The Secrets of Lily Graves by Sarah Strohmeyer Page B

like glass. I turned to Matt.
    He looked uneasy. “Don’t mess up, Graves. I’ve got plans tonight and they don’t include searching the depths of this pit for your sorry ass.”
    Matt gave me two thumbs up and I retreated a few paces before running outward off the edge, my adrenaline soaring.
    The few short seconds it took for my feet to feel the air beneath them, to see the water rising up and then swallowing me into its shockingly frigid depths were, without question, the most exhilarating of my life. Everything around me came into sharp focus—the cliffs on the other edge, a seagull flying far fromhome, the click of the cicadas, the smell of the rocks baking in the sun, the dropping temperature as I fell.
    I hit the water and went down, farther than I’d expected. There was paralyzing shock as my system protested the frigid water. The quarry didn’t have the benefit of light, like you get in a blue swimming pool or a sandy pond. It was as black as night down there and so cold that my calves cramped.
    I remembered Boo’s obvious advice:
Look up
. I looked up, and there, far above me, was a small ring of white gold. The sun. No wonder people drowned at night. You couldn’t figure out where to go.
    Pointing my fingers to the sky, I kicked with all my might until I broke through the surface, relieved, invigorated, and tingling with the thrill of accomplishment.
    â€œJump!” I shouted, gasping. “It’s amazing!”
    Matt peered down tentatively. I found his caution very strange, since he’d built a reputation as fearless on and off the football field. He’d once climbed to the roof of the school to put a pig there because none of the seniors dared, even though it was their prank. The dude even drove down the highway with his knees!
    â€œSeriously. It’s fine,” I assured him. “It’s cold when you hit the water, but if feels so good.” To show him, I floated on my back.
    He didn’t move.
    â€œAre you really not coming in? You’re just going to leave me here alone. What if something pulls me under and . . .”
    He took a running leap and was off, clutching his legs to his chest. He’ll sink too far if he does a cannonball, I thought as his body met the water with a terrific splash. I bobbed in his waves and treaded madly, waiting for him to emerge, and when he didn’t it was my turn to be alarmed.
    â€œMatt!” I called. “Matt!”
    I dove into the darkness, my eyes taking a second to adjust. I was a good swimmer, thanks to my mother’s insistence that I take classes before I could walk. I was only ten when I learned CPR and got my American Red Cross certificate. But in the depths of Harper’s Quarry, the visibility was zero.
    I surfaced and paddled around valiantly searching for any sign of life.
    Finally, there was an eruption of bubbles as Matt surfaced, his arms smacking the water. “Goddammit, Graves,” he swore, shaking his head. “I told you I didn’t want to effing do this and you made me.”
    I’d never seen him so furious. I was almost frightened. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t
make
you come in.”
    â€œYou did and you know it.” He aimed for the rocks and began swimming freestyle, his arms fighting the water with too much effort.
    I was about to say “Sorry,” when I caught myself. He was a big boy. If he didn’t want to jump in, he didn’t have to. It wasn’t my fault that he’d freaked down there.
    He hoisted himself onto a large rock, holding his nose. Blood cascaded down his chin.
    â€œAre you okay?” I asked, getting out and discovering, too late, that the rocks were like fire. I had to splash water on them to be able to sit. “Because you’re acting like a total ass, you know.”
    He said nothing as he wiped the blood off his lips and kept his eyes averted. Embarrassed, I realized. That