Page 105 of The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy 1)
I sit down because there's nothing else to do and nowhere to go. The woods around Adamson are thick, and stretch for miles; the state park borders one side. Depending on where we are, we're just as likely to head deeper into the woods as we are toward the academy.
Minutes tick past. With each one that flows by, I think about Ranger. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago, he might've been okay, clinging to life. But now …
Finally, Church climbs out of the water, and I know it's all over.
“Get up and let's start walking,” he says. He doesn't help me to my feet, just takes off in the same direction as the twins. He doesn't make it far, maybe ten or twenty steps before he collapses.
I race over to him, but there's nothing in his eyes, just emptiness.
Church Montague is just a damaged boy, not a psychopath. I feel bad for even thinking that.
“He was my best friend,” he says as I sit beside him and put my arms around his waist, squeezing him as tight as I can. “He was my best …” Church's voice shakes, and he closes his eyes against the pain. “He was. I guess he's not anymore, is he?”
We sit like that for a long, long time. Too long maybe because we're both shivering like crazy.
We're going to die of hypothermia if we don't find a way to get warm.
“Let's go,” I whisper, helping Church to his feet. He lets me, and we stay with our hands clasped as we start walking.
Nobody speaks. Not for a long, long time.
Not until we hear the sound of metal on stone.
Church and I exchange a look and start sprinting as fast as we can in that direction. There's a drain in the ground, near an old shed. Not only does that mean we're going in the right direction—because the shed must be close to the academy, right?—but there are fingers sticking through the grate.
“Ranger!” Church shouts, and then he's on his knees next to the grate, pulling on it as hard as he can. When I get over next to him, I can see Ranger's face, choking and coughing in the small bit of air that's left. “Where's the crowbar?”
“Dunno,” Ranger chokes, his sapphire eyes wide. “Man, I'm not getting out of this.”
“Don't fucking say that!” Church screams, rising to his feet and looking around for something to pry the grate up with. He heads straight for the shed and kicks in the door.
“Hey,” Ranger chokes out, his voice weak, sputtering as he tries to speak past the rising water. “Can you tell Mom I love her?” I drop down on my knees next to him, curling my fingers around his. Am I going to sit here and watch him drown when he's so damn close to freedom? No. No. This can't happen. “And … give all of Jenica's stuff to the police. Maybe they …” Ranger swallows some water and starts to cough.
That's when I remember: I have the hammer in my bag.
I dump the contents on the ground, grabbing it in shaking hands. There's a lock holding this particular grate in place. I hit it as hard as I can, but nothing happens. It's so rusty though, surely …
Ranger's head disappears under the water, but I can still see his eyes, pleading, begging … I use both hands and hit the lock right at the thinnest point.
It cracks.
I hit it again, and the rusted bits snap off. I yank it off and scream for Church. He's there in a second, a rusted metal pole in hand. He uses that to push the grate off, and then drops down.
Together, we reach in and grab Ranger's hands.
He's freezing cold. And he's still. And it's beyond hard to pull him out, almost impossible. My muscles are screaming, and I'm crying, and I'm not sure this is going to happen when finally, Ranger's body hits the shore and Church and I both fall back.
He's the first to scramble up, turning his friend over and putting his ear near his mouth.
“He's not breathing,” he states calmly, almost too calm. It sounds like Church might just snap if I don't do something. I reach out and put my fingers against the side of Ranger's throat to check for a pulse. No pulse, fuck.
“I have CPR training,” I explain, taking over and trying to remember all the things I learned back home. Living on the beach has its advantages; I know exactly what to do right now. Ranger's face is cold and pale as I tilt his head back. “Put your hands in the center of his chest, at the nipple line, and start compressions. A hundred or more per minute. Let the chest rise completely between pushes.” Church complies immediately, and I wait, checking again to see if he's breathing yet.
