The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 71: Ronan

Panic pulses in my veins. Finn is gone. Gone. And yet the boat keeps moving, bumping across the waves, further and further away from my last glimpse of those wide, brown eyes. The wind continues to gust and the water continues to storm and nothing is different except the empty space of air beside me.

The boat slams down over a foamy wave, but Becca doesn't falter. Her grip on the steering wheel remains iron-clad as she presses her foot down even harder on the gas. I lunge forward and grab her by the bicep, slipping and sliding across the slick deck. The wind roars in my ears as I shout, "What the fuck are you doing, Becca?"

She tries to shrug me off, but I won't let go. "Goddammit, Ronan, I'm trying to save us."

The boat lurches, and I tumble away, my skull slamming into the pedestal of the steering wheel. Owen yelps as I knock into his legs, and then I'm tumbling, out of control, across the deck. When I finally manage to steady myself, I lift my dizzy head and catch sight of the docks, far off in the distance. The fog has finally lifted, but I wish it would come back. I don't want to see how lost Finn is. The growing distance between us and him feels like a punch to the gut.

"Becca, please. We have to go back for him."

She shakes her head at me. Her shoulders are trembling, but her grasp of the steering wheel is nothing but pure steel.

"You're killing him, Becca! You're killing him!"

She won't meet my eyes.

I fling myself at the counselor. "Turn the boat around!" I scream at him, because even though he's certifiably insane, he's still a counselor and has to carry some edge of authority. "Don't you want to shoot the Kraken? This is your chance!"

He blinks at me wildly. There's a long, bloody gash on his forehead— I bet he got it when the canoe collapsed, although I really don't care. "It's too late," he murmurs. "The Kraken will kill us if we go back, and I lost my gun, so we have no way of defending ourselves. Your friend is gone."

"You useless piece of shit! Finn is drowning to death as we speak!"

Owen's hangdog eyes droop with remorse. I hate him so, so much. I wish he had drowned in the lake. "It's too late to save him. He's the Kraken's now."

I curse furiously at him, and he cringes away. But the boat keeps moving.

"Ronan, please," I hear Becca say. "The Kraken won't kill Finn. It favors him."

"The Kraken won't kill Finn, because you killed him," I yell, and her face turns white. "You fucking killed him! Don't you understand? You killed him!"

She doesn't reply. Instead, she guns the engine and sends us flying towards the docks.

I try to reach for the steering wheel, but then something clasps my arm— Owen. He pulls me away from Becca and pins my arms behind my back. "Let it go, Ronan. Your friend is gone. There's nothing we can do for him now."

"Fuck you!" I kick him in the leg, but his grip holds strong. "Fuck— you—" My voice breaks away into a sob. The heartbeat in my chest runs wild. Lake water pounds against my eye. And somewhere, far away, Finn is drowning...

My knees give out when we hit the docks, and I crumble to the floor, taking Owen down with me. Becca hops out of the boat with a sailor's nimble ease, quickly lashing us to one of the rusted cleats. The waves have died down. It's stiller here in the shallows, almost quiet. The camp hasn't stirred since we left. No search parties have been sent out, no counselors are shouting into their talkies. I don't think anybody even noticed we were gone.