Overboard Page 2

  “What fun is a vacation if you are too drunk to remember it?” Marissa asked, glaring at Orman.

  Orman looked at her as if she were an idiot. “Maybe, I don’t want to remember anything. My best memories are the ones I can’t remember.”

  Marissa scoffed. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you! You are such an idiot sometimes.”

  He laughed her off. “You know you love me,” he told her, taking a sip of a cocktail which cures hangovers that he whipped up before she arrived. Orman never took Marissa seriously which was yet another of their downfalls.

  Brenna smiled to herself, recalling Marissa’s short-lived romance with Orman. It was a disaster from the beginning. They fought constantly. Brenna always got the impression that Marissa wanted a certain lifestyle more than she wanted Orman. He must have gotten that impression as well. They parted ways quietly after only a few weeks of dating.

  “Where’s your friend? Is she still under the weather?” Marissa asked.

  Before answering, Brenna took a sip of her coffee. “She is still seasick, but I am hoping she improves enough to have dinner with us later.”

  “Let’s hope,” Marissa said with mock enthusiasm.

  “Marissa,” Orman warned, flashing a look of disapproval her way.

  Looking up from her plate, Brenna stared at Marissa while analyzing her comment. She knew Marissa was a bit jealous of her friendship with Chelsea, but she hoped that she could put aside her insecurities and give Chelsea a chance. “Where is Hallie?” she asked, directing her question to no one in particular.

  Hallie Seymour was the missing link to complete their clique. Hallie was pretty and petite just like Brenna. Her dark skin was like milk chocolate and her eyes were hazel. Everything about Hallie was so warm and inviting.

  Brenna hadn’t talked to Hallie in a long while. She had changed since last summer. Hallie had been outgoing and fun. No matter where they were, Brenna knew she was going to have fun if Hallie was there. Now, she was withdrawn and quiet. Still, Brenna loved her and wanted their friendship to be as it was.

  Marissa shot Dylan an awkward glance and said, “I don’t know. She must still be asleep.”

  “I haven’t seen her in a long time,” Brenna commented, feeling depressed. “I hope we can spend some time together.”

  Appearing annoyed, Orman looked from Marissa to Dylan. “Look, Brenna. I don’t think Hallie is ready to allow herself to have fun.”

  “Why not?” she asked, confused. “Is she mad at me? Did I do something?”

  “No,” Orman said adamantly. “She just has some things she had to deal with on her own.”

  Brenna nodded. “I don’t know what else to do,” she told them. “She has just changed since last summer and all I want is for things to be as they were.”

  Marissa rolled her eyes. “She lost her sister. She lost Morgan, Bren,” she said furiously, misdirecting her anger at Brenna. “Not everyone can bounce back from that as well as you can.”

  Brenna stared at Marissa in disbelief. She was taken aback by how her friend was acting. Marissa had just exploded. “Morgan was my friend, too. I miss her everyday. But you can’t stop living, because someone is dead.”

  “I can’t believe you are so cold,” Marissa told her as tears welled up in her eyes. “All you care about is your precious scholarship and your boyfriend. How many times have we hung out since last summer, huh? Once. Maybe, twice. You are so wrapped up in what Dylan is doing you can’t see that your friend is hurting.”

  “Stop,” Orman said forcefully, glaring at Marissa. “Enough!”

  “Do you know I haven’t seen you cry once,” she continued, obviously in pain. “Your other best friend died and you acted like it was just another day. What is wrong with you, Brenna?”

  “Noth―nothing is wrong... with me,” Brenna responded, feeling overwhelmed and stumbling over her words. She glanced at Dylan to see if he would speak up and defend her, but he just shot his hands up.

  “I can’t take this,” he said and got up from the table, walking out of the dining hall.

  Marissa followed Dylan’s cue and walked out without another word.

  Brenna could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Once the first tear escaped, it was hard for her to stop crying. “What do I do, Orman? How do I make things right?”

  Orman put his hand over hers in a rare moment of compassion. “Talk to Hallie,” he said softly, rubbing her hand gently. “She just needs to hear that you understand what she is going through.”

  * * * * *

  Brenna stood outside Hallie’s door, contemplating whether or not to knock on the door. All kinds of emotions went through her as she stood in the hall. She wondered if Hallie was ready to see her. She wondered if she was ready to see Hallie. Would there be tears? Would they argue? Working up the courage within herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly three times.

  Within seconds, Hallie opened up the door to her suite. She greeted Brenna politely, but her face was not one of happiness to see an old friend. Her hazel eyes lacked the sparkle that Brenna loved so much, and she narrowed them when she gazed upon her. She appeared to be bothered by Brenna’s sudden appearance although she invited her inside her room. The happy-go-lucky demeanor that Hallie was known for had vanished. Instead, Hallie looked like another person who was weighed down by the burdens of the world.

  Hallie’s room was similar to Brenna’s, but lacked the balcony that Brenna’s suite had. She made her way to the seating area and made herself comfortable. “I just came to say ‘hi’ and see how you were doing,” Brenna said in an effort to break the silence.

  “I’m fine,” Hallie said, taking a seat on the sofa beside Brenna.

  Brenna looked at her friend skeptically. “Hallie, we haven’t spoken in months, and I just feel like you’ve been avoiding me,” she said, trying to be more empathetic to Hallie’s feelings. “Am I wrong?”

  “No,” she told her without any signs of hesitation.

  “Why? Why have you been avoiding me?” Brenna questioned without taking a breath. “What have I ever done to you?”

  Hallie met her eyes. “My sister is dead.”

  Brenna sat silent for a moment. “I know she is dead,” she responded in a small voice. “We all loved Morgan.”

  “Did you love her, Brenna?”

  “Of course, I did,” she retorted, outraged that her sentiments would even be questioned.

  “You didn’t come to the funeral. You didn’t even send a card,” Hallie stated. “What am I supposed to think?”

  “You don’t have to think anything,” she said defensively. “I couldn’t deal so I just locked myself away. I didn’t see anyone for months. See, I was just like you, Hallie.”

  “Oh, you were,” Hallie shot back sarcastically.

  “Yes,” Brenna continued. “I was mad at the world. I spent months avoiding those I cared about, because I was afraid that they could see my pain. But I couldn’t spend my life that way and you can’t either. With time, you will come to understand that Morgan’s death was an accident... and there is nothing we can do for her now.”

  Hallie looked at Brenna as if evaluating her for a moment. “You are just too quick to call my sister’s death an accident.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Brenna asked, dumbfounded. “The papers said that she fell, hit her head and fell off the rowboat into the lake. I know I read that.”

  “What was my sister doing on a rowboat in the middle of the lake?” Hallie asked suspiciously, arching her brow.

  “I―I don’t know exactly,” she stammered, feeling frazzled.

  “Come on, Brenna! You know something,” Hallie cried, balling her hands into fists and pounding her lap. “You were her best friend, and you’re telling me you didn’t know what she was doing there! I don’t believe that! Was it to meet a boy? Was she fighting with anyone? Any camp counselor?”

  “No, we were all... really close,” she told her nervously, trying to think hard about last summer. The more
she tried to recall her memories, the more they evaded her. She couldn’t remember details. It was almost like staring into a void and trying to see the bottom. The memories just weren’t there. “I don’t know, Hallie. I don’t know.”

  * * * * *

  “Brenna, stop crying,” Chelsea told her sternly.

  “They hate me! Everyone hates me,” she cried, leaning on Chelsea and crying on her shoulder. “They all blame me, and I didn’t even do anything!”

  Chelsea patted her back gently. “Sometimes people need someone to blame when a tragedy takes place. They just can’t accept that there isn’t anyone to blame. It was just a freak accident.”

  With her mind racing, Brenna pulled away from her friend, looking into her eyes. “Do you think she was meeting someone at the lake? Do you think she was arguing with another camp counselor?”

  “No,” Chelsea said, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t you have known if she was seeing someone?”

  Brenna nodded. “She told me everything,” she told her, feeling confused. “Do you think they invited me on this vacation to trap me into telling them something?”

  “What could you possibly have to tell them that they don’t already know?”

  “Nothing,” she answered after a long minute of silence, trying to rack her brain for answers. “Nothing. I can’t remember that far. Maybe... if I thought about it more.”

  “Stop,” Chelsea ordered her in a gentle tone. “You can’t go back. We can only move forward. If there was useful information in that big head of yours, you would have remembered it already.”

  Brenna laughed in the midst of her tears. “You’re right.”

  Chelsea smiled at her. “Now, you’re going to go to your room and get some rest. Some sleep will put everything into perspective.”

  * * * * *

  Brenna could feel herself falling deeper into unconsciousness. She welcomed the quiet that only sleep could bring. Allowing her mind to construct a scenario, Brenna began to dream. Floating in still waters, she let her body drift, liking the coolness of the water on her skin. Using her arms like paddles, she managed to keep her body adrift with slow, broad strokes.

  She smiled to herself.

  She couldn’t recall feeling this relaxed since....

  Suddenly feeling dread seeping painfully into her stomach, Brenna’s eyes flew open.

  In a moment of cognition, she caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure standing over her. Cursing under her breath, she righted herself in the water to get a better view. Kicking hard to keep her head out of the water, she tried her best to digest what was happening.

  Brenna gasped. “Morgan?” she questioned in utter disbelief, seeing her friend standing on a rowboat before her.

  With the entire scene bathed in moonlight, it took her a second to notice that Morgan’s face was twisted in a sneer, and she was wielding a wooden paddle, holding it above her head in a threatening manner.

  “Have a nice swim, Bren?” she asked menacingly, grinding her teeth together before she brought the paddle down on Brenna’s head, hitting it with a sickening crack.

  Disoriented, Brenna jumped up from her nightmare. She could feel her hot tears as they ran down her cheeks and welled at the base of her chin. Wiping her tears away, she looked around the room, feeling relieved. She brushed her dark tresses from her face and tried her best to steady her breaths. Placing a hand over her chest, she willed her heart to slow its dysrhythmic beat.

  “What is happening to me?” she asked herself, shedding more tears.

  Brenna couldn’t remember feeling more alone. Her boyfriend ignored her. Her best friends doubted her. She was getting blamed for something she had nothing to do with. Now, she was dreaming about someone who was dead!

  The only one she could trust was Chelsea, and she hadn’t even known her for long.

  Perhaps, what was most disturbing to her was that she rarely dreamed. Brenna could go years without dreaming. So, why now?

  Throwing the covers off, she rose to her feet and found her way to the bathroom in the dark. She switched on the lights which blinded her temporarily. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stalked over to the sink. Running the cold water, she splashed it on her tear-stained face, hoping the coolness of the water would shock her into the present. However, her mind kept drifting to the past.

  Somehow her fun getaway had turned into an utter disaster. Where did she go wrong? She couldn’t understand how things had gone so bad. Why were people so willing to bring up the past and ruin the present with their suspicions? What could possibly be done at this point? Morgan had already been dead a year and her death was labeled an accident. What did it help to relive the past?

  Stepping out of the bathroom, Brenna turned off the light and tucked herself back into bed. As she made herself comfortable, she heard the sound of a sliding glass door opening.

  Brenna looked at the door to her balcony which was securely closed. It must be Marissa, she concluded.

  Since her suite was just upstairs, it wouldn’t have been uncommon for Brenna to hear the goings-on of the suite above her. She focused her senses and heard Marissa talking. Although her friend’s voice was muffled, Brenna could hear that Marissa was arguing with someone!

  Maybe, she is talking on her cell phone, she thought. But how does she have reception in the middle of the Atlantic?

  Brenna sat up in bed, struggling to hear Marissa’s conversation.

  Suddenly, there was a muffled scream.

  Gasping, Brenna stared at her balcony doors, transfixed. As shafts of moonlight penetrated the darkness, she wondered if she should investigate what was happening in the suite upstairs. However, fear caused her to remain exactly where she was.

  Beginning to hyperventilate, she stared at the balcony doors, debating with herself. What if Marissa was in trouble? What if she was just on the phone? Marissa was overdramatic so it wouldn’t be uncommon for her to speak loudly during telephone conversations.

  Still, alarm bells were ringing in Brenna’s head. There was a thickness in the air around her. Her stomach was in knots. She intuitively knew something was wrong.

  Suddenly, Brenna heard a loud thud as if a bowling ball had been dropped on wooden planks. In the still of the night, the thud was as clear as thunder. Shaking heavily, she threw the sheets off, continuing to hesitate over whether to go to Marissa’s suite. Her line of sight shifted from the glass doors to the ceiling. She knew whatever she heard was not normal. Rising to her feet, she continued to stare at the ceiling as she heard the sound of something large being dragged across the floor above her. Frozen, she followed the sound with her eyes until the night was still once more.

  Unaware of how much time she let pass, Brenna knew she could delay her investigation no more. Marissa was in trouble, and as far as she knew, she was the only one aware of it.

  With her heart thudding in her chest, she stepped out into the dark hallway. Inching forward, every part of her being told her to turn back, but she couldn’t. She tingled with the anticipation of what she would find once she reached Marissa’s room.

  As her mind raced with the dreaded possibilities, she found herself wandering the second level, looking for Marissa’s room. The only sources of illumination were these lights that looked like something you would put on a Christmas tree. There were these two long cords which flanked the carpet and ran the length of the hall. They were not unlike those Brenna had seen in dark movie theaters. Orman said it saved on oil if the lights were turned off at night, but right now, she wished he had kept the lights on.

  I am in room 302 so that would make Marissa’s room 202, she thought as she continued down the dark corridor, feeling the walls for room numbers.

  “Bren?”

  The sound of her name being uttered made Brenna nearly jump out of her skin. Shaking, she turned abruptly to make out the dark form in the hall. “Hallie?” she questioned as her mind struggled to put a face to the voice.

  “Yeah,” Hallie said. “What are you do
ing out of bed?”

  Brenna’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and she could see her friend more clearly. Hallie was standing in her nightclothes with her hands on her waist. Her hair was a mess and she appeared to have just awakened.

  “What are you?” Brenna asked suspiciously.

  Hallie eyed her cautiously. “I was just getting something to drink.”

  Brenna stared at Hallie, trying to conclude whether she should believe her. She couldn’t see very well, but she didn’t see Hallie with a glass in her hand. “Where is the glass of water?”

  “I drank it in the kitchen. What’s with the inquisition?” she asked angrily. “What are you doing up here anyway?”

  “Have you been following me?” Brenna asked shrilly, trying to stop her body from trembling.

  Hallie stood up straight and yelled, “Are you crazy? What is wrong with you?”

  “I have to check on Marissa,” she told her, spinning on her heel and heading down the hall.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Hallie questioned nervously, following Brenna.

  Brenna ignored her, stopping right outside Marissa’s door and knocking. “Marissa? Are you okay?” she called through the door.

  “What’s going on?” Hallie inquired.

  “Marissa?” she called louder, instinctively reaching for the doorknob and turning it. To Brenna’s surprise, the door opened easily. The creak of it as it opened sent chills down her spine. She cautiously stepped into the suite, hoping not to be ambushed by whoever may have hurt her friend.

  “What’s going on?” Hallie whispered, obviously sensing Brenna’s tension. She hung back, watching her every move nervously.

  “Shh,” Brenna shushed her, fearfully holding her breath.

  Preparing herself for what she would see, she felt the wall beside her for a light switch. When she found it, she flicked it on.

  Momentarily blinded, she prepared herself for a fight, but she was met with silence. When she opened her eyes, she found Marissa’s room was empty. Brenna’s eyes scanned the bed which was made. Glancing at the rest of the room, there were no apparent signs of a struggle. Marissa’s things were all in place, but she was nowhere to be found.