Chapter 33
I’m in agony. I try to wave my arms to get rid of the pain, but someone is squeezing my chest and refusing to let go.
“Stop it,” I try to say, but I don’t have enough air and it just comes out as a groan.
Something else wells up in my throat instead, and I roll over and retch, vomiting up what feels like a gallon of muddy water.
When I’m done, I collapse onto my side. My body contracts with every painful breath.
“Tuva?” Dad’s voice is shrill with worry.
I force my eyes open a crack.
It’s Dad but he looks like something out of a horror movie, with half his face covered in blood and eyes wide with shock.
He’s completely soaked and blurred around the edges.
I close my eyes again.
“Hi, Dad.” My lips are dry and raw, my voice no more than a whisper.
“Tuva? Can you hear me?”
I’m too exhausted to answer. Everything hurts. Especially my throat and lungs.
I nod weakly.
“Thank God!” he says and hugs me much too tightly.
I don’t have the strength to hug him back. Tears seep through my closed eyelids and run down my wet cheeks.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” I manage to say in a strange, hoarse voice.
“Me, too, Tuva.” His voice trembles. He’s crying too.
He rocks me back and forth for a long time. Eventually, he lets go, sits up, and roots around in his waterproof-jacket pocket. He gets out his cell phone and calls for help.
“Tuva . . . what happened? What should I tell them?”
I sob. I know that none of this can be explained.
“Say we ran into a Jet Ski,” I say with a hiccup and a sniff.