Page 51 of Adrift

“I’m going to turn my phone light on for a second to check on the chef,” I say.

“Good idea,” says Calvin. “I’ll take the first watch. Someone should be awake at all times in case we hear a plane or a boat. We can pass off the signal gun.”

I want to dislike Calvin and his “I’m in charge” attitude, but someone needs to be in charge. And he was right about the paddling: we never got an inch closer to the other raft.

The light of my iPhone shows Dante’s chest moving up and down. The rest of the crew members move in from the edge of the raft to watch.

“Are you a doctor?” Zane’s leaning over Dante’s side to see.

“No. I majored in sports medicine. I thought I might become a physical therapist.” Here’s where the questions usually start coming about why I would want to do PT when my dad is a billionaire. But thankfully they don’t. I check his pupils and they’re still good. His pulse is fine. “I wish there was something I could do for him.” Haley’s close to my side.

“We have to wait,” Calvin says. “I’m sure the rescuers will help him.”

I catch Calvin’s expression before I turn the light off. The big guy doesn’t think we’re going to be rescued. I take a deep breath.

“All right, settle in,” says Calvin. “I’ll wake Zane in a few hours, and we can take turns.”

Curling up, I try to close my mind off from the reality of what’s going on. The guy in charge doesn’t believe we are going to be rescued.

Rose-colored light shines through the top of the plastic cover when I wake up. But something is holding down my chest. A certain brown-haired beauty is using it as a pillow. I don’t want to move. Cocking my head, I see Calvin giving me a death stare. I shrug. I didn’t pull her onto my chest. But I’m sure as hell not going to make her leave.

The raft is heating up, but the ocean feels silent.

Zane moves near my feet. “I’m going to put down the window.”

In a hushed tone, I ask, “Any sign of the boat or the other raft?”

“No,” Zane fires back. “They were both gone before first light.”

That’s what I expected, but my positivity coach would tell me to visualize the other raft.

The window on one side is zipped up. It’s a clear vinyl covering that keeps the water out.

“You could have woken me for a shift,” I say.

“You were doing something.” Calvin doesn’t look up from the supply box.

“I should take a turn.” Haley is really out. We’re all talking at a normal level, but she hasn’t moved.

“Yeah, well, you needed sleep, and I don’t sleep well, anyway,” Calvin grunts.

“So true.” Zane fiddles with the other window.

“How’s Dante?” I can see his chest rising and falling.

“The same,” Zane answers. “I didn’t lift his eyelids like you did, because I have no idea what you were doing.”

“I was checking to see if his pupils were dilated. But just leave him alone at this point.”

“Shouldn’t we be waking him up if he has a concussion?” Zane cocks his head at me.

“Ideally, but I haven’t been able to wake him. And if he wakes up now and is confused and disoriented—what can we do? Nothing really. He’s breathing. It’s not like I can drill a hole in his skull and release the pressure.” If I’d stayed in the program, I would have done a hospital round. Maybe then I’d be more help.

“Ew.” Zane scrunches up his nose.

“His brain is probably swelling, numbnut.” Calvin’s thick fingers tie a knot at the end of the line he’s fiddling with.

I glance down at Haley’s sleeping frame. Dante has two of the towels covering him, but someone has taken the other and covered Haley. Makes sense—she has the least amount of clothes on, other than her jacket under her life vest.

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