Matt had responded to our distress call by bringing us a floating kegger.
The boat roared and churned the water as it pulled alongside. The scent of engine oil and tanning lotion blew past me. Up on the roof deck, Felix leaned over the railing, his dark hair wet and stuck to his forehead, his smile wide. He waved when he saw me. I waved back, coming up with a good lie for when he asked about the man-shaped lump under the tarp. Which he would, crazy little Sherlock elf he was.
Someone I didn’t recognize threw the bowline to me. Mom and I tied the two boats together, and I got a better look at the partiers. They were younger than I’d thought, and most of them had science books and lab manuals. Not a beer in sight. Apparently, they were high on life, or science, or boat fumes. Whatever it was, I didn’t know how we were going to fit more sardines in that can.
Matt appeared from under the sunshade on the other boat, his Orioles cap on backward and his surf shorts hanging low on his hips. He gave Mom a lopsided smile that looked like an apology.
Mom finished tying off the two boats with a half-hitch. “Matt, my friend,” she said, shouting over the slosh of the waves. “Not what I had in mind.”
Matt spread his arms broadly, like a ringmaster in a circus. “Welcome to the annual Key Largo high school science club summer fun party. Yeah, and it’s as fun as it sounds.”
The group of girls sunning themselves on the charter’s roof all slid their sunglasses down at the same moment to look at him. Each of them wore “Come and Take It” T-shirts, and at first I thought they were NRA or something. Then I saw the microscope silhouette above the words. As usual, after three years of homeschooling, I’m light-years behind on every trend.
Matt stepped up on the gunwale, balanced himself as a wave rocked his boat, and leapt to the Last Chance with all the grace of a drunken sailor. “Well, hello there, Miss Gianopoulos. “
“Hi, Matt,” I said, smiling. Matt never called me by my first name, no matter how many times I asked him to. I, therefore, refused to call him by anything but Matt, which I think secretly bothered a southern boy like him.
“You ready to get off this rust bucket and ride on a real boat?”
“No way you’ll fit us all,” I said. “You’ll have to bungee the big ones to the side.”
Matt shrugged and smiled in that way he always does, everything’s gonna be alright, Bob Marley-style. “Your mommy said to come. Here I am.” He counted the divers on our boat with one finger, his lips moving silently.
Mom checked her watch and squinted. “Lousy cheap Casio.” She tapped it a few times. “There it is. Pamé, sweetheart. Let’s get a move on.” She glanced at me meaningfully. I pretended to be absorbed in repacking my gear. The police; that’s why she was in a hurry. I told myself again everything was an accident. Mom was right. It was best I didn’t talk to them.
The diver transfer was easy; Phil and I passed the scuba equipment, piece by piece, from the Last Chance to the Ruby Pelican, and some helpful science geek with two water PH kits strapped across his chest like nerdy bandoliers helped Mom with the tanks. One of the divers on our boat told me with the saddest voice ever not to bother with hers. She’d lost her taste for diving. Two others asked Mom if they could get their money back. The rest of our divers climbed aboard Matt’s charter and started assembling their stuff. I guess Mom was right. Life goes on. At least for some.
By the time we’d handed the science cowboy the last tank, a silence had fallen over the newcomers. Wave song filled the void, stuffing my ears, slapping against the boat. From the looks on everyone’s faces, word of the accident had spread. A few of the girls on Matt’s roof deck craned their necks to get a glimpse. More than a few of them stared at me, the accusation as clear as a knife’s edge in the sunlight.
Murderer.
The word came to me suddenly. I guess it had been there all along, standing behind a half-open door. I wasn’t, and I knew I wasn’t. But I felt like one anyway. And it was horrible. For a moment I was back in court with you when you took the stand, and I was listening to the hollow sound of your voice. It was an accident, you said. You were drunk. Out of control. Angry. You’d never done anything like that before, and you’d never do it again. And just when I thought the whole courtroom was swayed by the raw honesty in your voice, the dead man’s brother stood up and called you a murderer.
Before I could imagine what Mr. Marshall’s wife, waiting for her husband back on the docks, would say to me, I distracted myself troubleshooting my phone, trying again to pull an accurate report of the Haystacks out of a suddenly nonexistent internet. The bars are never great that far offshore, but still.
I finally threw the phone back into my dry bag and helped Mom put together some gear for the divers.
We talked about the dive plan for the group. Matt would help me get the gear ashore afterward. The stares from the other boat followed me. I wondered if someone told Felix what his big sister had done. That I wasn’t paying attention and that Marshall died because of it. I tightly coiled a hose in my hands, thinking about the strange glow I’d seen in the wreck. What if Mom was wrong about me being narced down there? And if I said nothing, there would be more accidents.
Murderer.
“Mom, I need a favor,” I said as I finished stuffing the last of the regulators into a mesh bag.
“All right,” she answered, caution in her tone.
“Will you at least wait a while to dive the USS Andrews again?”
“You were narced, honey. Here, don’t forget defog for the masks.”
I took the spray bottle from her and shoved it inside the bag. “Just wait a week or so. Out of respect for Mr. Marshall.”
Phil stopped ogling the girls on the roof of the other boat and glanced my way. I got the feeling from his expression he thought I was acting overly sentimental.
Mom picked up another BC and worked a hose stuck in its socket, her face twisting with the effort. “The sea waits for no one.”
“This is the wrong time to quote some stupid beat poet.”
“Hey, it’s what the homeschooling parenting books say to do,” Mom said, pulling the hose loose with a snap. “You know, weave it into the day.”
“Yes, I’m sure using me as cheap labor is all a part of the homeschooling plan you file with the state.”
“Tasia, I would never call you cheap labor. Free labor, maybe.”
Phil passed by me on the way to the stern and gave me a creepy tap on the shoulder. “Best kind.”
I edged away from him. “Mom, I can’t believe you’re making jokes after what just happened.”
She had the grace to look guilty, and we fell into silence for a while, assembling gear, checking gauges, and making sure we had an extra set of everything.
Mom nodded for me to cross over to the other boat, which was sitting pretty low in the water now that it had gained nine scuba divers and a lot of equipment. “Go on, now.” She kissed me on the forehead and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. I was so surprised I pulled back. The last time she’d acted like that, I was getting ready for my first day of high school, back when I went to an actual school. “See you at home for dinner.”
I nodded, my throat knotting up. She was going to stay and clean up my mess. Lie to the police. To protect the business, she had told me. But the kiss on the forehead told me the truth. This was all about protecting me.