breath. By tensing up, he just sank deeper.
To break the cycle, he fixed his direction on the nearest boat and pretended he was a polar bear out for a leisurely dip. Webbing his fingers, he closed his eyes and paddled.
After a while, afraid that he might be veering away from his target, he opened his eyes, and a surge of excitement crackled through his frozen insides. The vessel, Duke of York , was only five feet away. He kicked his leaden legs until he reached the stern. After several failed attempts, he finally pulled himself up and rolled into the boat.
Sunshine streamed through a patch of blue, and it was tempting to lie there, tingling in the warm air. A gull cried out and water lapped against the hull. He sighed and got to work.
He guessed the sloop was about twenty-five feet long. A quick inspection revealed it had no sail, but he discovered three life jackets. He put one on, clipped the other two together, and clipped them to his. He might die of hypothermia, but he wouldn’t drown.
He thought about a trick weight lifters used. They imagined that the heavy dumbbells they were about to lift were as light as a feather. Hot, cold, heavy, light—the mind could outsmart the body. Looking down at the water, he pretended it was a warm Jacuzzi he couldn’t wait to jump into. The loud yell that came out of his mouth when he plunged into the icy water, indicated he had yet to master the trick.
Five minutes later, he rolled into Stargazer , a thirty-foot yacht that had everything they needed and then some. A canvas covering protected the sail, which was rolled on the boom. The lines were frayed, but he thought they’d hold. The hull had survived both pounding winter storms and a frozen harbor. Jordan whooped when he discovered a life raft. It came with a pressurized canister to inflate it, as well as an emergency kit of first-aid supplies, flares, an air horn, and protein bars. Jordan ripped the wrapping off a bar and tore off a hunk with his teeth. He worked the crumbs that tasted like sawdust into a paste and gagged it down.
Then Jordan entered the cabin where he discovered the skipper. The man slumped in his berth, his book open to the page he had been reading on the night of the purple moon. With blood pounding in his head, Jordan closed the book and covered the corpse with a blanket. “Thank you for letting us use your boat.” He felt his throat pinch. “Once we’re at sea, we’ll give you a proper burial.”
Jordan burst from the cabin and took a deep breath of fresh air. For a moment, he stood in awe of a single spear of light splitting the darkening clouds. Then he started to rig the Stargazer .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Abby and Mel limped down the O’Brien’s front steps. On the sidewalk, they dropped chins to their chests and joined the slow flow of kids moving down Pearl, pretending they, too, were walking to their graves. Mel had turned her jacket inside out, showing the white side to reduce the odds that Brad’s gang might recognize her. She had also smeared dirt on it and tied her hair up as an added precaution.
Abby did not have to change her appearance to look like she belonged in the death march. She slung a garbage bag over her shoulder, which held diapers, lacings, and more garbage bags. Bug packets bulged in their pockets, and each of them carried a thermos. As Abby passed her mom’s house, she lifted her eyes to the second floor, to her mom’s bedroom window, knowing it was probably the last time she would see the house. She started to tear up, so she quickly returned her gaze to the ground.
They turned right on Massachusetts Avenue and headed for the Charles River, six blocks away. Abby had visited the Charlestown Yacht Club more times than she could remember, but, naturally, she had never walked there from Cambridge. Unfortunately, she had never paid attention to the route they took when her mother or father drove her there either.
They planned to follow the river to where it emptied into
To break the cycle, he fixed his direction on the nearest boat and pretended he was a polar bear out for a leisurely dip. Webbing his fingers, he closed his eyes and paddled.
After a while, afraid that he might be veering away from his target, he opened his eyes, and a surge of excitement crackled through his frozen insides. The vessel, Duke of York , was only five feet away. He kicked his leaden legs until he reached the stern. After several failed attempts, he finally pulled himself up and rolled into the boat.
Sunshine streamed through a patch of blue, and it was tempting to lie there, tingling in the warm air. A gull cried out and water lapped against the hull. He sighed and got to work.
He guessed the sloop was about twenty-five feet long. A quick inspection revealed it had no sail, but he discovered three life jackets. He put one on, clipped the other two together, and clipped them to his. He might die of hypothermia, but he wouldn’t drown.
He thought about a trick weight lifters used. They imagined that the heavy dumbbells they were about to lift were as light as a feather. Hot, cold, heavy, light—the mind could outsmart the body. Looking down at the water, he pretended it was a warm Jacuzzi he couldn’t wait to jump into. The loud yell that came out of his mouth when he plunged into the icy water, indicated he had yet to master the trick.
Five minutes later, he rolled into Stargazer , a thirty-foot yacht that had everything they needed and then some. A canvas covering protected the sail, which was rolled on the boom. The lines were frayed, but he thought they’d hold. The hull had survived both pounding winter storms and a frozen harbor. Jordan whooped when he discovered a life raft. It came with a pressurized canister to inflate it, as well as an emergency kit of first-aid supplies, flares, an air horn, and protein bars. Jordan ripped the wrapping off a bar and tore off a hunk with his teeth. He worked the crumbs that tasted like sawdust into a paste and gagged it down.
Then Jordan entered the cabin where he discovered the skipper. The man slumped in his berth, his book open to the page he had been reading on the night of the purple moon. With blood pounding in his head, Jordan closed the book and covered the corpse with a blanket. “Thank you for letting us use your boat.” He felt his throat pinch. “Once we’re at sea, we’ll give you a proper burial.”
Jordan burst from the cabin and took a deep breath of fresh air. For a moment, he stood in awe of a single spear of light splitting the darkening clouds. Then he started to rig the Stargazer .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Abby and Mel limped down the O’Brien’s front steps. On the sidewalk, they dropped chins to their chests and joined the slow flow of kids moving down Pearl, pretending they, too, were walking to their graves. Mel had turned her jacket inside out, showing the white side to reduce the odds that Brad’s gang might recognize her. She had also smeared dirt on it and tied her hair up as an added precaution.
Abby did not have to change her appearance to look like she belonged in the death march. She slung a garbage bag over her shoulder, which held diapers, lacings, and more garbage bags. Bug packets bulged in their pockets, and each of them carried a thermos. As Abby passed her mom’s house, she lifted her eyes to the second floor, to her mom’s bedroom window, knowing it was probably the last time she would see the house. She started to tear up, so she quickly returned her gaze to the ground.
They turned right on Massachusetts Avenue and headed for the Charles River, six blocks away. Abby had visited the Charlestown Yacht Club more times than she could remember, but, naturally, she had never walked there from Cambridge. Unfortunately, she had never paid attention to the route they took when her mother or father drove her there either.
They planned to follow the river to where it emptied into
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