Elliot swims up to the rocks. “What happened?”
“Now’s not the fucking time,” I growl back. “Grab her left arm.” I put her right arm over my shoulder. “Swim.”
He nods and does what I say even though I’m bearing more than eighty percent of her weight with my strong arms, compared to his flimsy sticks. But it’ll fucking do because that other dipshit is too busy staring at a fucking corpse to even come down and help.
Talon jumps in after and swims up to us to support Elliot’s side a little. “Is she still breathing?” he asks. “Keep her head up.”
We swim against the current to the shore, where the rest are already waiting for us.
“Sisi, help!” I yell.
We drag Mavis’s body ashore, and Cecelia is the first to rush to us. She tries to help Mavis breathe and starts giving her chest compressions.
I glare up at the rocks where Levi remains frozen to the ground like a statue.
Aspen scrambles toward us, nearly falling on the loose rocks on the beach as she makes her way to Mavis.
She kneels beside the body and leans in to listen. “No, no, no, no.”
“There’s no heartbeat,” I say. “I already checked. Multiple times.”
Cecelia’s already out of breath from doing CPR.
Aspen takes over, opening Mavis’s mouth and breathing into it, then begins chest compressions too. “C’mon! Don’t give up!”
“Did you hear me?” I say.
But she’s ignoring me as she continues applying more pressure.
“Listen!” I grab her hand to make her stop, but she jerks it loose.
“No! We have to save her!”
“It’s too late,” I say.
“Fuck no, it’s never too late!” Aspen growls, pressing her palms in and out of Mavis’s body, while sweat rolls down her forehead. “C’mon, Mavis, please, please, please! Please don’t die on me.”
Levi finally made his way down toward the beach, his steps shuffling in the sand. “It’s too late,” he mutters.
Cecelia jabs him with her elbow. “Don’t say that.”
“No. He’s right,” I say, trying to make Aspen look at me. “She’s dead.”
Aspen shakes her head. “No. I can’t.” Tears well up in her eyes. “I can’t lose her.” She looks up at everyone. “Someone, do something!”
“She’s bleeding from the head,” Elliot mutters, turning as pale as a ghost.
Aspen’s lip quivers as she turns to gaze at the lifeless body. “Wh-what?”
“Should I call an ambulance?” Talon asks, fishing his phone from his pocket.
I get up and march toward him. “And what do you think they’ll do?” I snatch the phone from his hand. “Ask everyone here how the fuck she died.”
“What?” Cecelia’s face is even whiter than usual.
“We’re suspects,” I say. “Each and every one of us.”
Océane places her hands on her mouth as her curly hair wafts in the wind. “Oh God.”
