PoraBora

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Tota?" Pora ventured, which was when he realized, choking, that his face was underwater. He flailed himself upright and tried to cough up saltwater.

"Tota?" he tried again, this time above water. He rubbed his eyes, dunked his face again, and the bird was still there.

There was a reef or something, Pora thought. He was standing on something.

But Pora didn't see a reef, or something. He tried to look from under the bird, in case there was a piece of wood or shell that Tota had found.

No. The bird was definitely standing on water.

"Sorry, Tota," Pora said, because he did not like to doubt his friend. "But it looks like you are standing on the water."

The bird tweaked its head, and then pitter-pattered a couple of feet away, and then the couple feet back, making tiny splashes as he went.

Pora blinked.

"Okay," he said. "I'm really glad to see you." He teared up a little. "And I'm really sorry about ruining our island. I didn't know." Then he apologized again, because he didn't want to seem like he was making excuses. There was no excuse. It was his fault.

The bird walked away, then paused and turned back.

Pora looked into the water below, as if seeing through salt might make things make sense. But even then, his eyes struggled to close.

Tota had gone a few feet further.

"I thought you were still at Pe's island," said Pora, kicking a few tired strokes to the bird, who kept going, his feet making tiny splashes not dissimilar to when he was on land, and the water was so low Pora had thought it had all been dragged away by the tide. "How are you doing that?"

Tota did not respond, but Pora followed him, as much as he had the energy to. If Tota was here, there had to be land nearby, Pora told himself. And maybe he could sleep.

He opened his eyes when he realized he had closed them, and Tota was significantly further than Pora had expected. Probably his swimming had only been in his head.

"Sorry," Pora said. "I'm just so tired. It's been so long since I could really sleep."

He wasn't sure if he said the words out loud, but he pushed towards Tota, one stroke at a time. The water pushed down on his eyelids. At least it understood what Pora wanted.

No, Pora told himself. You can't sleep. You'll drown.

Drowning will wake you up, he thought too. It would just be for a moment. Just enough so that he could keep going.

Tota gave a shrill call, but Pora ignored it. It's just for a moment, he said. Just a short nap, and I'll be back at it. He let the weight of himself drag, from tired wrists to his arms and chest and legs.

Something poked at him, and Pora's eyes shot open. It was Tota. Pora shook himself. "I'm tired!" he might have said aloud. But Tota didn't listen, and only scurried on.

Pora followed, trying to force himself awake. His brow fought back as much as it could, but for a moment, spurred by his rapid heart's bet that he could have drowned, Pora was winning.

There were shadows in the distance, and at first Pora hoped they might have been cast by something drifting in the water, a boat, maybe even Pe, or a raft that could hold him up long enough to sleep.

Even thinking about it renewed his eyelids' vigor. Pora tried squinting, squeezing his brow and cheeks as if they could keep his eyelids in place.

They weren't shadows. They were shapes, and as they got closer, Pora realized they were whales.