Together Alone

Chele Crawley

It was a dare that had gone wrong. Emma knew she should have listened to that little voice inside her when Holly suggested that they take the jet ski out for a quick spin. The lanyard with the key was draped carelessly over the handlebars – it was asking to be taken out.

Charlie, their mom’s new boyfriend, had made it look so easy, when he took each of them out on the watercraft earlier that day. All that was required was a little squeeze on the throttle and away they would go. Holly untied the mooring lines, grabbed the lanyard and shoved the key into the vehicle, letting out a little squeal as she pressed the ‘on button’.

‘Hop on Emma!’

Her sister knew they would be in so much trouble if her mom found out, but she also knew she would be in bigger trouble if she let Holly go alone. Arms wrapped around her sister’s torso, Emma hoped Holly was just kidding around. She told herself it was just bravado. One squeeze of the throttle at the most… or maybe two before returning it to the mooring post.

‘Throttle. Whisky. Squeeze and go!’ Holly recited, remembering what Charlie had rhymed off earlier. Emma could feel the vibration emanating from the seat beneath her – it was electrifying. She had to admit that it was quite liberating billowing off the waves with a constant salty spray of water on her face.

‘This is so cool!’ hollered Holly, adjusting the trim settings like she had seen the latest daddy impresario do hours earlier. The jet ski’s nose lifted out of the choppy water like a stallion on its hind legs. ‘Feel the g-force!’ Holly expelled, her words catching in the wind.

Holly flicked the switch on the trim settings, pulling the nose down and increasing the bite. With the nose of the boat dipped, Holly could feel a slight drag. The water got choppier. She reverted the trim setting hoping it would reduce the friction. Suddenly, the front of the jet ski breached the water, hurling the riders off their seats.

Splash! The smack off the water stung like a bee. Emma couldn’t tell how long she was under for but when she finally resurfaced, her shrill gasps rang out across the bay.

Safety vests - Charlie had insisted they wear them. Safety vests that were clearly missing from their person at that moment in time. Her arms and legs at once began forming the letter s in the water in a bid to keep her afloat.

‘Holly,’ she gurgled repeatedly, in between the thrashing of the waves. She scanned all around her – a rolling canvas of sapphire. The panic rose within her like a juggernaut. ‘Holly!’ Her roars ricocheted from the headlands, but no reply returned.

She squinted her eyes towards the horizon. There, up ahead, she could make out a blob – the overturned jet ski. Her stomach flipped. Was Holly trapped underneath?

Emma, thwarted by the incoming swells, swam towards it. She hauled herself on to the bow of the jet ski and at once began feeling underneath for a body. Her fingers only hit water. She plunged her head back into the sea and prised her eyes open: there was only darkness.

She pulled her head out of the water and surveyed the seascape. ‘Holly,’ she cried out repeatedly, refusing to accept anything other than the fact that they were together alone.

• Chele Crawley is a member of Inklings Writing Group, who meet on Tuesdays at 11am in the Annebrook House Hotel.