The Tail of Emily Windsnap - Liz Kessler [30]
“Okay,” she sighed. “We’ll try. But I don’t want you collapsing on me miles out at sea. If you get tired, you have to tell me, and we’ll come back, okay?”
I shoved the chest back under the table. “Okay.”
I don’t know how long we’d been swimming; maybe an hour. I started to feel as if I had heavy weights attached to each arm; my tail was practically dropping off. Flying fish raced along with us, bouncing past on both sides. An occasional gull darted into the sea, like a white dart piercing the water.
“How much farther is it?” I gasped.
“We’re not even halfway.” Shona looked back. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” I tried not to pant while I spoke. “Great. No problem.”
Shona slowed down to swim alongside me, and we carried on in silence for a bit. “You’re not okay, are you?” she said after a while.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, but my head slipped under the water while I spoke. I coughed as a mouthful of water went down the wrong way. Shona grabbed me.
“Thanks.” I wriggled away from her. “I’m all right now.”
She looked at me doubtfully. “Maybe we could both do with a rest,” she said. “There’s a tiny island about five minutes’ swim from here. It’s out of our way, but it would give us a chance to get our breath back.”
“Okay,” I said. “If you really need a rest, I don’t mind.”
“Fine.” Shona swam off again. “Follow me.”
Soon, we were sitting on an island barely larger than the flat rock that had become our meeting place. It was hard and gravelly, but I lay down the second I dragged myself out of the sea, the water brushing against me as my tail turned back into legs.
It seemed only seconds later that Shona gently shook my shoulder. “Emily,” she whispered. “You’d better get up. It’s starting to get light.”
I sat up. “How long have I been asleep?”
Shona shrugged. “Not long.”
“Why didn’t you wake me? We’ll never get there now. You did it on purpose!”
Shona squeezed her lips together and scrunched up her eyes. I thought about her pretending she needed a rest, and about taking me to her school and everything. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know why you did it.”
“It’s too far. It’s probably even too far for me, never mind you.”
“I’m never going to see him. I bet he doesn’t even remember he’s got a daughter!” I felt a drop of salty water on my cheek and wiped it roughly away. “What am I going to do?”
Shona put her arm around me. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been mean to you. You’ve been amazing. Really helpful.”
Shona made a face at me, as if she was trying not to smile but couldn’t stop a little grin from slipping out through her frown.
“And I know you’re right,” I added. “There’s no way I could get there tonight, not if we’re only halfway.”
“Not even that. Look.” She pointed out to the horizon. “See that big cloud that looks like a whale spurting water — with the little starfish-shaped one behind it?”
I looked up at the sky. “Um, yeah,” I said uncertainly.
“Just below that, where the sea meets the sky, it’s lighter than the rest of the horizon.”
I studied the horizon. It looked an awfully long way away!
“That’s it. The Great Mermer Reef. It’s like a huge wall, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen in your life, made of rocks and coral in every shape and color you could imagine — and then about a hundred more. The prison’s a mile beyond it. You have to go through the reef to get there.”
My heart felt like a rock itself — dropping down to the bottom of the sea. “Shona, it’s absolutely miles away.”
“We’ll work something out,” Shona said. “I promise.” Then she scrabbled around among the rocks and picked up a couple of stones. She handed one to me.
“What’s this?” I looked at the stone.
“They’re friendship pebbles. They mean that we’re best friends — if you want to be.”
“Of course I want to be!”
“See? They’re almost exactly the same.” She showed me her pebble. “We each keep ours on us at all times. It means we’ll always be there for each other.” Then she said, more quietly, “And it’s also a promise that we’ll find your