Jessica Warman - Between

Breathless

Where the Truth Lies

Contents

Copyright 2011 by Jessica Warman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First published in the United States of America in August 2011
by Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
E-book edition published in August 2011
www.bloomsburyteens.com

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Warman, Jessica.
Between / Jessica Warman. 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: By weaving through her memories and watching the family and friends she left behind, eighteen-year-old Liz Valchar solves the mystery of how her life ended in the Long Island Sound.
ISBN 978-0-8027-2182-2 (hardcover)
[1. AfterlifeFiction. 2. DeadFiction. 3. Family problemsFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.W2374Bet 2011 [Fic]dc22 2010040986

ISBN 978-0-8027-2321-5 (e-book)

For M. C. W.

Because we fit.

This living hand, now warm and capable

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood

So in my veins red life might stream again,

And thou be conscience-calmed see here it is

I hold it towards you.

John Keats

Its a little after two a.m. Outside the Elizabeth , things are relatively quiet. Boatsyachts, reallyare tied to the docks, clean white buoys protecting their fiberglass and porcelain exteriors from the wood. The slosh of the Long Island Sound, water beating against boats and shore, is a constant in the background. In most of the other boatswith names like Well Deserved , Privacy , Good Life there is peace.

But inside the Elizabeth , there is persistent unrest. The boat is a sixty-four-foot cruiser, equipped with a full kitchen, two baths, two bedrooms, and enough extra space to sleep a total of twenty people. Tonight there are only six, though. Its a small partymy parents wouldnt have let me throw a big one. Everybody is asleep, I think, except for me.

Ive been staring at the clock for twenty minutes now, listening to this annoying thump, thump, thump against the hull. Its late August. The air outside is already cool, and the water is undoubtedly frigid. Connecticuts like that; the water gets warm for a month or so in July, but near the end of the summer its already cold again. Sometimes it seems like there are only two seasons around here: winter and almost winter.

Regardless of the waters temperature, Im pretty certain theres a fish out there, stuck between the dock and the boat, pounding against the fiberglass, trying to free itself. The noise has been going on for what feels like forever. It woke me up at exactly 1:57 a.m., and its starting to drive me nuts.

I finally cant take it anymore. Thump. Thump-thump. If its a fish, its a stupid fish.

Hey? Do you hear that? I say to my best friend and stepsister, Josie, whos sleeping beside me on the fold-out couch in the front of the boat, her highlighted dirty-blond hair plastered against the side of her face. She doesnt respond, just continues to snore softly, passed out since a little after midnight from an alcohol-marijuana combination that sent us all to bed before the late show came to an end. Thats the last thing I remember before falling asleep: trying to keep my eyes open, mumbling to Josie that we had to wait for 1:37 a.m., which is exactly when I was born, before we fell asleep. Nobody made it. At least, I know I didnt.

I stand up in the near darkness. The only light in the boat is coming from the TV, where theres an infomercial for the SuperMop! running with the sound turned off.

Anyone awake? I ask, still keeping my voice low. The boat rocks against the waves coming in from the Long Island Sound. Thud-thud-thud . There it is again.

I look at the clock. Its 2:18. I smile to myself; Ive officially been eighteen for over a half hour.

If it werent for the thumping, the rocking of the boat would feel like being tucked inside a lullaby. This is just about my favorite place in the world. Being here with my friends makes it even better, if thats possible. Everything seems peaceful and calm. The stillness of the evening feels almost magical tonight.

Thump.

Im going outside to liberate a fish, I announce. Somebody please come with me.

But nobodynot one of themeven stirs.

Bunch of selfish drunks, I murmur. But Im only kidding. And anyway, I can go outside by myself. Im a big girl. Theres nothing to be scared of.

I know it sounds hypocritical, since weve been drinking and smoking, but its true: were good kids. This is a safe town. Everyone onboard has grown up together in Noank, Connecticut. Our families are friends. We love each other. Looking around at all of themJosie in the front of the boat, Mera, Caroline, Topher, and Richie in sleeping bags on the floor in the backlife inside the Elizabeth feels like a hazy dream.

Elizabeth Valchar. Thats me; my parents named this boat after me when I was six years old. But that was a lifetime ago. A few years before we lost my mother, before my dad married Josies mom. My dad got rid of a lot of my moms stuff after she died, but he was always adamant about keeping the boat. See, we have so many happy memories here. I always felt safe here. My mom would have wanted it this way.

Still, it can be eerie so late at night, especially outside. Other than the sloshing of the waves, the dull thumping against the hull, the night is dark and silent. The smell of ocean salt water, algae dried onto all the thick rock formations this close to shore, is so overwhelming that, if the wind catches it the right way, it can almost make me nauseated.

Im not particularly keen on trying to figure out where the mystery noise is coming from all by myself, even though Im almost certain its just a fish. So I give Josie one more try. Hey, I say louder, wake up. I need your help. I reach out to touch her, but something stops me. Its the oddest feelinglike I shouldnt be disturbing her. For a minute, I think that I must still be drunk. Everything feels kind of fuzzy.

Her eyelids flutter. Liz? she murmurs. Shes confused, obviously still asleep. For a second theres a flash of somethingis it fear? Am I freaking her out?in her gaze. And then shes out again, and Im standing by myself, the only person awake. Thud-thud-thud .

The docks are like a wooden jigsaw puzzle. Waves break in from the ocean, and by the time they reach the Sound theyre usually gentle enough, but tonight they seem stronger than normal, rocking us all to sleep like a bunch of babies. Despite my attempts to be brave, I feel small and afraid as I tiptoe out the open sliding glass door, my shoes making light clacking sounds against the fiberglass deck of the boat. Each arm of the docks has only two overhead lights: one at the middle and another at the very end. There is no visible moon. The air is so chilly that I shudder, thinking what the water must feel like. Goose bumps rise on my exposed flesh.

I stand on deck, frozen, listening. Maybe the noise will go away.

Thump. Nope.

Its coming from the stern, between the dock and the boat, like something heavy and alive, persistent, stuck. Were the last boat on this arm of the dock, which means the back of the Elizabeth is almost fully illuminated by the light. I dont know why I feel the need to be so quiet. The noise from my shoes against the deck is jarring, every footstep making me cringe, no matter how carefully I step. I make my way along the side of the boat, holding tightly to the railing. Once the sound is directly beneath me, I look down.