks like to feed at dawn and dusk,” Munny says.

I actually think I can remember that from Shark Week. “What do we do now?”

As I’m speaking, a large wave comes and nearly dumps us into the ocean. I scream. Wick grabs my waist and pulls me on his lap. Sov and Munny lower themselves into the bottom of the raft. Because of where he’s sitting, Skate is knocked into the raft’s center. The rest of the guys stay seated on the edge, holding tightly to the side. After the raft settles, the water around us foams.

“We need to keep it balanced,” Landon says. “We always need to watch for the big waves.”

Triangular fins continue to rise and fall in the water, cutting through the sea like the tips of dark knives. I try to tell myself that
Jaws
was just a movie. That I’m safe in the raft. I try to convince myself that they’re just curious and will eventually go away. But then I remember something else from Shark Week. A show where sharks tore apart seals and seal-shaped plastic boards. The sharks breached and chomped for two entire hours.

“This is just like
Jaws
,” Dale says.

I hate that Dale and I could be thinking nearly the same thought. I want our brains to be running on very different wavelengths.

“That was just a movie,” I say.

“Actually, I think it was based on a true story,” Wick says.

“You’re right,” Sov says. “A shark went crazy and started killing swimmers. It even attacked them in rivers.”

“Shut up,” Burr says. “We can’t focus on crap like that.”

Skate nods in agreement. “Stay positive.”

“Do you think this is what survivors are supposed to be talking about? We’re survivors. Now let’s focus on staying safe until we’re rescued,” Burr says.

“I totally don’t think of you as the captain anymore,” Dale says. “I mean, I sort of blame you.”

“I don’t care if you blame me. Just knock off the
Jaws
talk.”

“I agree,” I say. “Let’s stop talking about sharks.”

Dale points into the ocean at a passing fin.

“I think our situation speaks for itself.”

“Don’t look in the water,” Landon says. “I agree with Burr and Enid. Let’s stay positive. Let’s focus on staying safe.”

I adjust my position in the boat. I just now realized that my skirt is so wet that it’s nearly transparent. So is my shirt. When it comes to my private parts, I’m not leaving much to the imagination. I cross my legs and fold my arms across my chest. I look at my bare feet.

“I wish I would’ve worn something more appropriate,” I say.

Landon rolls his eyes.

“I feel a little exposed is all.”

“We’ll be rescued soon. None of us is really dressed for a nautical disaster,” Landon says.

He smiles at me. It almost makes me feel better, and I consider smiling back. But as I survey their clothes, I realize that the guys are all dressed for a nautical disaster far better than I am. Except for Sov and Munny, they’re all wearing jeans. And their T-shirts don’t look as flimsy as my ridiculous blouse. And Dale is fortunate enough to be wearing a Windbreaker. I’ve made the worst wardrobe mistake of my life. And I’m haunted by it. I close my eyes and rest my head on the raft’s side.

“You really think somebody has a candy bar?” Dale asks.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m talking to Burr. He said that somebody would have a candy bar,” Dale says.

“I think if one of us had food, they would have offered it up by now.” I am so thirsty my mouth feels unfamiliar.

“I don’t have food,” Munny says. “But maybe we should empty our pockets and see if any of us have anything useful.”

“Good idea,” Sov says. “Maybe we have something that can attract food.”

“Yeah,” Wick says.

I don’t have anything in my pockets. Because my skirt was white and formfitting, and I didn’t want to create bulges at my hips, I’m not even carrying any ChapStick.

Landon empties his pockets first. There are some coins, wet mushy receipts, and two soggy twenties.

My nagging hunger leads me to ask a stupid question. “Do bills have any nutrients? Can we eat money?”

Munny shakes his head. “It’s cloth. And it’s saturated in salt.”

“The Coast Guard will be here soon. This is just an activity that gives us something to do,” Burr says.

“Not for me,” Dale says. “I’m hoping we find something that we can use to catch fish.”

What could any of the guys have in their pockets that could be used to catch fish?