Page 51 of The Two of Us

“Hey. Don’t do that. It’s dangerous,” Ambrose says, speeding over. His voice is serious and firm, losing all traces of the boy who pretends not to care.

Brandon faces him. “What? This?” He slams the hockey stick on the ice again. The crack thunders through the air and the harsh sound reverberates in my ears. The hairline fractures become fissures and I shriek.

“Knock it off!” Cat yells.

Brandon’s face morphs into an ugly mask of defiance, making him unrecognizable. He crashes his stick down again with a laugh, downplaying the gravity of the situation. The fissures turn into chunks of ice dislodging into the water at random spots around our feet. My limbs scream at me to run, but fear leaves me immobilized.

“Brandon, stop!” I cry.

“Are you out of your mind?” Ambrose bellows, veins bulging from his neck.

Brandon stops abruptly. His body loosens and it’s as if he’s escorted the unhinged stranger who’d just taken control of his body back into the recesses of his mind.

“Relax.” He laughs, tossing the stick across the ice at Ambrose’s feet. “I was just playing around.”

Cat glares at him before stomping away. Ambrose doesn’t move an inch and for a moment I think he might punch Brandon in the face. I kind of want him to. What happens next occurs too quickly for me to fully comprehend. It takes less time than it does for someone to say “One, Mississippi.” Less time than it takes for me to realize that my last inhale of oxygen should have been a generous one because it was going to be my last.

I’m on the ice with Ambrose and Brandon, and then I’m not. The freezing water is a knife stabbing every exposed inch of skin. My brain becomes sluggish, like it’s being dragged through mud as it tries to catch up with what’s happening. The first thing that comes to mind is how dark it is under the ice considering how bright it is outside and my throat constricts, informing my brain that the need for air is imminent as my body thrashes about in survival mode.

My hands stretch above my head, confusion and panic washing over me when they’re met with solid resistance.

I’m floating away from the hole I fell through.

I flap my arms through the darkness and they propel me in different directions, searching for the hole, but my obstructed vision prevents me from finding my way out. Intrusive thoughts override my focus.

You’re gonna die, they say. You’re gonna die, you’re gonna die, you’re gonna die.

My legs go slack as I swallow more water. I don’t feel so cold anymore and I welcome the warmth starting at my toes, working its way upward. I remember learning that hypothermia causes your blood vessels to dilate as a last attempt at warming your limbs. I cast my eyes above me once more, noticing how beautiful the ice looks. The sun has reached its peak in the sky, making the translucent ice glow with gold and I think this must be what it’s like to be trapped inside of a snow globe.

***

The first thing I become aware of is the warmth. Not warmth from being numb too long—true warmth. My feet are bundled in something plush and snug and the comfort makes me want to slip back into unconsciousness. The next thing I become aware of is the mumbles. The voices fail at their attempts at whispering and float around my head, causing me to burrow farther into my cocoon. My muscles cry out in protest as I move and I whimper in pain.

“Mara, honey? Are you awake?”

My dad’s voice is close and I can smell the familiar scent of coffee on his breath. Words feeling too far away to grasp, I groan in response.

“Princessa, I need you to sit up if you can. Show us you’re alright.”

Worry laces his voice, so I blink open my eyes and slowly heft my body into a sitting position. My vision focuses on my surroundings and I see who the remaining voices belong to. Cat and Alima both sit on my bed, peering at me with identical expressions of relief. My dad exhales deeply and some of the tension disappears from his shoulders.

“What happened?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

Cat lays her hand on mine. “You fell through the ice. You drifted away from the hole… we couldn’t find you.”

Her eyes well up and I squeeze her hand in mine. The hollows beneath her eyes are purple, as if she hasn’t slept for days.

“I remember. I tried finding my way back to it. I tried—”

“Shhh.” Alima smooths back my hair. “No need to relive it. You’re safe now.”

“How did I get out?”

My dad scratches the back of his head in discomfort. I can tell it pains him having to talk about all of this. “You wouldn’t have if that boy wasn’t so stupid as to jump in after you,” he says, but his voice is almost endearing.

I gasp in worry. “Is Brandon okay? Where is he?”

“Brandon?”

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