Blooper Reel
Lilith: “Okay, Skye, remember, you’re frantic. You think she’s drowning. You dive in; it’s murky; you can’t see her; total panic. Then, THEN, you finally spot her. Got it?”
Skye: “Right. Frantic. Murky. Can’t see. Panic.”
I take a running leap off the dock, hitting the cold water with a splash that’s probably more dramatic than necessary. I let myself sink, kicking hard, my eyes straining against the greenish gloom.
Where is she? Oh God, where—
My heart isn’t just pounding; it’s doing a full Olympic sprint in my chest. I sweep my arms through the water, turning, searching the shadowy shapes of pilings and discarded junk.
And then I see her.
She’s about ten feet away, hovering near the bottom. But she’s not limp. Or unconscious.
Violet is perfectly upright in a seated pose. And she’s making faces. Big, round, goldfish-style faces with her lips pursed, and her cheeks puffed out. Our eyes meet, and she freezes.
Her body goes limp as if it’s her defense mechanism.
My eyes narrow.
Standing beside her, in full black scuba gear, is a crew diver. He’s watching her not-so-subtle hand reaching for the bright yellow emergency oxygen mask.
I stop kicking and hang here in the water, suspended in utter disbelief.
A stream of bubbles interrupts me as I start yelling.
“What?” Bubble. “The?” Bubble. “Fuck?”
And I kick back to the surface.
Lilith: “Aaaaand cut! Skye, baby, you’re supposed to look relieved when you see her, not like you just witnessed an alien ritual. Vi, the fish faces, gotta stop. You’re gonna make Skye punch someone. And for the love of God, get the diver a less-yellow mask. It looks like a damn rubber ducky.”