Текст книги "Pulled Under"

Автор книги: Michelle Dalton

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

STEADY EDDIE’S

SURF SCHOOL GLOSSARY

aerial: when a surfer rides up the face of a wave, launches into the air, and comes back down, landing on the same wave

barrel: a breaking, hollow wave, also called a tube

boogie board: also known as a body board; used in order to ride waves lying flat on the belly

carving: turning on top of a wave

cutback: turning back into the wave, closer to the wave’s power source

duck dive: paddling under a wave that is coming straight at a surfer

fin: the curved piece underneath the surfboard

fins-fee snap: a sharp turn where the fins slide off the top of the wave

fish: a short and thick surfboard used to ride smaller waves

floater: when a surfer rides along the top of a wave

grommet: a new and inexperienced surfer

hang ten: riding a surfboard with the toes of both feet hugging the front edge

Kelly Slater: born and raised in Florida; considered to be the greatest surfer of all time

leash: the cord that attaches a surfer’s ankle to the surfboard

pearl: when the nose of the surfboard digs under the water and propels the surfer over the front of the board

rail: the side edge of a surfboard

rash guard: a swim shirt worn to protect one’s skin from the wax and sand on the surfboard

rip current:  a strong current flowing from the shore out toward the sea

roundhouse: turning one hundred and eighty degrees

snap: when a surfer shoots down the top of a wave

soft board: a beginner’s surfboard with a soft, foam top

stringer: a thin strip of wood that runs down the center of a surfboard, making it stronger

shred: term used to describe a person surfing well

vertical backhand snap: when a surfer builds up as much speed as possible before sticking the board up off the top of the wave and whacking it back down

Her future first love lives in the past.

Lose yourself in this totally awesome sneak peek of

by Gaby Triana.

Miss? Miss, are you okay?”

I cough water. My tongue hurts.

“I think she’s waking up.”

“Don’t crowd her. Give her room.”

All around me I hear water rushing, kids screeching, and people talking in hushed tones. Except for this one guy who sounds like he’s in charge. “She’s coming to.”

My eyes hurt. My head hurts. I’m outdoors. I know the sun is out because I see orangey red behind my eyelids. I’m lying on sand, I think.

“Miss, can you hear me? Are your parents here?”

I can hear you. My parents wouldn’t be here together.

“Just give her a minute.”

A different voice, a woman’s. “Did she slide with you? How come you didn’t see her, Becky, for goodness’ sake!”

“Mommy, she was already there when I slid down the slide,” a little girl cries. “I fell right on top of her!”

“Ma’am”—the guy in charge is talking again—“she couldn’t have slid with her. The lifeguard up there makes each person wait until the person ahead of them passes the orange flag. Then they can slide.” I crack my eyelids open to peek at him. “My guess is she fainted when she entered the water.” He’s crouched on his knees hovering over me, but he’s talking to people around him. He has black hair and a white tank top. And a mustache. Like, an actual mustache.

“It might’ve been a seizure.” Another guy’s voice, somewhere behind my head.

“But she wasn’t on the slide, I’m telling you!” the little girl continues to argue with her mother. Her blond pigtails are dripping wet, and she has a pink one-piece on. “She wasn’t ahead of me in line!”

“Ow. My tongue hurts.” I bit it.

The people around me—I see them now, there’re like ten or more of them—are all watching me, though it’s hard to see their faces with the sun shining directly above them. “She’s opening her eyes. She’s talking.”

“Told you it was a seizure,” that guy says again. This makes the tank top guy in charge come closer, taking up my whole view. He looks like a lifeguard.

“Miss, don’t move. You passed out in the water. Now you’re on the beach. Just tell me your name so I can find your folks.”

“I found you in the water,” the blond girl says, crouching close to my face, “or else you might’ve died.”

Thank you, I say, or think I say. I don’t even know where I am. What is this place? Where’s Mom? Or am I with Dad today? Is this camp? I can’t even think of my name. I can’t talk. I have to get up. “Ow.”

“You sure you want to do that?” A whistle around his neck dangles above my face. He turns his attention back to the people standing around us. “It’s common following a seizure for the victim to be confused.” He turns to me. “Are you confused?”

Right now, I’m more irritated by his questions than anything. I want a place to lie down that’s not in front of a bunch of people in weird bathing suits. I sit up, trying to get onto my feet. The crowd makes room for me. The upside-down lifeguard offers his hand. “Here, let me help you.”

I look at this tanned hand a moment, then take it. He pulls me easily to my feet. He’s wearing shorts that are a little on the short side. The lifeguard steadies me, then lifts a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “This is Jake at RC. We need a medic unit, pronto. Over.” He attaches it to his waistband and holds my arms as a reply crackles through the speakers. Jake says, “You need me to carry you?”

“Uh, I’m fine. This happens all the time. Thanks,” I say. Actually, I don’t remember this happening ever. I think. Or has it? Yes, once before. In school, right before my exams.

The mustached lifeguard, Jake, taps the younger guy, the one who said I told you so, on the shoulder. “Jason, walk her to a picnic table. See if you can find her folks, and keep an eye out for the medics. I gotta get back to my post, man.”

“Sure thing. Come on.” Jason nods, placing his hand softly against my back. He’s tall, tanned, and wearing a thin gold chain around his neck, and the hairs on his arm shine yellow in the blazing sunlight. Why I notice this above everything else, I do not know. “What’s your name?”

“Haley,” I say, but for a second I’m not sure. Is it? Yeah, that sounds right. Haley . . . Haley . . . “Petersen.” I start heading across the sand. It’s a weird beach. There’s no ocean. Just a lagoon-type thing. Not sure where I’m going. And why don’t I see anyone I know? I look at my guide again. “I take it you’re Jason.”

“Yup, but this isn’t Camp Crystal Lake, so you don’t need to worry.” He laughs softly. I have no idea what he means by that. He must see my blank expression. “Uh, never mind. That was stupid, what I just said. Not everybody’s seen that movie.” He shakes his head, chastising himself.

“It wasn’t stupid. I just . . . I’m not . . . ,” I mumble. Is he talking about Friday the 13th? That’s kind of a random thing to tell someone.

“Like I said, never mind.”

I shield my eyes from the sun to scan the beach. Are my parents here? Which one am I with today? Where the hell am I, and why are so many people wearing the same tacky shorts? They’re like running shorts with a white border along the hem and side.

“It’s all right. You’re disoriented. That’s why I shouldn’t be joking with you. So, Haley, any idea where your folks are?”

Folks. They really like that word around here.

I stop dead on the beach and really search for someone I know. Anyone. I don’t remember coming here, but I couldn’t have come alone, could I? I see green sun umbrellas, tan beach chairs, the old kinds, with plastic straps across the frames, and a lot of kids of all ages standing on a wooden bridge over the water, but no one I recognize. “That water’s really green,” I say.

“It’s from the lake. It’s got bromine in it. You haven’t the faintest idea where your parents are, do you?” He puts his hands on his hips and peers at me, his eyes squinching in the sun so that I can’t tell what color they are. Even he’s wearing the same weird shorts. High on the waist. It doesn’t stop him from being cute, though, in a blond, retro-fresh, all-American way.

“Where’d you get those shorts?” I’m sure they must be a uniform. He’s probably embarrassed to be wearing them. I force a smile to show him I’m just teasing.

He looks down at them. “JByrons, I think. What’s wrong with them?”

“J-what?”

His eyebrows crunch together. He examines me from head to toe. “Well, I suppose a girl who dresses like a shipwreck castaway wouldn’t shop there, huh?”

Shipwreck? I look down. I’m wearing the most normal tight white tank and jean shorts ever, artfully ripped at the hem, a little drippy at the moment, maybe, but he talks like he’s never seen clothes before. It would be good if I could find someone a little less clueless to help me.

“Let’s go wait for the medics over there,” he says.

“No. Listen, Jason, I appreciate your help, but I got it all under control. Seriously, this happens all the time.” It doesn’t, but the last thing I need is medical attention when I don’t even know where I am, and I feel fine now. I’ll just call my mom; everything will be fine. Instinctively, I feel my pocket for my phone.

“I insist, Haley. Come on. They’ll just check you out a minute, and you’ll be on your way.”

There it is. I pull out a plastic bag, and—why is my phone in a plastic bag? “Sorry, I’m just going to call my—” I freeze, staring at my baggied phone. Now I remember. Dina—a girl named Dina told me to put it in a bag so it wouldn’t get wet. We were going to swim. We were doing a scavenger—

Jason comes up to me and stares at my phone. “What in the world?”

“I know, I don’t usually keep it in a Ziploc, but it’s just that . . .”

He picks up the bag by the corner and examines it like it’s dog poo. “What is this?”

“What does it look like?” Okay, now this is just silly. It’s like I’ve landed on a different planet. He’s never seen an iPhone? Oh, wait, he means he’s never seen this model. “I know, it’s old. I was going to trade it in for the new one, but my dad’s about to switch contracts, and, anyway, I want the new iPad for my birthday.”

Jason hands me back the plastic bag. “Sure, whatever you say.” He stares at me like I just fell out of the sky, like I’m the strange one, even though that girl standing there staring at me is wearing a headband and a rainbow one-piece bathing suit when she obviously has the body to be rocking a bikini.

God, I have got to find my way out of here.

“Hey, are you all right?” Jason asks.

“Yeah.” No.

I’ve seen that bridge before. In fact, I’ve seen those waterslides, except they weren’t so clean. They didn’t have water gushing out, and they didn’t have people on them. I have to sit down, gather my bearings, and call someone. I march all the way across the sand toward the tree-lined shore where there’re fewer people. This place is really packed.

Bah. I have no signal here.

I plop down and try to think, even though Jason, following me, has made it difficult. He sits next to me and draws in his knees. “You sure? Because you still seem a bit off-kilter. I don’t feel right leaving you alone. I’m sorry. I know that’s the chauvinist pig in me talkin’, but I don’t.”

“A what pig?” I ask, but then a familiar sight out across the water, behind a spattering of little blue and red boats, distracts me. I’d know that A-shape building anywhere. “The Contemporary,” I mutter, my eyes fixed on the famous hotel. Wait, I’m in Disney! I came here with my dad and Erica. I have a little brother and sister. We’re staying in Fort Wilderness!

I look down at my phone again. There’s an unread message—r u inside river country? i’m here looking for u.

“River Country . . . yes,” I mumble.

I turn and take another good look around.

White sandy beach, people in old-looking bathing suits, Bay Lake, inner tubes, and those wooden beams and wire? Kids sliding down a zipline, holding on to a metal handle. They hit the other end of a wood pole and fall into the water. Behind that are the waterslides, and these people on the bridge? They’re in line for the slides. The line starts at those big rocks over there. I remember those big rocks, but it wasn’t like this when I last saw it.

“Yup. River Country,” Jason says, scooping up a handful of sand and letting it out slowly. “The ol’ swimmin’ hole.”

I press the center button on my phone to return to the main screen, but I hold it a tad too long and Siri’s bloop sound pops up.

“Did that thing just make a noise?” He leans in to study my phone. “It looks like a personal video game machine. Can I see?”

“But . . .” I tear my eyes away from all the people and really look at Jason for the first time. Blue. His smiling eyes are blue. How is this possible? “But River Country is closed,” I say cautiously. Of course it is. I saw it empty and abandoned. That lake area was overgrown swamp, and that pool and kiddie area were drained and full of grass. I saw it!

“Closed?” Jason glances at his black plastic watch. He presses a silver button until it beeps. “Nah, it’s Thursday.” He smiles at me. “Today we’re open till seven.”

Jason seems wholesome and pure. And a little clueless, apparently. Not the kind of guy who would play a joke on anyone, especially a girl he just met, a girl who just awoke from a seizure. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Why would I be? We really do close later on Saturdays.” He shakes his head. He didn’t understand that I meant closed permanently. “Do you have somewhere you need to be? You lost track of time or something?”

I take my wet hair and twist it nervously. “Are you sure this place isn’t closed to the public? Like, open only for private parties? Because I was told . . .” I pause, then let out a heavy sigh. What I was told makes no sense right now.

His mouth is slightly parted, and he seems to be trying to understand this strange language called English that I’m speaking. “Miss, I don’t know what you’re talking about. First, let me find your parents or where you’re supposed to be staying.” He stands up and brushes the sand off his legs. “What loop are you in?”

“Twenty-one hundred.” I remember that from when my dad was driving around, trying to find our cabin.

Again, he shakes his head, then looks at me, disappointed. “Our loops aren’t numbered. Little Bear Path, Bobcat Bend . . . any of those sound familiar?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll let you use the courtesy phone to call your trailer. You just press star nine then your trailer number.”

“I’m not staying in a trailer. I’m staying in a cabin. It’s twenty-one hundred loop. I remember it clearly.”

“Miss . . .” He stands there with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s like you just got left behind along with E.T. We don’t have cabins in Fort Wilderness. I think you got your campgrounds crossed. Let me guess, you don’t know what E.T. is either.”

“Of course I know what E.T. is!” I place my hands at my hips to appear more sure of myself. “My dad only made me watch the twentieth-anniversary edition like fifty times when I was little.”

He smirks. “The movie I’m talking about just came out last month. Steven Spielberg?” He shrugs, walking away from me in a hurry.

I scramble to my feet and start following him. He may be cute, but he can’t tell me that E.T. came out last month. I know when E.T. came out, and it wasn’t June, wasn’t this year, and definitely wasn’t while I’ve been alive. It was a long-ass time ago, so he’d just better lose the attitude, or else I’m going to have to . . .

Wait a minute. He’s really leaving. “Jason, hold up!”

There’s a family just arriving and settling into the picnic table that was next to us a moment ago. The father’s hair is layered, and he wears a beige suit that looks like it’s made from terry cloth. The older boy has white socks all the way to his knees. Hot! And the younger boy has on these big headphones wired to a small yellow box in his hand. Is that . . . ?

“Hey, man, neat Walkman. Is that waterproof?” Jason asks, passing him by.

“Thanks. Yeah, it is. I just got it today!” The boy smiles at him, then at his dad, and then the whole family looks at me funny as I try to keep up with Jason.

“Jason, hold on. Wait. Can you wait, please?”

He stops, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs. “What is it? Look, first you make fun of my dolphin shorts when yours look like a shipwreck. Then you try telling me that there’re cabins when I’ve known this place for eleven years, and what we have are trailers. You won’t tell me what that device is you got there, and now you’re questioning my knowledge of new movies?” He huffs. “I just used up my entire break trying to help you. You’re free to use the courtesy phone. The medics should be here any moment. But I need to get back to work.”

“Just . . . Can you just answer one question for me, please? One question, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.” He keeps walking, and I have to run ahead of him, then turn around to get him to stop. My feet start burning on the hot sidewalk. “Where do you work?”

“Towel rental booth. Your one question is up.”

“No. No, no, no, that wasn’t it. Okay, look, please don’t think I’m crazy—”

“Too late.” He crosses his arms. I’m trying really, really hard not to notice his tanned biceps when he does that. I don’t remember any Disney cast members being this friggin’ cute any other time I’ve stayed here.

I point at him. “That’s . . . that’s very funny. And entirely understandable.” I take a step closer to him. I honestly don’t want anyone overhearing what I’m about to ask. He seems taken aback by my closing in on him. “Okay, here goes. Ready?” I let the words float out of my mouth as sensibly as possible. “What . . . year is it?”

He gets that look again, where he’s trying to understand my language, read my face, my thoughts, analyzing everything. He’s killing me here with this nonresponse thing of his. Then what does he do? He laughs. “Whoa, that is just radical, man. I can’t believe I fell for that.” He brushes past me.

“What? I’m serious. That’s my question for real, Jason. What year is it?”

He turns around, and it’s as if he suddenly remembers his Disney cast member manners. “Miss, it’s July first, 1982.” He smiles a big Disney smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

A lightning bolt shoots out of the sky and splits me in two as I stand there looking at him. At least it feels that way. Nineteen eighty-two? As in 19 . . . 82?

As in my mom and dad were . . . fifteen and sixteen?

Slowly, a smile spreads across my face. I laugh. This is great. This is just friggin’ fantastic! I’m just going to enjoy this until I wake up, and then I’m going to write it all down as the awesomest, most vivid, wacky-packy dream I have ever had in my entire life. “No, that’s all, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Have a magical stay here in Walt Disney World!” Jason smiles politely, then proceeds to make his way behind the help counter at the rental shop.

“Thank you!” I call out, watching him assist the next customer, a mom with a striped shirt tucked into white, elastic-banded shorts, and her little girl with pleated barrettes in her hair, carrying a Strawberry Shortcake doll. The girl has on light blue shoes that look like they’re made of jelly, and I so want a pair!

I love this dream!

But there’s only one way to know if it really is or not. I turn back around, open up my camera app, and start snapping off picture after picture of the famous River Country. The green lagoon ahead of me; the quiet beach area to my right, next to all the cypresses I swam through; and the blue pool to my left, where people are plunging down two slides that drop them about six feet above the water level. Those had vines all over them just yesterday, or whenever it was that I last saw them. If it’s all still on my phone when I wake up, then I wasn’t dreaming.

I smile and take in the sights and sounds. Even the smells of suntan lotion and BBQ cooking from somewhere nearby. I can’t send these photos until I have a signal, but at least I have them. And just to ensure that Dina, Rudy, and Marcus don’t think I stole these off the Internet, I turn around and snap off a few selfies with the water park in the background as well.

Say River Country!

“I see you’re feeling better,” someone says. Shielding my eyes, I find the source of the voice lying on a long towel on a lounge chair in a really cute red bikini. “I was over there when they pulled you out of the water. It was a bit scary, I gotta say. Glad you’re okay, though.”

She sort of looks like Dina in that sandy-blond-hair way, but a tad older and with feathered hair. She opens a little door in her music player, flips a cassette tape around, closes it, and presses down the play button. Then she puts big foamy headphones over her ears and closes her eyes against the sun. I take a quick pic of her, too.

I sit in the grass bordering the sandy tanning area. Think, Haley. What do you do? A good plan would be to Google symptoms of seizures again. Back when I had my first one in March, I read somewhere that people sometimes experience time-travel hallucinations during one. This could be one. Yet it’s all so real. These chairs, that loglike garbage can right over there, that water tower that says RIVER COUNTRY, the people having a good time. How can any of this be a dream? But I can’t research anything, because according to Jason, it’s 1982, so there’re no computers, that I know of, much less Google.

Next plan . . .

I watch Jason inside the rental booth. Look at him. He’s already forgotten about me as he hands out tickets and towels. Given a different haircut and a better pair of shorts, that dude would make the perfect summer fling in real time. He’s sweet, even though I exasperated the heck out of him. But there’s no point in flinging with him, because I have to find my way out of this hallucinogenic episode of Doctor Who.

But how do I do that? Find my way back home?

Jason catches me staring at him. Embarrassed, I look away. A moment later my gaze finds its way to him again. He’s writing something on a clipboard. He turns it around, and I’m a little surprised when I see that it’s for me. In permanent marker, he wrote: “Medics on their way. Wait there.” Is that how they did it before texting? How cute!

I nod, but the thing is, I can’t wait for the medics. How will I explain where I came from?

“He’s a bit the loner type, but cute,” Red Bikini Girl says. She taps her feet to the music. “I’m partial to Jake, his older brother, but Jason’s nineteen. Perfect for you.”

“Oh, I don’t really . . .” Whoa. Nineteen? Nice.

“Honey, girls have been swooning left and right since he started working here last month, yet he hasn’t dated a single one of them. You’ve gotten the most attention out of any girl here. That makes you the pick of the litter.”

What makes her think he’d want to date me? He can hardly stand me!

A second later a guy appears next to us, oiled and shiny, brandishing two big cups of soda—one for her, one for himself. He looks a little young for her, judging from his skinny body type, if I could only get a look at his face.

She looks up, surprised, and takes the drinks. “Oh, thanks, Oscar. You didn’t have to do that.”

Oscar? Funny, that’s my dad’s name.

“This is my friend, uh . . .” Bikini Girl waits for me to give her my name.

“Haley.”

“Oscar, this is Haley.”

The guy sits on the lounge chair next to her, and . . . no . . . way. I see the familiar, sunny-eyed smile I’ve known all my life, minus thirty pounds, the gray hair, and, apparently, the ability to recognize me. You have got to be kidding me!

Deep breaths, Haley.

Dad? Paternal parental? No way! No friggin’ way!

Immediately, I feel like he’s going to yell at me for not answering his texts. My instinct is to turn around and run. But then I remember—1982. My dad has never even seen me before! He can’t possibly know who I am.

“Hey, Haley. Nice to meet you.” As soon as I hear his voice, his identity is confirmed. Oh my God, Dad! He smiles a smile I adore, have always adored, and does a little what’s up nod.

Someone taps my shoulder lightly. “Miss, are you the one needing medical attention?” Which is great, because staring at my dad as a teen right here in front of me, I just about have another seizure.