Chapter 30
A voice calls up the stairs. It’s Rasmus’s mom.
“Rasmus! Dinner will be ready in half an hour! Will your friend be eating with us?”
I look out the window for the first time in hours and am instantly gripped with fear. When did the sun go down?
It’s pitch black outside and I didn’t even notice, didn’t spare a thought to the setting sun or the passing of time.
“I have to call my dad,” I say anxiously. “So he can come and pick me up.”
Rasmus reacts to my sudden change of tone. Just a few seconds ago we were laughing about something silly. Now I think he can sense my anxiety as he tries to see what I’m looking at out the window.
I take my phone from my pocket to call Dad, who says he can be here in twenty minutes.
Rasmus opens his mouth to protest, but I shake my head.
“I have to go home.”
Our eyes are drawn to the water once again.
The sea is barely visible in the dark, but I can hear the wind howling through the rafters, and in the glow of the dock light, I see that the waves are much bigger than when we arrived. The weather has taken a turn for the worse.
“We should have set an alarm,” I say, attempting a smile.
“Next time.” Rasmus’s hand brushes against mine.
Then we just sit there until we hear the sound of an approaching motor. I don’t need to look to know it’s my father.
Rasmus walks me to the door when I go to put on my jacket and boots. His mom gives me a quick hug. With her glasses resting on her forehead, she smiles, looking very much like her son, and says, “I hope you can stay for dinner next time!”
“That would be great,” I say. “Thanks for having me. It’s been a real pleasure.”
Mom would be proud.
Rasmus opens the door, and we walk down to the dock. My stomach is a clump of cement.
How could I have lost track of time? How could I?
I wonder if I’ll survive the journey home.
The waves strike the dock, and the boat sways worryingly by the far end where Dad is waiting. This would be a bad night for sailing even without that thing lurking underwater.
A cold wind blows from the east.
“Hi, Tuva!” Dad calls from the wheelhouse.
I turn to Rasmus. “See you tomorrow.”
“Promise you’ll be careful,” he warns me, stamping his feet in place. I give him a quick nod, even though I have no idea how I’m supposed to keep such a promise.
Just as I’m about to climb aboard, he gives me a cautious little hug. Then he stays to watch as I board the boat.
Dad waves and hits the gas. Rasmus disappears behind us, much too quickly.