Chapter 47
nicky
Nicky shoved his way through the crowded cabin, desperately hoping for a glimpse of Maggie’s navy dress, of the cornflowers Rose had sweetly threaded through her long, dark hair.
He knew how Maggie felt. He understood what it was like to be in such a grim, hopeless place you despaired of ever finding your way out. He totally got why Maggie wanted to jump out of her own skin and into oblivion.
He felt the same way.
The secret that’d been thrust on him a week ago was eating away at his core like acid.
Every day he didn’t tell his mom and dad what’d happened that night in the woods, every moment he lived his life with this lie at the centre, it grew bigger and uglier and harder to contain.
And yet if he spoke up, he’d destroy the people he loved most. The conflict was killing him.
He understood why Maggie had had enough. He could see why it might be tempting to take the way out. He’d briefly been tempted himself.
But he didn’t want to die.
And he didn’t want Maggie to die, either. He’d only agreed to help her with her plan because he’d thought he’d have time to talk her out of it, time to change her mind.
He grabbed Finn’s arm. ‘Have you seen Maggie?’
‘Sorry, bro. Isn’t she up on deck?’
Maggie’s mom cornered him by the buffet table, asking him questions he didn’t dare answer, so he told her the only thing he could, I’m looking for her myself, and offered to check the bathrooms, just to get away.
There were two toilets, one on either side of the main cabin. Nicky found a couple of students making out in one of them, oblivious to both his brief intrusion and the puddle of puke at their feet. The second john was empty.
He locked the door and sat down on the toilet seat, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.
He had a terrible feeling he knew what Maggie had done.
The collision had given her the perfect opportunity to disappear without anyone having to feel bad.
Instead of taking the pills, like they’d planned, she’d jumped overboard, knowing everyone would assume that bump or crash or whatever it was had knocked her into the water.
A tragic accident.
No one could have seen it coming.
No one’s fault.
Nicky leaped to his feet. He still had time to save her. Even if she’d jumped into the water on purpose, it wasn’t easy to drown, was it? You couldn’t just sink peacefully to the bottom: your survival instinct kicked in. It was why people had to put stones in their pockets.
He had his hand on the door handle.
And then suddenly the whole world was spinning around him.
Water appeared from nowhere as the entire cubicle tilted on its side. He was so astonished he didn’t have time to be afraid. His brain couldn’t even process what was happening. The steel toilet broke away from what was now the ceiling, hitting him on the head.
And then the lights went out.
He was thrown against one side of the cubicle and then the other, as if a giant hand had picked up the boat and was shaking it like a child’s toy.
His mouth filled with the taste of copper pennies, and he realised he was bleeding, but he had no idea where he’d been hurt.
He wrapped his arms around his head to protect himself, pulling his knees tightly against his chest.
He had no idea how long it went on for, but it seemed to last forever.
And then there was suddenly a bone-jarring jolt, and everything stopped.
Nicky unfolded his legs and stood up. The water was already at his waist, and still rising. They were sinking.
His terror was absolute.
He had to get out of the cubicle, now.
He scrabbled in the dark for the door handle, and then realised the boat had turned turtle, and the lock was now underwater, near his feet. He dived down and groped for it, trying to slow his panic and concentrate, and he found the door handle. He yanked on it, hard—
—and it came off in his hand.
It took all his self-control not to freak out and lose his shit then.
The emergency lighting suddenly came on. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stem his panic.
He looked around the cubicle for something he could use to jimmy the door open. Just above his head, there was a small vent emerging from what had been the floor of the bathroom. Nicky pulled on it, and a piece of metal about six inches square came away.
He plunged back underwater, finding the door catch with his fingers and inserting the folded metal in the space between the catch and the frame. He had to surface for air twice before he managed to flip the lock open.
There was a gush of water from the cubicle into the corridor as he emerged into the gloom.
The water level was lower here than it’d been in the toilet, barely up to his knees.
He was terrified of going the wrong way, of opening a door and letting in a sudden flood of water from another part of the boat.
He could hear distant screams, but he couldn’t see anyone.
He had no idea how to get back to the main cabin, or reach the couple in the toilet cubicle on the other side of the boat.
Everything looked so different upside down. It was like when he used to lie on his bed and look up at the ceiling and try to imagine walking around. It made him feel weird and disoriented.
The panic he’d been holding back threatened to engulf him. He wasn’t sure he could hold it together much longer.
He wanted his mom.
And then, miraculously, he heard her.
She was close. Her voice echoed behind him, calm and confident, telling everyone to keep still, rescue was coming.
Nicky’s terror receded as he turned round and splashed towards the main cabin. His mom would sort this out. She always did.
But her voice was already growing distant again.
His mom was moving away, reassuring everyone, keeping them all calm.
As if they were all her kids. As if he had no special rights over her, like he wasn’t her son.
As if he was no more important to her than Raylan Adams or Ashley fucking Lincoln or Darcey Fraser.
His whole life, he’d had to share her.
He was never . . .
. . . ever . . .
enough.