The Boating Accident

Deflecting the Blow

Like screaming girls at a boy-band concert, we were surrounded. The ocean pumped with vessels all vying for position in a race to view the actual race. Other radios clashed with ours. Captains tried to control their boats in the violent swells as passengers sipped and cheered.

It was pointless to ignore the fantasy that bobbed to the surface. So I gave in to Liam and imagined he was on one of the other boats. He could see me with Riley and the hot Canadian.  Deep remorse overcame him for taking that shiny sophomore to OUR prom after calling me an icepack. The light silhouetted my face and whipping hair in the wind as he called across the roiling waters and begged to take me back.

We jolted to a stop as ships crowded around, blocking our path. "Okay, I think this is good," Luis shouted.

"Can't you get closer?" Dad asked. Nothing was ever dangerous enough for him.

Luis elbowed his way up a notch in traffic. Bambino swayed and jerked as a sleek hull bobbed beside us. We had made it to the lunch table where Royal Flush held court.

The storm and all the wakes spun massive waves. Bambino tilted precariously, careening at a sharp angle. Each time we swung high to the left and right, like a boarder in the half pipe about to smack the edge.

I grabbed my pole tighter to hold on and could feel calluses form. Adrenaline set in. Would we keel over? What then?

I flashed back to the rip tide I'd been pulled under as a kid: following a sparkling lightness deeper into the ocean; swallowing waves of salt that slammed me down; surfacing to yell only to get knocked back below; tumbling in slow motion until I whammed into the sand; clinging to Dad as he carried me to the warm beach.

There it was again-the silver circle meandered in the waves. But unlike before when I'd seen it around the racers, it wasn't far in the distance. It slithered steadily from the race area toward us. It's rippling pulled me in, like a hypnotic charm. I wanted it to come to me, to surround me in light, to drown me in its depths.

"Star!" Dad called. "Star sweetie!"

"Oh-" I shook my head free of the trance. "Yeah?"

"What was the name of that schooner we chartered in Newport?" He was talking with Carley.

"What? Oh, Cerulean.

"Yeah, Cerulean--solid ride. They use composites in the sails..."

"Hey, what is that?" I pointed.

"What, honey?" he asked. "You mean the light on the water? Think the sun's coming out after all."

"No, that." The silver sparkled, undulating slow and determined as it headed straight for us.

"Star, sweetie, you should eat something."

"Riley, tell me you see it," I said, but she looked like I was speaking Polish. Anyway, we had to concentrate on holding on as we teetered, close to capsizing in the swells.

"Whoa, what the-" Captain Luis shouted.

Royal Flush cut too close.

Time slowed under pressure. We were suspended in animation as something horrific flashed. Luis turned to get away from Royal Flush, but she swung hard. Bambino thrashed as her nose headed straight into that polished wood hull.

Her captain shouted and waved his arms from the helm.

Luis was straining as the Canadians called out helpful suggestions. Dad smiled. This was exactly the kind of white-knuckle adventure he'd hoped for, but Riley looked spooked. The only other time I'd seen her like that was when, the night of a concert in a sketchy part of town we'd planned a "sleepover" at each other's houses and the parents had ganged up and ruined a month of our lives.

We were about to get royally flushed.

Impact was not optional. We braced for the inevitable. The perfect-looking captain of Royal Flush was running on the deck directly into the point of contact. He continued to shout at us, but this time he used his body as a blockade. He stuck out his leg and pushed us back with an arm. I heard the crunch of hulls and maybe bone as the rigging hit his head. He pulled back in pain.

"Dude!" Dad yelled. "What the hell are you thinking?!"

"Fucking idiot!!!" Carley shouted louder.

"Stupid, stupid ass," Justin added but just to us.

With the help of the Canadians, Luis unhinged his bow from Royal Flush and was backing up and away as far as possible in the churning mess of vessels. We worked our way fast to the fringes of society.

"Dude, can you believe that idiot?" Carley said.

"Seriously," Justin added. "Any sailor knows you never leave the helm in a conflict."

"And you never deflect the blow with your body!" Carley yelled.

The Canadians shouted together, "You never ever deflect the blow!"

No one mimicked their war cry. Hector's perch was empty.

"Hey-where'd he go?" Dad asked.

We scanned the boat.

The little guy in the tan hat had vanished.

Luis shook his head, "No, no-not again."

A/N:The painting, Summer Ocean, by Beverly Baker captures the surreal light and color in the water.

This chapter is dedicated to ShelleyBurbank, a fantastic and fun writer. Her mystery, Disguised, is set in Portland, Maine, and will have every writer whose ever worried about someone stealing their work scrambling to know who done it.