by S. E. Smith
“This is crazy,” Tyrell yelled as he pulled himself back to his feet. “We’re going to die!”
“No, we’re not!” Makayla yelled above the roar of the wind, the crash of the waves, and the boom of the thunder. “I’m not giving up! Do you hear me? I’m not going to give up!”
“You’re crazy!” Tyrell snapped back. “We’re going to die because you wanted to sail back home instead of taking a bus like a normal person would have! This is stupid!”
Makayla’s eyes flashed. “Grow a pair of balls! I wasn’t the one who stowed away!” She retorted. “You made your own decision when you stepped on board the Defiance.”
She watched as Tyrell opened his mouth to respond. He never got a chance to. A rogue wave, larger than the rest hit the quarter, halfway between the stern and beam. The boom swung around as the Defiance tacked. She saw the dark shadow of it coming at her at the same time as Tyrell. She ducked, but Tyrell, thinking it was going to hit him, let go of his hold on the hand grip.
“Tyrell!” She screamed, reaching out with one hand when she saw his body fly up into the air.
Makayla caught the wheel as it spun crazily when she let go of it. The force of it knocked her to one knee. Her eyes wildly searched for Tyrell. She pulled herself back up to her feet and fought to regain control of the sailboat.
“Tyrell!” She shouted. “Tyrell!”
Her heart dropped when all she saw was an empty space where he had been just seconds before. Her eyes swept over the churning sea. Tears threatened to blind her. Setting the autopilot, she locked the helm and hoped that it kept them into the waves.
Scrambling up onto the seat, she glanced over the starboard side, looking for the lifeline that Tyrell had attached to his life vest. A cry of frustration escaped her when the wind and rain fogged her vision. She leaned over, trying to see. A slight movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention toward the stern of the sailboat.
“Tyrell!” She shouted, slipping over the back of the seat and sliding along the slick surface of the fiberglass hull toward him. She braced her feet on two of the stanchions and leaned forward. “Grab my hand.”
*.*.*
Tyrell’s eyes flashed in fury. He was about to tell her that all he had wanted to do was stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life, but he fell asleep because he had been exhausted from being at the hospital with his grandmother. He had no intentions of joining her on her quest! He had enough troubles of his own.
The impact of the wave, and the sudden jerk of the sailboat beneath him, had caught him by surprise. His hand, wet from the rain, had slipped from the grip he had on the handgrip attached to the console. One minute he was next to Makayla, the next he was airborne.
His body twisted wildly before hitting the hard surface behind the cockpit. The collision knocked the breath from his lungs and he felt his body sliding toward the black water.
He had grabbed the thin cable that was attached to the stanchions. In the back of his mind, he remembered Makayla calling them the lifeline. He had a new appreciation for their meaning as he clung to it. The muscles in his arms strained as he held on. The lower part of his body had slipped through the bottom section of the protective cabling, and dangled off the back of the stern.
He both thanked and cursed the life vest he was wearing. The thick floatation device made it difficult for him to maneuver. He felt clumsy and uncoordinated.
Tyrell glanced at the taut line stretched out across the back. It was the long line that he had clipped to the cable running around the edge of the sailboat before clipping the other end to his life vest that saved him from going overboard. The lifeline attached to him had caught on one of the points where the line connected to the upright stanchion.
He frantically kicked his feet, trying to find some leverage to push him up. Every time he pulled himself forward, he would slip further back when the bow of the sailboat rose on the next wave. The surface was too slippery for him to get a good hold.
He bowed his head, pressing his forehead to the surface, breathing deeply as his arms trembled. Tears burned his eyes. He didn’t want to die. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than being lost in the dark, churning sea.
At least a bullet would be faster and less agonizing than the slow death of drowning, he thought as despair choked him.
He was about to give up when he heard Makayla’s voice mixed with the wind and rain. “Grab my hand!” She yelled.
Raising his head, he blinked through the sheet of rain. In a flash of lightning, he saw her fierce, determined eyes staring back at him. He nodded, waiting for the sailboat to fall into the next trough to give him the forward momentum he would need. The moment he felt the change, he released his grip on the stanchion and grabbed her outstretched hand.
The combination was just enough to pull him back onto the stern. Together, they tumbled backwards and down into the cockpit. He rolled, trying to protect her as they fell over the side onto the hard seat. The breath that he had just pulled into his lungs was pushed out again. He vaguely wished that they had left the cushions on when the back of his head connected with the fiberglass.
“Are you okay?” He grunted in a breathless voice.
Makayla stared down at him and shook her head. “I thought you were gone!” She said in a choked voice before pushing herself up. “I’ve got to take control of the helm again.”
Tyrell nodded, steadying her and making sure she had a hand on the helm before he rolled to his feet. His legs were shaking, but he was alive. Running a trembling hand down over his face to wipe the water out of his eyes, he grinned. He was alive!
*.*.*
“You did good, Makayla. I’m proud of you,” Henry was saying several hours later.
Tyrell listened as Makayla talked to her grandfather on the radio. The storm had passed, moving toward the west. They could still see the dark clouds and flashes of lightning from where they were. The waters were still rough, but nothing like they had been. Once it was safe, he retrieved his cell phone and the Canon that he had placed in a waterproof bag and strapped to the console to record the storm.
He lifted the camera and snapped several pictures of the retreating storm, before taking several pictures of Makayla still dressed in the bright yellow foul weather gear. Sunlight streamed in narrow bands through the clouds as they parted. He set the camera down and picked up his cell phone, turning it toward him.
“I almost died today,” he said, staring back at his reflection. “It was the scariest and most exhilarating moment of my life. It was even more frightening than getting shot at. I’m eighteen and today was the second time in almost a week that I almost died,” he paused and swallowed. “I realized that I didn’t want to die,” he commented in a quiet voice. “I told Makayla that I had plans. When I told her about them, I expected her to laugh at me, but…,” he paused again and looked up at where Makayla was watching him with a curious expression. “But, she didn’t. She told me that someone had to do it and why shouldn’t it be me. She’s the smartest, craziest white girl I’ve ever met.”
He turned the phone toward Makayla when she laughed. Her hair was plastered to her head, her cheeks flushed, and the bright yellow raincoat hung on her slender frame, but she looked happy. Her eyes glittered with the power of knowing that he was telling the truth. They had faced a challenge that could have cost them their lives and won.
“I’m not the one who stowed away,” she teased. “I think that qualifies you for insanity more than me.” The laughter died from her eyes and was replaced with a serious expression. “What did you mean when you said ‘being shot at’?
Tyrell turned the phone back to him and stared down into the screen. He debated if he should share what happened last Friday night. Deciding that it was important for others to know, he began to tell the world what it was like to live in constant fear in one of the richest nations in the world.
“My name is Tyrell James Richards and this is my story,” he began. “I live in a
small house with my grandma. My dad is dead. He was killed in a fight over drugs. My mom gave me to my grandma when I was just a baby. I was luckier than my older brother, Jerome. At least I had a stable home that was safe.”
He paused, looking at Makayla. A rueful smile curved his lips as he shared his life, his dreams, his fears, and finally, how glad he was that he had stowed away on a boat called the Defiance.
“I’ve learned that things aren’t always what we think they are,” he reflected in a thoughtful voice. “That the spoilt princess isn’t as spoilt as I thought.”
“Or that the boy that fell asleep was really exhausted from being at the hospital after almost dying and not from playing video games or partying all night,” Makayla interjected.
“You aren’t the only one afraid of turning out screwed up, Makayla,” Tyrell said in a solemn tone. “I want to live. I want to see the world. And,… And, I want to make a difference so that I am remembered as a boy from the hood that did good, a boy who didn’t become another statistic.”
Makayla smiled. “Like I told you before, Tyrell, you’ll do it,” she reminded him.
“Because someone has to do it,” he said with a sigh.
Makayla shook her head and held her hand out to him, squeezing it when he placed his hand in hers. “Not someone, you, Tyrell,” she said. “You are the guy who saved his grandmother from being shot. You are the one who was determined to stop a crazy white girl from making the biggest mistake of her life. And, you are the one who sees things through a camera lens like no one else. You’ll make it because there is something special about you. Never forget that.”
Tyrell flushed, glad of his dark skin so the rest of the world wouldn’t see him turning red. Shaking his head, he released her hand with a self-conscious chuckle. He never expected to find a friend so different, or as unique, as Makayla.
“I think that is the most I’ve ever heard you say,” he admitted with a smirk. “Who would have thought that under that bad-ass exterior there was a nice person?”
Makayla rolled her eyes at him and shrugged. “Don’t believe it,” she snorted. “I’m still considering throwing you overboard.”
Chapter 24
Later that night, Makayla sat at the table in the cabin. She was calculating the distance they had traveled. The storm had actually helped a little. They were almost to Miami. They should reach the Keys by sometime late tomorrow afternoon.
Tonight there was a little more of a breeze. She set the autopilot again, checking on it every half hour or so before relaxing down in the cabin. If she were to admit it, she was tired and sore. By the end of this journey, her arms were going to be in great shape if she kept getting a work out the way she had so far.
Makayla looked across the table at where Tyrell was on his phone. Shaking her head, she glanced at her phone when a text message popped up. She bit her lip and ignored it, returning her gaze to the chart in front of her.
“Are you going to answer him?” Tyrell asked, his gaze flickering from her phone to her scowling face. “That is the tenth message in the last twenty minutes. I think the guy has taken the hint that you are pissed at him.”
“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, turning her phone over so that she couldn’t see the face of it. Almost immediately, it began to vibrate. “If I need advice, I’ll ask for it.”
Humor glittered in Tyrell’s eyes. “Do you want me to answer it? I can tell him you are having a meltdown and I’m here to console you,” he said with a toothy grin.
“Drop dead,” she muttered, picking up her phone and scooting out of the seat.
“I’ve already been close twice this week. I’m done with almost dying,” Tyrell retorted good-naturedly.
Makayla rolled her eyes at him even as she swiped her finger across her phone. “Speak,” she snapped in irritation.
“I’m sorry,” Brian said with a sigh. “I guess you’re still mad at me.”
Makayla tucked her hair behind her ear before glancing over her shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at Tyrell when he grinned and leaned forward as if he was interested in the conversation. Deciding that all guys were just a pain in the butt, she turned and climbed back up the steps to the cockpit.
“Yeah, well, you were a jerk,” she reminded him. “I saw Kim pulling up the morning that you left,” she added in a quiet voice.
There was a moment of silence before Brian released an exasperated sigh that echoed in her ear. She walked over to the cushions that they had replaced after the storm and sat down. They had also removed the Dodger and stowed it away.
“She was giving me a lift to Gainesville,” Brian finally said. “If it helps, by the time we got there, she decided I could find another way home. I don’t think she liked it when I told her I wasn’t interested in her,” he said.
A soft chuckle escaped Makayla. “No, I guess she wouldn’t,” she replied with a sigh.
Makayla stared up at the starlit sky. It looked as if the storm scrubbed clean all the haze that had covered it earlier. Swallowing, she thought of what could have happened today. Life was too short to hold grudges, she finally admitted. Would she have reacted any differently if she had been in his shoes? No, in fact, she had thought she was returning home as well, so how was she any different from him. Wasn’t she just looking for a little summer fun, too?
“How is school?” She asked in a husky voice.
Brian’s soft laugh ran down her spine, pulling the familiar response that always left her confused. An answering smile curved her lips. She missed him and his teasing.
“Not as much fun as I thought it would be,” he admitted.
“Really?” Makayla asked in surprise, feeling unexpectedly pleased by his admission.
“Yeah, really,” Brian teased. “The classes are long, the homework even longer, and the booze enough to keep the whole village drunk for a year. I don’t mind the classes and the homework… Okay, well, maybe I do, and I have to admit the beer is nice, but… I’d rather be working on the Defiance with you.”
“Same here,” she whispered, staring at her toes as a wave of homesickness washed through her. “Have you talked to Henry?”
“No, why?” Brian asked.
Makayla looked down the companionway at where Tyrell was sitting, tapping away at his phone. She turned her head to stare out over the ocean. The moonlight sparkled like a million diamonds on the dancing waves.
“I took the Defiance,” she mumbled. “I’m heading home.”
The silence stretched and she winced when she heard Brian’s hiss. She waited, curling her toes back and forth and looking up at the night sky. She was to the point she was about to start counting stars when he finally responded to her statement.
“Say that again,” he finally muttered. “I think I misunderstood you. I thought you said you took the Defiance and that you’re heading home. I hope you’re talking about to the dock outside of Henry’s place and not to….”
“Tampa,” she interjected, closing her eyes.
“Are you crazy?” Brian demanded in a low voice filled with anger. “Why would you take the Defiance? You… You would have been safer taking the bus!”
Makayla groaned and ran her hand through her hair. “You sound just like Tyrell!” She moaned.
“Who’s Tyrell?” Brian bit out.
Makayla let her hand drop down to the cushion as she turned and lay down. She winced when she heard the sharp tone of Brian’s voice. This was the first time that she could remember him ever being really mad.
“Now you sound like Henry,” she mumbled with a sigh. “He’s a boy from school. He came by to drop off a book that I dropped when Alicia and her friends jumped me during lunch. He ended up falling asleep on the Defiance only I didn’t know it until I was already out of the Inlet. I wasn’t about to turn back, so he is helping me get to Tampa, okay?”
“Does any of that sound okay?” Brian asked in disbelief. “Why would you even think any of this is okay? Who is this guy and what did you
mean when Alicia and her friends jumped you at lunch? What happened? Are you hurt?”
A soft laugh escaped Makayla. Brian was almost as bad a Henry. A tired sigh escaped her. So much had happened in just a few days. It was amazing how life kept changing.
“I’m fine,” she replied in a husky voice. “She didn’t like my face for some reason, go figure. Tyrell is pretty cool. He doesn’t know how to swim, but he’s smart and he learns fast.”
“Oh,” Brian muttered.
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. That one word held a wealth of meaning. Warmth blossomed inside her.
“He’s just a friend, Brian,” she said. “Things are kind of complicated right now.”
“I… I want you to know I meant what I said before I left, Makayla,” Brian said in a quiet voice. “You’re different.”
Makayla bit back another laugh and shook her head, staring up at the brilliant stars. Tyrell kept telling her the same thing. If she was different, she wished she knew what that meant. Was it different in a good way, or different like her mom?
“I need…,” Makayla sighed again. “I need to figure out who I am before I can be what everyone else thinks I am.”
Brian gave a short chuckle. “You aren’t the only one,” he admitted.
Makayla smiled and listened as he told her that he had finally figured out what he wanted to major in. He had been unsure, but the political science class he was taking made him think about the changes going on in the world.
They talked for several more minutes before the signal began to cut in and out. She barely had time to tell him that she would call him tomorrow before she lost him. With a sigh, she stayed where she was, staring up at the stars, listening to the sound of the water against the hull, and thinking about what happened today.
“I wish…,” she whispered before sighing. “I hope that I can discover who I want to be.”