Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
//chapter fifty-eight • the bends
A LONG TIME AGO, Spencer had once told Kiara Carrera about one of her dreams. They'd been at some cramped, smoky party on the south side, half-buzzed on cheap vodka and laughter, wedged into the corner of an overcrowded couch. Spencer had leaned in close, her eyes hazy and soft with that rare, unguarded expression she only got after a few drinks.
That night, she'd started talking about a dream she'd had—a ridiculous, romantic, impossibly vivid dream that Spencer would probably laugh off if she ever remembered saying it aloud.
Kie could still hear her voice, low and a little slurred, describing this idea she had of meeting someone—"probably a girl," Spencer had said with that little smile—and how, even though she'd never really liked anyone, or ever been in love, she could imagine spending the rest of her life with that person.
Spencer had gone on about a life she'd have with this person, how they'd live in some crappy New York apartment with paper-thin walls, how they'd probably date other people but always come back to each other. How, no matter what, they'd share the same bed at night, like gravity itself held them together.
And Kie had listened, laughing at the idea of Spencer sharing a closet with anyone and complaining about neighbors through the wall. But underneath it, she'd felt something else, something that lodged itself deep in her chest and stayed there, long after the vodka buzz wore off. Because listening to Spencer talk about this dream had opened up a quiet, secret ache in her.
She wanted to be that person, the one who Spencer came home to, the one she fell asleep beside every night, in all those little imagined moments of happiness Spencer painted with her words.
But Spencer had been telling her about this dream. Which meant, in that stupid, bittersweet way, Kie wasn't the person Spencer imagined lying next to in that crumbling New York apartment.
She was just... the friend she told her dreams to.
The Coastal waters were colder than Kiara Carrera expected, even through her wetsuit. But the chill was nothing compared to the thrill of seeing the shadowy hulk of the wreck looming below them.
The ship was ancient, its hull cracked open like the ribs of a giant skeleton, half-buried in the sand. Somewhere down there, if what Wes said was true, lay a centuries-old amulet—a prize the Pogues needed to save Poguelandia. Sure, Wes also believed in curses, about lost souls still wandering the earth, but they weren't here because they believed in curses.
Spencer gave Kie a signal, pointing toward a hatch halfway down the ship's length. Kie nodded, her wide eyes visible even behind her mask, then flashed a thumbs-up. Together, they kicked hard with the current, moving deeper toward the broken shell of the old ship.
