Page 114 of Cuts like a Knife
He ignores me.
“You people,” he says, still pointing at Callum. “You and your crappy little rag. Do you not do reference checks? Are you not worried about being sued? Or is your little publication too small to even realize that’s possibility? Who hires a known plagiarist? That is wild, man. Absolutely wild.”
There it is.
Finally.
This is it. This is the thing I’ve been dreading. It’s happening. It’s happening right now.
There’s sort of a whooshing sound — a roaring in my ears. I can’t hear anything for a moment, then the repetitive thumping beat of the dance music comes roaring back. Drew has heard the word — plagiarist. Callum’s heard it too. That’s it. It all over. I’m f—ed.
For a single millisecond, some near-dead, beaten-down, part of my brain almost makes me say, ‘Wait! I can explain!’ but I know I won’t. I can’t. I don’t even want to. I just want to get out of here.
I turn and push my way though the rest of the crowd. Near the stern side of the boat, there’s another sliding door, this time leading out to another indoor space. It’s carpeted and near empty. I think I see Charles Atlas tucked away in a corner, talking on a cell phone, but I barely look at him.
I find find a small staircase, that leads about five steps down, then turns a tight corner. Five more steps. Seconds later, I’m on the lowest aft deck.
It’s deserted.
The wind whips throws my hair around my face and I look out at the black water and the moon-beam trail that leads all the way to what I think is the shore of Hooper’s Bay.
It doesn’t look very far off. I can see a few lights in a few windows. Even from out here.
Nobody’s following me. Nobody’s watching.
F— this, I think. I’m leaving.
I’ll swim to shore. I’m a strong swimming. And it’s not far.
I swing a leg over the railing, then the other.
Then I jump.
Chapter Thirty
The water isn’t cold, but nonetheless, it hits me like a slap. I enter in a cannonball position, and kick to the surface, where take a big breath and try to get my bearings.
Almost immediately, I realize my mistake.
The swells are huge.
A wave hits me, then another.
I go under and start panic. My head pops up just in time for another wave to slap me in the face.
I choke on a mouthful of seawater.
My dress feels like an iron curtain. Soaked, it’s so heavy. It’s pulling me down.
Too late, I realize the truth: I’m going to drown.
Suddenly strong arms encircle me from behind. There’s a familiar voice in my ear, hot breath on my neck.
“Stop struggling,” Drew says. “I’ve got you.”
But I can’t stop struggling. I won’t. I don’t need him to save me. I can save myself!
My legs bicycle frantically, tangling in my dress. As I try to escape from Drew’s arms, another wave lifts us and moves us further from the boat. At least it doesn’t crash over my head this time.
