Page 79 of The Ripple Effect

When it stops, I’ve got my hands over my ears and my eyes squeezed shut.

“Stellar,” my sister says, stroking my arms. “It’s okay, honey. Let go now.”

“Stellar.” Lyle’s voice is shredded. He takes a step toward me, then, seeing something in my face, he steps back. “I didn’t touch him. He took my notes. He took mydog. I didn’t touch him.” He reaches out, but I need my hands on my ears. I’m numb and the dog is barking and Lori is crying and I just lost everything.

Again.

The sound he makes this time is quiet, hardly more than a croak from his ruined throat. He walks out of the water, past me, past everyone, breaking into a run when he reaches the firepit.

My trance breaks. “Stop! Lyle,stop! Don’t you leave me—”

He’s gone, vanished into the woods, branches swaying where he passed.

He left me here, on my own.

A gigantic splash pulls everyone’s attention back to the water. The Petra-sized silhouette in the bow is shouting at the Trevor-shaped one in the stern. She’s standing up, rockingthe boat, throwing paddles into the lake in the direction of a low sleek head and two flailing paws.

Babe, who isn’t wearing her life jacket.

I’m down at the shore, both hands gripping the deck plate of a canoe, hauling it into the water before I have a whisper of a plan in place. I climb in, crouching low. “Brent!” I bark. “Push me toward Babe, as hard as you can.” I don’t trust him, but he’s the strongest person here, and I need all the muscle I can get.

Actually, I need Lyle, but I don’t have him. I only have me.

“But you have no—”

“Now, guy! Do it now.”

Brent scrambles to obey, counting to three before launching me out into the dark water. Aiming a rudderless watercraft at a drowning dog is not much of a plan, but I don’t know what else to do.

It’s a chance. It’s me, working the problem.

I drag my hand in the water, trying to steer without losing too much momentum. Babe spots me, gurgle-barking in my direction. She’s in full panic mode, but working hard. She didn’t give up and let herself sink. I won’t give up either.

“Here, girl! Babe, come!” I tap the side of the canoe the way I’ve seen Lyle slap his thighs when he calls her. God, she’s going to make it.

I reach down as far as I can without tipping, grab Babe by her front quarters, and haul with every muscle fiber I can command. She kicks and scrabbles for purchase, and I yelp as bright stripes of pain zip down my cheek, my neck, my arm. She’s all bone and muscle, way heavier than she looks. I can’t get her more than halfway out of the water.

I’m too small. Not strong enough. I can’t hold on.

“Stellar. I’ve got her.”

Petra’s in the water, dark hair slicked to her head, adetermined set to her mouth. She’s got one hand on the gunwale, the other shoulder under Babe’s hindquarters. There’s no time to decide whether I trust her—there’s only time to save the dog, or not.

Together we boost Babe inelegantly into the boat.

Petra grabs a paddle drifting nearby, tosses it into the boat, then climbs in as I stabilize the canoe. Babe plasters herself to my side, coughing hoarsely.

I reach for the paddle, but Petra grabs it first. “I’ll get us to shore. You rest.” She nods at a long jagged gash decorating my left arm from shoulder to elbow, my humanity showing beneath my cyborg-inked surface. Ribbons of red flutter across the circuits and servos, rusting the ink of my gears.

“Oh,” I say, my voice distant and echoing in my ears. I plonk my butt on the bottom of the boat and stick my head between my knees, trying to force the dizziness away. Thoughts tumble through my brain on a spin cycle: I need to dress my injury. Get the dog to a vet. Get back on my feet. Protect myself.

The bow nudges soft sand. “Her arm. Watch her arm,” Petra says. Before I can quite figure out what she means, I’m lifted from the boat, my legs unfolding weakly beneath me until Lyle scoops them over one forearm. He strides up the beach with me across his chest like he’s carrying me over the threshold. The tea-and-sunscreen smell of his skin makes me want to cry the way I did when I was a kid, and I’d held in a hurt all day, waiting until I got home safe to let it out.

So I let the tears come, let a broken sob make its way past the gates of my self-restraint. Lyle cradles me even more gently, like I’m fragile. I know everyone will be frightened and upset to see my pain, but I can’t hold it in like a doctor would. Not anymore.

“You’re back,” I sniffle into Lyle’s chest. As far as conversation goes, it’s not my best work.

“I wasn’t far. I heard you…” The working of his throat tugs at my cheek. He’s moving fast, a little out of breath. “I heard you scream. Christ, Stellar.”

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