Chapter One
Vacations were usually family fun experiences on the beach, enjoying warm sunny days, quiet starry nights, the sound of laughter and music, maybe even a game of cards.
That's what I was expecting when my dad told me he wanted to take me on a vacation, just the two of us on his overpriced yacht, in the middle nowhere, knocking back Budlight, swapping stories. Like the story of him cheating on my mom and divorcing her and not speaking to either her or me for the past two years. But you know, c'est la vie, my mother would always say.
But instead of a fun-filled manly vacation with my dad, I found myself standing on the deck, leaning over the rail, glaring down into the churning dark waters of the ocean that swallowed whatever I'd managed to stuff into my stomach for breakfast. Vomit drooled past my lips into the water and was swept away by a wave that almost reached high enough to slap me across the face. I quickly pulled back, pressing the back of my hand against my mouth with a grimace, looking out over miles upon miles of endless glittery blue ocean.
I was sick. I was tired. And my dad had ditched me for his new wife that was ten years younger than my mother.
Yeah. Vacation, I thought bitterly, swallowing tightly at the burning of my throat. My white-blonde hair was stuck to my face with the salty sea wind, khakis stiff and uncomfortable, and my white button up shirt was clinging to my skin in a way that made me want to rip it off. I took deep, shuddering breathes, moving away from the rail and making my way toward the cabins.
Ugh, this was a huge mistake. I never should've taken him up on his ridiculous offer to bond, when we weren't even bonding. What could possibly make me think that we could repair the damage between us? My friends always told me I was too hopeful, too nice.
I rubbed at my face, my heart suddenly aching at the friends I had left behind for this stupid futile mission. I reached into my pocket and took out my touch screen phone, flipping the lock off and staring at the background of my three greatest friends in the world.
Danielle with her big hazel eyes behind a pair of black hipster glasses, a black and white striped turtleneck and her bright red painted lips puckered in a kiss that was touching her boyfriend's cheek, said boyfriend being my other friend, Jeremy. He was tall and lanky, but oddly cute with baby blue eyes and a charming American boy look to him. Darien was the last one in the picture, clinging to Jeremy's other arm, her purple swabbed lips open in a laugh, her mocha skin glowing in the sunlight that shone through the trees above their heads.
I should've never come on this trip. It would probably be another week or so before I could see them again, and sharing a house with them, seeing them every single day, made being away from them unbearable. They were the family I'd always wanted.
Danielle with her motherly chiding about my underwear on the floor, Jeremy playing his piano into the wee hours, Darien constantly nagging me to go shopping with her. Trying to cut the chores up between us, only tossing them all on Danielle in the end because her OCD prevented us from ever pleasing her with our cleanliness, or lack thereof. I smiled at the thought of our last day together, just two days ago, when they had seen me off at the docks of my father's mansion back in North Carolina.
"You'll be fine, babycakes," Danielle told me, straightening the collar of my shirt before patting my chest and flashing me a beautiful smile, "Just remember to take lots of pictures for us and brush your teeth." Jeremy had rolled his eyes and patted her on the shoulder before leaning in to whisper in my ear.
"You can skip a couple nights. I won't tell mom." He said jokingly. Danielle huffed, whacking him in the arm before rising on her toes to peck me on the cheek. Jeremy and I laughed before Darien did her thing, ruffling my hair and rubbing her cheek on mine like some kind of overgrown cat.
"You behave," She added with a wink, "If you find any cute sailor boys--"
"Oh, gosh, Dare, don't." I groaned, pushing her away. We'd all laughed, shared hugs and last minute online recipes for the trip before I had boarded the yacht. It had taken all my strength to pull away from the rails, even after my friends had faded into the distance.
Was it safe to say I was dependent on them sometimes? Yes. I had done a lot of things on my own since my parents divorced when I was in middle school. My mother was constantly working, so meals were up to me, doing my homework alone, tucking myself into bed at night. It had been a miracle when I met those three my senior year of high school after we were forced to move from our suburban home to an apartment in the city. My friends had followed me all the way to college, where we spent our second year living together in a horribly painted mint green house just off campus.
Yeah. Life was good.
Emphasis on the was part.
I was accustomed to the house we had in the moderate temperatures of Wisconsin. Now I was practically melting in the ninety degree weather drenched in sea water, even though I hadn't even been in the water. Not that I had to. The yacht had an indoor pool.
I sighed miserably, shutting my cell phone off and tucking it into my pocket. We'd hit a dead zone not too far back and calling my friends for help would do nothing. Instead, I paused to turn and look up at the sky. The sun was shining right above us, but off in the distance, I could see dark storm clouds that made my stomach twist in a knot.
Joy. A storm.
I disappeared into the yacht and down to my room that looked more like a hotel room than a cabin in a yacht. I showered off, but even that didn't get the weird feeling of salt off my skin. I pulled on another white shirt and blue swim trunks before I did a walk around the yacht, walking past the pool, pausing with a frown to see my dad in the pool, laughing with his new wife.
My dad wasn't really a prick, like one of those rich dudes who made a big deal about sharing his money. He donated to charity, volunteered at community events to help the less fortunate, and I think that was what made it harder to hate him. Or maybe it was the big smile he got on his face with his new wife. His dark hair was slicked back from his well-chiseled, clean-shaven face, an unnecessary pair of sunglasses on his head. He was playing Marco-Polo from the looks of it as he waved his arms around for his wife, who stifled her laughter and moved away from him, wearing an incredibly tiny blue polka dotted bikini, blonde hair piled into a sloppy bun on her head.
I think her name was, like, Miranda or something.
I zoned out when he talked about her.
It was childish of me, and I knew that, but I couldn't help it. He was in this nice big pool in a yacht with his new young wife while my mom didn't even have the time or money to drop me off in North Carolina for the vacation. She had to work her butt off to pay the rent on her apartment. My friends had been the ones who dropped me off. I didn't hate my mom for not being able to make it, of course, it wasn't her fault she was always called into work.
But wasn't my dad even the tiniest bit remorseful about the position he'd left her in?
I pinched the bridge of my nose and went to the small kitchen area to grab a snack before heading to my room for a nap. A nap that barely lasted three hours before I woke up to the tossing and churning of the ship. Instantly my snack was in my mouth again and I groaned, rolling over, grabbing my puke bucket and emptying the contents of my stomach into it before I struggled to get out of bed without falling over.
Holy crap, what the hell was going on?
I wiped my mouth on my sheets, dragging myself to the door, hissing when I slammed into the wall near it as the ship lunged to the left. I grabbed onto the door frame, pulling myself out of my room and making my way up the stairs.
There was no way I wanted to be below deck if this yacht sank.
I saw the movie Poseidon. Ain't no way I was gonna end up like Fergie at the bottom of the ocean in a nice dress.
I used the wall as a support, climbing with incredible difficulty up the steps to the deck. I hissed through clenched teeth, shielding my eyes as rain poured down onto the deck, making it sleek and slippery. My bare feet slid across it and I almost bashed into the wall by the entrance, but managed to catch myself on the doorframe leading to the stairs. I took a deep breath, swinging myself away from it and onto the other wall, pulling myself toward the stairs that led up to the wheelhouse. The railing was slippery and wet, hard as hell to get a grip on, but I didn't have to worry about it for long as I made it to the wheelhouse where my father was struggling to gain control of the wheel while his wife sat huddled on a chair, dressed in a sheer white transparent gown that went over her bathing suit, a towel draped over her shoulders.
"Julian," My father called over the raging storm, thunder crackling and bellowing overhead, "Get back below deck, and take Melissa with you!" Melissa. That was her name. I shook my head, closing the door behind me, trying not to topple over as another huge wave crashed into us. I watched with sick dread as the wave flooded the front of the yacht before pouring past the rails back into the ocean.
"No way," I told him in dismay, "Haven't you seen the movies? Below deck is below sea!"
"Michael..." Melissa complained fearfully, squeezing her eyes shut. My dad shot me a dirty look for scaring her and I gave him a helpless shrug before another wave bashed into us. I lost my footing and hit the floor, rolling to the other side. I cursed, clawing to get back up and, much to my surprise, Melissa was right there, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward her until I was sitting beside her on the seat. She put an arm around me to hold me on the seat with her while my father muttered curses as he fought for the wheel against the storm.
"Maybe we should go below deck," Melissa told me gently, her brown eyes darting toward the windows as a flash of lightning lit up the sky, "There's too many windows in here. What if one breaks and someone goes flying?" I shuddered at the thought and my father shook his head.
"These windows are made of high--"
"Jesus Christ." I gasped, looking at past my dad at the wave that was steadily rolling toward us. It looked like it was getting bigger and bigger. My dad cursed and whirled on Melissa and I.
"Get below deck! Now!" He ordered. Melissa shot to her feet, taking my hand and dragging me with her toward the stairs. The moment we opened the door, the door cracked and swung off its hinges, ripping off and flying off with the window that carried it out to see. Melissa shrieked in terror, leaping back and reaching for something to catch her balance on.
"Julian, grab something!" My father shouted. I reached out to grab the doorframe because it was the nearest thing, but it was useless. The wave bashed us like a mighty fist. Instantly water filled my nose and mouth, causing me to cough and choke. My fingers slipped on the doorframe before it broke off in my hand and I slammed into the railing of the stairs. I grunted in pain, feeling the railing bruise my ribs before I was dragged down the stairs with the force of the wave. Thankfully, the water just rushed over us, but the rush of it was strong and dragged me toward the railing that separated me from the vast ocean beyond.
My heart beat so hard against my chest that it hurt, my lungs emptied in a long scream that I barely heard over the roar of the water, the booming thunder, the pouring rain.
Again, I was thrown against the railings, again I felt like my bones were all shattering. It was like being repeatedly punched by one of the dudes on WWE. And then I felt the wind lift me off my feet. The slippery deck was gone, and I was air borne.
I cried out, flailing my hands, trying to grab something, anything, but I was grabbing at air.
And then I hit the water.
From the weather the past couple days, I expected the water to be warm. It turned out to be anything, but. It was an ice cold slap that dragged me right below the surface. Once again, I was suffocated by salty sea water. I choked and flailed, unsure if I was crying or screaming or anything. All I found frantically focus on was finding the surface.
Help me! I'm drowning!
I thrashed against the force of the water dragging me all over the place. It was like something had grabbed a hold of me and was tossing me around vigorously.
A moment later, my head broke the surface, somehow, someway. I sucked in deep gasps of air, crying out as the water pulled me around in the water. Lightning lit up the sky and, to my horror, the yacht was nowhere to be seen.
How long had I been pulled under?!
Worse still was the force of it trying to drag me below. I fought, flailing my arms and legs, screaming stupidly even though there was no possible for way for anyone to hear me. I settled for getting as much as I could into my lungs as the waves bashed me around like a rag doll.
I'm gonna die! Dad's gone! Melissa's gone! Everything's gone! I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere in a storm that's kicking my ass!
Help!