Head First

Chapter 11

Seven dives to go

I wish more than anything I could talk to Millie. Her surgery is in ten hours. It’s all I can think about. I check the time on my phone so frequently during dinner that Pippa whispers to me, ‘What’s going on?’ She knows I have no service – none of us do – so my obsession with my phone is notable. I quickly tuck my phone back into the pocket of my jean shorts and reply, ‘Nothing.’ She shoots me a curious look but returns to her meal.

We are huddled around the table in the belly of the boat, eating fried black bean burgers with the leftovers from lunch. There is a U-shaped bench around the table which most of us have squeezed onto, and four chairs surround the table on the opposite half. I marvel at the ability to fit functional furniture into such a small space. Everything is a little worn down by the sea but all of it works, and the bench is comfortable despite the gentle back and forth of the sea.

The group is silent apart from sounds of chewing. I’m not sure if Aaron is the best cook I’ve ever met or if we’re all just starving from the activity. Judging by the way everyone else is shovelling food into their mouths I’m assuming it’s the latter.

It’s our first real meal together with Miguel and Aaron included, and Vanessa wastes no time attempting to drive the conversation forward in what feels like a corporate group bonding exercise. First, we go around and say our names and where we’re from. When I say Columbus, Ohio, I notice the corners of Natalie’s mouth tighten. Don’t ask about our trips , I think, crossing my fingers underneath the table.

‘Who had the longest trip to get here?’ Vanessa asks next.

I remain silent, hoping Pippa and Andrew will speak up. London must be a longer trip than I had.

‘Isn’t Ohio the furthest away?’ Natalie asks, peering at me across the table. Since we boarded the boat, I’ve managed to avoid her completely, although I’ve seen Pippa talking to her once or twice. Pippa was laughing, a sign Natalie might not be as bad as I thought, but I still couldn’t shake my paranoia that they were discussing me.

‘Did you come straight here from Ohio?’ asks Miguel, his soft brown eyes connecting with mine. ‘That must be an eighteen-hour flight.’

‘No,’ I respond, ‘I had a connecting flight.’ I want this conversation to end more than anything in the world. The last thing I need to relive is beating out Natalie for a first-class seat and the more we discuss it, the more worried I am that she is going to ask why, at that time, I was going by Andi.

And if Hugh picks up on anything being amiss, he’s made it very clear he’s not the type to let it go.

‘Where’d you connect through?’ chirps Pippa through a mouthful of salad. She’s trying to be nice, but I want to throttle her.

‘Dallas,’ I say quietly.

Natalie cocks her head at me, a habit of hers I find extremely unnerving.

‘We were on the same flight,’ she says with a tight smile.

I try to return Natalie’s grin, but I panic. ‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ I say, cutting her off and clambering off the bench, squeezing down the hallway towards the miniature restroom.

I lock myself inside and steady my hands on the walls to take deep breaths while my heart rate slows. I try to tamp down the feeling in my gut that Natalie is out to cause trouble. She has no reason to care about my name , I remind myself. She doesn’t care about me .

I unlock the bathroom door once I hear laughter, and I’m confident the conversation has moved on, but I can’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling that’s perched in my gut.

I get back from the bathroom in time to hear Vanessa ask us to pick our Great Barrier Reef ‘mascot’. We work our way around the table. Derek chooses a stingray, Natalie a seahorse, Pippa a surgeonfish, Andrew a clownfish (which got a laugh, because they each picked the Finding Nemo characters). I waffle on what to choose and land on a flounder because they blend in. When Hugh proudly announces that his mascot is a butterfly wrasse, I choke on a piece of black bean burger. Pippa slams a palm in between my shoulder blades, and it dislodges. I immediately turn beet red and murmur a quick ‘thank you’ to Pippa before staring at my plate. I refuse to look at Hugh, although I can tell by the way his shoulders are trembling in my peripheral vision that he is laughing. I clench my hands into fists under the table.

Pippa, sensing my agitation, pours me more water from the communal pitcher and hands me a full glass. In contrast to my mixed emotions about Hugh, most of which are extreme annoyance, I love Pippa already. She’s perceptive, friendly and has a shrill laugh that seems to be constantly echoing off the walls of the boat. She’s always next to Andrew but simultaneously gravitating to my side. When she sat at dinner, she put some much-needed space between Hugh and I, another notch in my reasons to like her company.

I have done my best to avoid him since he got me in trouble with Vanessa. Who, after the Derek drama had died down, pulled me aside to tell me that I ‘had to be more careful’, and that she ‘was going to have to recommend shorter dives if I couldn’t keep up’. I saw Hugh watching our interaction out of the corner of my eye. As far as I can tell, Vanessa didn’t give him the same lecture. I have never wanted to punch someone so badly.

Now, we’re listening to Aaron tell us about the time he captained a boat for a famous reality TV star to go diving on the Great Barrier Reef. I catch him hinting that the reality TV show in question was The Bachelor , but despite how interested I usually would be in the story, I can’t focus. If Vanessa is serious, and she restricts my dive time, that means less opportunity to spot the butterfly wrasse. Despite my effort not to pay him any more attention, I can’t help but glare at Hugh.

As my eyes narrow in on the slope of his nose, I see Miguel looking my way out of my peripherals. He looks down at his plate and I do the same, busying myself with my few remaining bites of food. I wonder if he is like this with everyone – I’ve already seen him laughing plenty with Andrew.

Derek interrupts Aaron to tell a story about how his boss and the famous guy Aaron mentioned have some sort of rivalry over a factory in Vegas. I watch Vanessa’s spine stiffen ever so slightly. She gets up to clear our plates, graciously manoeuvring around us as she takes things back to the kitchen. I don’t think anyone else notices the slight side-eye she gives Derek. She may dislike me, but after what happened earlier, she dislikes him more.

Miguel, Natalie and Derek shot up their flares right after we got back on the boat. They seemed to surface just in time, right before Vanessa really blew her lid. She pulled Derek aside immediately, wagging her finger at him like an angry schoolteacher, mentioning his camera repeatedly. Her voice returned to normal at the end of their conversation. Derek looked close to tears until she switched to a gentler tone and said, ‘I’m glad you’re OK.’ I had forgotten until that moment that everyone on board pays Vanessa, so there’s probably a protocol where she can’t yell at Derek. I almost wished he had gotten yelled at. What he did was worse than me! Hugh and I technically never even got lost. Plus, if you can’t keep up with the group when you’re taking photos, then you shouldn’t be taking photos.

Surprisingly, given his acerbic personality, Hugh was making quick friends with Andrew, who seemed to think he was hilarious, and it appeared he had even won over Miguel. He had an easy conversational way about him, and a sincere way of listening to people – his head would gently lean to the right, his eyebrows would furrow a centimetre closer together and the blue of his eyes would deepen.

I shake my head to free my thoughts from Hugh. Now that he’s proven himself to be someone who isn’t a team player, and who is clearly distracting me and sabotaging my mission for my sister, I can’t afford to waste any more time thinking about his eye colour.

After dinner, Vanessa teaches us a card game called Hook Line Sinker, where everyone places bets and takes card tricks. She keeps count of points on a massive notepad. Hugh picks it up quickly and I get into it too – soon me, Hugh, and Andrew are competing for top spot. Andrew wins and hoots with pleasure, getting up from his chair to do a victory dance that sends everyone into bouts of laughter.

When the game is over, everyone seems to scatter. Natalie claims the sea weather dries out her skin, so she heads downstairs to do a face mask. I’m not ready to be in a small cabin with Hugh, so I huddle on a towel on the platform by the hammock, and Pippa joins me for a glass of wine.

Andrew, Derek, Miguel, Hugh and Aaron are all chatting over beers on the benches near the captain’s chair. Every now and then I hear Andrew’s boisterous laugh and Hugh’s low chuckle. Goosebumps rise over my legs, but I don’t know if it’s the breeze off the ocean or the sound of Hugh’s voice on the wind. I have a big sweatshirt on, the only one I brought on the trip, and I pull it over my knees to keep the chill off. It’s my ex’s sweatshirt, from a small town in Michigan where he used to vacation with his family. I stole it after the first night we slept together and never gave it back. I’ve had it for so long I often forget it wasn’t originally mine.

Pippa asks me about Ohio, but I deflect. I haven’t perfected talking about Millie while calling her Andi yet, and I don’t want to try to lie, especially when I’m drinking wine. Instead, I ask Pippa about Andrew. She confesses they’ve been talking about getting engaged, and we chat about how they met and where they live. They’re moving in together soon, and Pippa’s nervous about sharing a bathroom.

‘Sometimes he’s in there for hours, I swear,’ she says, both of us collapsing into giggles. ‘Multiple times a day!’

Eventually, we grow uncomfortable reclining on the hard shell of the platform and we stand up, resting our palms on the railing and gazing out at the dark ocean. The moon is bright, and the sound of the waves is peaceful.

‘I love it out here,’ Pippa says, gesturing with her hands towards the ocean. Just then we hit a wave, and she fumbles, her plastic cup falling out of her hand and down towards the water.

No! I think, as I watch it fall in slow motion. Immediately, my thoughts go to Vanessa, who pulls a piece of plastic out of the reef on every dive. I may have brought toxic sunscreen but I’m not going to let a piece of plastic float about the Great Barrier Reef if I can help it. I can see the cup perfectly clearly, bobbing in the moonlight. Before I know it, I’ve stripped off my sweatshirt, and I haul myself over the railing and into the ocean.

Only once I’ve slammed into the cold water do I realise what I’ve done is incredibly stupid. There could be any number of sharks lurking under my feet.

‘Millie!’ Pippa shouts.

I locate the cup in seconds, the water is still, and I hear Aaron ask Pippa what’s going on. He shouts at me to get to the back of the boat, where there’s a ladder, and Pippa scurries to bring me a towel.

‘What were you thinking?’ Aaron asks, as I pull myself out of the water. ‘You know you can’t launch yourself into the water in the middle of the night.’ My teeth start to chatter. ‘She dropped pla-a-stic,’ I stutter out, holding up the waterlogged cup.

‘Ah.’ Aaron flashes me a sympathetic smile. ‘Good on you, then. But don’t go about repeating that. Go get in the shower.’ The rest of the boys are crowded around Aaron. Andrew gives me a high five. ‘Great save,’ he says. Miguel squeezes an arm around my shoulders. Even Derek high-fives me.

Pippa is quick to grab a towel. ‘That was quite dense of me,’ she says.

‘It was an accident.’ I smile at her and my teeth clack against each other. The temperature on the ocean drops over ten degrees each night, and, boy, can I feel the chill. On my way downstairs, I turn to apologise to Aaron for jumping in without a life jacket and I meet Hugh’s eyes. He stares at me for a beat too long, unblinking.

A shiver runs down my spine. I head to get cleaned up.

After my second shower of the night, I go upstairs to hang my clothes to dry on the deck. My hair is dripping wet, so I decide to sit on the platform for a while. I curl up underneath the protection of my sweatshirt while the evening breeze dries out my hair. I’m only outside for a couple of minutes before the group of men disbands, everyone heading to bed.

Andrew comes over on his way downstairs. ‘Millie,’ he says softly, pausing at the top of the staircase. ‘I just overheard Hugh explaining to Derek what you both did . . . that both of you are marine biologists. I’m sorry I said earlier that your jobs were different. I realised afterwards that telling you what you do for work was probably insulting. I usually don’t mansplain so badly, I promise. Pippa is right . . . I’ve been overexcited for days.’ Andrew gives me a sheepish grin and waves goodnight as he retreats towards the captain’s room, leaving me puzzling over his comment.

Hugh basically admitted to what he told Andrew earlier . . . that we were ‘different’, and now he’s defending me to Derek?

I decide Hugh’s taken up too much of my brain space today, so I stare up at an endless blanket of stars instead of replaying our conversations. I feel an almost primal need for my sister. Seven hours until surgery. I say a little prayer, to the universe, or to the ocean, or to the butterfly wrasse I so fervently hope exists, that everything goes smoothly.

I feel so far away from everything I know. I’m about as far from Ohio as I could get unless I was launched into space. I don’t feel like I have any direction anymore. I hardly have a pull back home except for Murphy and Millie. My heart squeezes at the thought of Murph. I miss him.

Thinking about returning to my life, my dead-end cubicle job, my parents who don’t expect anything from me except stability, fills me with dread. How am I supposed to go back after this ? How am I supposed to muster up excitement to get tea with Becca after swimming through the brightest coral reef I’ve ever seen? How do I hold a conversation with Matteo about the American Girl doll he bought his daughter for Christmas after being hunted by a shark? How do I join the Columbus dating scene after watching Hugh’s muscles ripple underneath his worn grey T-shirt . . .

He’s getting in my head , I think, angrily, and he’s so good at it he could be doing it on purpose for all I know.

I glare out at the ocean, listening to the sound of waves slapping against the boat. Maybe the sea will bring me some clarity. I still have four days. I try to map out constellations, but I don’t recognise any. I’ve long since uncrunched my legs from under the sweatshirt, and the cool breeze off the ocean feels good against my sun-kissed skin. My goosebumps are gone. I feel like my body is the end of a live wire. Everything is nuclear with colour, with emotion, the stakes are high. I feel like I’m actually living life correctly, for once. I feel terrified admitting it, but I love this feeling. I love feeling so alive.

This is the most in touch I’ve been with my emotions since I can remember. And it’s the most I’ve felt in so long that I start to cry. I cry with worry for Millie and with anxiety for myself. I take in a deep gulp of air, my lungs preparing for a sob, when I hear someone clear their throat.

‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were out here.’ It’s Hugh. Of course it’s Hugh.

I want to retort ‘Where else would I be?’ or ask him what game he’s playing, talking about me behind my back, but I know my voice will betray me. It will come out cracking and hoarse. I worry the moon is so bright that he’ll be able to see the tears on my face.

‘I’ll just . . . head back in . . . I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ he says after a beat, but he lingers for a moment too long.

I want to ask him to sit. If he hadn’t thrown me under the bus with Vanessa, if he had just protected me from the shark and left it at that, I would have asked him to stay. But after how much he’s managed to get in my head after only one day, he’s the last person I trust to see me like this – so vulnerable. I can’t bring myself to say anything. Eventually, Hugh turns on his heel, his frown catching in the moonlight, and disappears around the corner.