A Million Suns

She dives under the surface and is gone for nearly a full minute.

Then she bursts up from the surface, takes a huge gulp of air, and dives back down.

Huge bubbles burst along the surface.

My eyes scan the water. I see flashes of red, flicks of pale skin. I count the seconds.

Then Amy breaks through the surface, sucking in air and letting it all out in one long whoop of triumph.

“What’s going on?” a voice calls from the garden path.

“Crap, crap, crap,” Amy mutters behind me as she wiggles back into her pants. I risk a look over my shoulder as she tugs her tunic back into place. She steps forward just as Bartie and Victria come around the hydrangeas and down to the pond.

Her wet clothes soak through her dry ones, making everything stick to her curves in a way that I can’t rip my eyes from.

“Hello!” Amy calls to them.

“What are you doing?” Victria asks quietly.

I search her face. Victria was always the quiet one of our group, but I never noticed how silent she’d become since the Season. Not until Amy told me about what had happened to her.

I feel my fists clenching as I think about what happened to her — and how I didn’t stop it from happening. My fingernails press painfully into my palms. I hate what happened to Victria — what almost happened to Amy. I…

“I just went for a little swim,” Amy says, laughing.

“I can see that,” Victria says. I’m glad that it seems like Amy has been there for her at least. And, perhaps, Bartie. He might be a chutz and a traitor to boot, but at least he’s been a friend to Victria. More than I’ve been.

“What’s that?” Bartie asks, pointing to the ground.

“Oops.” Amy bends over and picks up two pale green med patches and shoves them back into her pocket. They must have fallen out as she dressed.

“Why do you have Phydus patches?” I ask, frowning. My first instinct is anger — she’s the one who’s been so solidly against Phydus — but it immediately melts into concern. I think about Evie, clawing at the walls of the ship. Do the walls crush Amy in the same way? Is Phydus getting her through the nights, when I don’t see her?

Amy’s eyes shoot to Victria, and silent understanding passes between them. “I picked some up. I thought… if I needed them… ” She glances at me, takes in my scowl. “Not for me!” she protests.

My frown deepens. She means she intended to use them as a weapon, in case someone attacked her. Someone like Luthor.

“Whatever’s done is done,” Amy says, and something in her tone tells me that she knows more than she’s saying. “So,” she continues in her most charming voice, trying to distract me, “is there a way to drain the pond?”

I raise one eyebrow, and I can tell that Amy understands my unspoken question: should we be doing this in front of Victria and Bartie? She lifts her shoulders slightly, and I know she means that there’s really no reason not to show them. If this works, everyone on the ship will find out about it anyway.

“What is going on?” Bartie says, half his voice demanding, half laughing.

“There’s a way off the ship!” Amy shouts gleefully.

“In the pond?” Victria asks.

“Not in it. Under it.”

Victria casts an incredulous look at Amy, as if wondering if Amy’s as crazy as she sounds. “The way off the ship is underwater?”

“It can’t stay underwater.” Amy laughs. “That’s why we have to drain the pond.”

Victria looks over to me. “Am I the only person who thinks this whole conversation is loons?”

“If you want to drain the pond,” Bartie says, “there’s a pump over there.” He points across the water to a small black box cleverly hidden by a hydrangea bush.

“It’s for emergencies,” I say, shifting my weight so I’m in front of Bartie. “In case the Hospital or Recorder Hall caught on fire, we could use the pond water to put it out.”

“Can you operate it?” Amy asks with gleaming eyes.

I have no idea — I’ve never tried before. “Of course I can,” I say.

I start toward the other side of the pond — and Bartie, unfortunately, follows. “You don’t know how to operate the pump, do you?” he asks, grinning.

I glare at him. “You don’t get to do that,” I say.

“Do what?”

“Pretend like you’re still my friend.”

Bartie nods. “Fair enough.”

“And… no.”

“No?”

“No, I don’t know how to use the pump.”

Bartie smiles at me, his old smile, like he used to do when we raced rockers. I kneel down beside the pump. It doesn’t look that difficult, but when I reach for the handle, Bartie says, “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Bartie shrugs. “You’ll just spray the water everywhere. Unless you want to waste it, you’ll have to divert it.”

I reach for a switch. “Nope,” he says.

“Frex, fine!” I say, throwing up my hands. “You do it.”

Bartie bends down and flips two switches, spins a dial, and starts up the pump. I can hear gurgling, churning sounds, but it takes a while before the water level seems to go lower. Once it does, though, the water drains out faster and faster. The lotus flowers float limply as the water level sinks, their pale pink petals stained brown from mud. Their long stems look almost like strands of hair caught in the mud. I swallow hard, remembering the way Kayleigh’s hair floated in the pond.

“It’s almost done!” Victria calls excitedly. This is the first time I’ve seen her really smile in… months. “Are we supposed to see something in the water yet?”

Amy jumps into the muddy hole before all the water’s out. Her feet sink into the silt, staining the hems of her trousers. She sloshes forward to the center of the pond.

“It’s here!” she calls, pulling the roots of a lotus plant out of the round handle sticking up from the top of the hatch. “It’s here!” she squeals excitedly.

“Wow,” Victria mutters.

“Is this something else you’re going to use to coerce us? Another ‘grand’ scene like showing everyone the planet?” Bartie asks, and whatever in him that was friendly before is gone now.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” I say loudly. “Let’s all go down.”

Amy twists the handle to the hatch. I skid into the pond, fighting against the sucking mud to reach her side. The others follow me in. I’m worried about them — should we let them follow us down into the unknown? But when Amy sees my face, she nods, once, as if telling me that they should come too. We lift the lid up before the water’s gone, and some of it sloshes down the hole. A ladder stretches into the darkness.

“Come on,” Amy says, pulling one leg free from the murky pond bottom and stepping onto the ladder. Before I can say anything else, she’s already climbing down.

I lower the hatch lid over my head. I don’t like the feeling of being trapped in the narrow space — it’s so tight I can reach out both arms and touch the sides — but the idea of leaving the hatch open is worse. If someone thinks to follow us down, at least we’ll have some warning when the lid is raised again…

We climb down quickly, eager to be out of the confined space. As we reach the area between the levels, it gets even colder.

My breath comes out heavy, and the warm air bounces around the enclosed space. Chilly sweat drips down my back, making me shiver.

“Where are we?” Victria asks wonderingly.

“On a ladder,” Bartie says.