As she ran her fingers across a piece of coral, a sharp pain prodded at her skull. She wheeled around, thinking something had struck her, but there wasn’t a person or even a fish anywhere close. She blinked hard, suddenly feeling light-headed. When she took a breath, her lungs didn’t fill. Had she gone too deep? Did she have the bends?
She tried to breathe in again, but she couldn’t inhale. Suddenly desperate, she fiddled with her dive mask—perhaps it wasn’t lined up properly with her mouth. But it was, and yet she still couldn’t draw a breath. Her heart began to pound. She tried to swim to the surface, but her arms and legs felt like dead weights. She checked her pressure gauge again, but the tank was still full. That was impossible, though—she definitely wasn’t getting oxygen.
She gasped for air, an idea forming in her mind. She’d heard about this kind of thing happening. People could mess with the gauges, make them appear at the right levels when in fact the tank was empty. She knew that was what had happened. And she knew who had done it, too. A.
Spencer woozily glanced through the water, finding Naomi within the clump of divers in the distance. The baby oil and bed-breaking tricks were child’s play compared to cutting off her oxygen supply. Of course Naomi still hated her! And to think, Spencer thought she was safe just because she’d broken up with Reefer!
“Mmm!” she cried, the sound getting swallowed up in the water. Spots were starting to form in front of her eyes. She flailed her arms and legs and weakly called out for help, but the divers were too far away to notice. She kicked closer. By now her lungs were burning, greedy for air.
“Mmm!” she called out, waving her arms some more. But all the divers’ backs were to her. Spencer’s eyes started to close. Her neck lolled back, and her body suddenly felt heavy. Darkness crept in, obscuring her vision. Her leg bumped a piece of rock, but she couldn’t move. She had no energy to move. This was the end, and she couldn’t even fight.
A warm feeling washed over her body, and she allowed herself to sink. She couldn’t hear breathing in her ears any longer. Her eyes fluttered closed. The last thing she saw was a light coming toward her, filling her field of vision …
Then, air pushed into Spencer’s lungs, and she opened her eyes with a jolt. She coughed violently, and salt water spewed from her mouth and exploded from her nose, burning her nostrils. She was lying on the deck of the boat again. Reefer crouched over her, his lips wet, a relieved look on his face.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Are you okay?”
Spencer tried to speak, but another cough came out instead. She rolled over to her side and waited for the water to drain from her ears. For a split second, she thought Reefer had just been kissing her, that their break-up had been a dream. But then everything rushed back.
“What … happened?” she croaked.
“You just started sinking,” Reefer said. “I found you and pulled you to the surface, then gave you mouth-to-mouth. Tim checked your gauges—you had no oxygen left in your tank.”
A chill snaked up her spine. She searched the crowd of kids that had gathered on the boat and found Naomi lurking at the back, her gaze bouncing from Spencer to Reefer. Her lips were pressed together so tightly they were almost transparent, and her eyes were round and wide. She looked shaken—maybe because Reefer was comforting Spencer.
Or maybe because her plan to hurt Spencer had failed.
27
SURPRISE INSIDE
A few hours later, Aria glanced at herself in the full-length mirror near the auditorium. She was wearing the skimpy bikini she’d had on for her first swim lesson with Noel, the grass skirt, a bunch of beaded necklaces, and her lace-up sandals. As a final touch, she’d popped a flower behind her ear.
She looked across the auditorium lobby. A girl passed carrying a portable easel under her arm. Several kids held instrument cases. Jeremy, still in his star-shaped sunglasses, ran past them with a clipboard in hand, looking frazzled. Two men in suits and a woman in a ball gown, presumably the other judges, followed behind him. Everyone was talking excitedly, and the room had a festive, free-for-all attitude about it. Hundreds of balloons floated along the ceiling and Hollywood Walk-of-Fame stars lined the ground.
She spied Noel near one of the auditorium entrances and almost burst out laughing. He was wearing a baggy, shiny tracksuit and a bunch of gold chains around his neck. She ran over to him. “You look more like a gym teacher than a rapper!”
Noel twisted the baseball cap he had on his head sideways and crossed his arms over his chest, gangsta-style. “You just wait until you hear my rhymes. Mike and I are so ready for this.”
“When are you on?” Aria asked.
“Seven-thirty. You?”
Aria checked her phone; she and everyone else participating in the talent show had been sent a schedule of events. “Seven,” she said. “I think we’re one of the first acts.” It was six-thirty.