Chapter 1
The Stockholm Archipelago
The boat lurches and I hunch down, hugging my knees and trying not to throw up.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve felt nauseous from the moment I set foot in the school boat.
?sterman always picks me up first. When I was younger, I thought this was because I was special somehow—chosen—but now I know better. ?sterman lives on Haro Island, same as me, except his house is on the south side. It makes sense to stop at our dock first.
He doesn’t talk much, ?sterman. Just stands there steering the boat in his raggedy old blue oilskin coat. I bet that coat was already old when I was born, twelve years ago. His short gray hair is always windswept, and the wrinkles around his mouth are so deep they look like scars.
In my whole life, I’ve probably only heard him say two or three sentences at a time.
?sterman turns toward Ekno Island, and I shiver as a few drops of seawater splash me in the face. It feels like weeks since I’ve seen the sun. The droplets form a thin film on my skin, and I can taste the briny water on my lips.
It’s so quiet. I prefer the archipelago at this time of year, when the tourists have gone home and the migratory birds have left.
Hanna and Isabelle are already waiting at the end of the jetty, which isn’t like them.
They’re usually late, and come running down to the dock with their long blond hair flying in the wind, like twins.
They’re not actually related, though, just best friends.
They don’t even really look alike. They just have a similar way about them.
Isabelle is tall and thin and wears jangling bracelets. Hanna is shorter and has a shrill, piercing laugh. They’re always whispering in class, doodling on the backs of each other’s hands, fawning over Rasmus and Axel, and gossiping about boys and makeup and shows I’ve never seen.
?sterman pulls up to the dock, and Isabelle jumps aboard so clumsily the whole boat tilts. My stomach lurches. Please let us not capsize. Gripped with a dizzying fear of falling in the water, I clutch the edge of the boat so hard my hand hurts.
“Sorry!” shouts Isabelle.
But she doesn’t sound all that sorry.
Hanna hops aboard, a little more smoothly, and sits down next to Isabelle.
“Are we late?” she asks.
?sterman shakes his head, and the boat putters away.
I keep my eyes fixed on the floor. It was white once. Now the paint has been worn away by weather and water and shoe soles, exposing a thin layer of plastic and aluminum.
I try to think of anything other than the depths beneath the boat. How little separates me from those endless fathoms of water.
?sterman approaches Axel’s dock and allows the engine to idle.
It’s a small island. Axel and his family are the only ones who live here, in the crooked little house at the top of the cliff. Hard to believe that five people can even fit inside.
I have never seen Axel’s father, only his mother, Marianne.
She’s hard to miss. She makes a lot of noise, both at parents’ meetings and the school’s end-of-year celebrations, and generally makes her presence known.
If she were anyone else’s mother, people would probably make fun of their family, but no one laughs at Axel.
The only whispers behind his back are about how good-looking he is.
Axel appears, sauntering with well-rehearsed casualness behind his eight-year-old twin brothers.
He slips onto the boat, sits down next to Hanna and Isabelle, tosses his mid-length dark hair, and mutters, “Hey.”
He doesn’t look at me.
The three of them sit close together, and all I can see is their backs. When we were younger, they used to pick on me. Calling me names, trying to make me cry.
Once, they pushed me into the water when we were waiting for the school boat. They must have gotten in big trouble with their parents for that one, because things actually got a little better afterward.
Now they mostly just act like I don’t exist.
Sometimes that feels worse.
We come to the final island at last. A figure waves from the far end of the dock, and I want to wave back, but I stop myself. The greeting wasn’t intended for me.
Isabelle’s voice cuts through the cold, clear air: “Hi, Rasmus!”
Rasmus stuffs his hands in his pockets as we approach, and I subtly try to get a good look at him. He’s new to the archipelago, having arrived at the beginning of the school year.
He’s not as good-looking as Axel, but he’s got a cute smile. Rasmus is skinny, with unruly blond hair. He grew up on the mainland, which automatically makes him cool.
He might be relegated to the status of Kristoffer and Micke in a few months, when the sheen of novelty has worn off. But for now he is new, intriguing, and from Stockholm.
Hanna still blushes every time he boards the boat.
“Man,” says Rasmus, rubbing his hands together as he sits on the bench up front, facing the others and with his back to ?sterman.
“What?” asks Isabelle.
“Super cold today,” Rasmus says with a smile.
I can see him over Hanna’s shoulder, and for a moment I think his gaze is directed right at me. I look away immediately.
“It doesn’t get this cold in the city?” teases Hanna, overemphasizing the word.
“Not in October,” Rasmus says with another playful smile.
It’s only a few minutes from Skarp-Runmarn Island, where Rasmus lives, to our school on Runmaro Island. For a moment I feel relieved that the boat trip is almost over, but then the prospect of the full day ahead sinks in.
The other school boat has already docked by the time we come in. It always arrives ahead of us, even though it picks up thirteen people, whereas ours only transports nine. There is a total of forty students in the school, from first grade to ninth.
Most days, I manage to get through the whole day without having to talk to anyone.
As we dock, the boat bumps the edge of the jetty, splashing water over the railing and onto my jeans. The icy shock jolts me into memories of last night’s dream.
Cold, gray. Burning pain filling my throat, scorching my lungs like fire. The surface far above me, unreachable.
Every night for the past few weeks, I have dreamed that I was drowning.
I can’t get out of the boat fast enough.