Author: Sophie Jordan

And yet I can’t take my gaze off this boy. His every entry into the water is clean, graceful. I wish I could see what he’s doing up on the platform. Or watch him in midair before he enters the water.

Then I realize they’re not simply jumping. They’re doing bold flips off the platform that plunge them deep. It’s a safe guess that they come here a lot. I’m the intruder.

After a little while, one girl plants herself inside an inner tube. I study the lazy kick of her sleek legs as her three friends continue diving.

I inhale and exhale, water gusting from my lips. Blinking, I watch their antics, wondering how long I’m going to have to wait for them to leave.

The skinnier boy decides to try to dunk the other boy and fails miserably. He ends up dunked instead, but not before I glimpse the strain and ripple of the other boy’s muscles as he launches his friend below water. Hanging suspended among the reeds, my feet barely grazing the ground, I itch to move closer for a better look but dare not.

Historically, curiosity has been the death—or disappearance—of many a draki. When a draki vanishes it’s assumed hunters—humans—had a hand in it. The reminder is enough to stop me from moving forward.

And yet I continue to watch the boy from my hiding spot, admiring his body, all toned muscles and flexing sinew. At least I’ll have something to tell my friends when I get home. Jacinda will get a kick out of it. Usually, she’s the one dragging me into adventure. And trouble. I’m almost proud that I’ve managed to put myself in a precarious situation all by myself. Almost.

Of course I’ll feel better when I’ve survived the situation unscathed. Then I can look back and laugh. Just not yet.

Especially when the object of my admiration suddenly dives deeper. His body shoots straight down like a missile. Right in my direction. My heart seizes in my chest as he keeps coming, keeps descending, in no seeming hurry to return to the surface for air.

The draki in me stirs, swirling beneath the surface. My face tightens, bones sharpening. Energy swims beneath the flesh of my back, the wings there nudging to come out.

I hold myself utterly still, as though I can suppress what I am, as though the slightest movement from me will draw his attention. My gaze skitters to my arms floating out in front of me and I can see what I already feel, what I know. I’m starting to manifest. The iridescent sheen to my blue skin undoubtedly glows through the murky waters and reeds like a beacon.

My gills undulate faster. The flesh of my back stretches and ripples, pulling taut. I feel them there—the wings prodding, ready to burst free. I bow my head. Fight it. Which is really just me fighting my fear. Fear makes it impossible to hold my human form. It’s an instinct embedded in our DNA. A protective measure of our species. If we’re ever captured, a human would only see the draki. An animal. Just a beast to them. They wouldn’t know how evolved we are. That we might be that girl they pass in the supermarket.

So I hold myself still, hoping he won’t turn and see the shimmer of blue that’s me.

My gills work faster, pumping water quickly through me. It’s my version of taking a deep breath and trying to calm down … to steady myself. I can’t panic. That will only make my wings break free. I’ll be lost then.

He can’t stay underwater for long. And he certainly can’t swim down deep enough to see me. He’ll have to breathe. Eventually.

My vision sharpens, surveying him. His dark hair ripples back from his face as he descends. Even with air bubbles blowing from his nose, I can see his face. Hot. I think that’s how a proper human girl would describe him. His features are well carved. Square-jawed. His nose a strong, straight blade above his wide mouth. His eyebrows are thick, black slashes above eyes whose color I can’t make out in the water. They simply look dark and deep, as fathomless as a bottomless cavern.

Finally, he stops his descent and rockets his body back to the surface again. My fear ebbs. The pressure in my shoulder blades subsides. I risk moving, my body slithering serpent-like to the edge of the reeds as I watch his strong limbs kick until he pulls himself out from the water. I wait. Pull a deep drag of water inside myself, letting it fill all the hollow places inside me, hoping I won’t be stuck down here all morning.

The girl still diving breaks the water. She falls swiftly, but this time something is different. She’s limp, her arms wide and listless.

She’s not awake.

My gaze jerks from the unconscious girl up to her three friends. The female floating in the inner tube still glides along the surface aimlessly, her legs lightly swishing in the water.

Pay attention! Your friend is drowning!

One of the boys dives again, the skinnier of the two—not the one I’ve been gawking at. Incredibly, he doesn’t notice the sinking girl. He swims back to the dock at a leisurely pace. No one realizes she hasn’t surfaced yet.

I lean with my body, willing her friends to realize she’s missing, willing them to reach her, find her before she sinks too low.

I hear a shout from above. It’s loud and desperate enough to penetrate water. Suddenly everything is frantic.

Splashing. Shouting. They’re swimming madly, arms moving in wide arcs. Diving beneath the surface and moving in erratic patterns, trying to sweep as much area as possible.

But it’s too late. She’s already too far below them. They can’t dive that deep. Only the one boy even comes close. He makes it twelve feet down, air bubbles exploding from his nose, dark hair a wild cloud around him. His hand unknowingly swipes not too far above her head. So close, but nothing.

He finally has to go back up for another breath. I watch in anxiety as he shoots away to the surface, his legs kicking wildly. I worry my bottom lip, gnawing it with my teeth. How long has she been down here already?

Too long, an inner voice answers.

I can’t just let her drown. Everything inside me knots and twists with this conviction.

I know there are rules, tenets that govern our kind, but I’m not going to keep myself hidden away while someone drowns right before my eyes. Not when I can save her.

With a great surge, I swim to her side. I part the water, dismissing all fears and willing any hint of my draki appearance away.

I wrap one arm around the girl. Hugging her slight form close, I kick to the surface.

My head breaks amid the three others still hunting for their friend. I fake a gasp. Like I’ve been underwater without air for a long time. I urge my gills back in, sealing them off, burying that side of myself.

I’m careful to keep her chin above water as I shout out, “Here! I’ve got her!”

It all happens very quickly then. I’m barely even noticed. One of the boys, the strong one, sweeps her from me, wrapping an arm around her and swimming for the shoreline. I could have gotten her to shore faster, but what am I going to do? Wrench her from his arms? That would go over well.

The other two follow. I trail at a slower glide, taking the time to convince myself that everything is fine. Everyone is too panicked to ask who I am or where I came from … specifically how I magically appeared out of nowhere.

By the time I reach them, I’ve come up with a story of how I was just passing by and dove in. They crouch around the inert girl. A nasty bruise mars the center of her forehead, and I can only guess that she hit her head on the platform while diving.

The dark-haired boy gives her CPR. I’m not surprised that it’s him. Everything about him shouts strong, capable. His friend holds the other girl as she sobs.

He pauses to listen to her chest, water dripping from his dark hair onto her torso. “C’mon. C’mon, Anna!” The anguish in his voice is palpable. They must be in love.

I can’t help wondering if anyone would ever care that much about losing me. Sure, my parents love me, my friends, Jacinda … but would anyone ever be so determined to keep me with them?

With a stinging curse, he rolls her over and beats her hard on the back with several whacks. I wince at the blows, digging my bare toes into the gravelly shore. My stomach twists sickly. I should have acted sooner. I shouldn’t have stopped to think. A life is a life. “Anna!” the other girl screams. “Wake up!”

The boy flips her on her back again and resumes CPR.

His gaze barely flicks to his friends as he addresses them. “Get your phone! Call nine-one-one, Troy!”

Jerking as though slapped, Troy abandons the sobbing girl and darts to a Jeep parked nearby.

“Don’t you let her die, Tate.” The girl cries. “You hear me! Don’t let her go!”

Tate doesn’t acknowledge the words. He keeps moving, biceps flexing and straining. He works as though possessed. His features stark and intense, he looks capable of anything right then. Even bringing back the dead.

Despite the warming air, a chill shudders through me and I hug myself.

“Damn it,” he growls. “Breathe. It’s not supposed to be like this. Remember? Remember. We had a plan.”

Again, I hate that I didn’t react sooner. Almost as much as I hate that I’m observing this grim scenario and making it about me. Wondering if someone like this boy could ever cross my path—and choose to stay because he can’t bear the thought of anything else.

And then the most beautiful thing happens. She coughs.

Tate quickly rolls her on her side and bangs out lake water from her. I know I should disappear now, assured that she’s safe. I can just slip away.

Except I can’t.

It’s like I’m glued to the spot. Watching Tate as he leans over the girl. Even pale with blue-tinged lips, she’s one of the loveliest girls I’ve ever seen. Of course this boy would be devoted to her.

Gasping, Anna manages a raspy, “Stop hitting me!”

He eases up, laughing, the sound thick with relief. The tension ebbs from his shoulders as he leans back on his heels. I can see his eyes are dark now, deep and endless as the woods at night.

“Nice war wound there.” Tate whistles between his teeth, crouching in front of her and reaching for her forehead.

She swats his hand away. “Don’t.”

“You probably have a concussion. We should take you to the emergency room.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she gets the chance, Tate sweeps her up into his arms. “C’mon. Let’s get you checked out.”

They all start to move toward the truck.

With a jolt, I realize now is the time to flee. Before they remember my presence and look back for me.

I dart toward the trees where I left my clothes. At the tree line, I pause and stare over my shoulder, unable to keep from doing this. I tell myself that it’s just because I’m concerned. I want to make certain she’s safe. I saved her life. It’s like we’re … bound. That’s all.

But I don’t look at her. I look at him.

Who am I kidding? I’ve been looking at him since they first arrived in the pond.

Only this time, he’s staring back at me.

He has stopped and turned, facing me across the distance, still holding the girl in his arms like she weighs nothing at all. Those dark eyes train on me. Not as dark as his hair, but they’re a deep brown. Like the rich, earthy colors that fill the forest back home.

He looks startled. Like he just now sees me. And maybe he does only now register my presence. After the initial panic has died down, he can now remember that I’m here. The girl that miraculously appeared in their midst and rescued his Anna.

A breath shudders past my lips. I’m partly elated to have his attention. But only partly. I feel his gaze like a touch, a scorching caress. His eyes are intense, deep, and dark, traveling over me like the stroke of a wave, covering everything, missing nothing.

A tremor passes through my limbs. Move. Leave, the voice in my head commands my body.

He takes a step in my direction. Like he’s forgotten his friends. Forgotten the girl in his arms. As though he means to approach me.