Trey closes his eyes, a pained expression on his face.
“What?” I say.
“They won’t listen, Jules. But I will try. I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” I say. “Maybe you can convince them to ask passengers to put their life vests on.” My throat hurts, and I know he’s right—they won’t listen to a teenager.
“I get it,” Trey says. “I do. We have to try everything.”
“Thanks.”
Trey stands up carefully and aims for the nearest chair to grab on to, and he’s on his way.
I sniff hard and pick up the victim list, staring blindly at it, thinking about the blond girl with the polka-dot headband.
I look out the rear starboard side of the ferry toward Milwaukee and see a gorgeous family of four waterspouts spinning like dust devils, connecting lake and sky.
Forty-Two
I point the waterspouts out to Ben as others on the ferry notice too.
“They’re amazing,” Ben says. “I’ve never seen one before.”
I nod. I can’t stop watching.
“You’re doing great, Jules,” he says. “I mean it.”
I look at him, at the sincerity in his eyes, and I can see why Trey has fallen so hard for this guy. “Thanks. Thanks for helping us.”
“How could I not?” comes his simple reply. “My life was saved in that music room. There’s got to be a reason for that. I figure this is it.” He looks at me. “What I can’t figure out is your dedication to this phenomenon. You’ve never been saved from anything, yet you feel such a strong need to rescue others.”
I shrug. It’s too much to explain right now. As I spot Rowan making her way back to the table with her duffel bag, Ben turns back to his phone and says, “We’ve got about forty minutes.”
I set the stopwatch on my phone. “Okay. Thanks. You change into your wet suit when Sawyer’s back.” I grab my bag and stagger toward the bathroom, pointing Rowan’s attention in the direction of the waterspouts. And I’m amazed there is so much beauty in this carnivorous lake, and on this doomed ferry.
• • •
It takes forever to get my wet suit on. I bang against the sides of the stall and once nearly step into the toilet as I try to glide my second skin on without puncturing it with my fingernails. I grab on to the toilet paper holder and the purse hooks more than once as the ferry pitches from side to side, and slam against the stall wall, scaring the person next to me, before finally getting my wet suit on. Quickly I slip my life vest on and clip it into place like Ben suggested, and pull my sweatshirt over top. The vest is slight enough to fit underneath, I can move really well, and it’ll save time later. I pull up my sweatpants, then replace my shoes and head back to the table.
Ben has already changed and beat me back to home base, and Sawyer’s back too. Only Trey is missing.
“He’s changing now,” Ben says.
“Does everybody have their vests on?” I ask, though it’s slightly obvious if you’re looking in the right place.
“Yes,” they all report.
“Timers set?”
Again, the answer is yes.
“Have we located all the victims?”
“All but five,” Rowan says, “and they’re all described as men or women wearing suits. So we figured they’re in the first-class cabin.”
“That makes sense,” I say. “And since they’re all grouped in one place, who wants to be in charge of them?”
“I will,” Rowan says. “I’ve got their descriptions memorized. I’m going to accidentally go in there right now just to get a look.”
She goes, and Trey returns from the bathroom with a bit of a bulge around his waist.
“Life vest?” I ask.
He nods.
“What did they say?”
He smiles ruefully. “Pretty much what you’d expect. I spoke to an officer of some sort, who assured me that the pilot has sailed these waters many times. He thanked me for putting my trust in the crew on this ‘unusual’ voyage.”
I nod. “At least we tried. Thank you.”
We divide up the rest of the victims based on where they’re sitting, and assign a person to be on the lookout for them. It’s the best plan we can think of, though there’s sure to be chaos. Then we figure out where we’re each going to get life vests from, and determine that the outside deck is the best place since no one will be out there to trample us until they start exiting to the lifeboats. And then we go over our final plan and make sure everybody knows what to do once the ferry makes contact with the breakwall.
Our valuables are put away in our waterproof vest pockets. Our duffel bags are unzipped so we can grab ropes quickly if necessary. We are as ready as we can be. And now all we can do is wait.
Ben stands and walks over to the window, better on his feet in these conditions than the rest of us. He looks for a moment and then beckons me to join him. Either the waves are not as bad now, or I’m getting better at this.
He points to the shore, where I can see buildings in the distance. “We’re passing Waukegan. On a clear day you can see Chicago from here. Obviously that isn’t today. But we’re getting close. North Chicago is coming fast.” He points at the sky. “See how it’s clearing in this direction?”
I look, and there’s the little spot of yellow behind thin clouds. It’s not down quite far enough to match Tori’s description of thirty degrees, but I’m sure now that this is Tori’s sunrise—except it’s a sunset. I’m disgusted with myself for not even considering it. She was just so sure. . . . I shake the negative thoughts from my head. No time to dwell on that now.