“Come on! I know what I’m doing!”
“Because you played a simulator game?”
“Because I logged about seven hours of practice time, and because we’re only supposed to go about half a mile before turning back around. And because this would be totally, legitimately, eternally awesome. You know in your heart I’m telling the truth.”
Eternal awesome, however elusive, is no reason to take off in a submarine. But there’s something underlying Theo’s enthusiasm, a wistfulness that betrays the sorrow inside.
He’s done so much for me on the trip. Risked his life to help my father. All he’s asking for in return is a few moments of fun. It’s not so much to ask, is it?
“If at any moment you have the slightest doubt about what you’re doing, we turn around immediately,” I say in the strictest tone I can manage. But I can’t help smiling when Theo begins drumming a hard rhythm against the seat, in celebration.
So five minutes later, we’re ready to go—and I have to admit, he actually seems to know how to handle this thing. “About to release the clamps,” he says. “Ready?”
I nod. So he flips the control panel toggle that releases this submersible from the Salacia. For a moment, we drift free, and then he turns the props on low, just enough to get us out of the underwater dock.
The front of the submersible is made of superthick glass, which means we have a perfect, panoramic view of the ocean before us. Right now it’s chalky white sand, a few fronds of fan coral jutting up from the rocks here and there, and the endless blue. Theo and I sit side by side in the front compartment, though the watertight doors to the back aren’t closed; he explained that since nobody’s going diving on this trip, we don’t have to seal it off.
That’s good, because otherwise this might feel a little too intimate. In a submersible there’s no room to spare, so Theo and I are practically thigh to thigh. I only wore a black tank top and leggings beneath my waterproofs this morning, so that’s all I’ve got on now. While Theo has on a normal white T-shirt, it’s still slightly damp from the rain. He’s not as big a guy as Paul, so sometimes I forget Theo’s pretty buff. There’s no forgetting it at the moment.
All I say is, “Uh, how do we look for the winch we’re supposed to be finding?”
“Activating sonar.” Theo’s hands move deftly on the control panel, as though he’d been doing this for a hundred years.
The green sweep of the sonar begins, and I squint down at the screen, trying to figure out which of the shapes are merely rocks, and which might be the equipment we’re looking for. “There, you think?”
I point at the shape I mean. Theo does the same. Our hands brush against each other, and I don’t think it was an accident.
“Yeah,” Theo says. He doesn’t look at me; his profile is silhouetted against the blueness. “Worth a shot.”
So he moves the submersible forward, taking us to medium speed. As we sweep forward through the dark, our spotlights illuminating the water around us, I keep glancing over at Theo, who seems to be struggling for words. Is he going to apologize for doubting Paul? Or is he going to try to kiss me again?“You must be—” My words falter, because I don’t know what to say. “It’s good to know Paul was on the level all along. Right?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Theo opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it. He looks more tormented by this than I ever thought he would be.
Just then, Dad breaks in over the comm. “What the devil are you two doing in a submersible?”
“We’re handling it fine,” Theo insists. “And having a blast. Admit it; you’re jealous.”
“I’m worried. Also jealous, yes, but that’s about fifteen percent to worried’s eighty-five percent. How’s it going out there?”
“Fine so far,” I say, glancing up at the speaker in the roof. “We think we see the winch.”
“Brilliant. I’ll take the worried down to about fifty percent, then. Listen, one of the refugee vessels just signaled. I thought I’d patch you in.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Talk to you later.”
Then there’s a moment of static as the original call is replaced by the new one, and I hear a deep voice say, “Marguerite?”
It’s like fireworks going off. “Paul. You made it.”
“Almost. I should dock within the next ten minutes.”
“And you talked to Dad?”
“Yes. Thank God he was here. From Triad’s files I thought he would be—but I wasn’t sure, not until we spoke.”
“Now we build another Firebird and go home.” I’m grinning up at the speaker as if I could see Paul there, yet all my happiness can’t blind me to the fact that we’re not alone. “Theo’s here too.”
“Hey, little brother,” Theo says. His expression is rueful. “Looks like you’ve been one step ahead of us the whole way.”
“I should have come to you at the beginning.” It’s impossible not to envision Paul’s face as he says this—grave and repentant. “I had no idea what they would do to Henry, or I would have.”
“Water under the bridge.” Then Theo looks up at the distant glitter of the ocean surface above us and adds, “Pun not intended.”
I still can’t believe Paul made it here. “Where were you?” I ask. “Did you set out immediately, or did you need a reminder?”