I unbuckled and went back to sit beside T.J. Not wanting to shout, I pulled him closer and said, “Listen, I’m pretty sure Mick’s having a heart attack. He has chest pains and he looks awful, but he’s blaming it on heartburn.”

“What! Are you serious?”

I nodded. “My dad survived a major heart attack last year, so I know what to watch for. I think he’s scared to admit there’s something wrong.”

“What about us? Can he still fly the plane?”

“I don’t know.”

T.J. and I approached the cockpit. Mick had both fists pressed against his chest and his eyes were closed. His headset sat askew and his face had taken on a grayish cast.

I crouched down next to his seat, fear rippling through me. “Mick.” My tone was urgent. “We need to call for help.”

He nodded. “I’m going to put us down on the water first and then one of you will have to get on the radio,” he gasped, trying to get the words out. “Put on life jackets. They’re in the storage compartment by the door. Then get in your seats and buckle in.” He grimaced in pain. “Go!”

My heart thundered in my chest and adrenaline flooded my body. We rushed to the storage compartment and rifled through it.

“Why do we have to put on life jackets, Anna? The plane has floats, right?”

Because he’s afraid he might not get us out of the air in time.

”I don’t know, maybe it’s standard operating procedure. We’re landing in the middle of the ocean.” I found the life jackets wedged between a cylinder-shaped container that said LIFE RAFT and several blankets. “Here,” I said, handing one to T.J. and putting mine on. We sat down and fastened our seatbelts, my hands shaking so badly it took me two tries.

“If he loses consciousness I’ll need to start CPR immediately. You’ll have to figure out the radio, T.J., okay?”

He nodded, his eyes wide. “I can do that.”

I gripped the armrests of my seat and watched out the window, the rolling surface of the ocean growing closer. But then instead of slowing we picked up speed, descending at a steep angle. I glanced toward the front of the plane. Mick was slumped over the yoke, not moving. I unbuckled my seat belt and lunged into the aisle.

“Anna,” T.J. yelled. The hem of my T-shirt slipped through his grasp.

Before I could reach the cockpit, Mick jerked backward in his seat, his hands still on the yoke, as a massive spasm racked his chest. The nose of the plane pulled up sharply and we hit the water tail-first, skipping erratically across the waves. The tip of a wing caught the surface and the plane cartwheeled out of control.

The impact knocked me off my feet, as if someone had tied a rope around my ankles and yanked it hard. The sound of shattering glass filled my ears, and I had the sensation of flying followed by searing pain as the plane broke apart.

I plunged into the ocean, seawater pouring down my throat. Completely disoriented, the buoyancy of my life jacket lifted me slowly upward. My head broke the surface, and I coughed uncontrollably, trying to get the air in and the water out.

T.J.! Oh God, where is T.J.?

I pictured him trapped in his seat, unable to get his seatbelt unbuckled, and I scanned the water frantically, squinting in the sun and screaming his name. Just when I thought he had certainly drowned, he surfaced, choking and sputtering.

I swam toward him, tasting blood, my head throbbing so hard I thought it might explode. When I reached T.J., I grabbed his hand and tried to tell him how happy I was that he made it, but my words wouldn’t come out right and I drifted in and out in a hazy fog.

T.J. yelled at me to wake up. I remembered high waves and swallowing more water and then I remembered nothing at all.

Chapter 2 – T.J.

Seawater churned all around me, up my nose, down my throat, in my eyes. I couldn’t breathe without choking. Anna swam toward me, crying and bleeding and screaming. She grabbed my hand and tried to talk, but her words came out all fucked up, and I couldn’t understand anything she said. Her head wobbled, and she splashed face-down in the water. I pulled her up by her hair. “Wake up, Anna, wake up!” The waves were so high, and I was afraid we’d get separated, so I shoved my right arm under the strap of her life jacket and held onto her. I lifted her face up. “Anna. Anna!” Oh God. Her eyes stayed shut and she didn’t respond, so I shoved my left arm under the other strap of her life jacket and leaned back with her lying on my chest.

The current pulled us away from the wreckage. The pieces of the plane disappeared below the surface, and it didn’t take long before there was nothing left. I tried not to think about Mick strapped in his seat.

I floated, stunned, my heart pounding in my chest. Surrounded by nothing but rolling waves, I tried to keep our heads above water and forced myself not to panic.

Will they know we crashed? Were they tracking us on radar?

Maybe not, because no one came.

The sky darkened and the sun went down. Anna mumbled. I thought she might be waking up, but her body shook and she puked on me. The waves washed it away, but she trembled and I pulled her closer, trying to share body heat. I was cold, too, even though the water had felt warm right after the crash. There wasn’t any moonlight, and I could barely see the surface of the water around us, black now, not blue.

I worried about sharks. I freed one of my arms and put my hand under Anna’s chin, lifting her head off my chest. I’d felt something warm just below my neck where her head rested. Was she still bleeding? I tried to get her to wake up, but she’d only respond if I shook her face. She wouldn’t talk, but she’d moan. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I wanted to know if she was alive. She didn’t move for a long time, which freaked me out, but then she puked again and shivered in my arms.

I tried to stay calm, breathing slowly in and out. Handling the waves was easier floating on my back, and Anna and I rode them as the current carried us. The seaplanes wouldn’t fly in the dark, but I was sure they’d send one when the sun came up. Someone would have to know we’d crashed by then.

My parents don’t even know we were on that plane.

Hours passed, and I didn’t see any sharks. Maybe they were there, and I didn’t know it. Exhausted, I dozed for a while, letting my legs hang down instead of fighting to keep them near the surface. I tried not to think of the sharks that might be circling below.

When I shook Anna again, she didn’t respond. I thought I could feel her chest rising and falling, but I wasn’t sure. There was a loud splash, and I jerked upright. Anna’s head fell loosely to the side, and I pulled it back toward me. The splashing continued, almost like a rhythm. Picturing not just one shark but five, ten, maybe more, I spun around. Something jutted out of the water, and it took me a second to figure out what it was. The splashing was the waves hitting the reef surrounding an island.

I’d never felt such massive relief in my whole life, not even when the doctor told us my cancer was gone and the treatment had finally worked.

The current pulled us closer to the island but we weren’t heading straight at it. If I didn’t do something, we’d pass it by.

I couldn’t use my arms because they were still under the straps of Anna’s life jacket, so I stayed on my back and kicked my feet. My shoes fell off, but I didn’t care; I should have taken them off hours ago.

Land was still fifty yards away. Farther off-course than before, I had no choice but to use one of my arms, and I sidestroked, dragging Anna’s face through the water.