Chapter 25
I rip the boat keys from their hook and stumble back outside. Henry is still crashing into the door and shouting my name at a terrifying tenor. I break into a sprint and vault myself onto the deck of the boat.
Key in the ignition. Key right-side up in the ignition. Wait for the engine warning lights to turn off. A minute that feels like an hour, and then finally, I shift into reverse. I clench the steering wheel with all my might, try to make my hands forget to shake. Is it terror or grief? I am leaving.
The sun glares at the water, punch-bright and sinister.
My hair flaps around, tickling the back of my neck like ghost children playing a malevolent game.
I keep whipping around, eyeing my wake made wavy and mirage-like by the boat’s motor, every cell in my body tweaking with the sensation of being followed, though that would be impossible.
I took Henry’s only mode of transportation, and there is no one else on the island but us.
I push through the inlet at a higher speed, my hands sweating and my teeth chattering.
I have no idea why they call it “driving” a boat.
A car and a boat have steering wheels, and that’s about where the similarities end.
Boats do not always go where you steer them.
Boats are not easier to handle at lower speeds.
Boats do not have brakes. The only way to slow down is to reverse, and I do that now because as I emerge from the inlet, I come upon another boat, bobbing listlessly like a car on the shoulder of a highway.
Inside, someone waves their arms frantically for help. It’s Corrine. Fuck. It’s Corrine.