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of a rowboat. There is a long braided rope, though, and I latch on to it with my nerveless fingers.
    â€œGot it!” I cry.
    â€œGood job,” Gray says to me. And then, “An! Grab the raft, An!”
    The boys swarm around me to help pull the thing closer to the plane. The raft bobs atop the water slightly below the door, but it seems to be rising higher as waves make the plane rock and slosh water inside the cabin. There are vertical bars on either side of the door opening, and we cling to them as we peer out into the darkness. The only illumination comes from a blinking white signal light at the far end of the raft.
    â€œAn!” we all scream again. “An!”
    â€œI’m here,” she splutters as she crawls into the raft. She coughs, then says, “I’m okay.”
    Beside me, Sammy makes a strangled sound of relief.
    â€œBut the water,” An continues. “It’s polluted or something. It’s got all this stringy stuff floating around—eew! What is this? Seaweed? What the heck?”
    â€œIt’s probably sargassum,” Sammy answers. “It grows—”
    â€œBro,” interjects Gray, putting a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “We’re in the middle of a major crisis here. Bookmark the botany lesson for later.”
    â€œYeah! Don’t just
stand there,
” calls An, who seems to have undergone a quick recovery from her disgust. “Let’s go! Jump! We need to be out of the way before the plane goes under! Otherwise we’ll get sucked down! Didn’t you people see
Titanic
? Hurry!”
    Oh, God. She’s right. “Go, Maggie!” I cry. Maggie stiffens, peering uncertainly out at the raft. Since I’m in no mood to take any chances about anything, I shove her, hard, in the back.
    â€œNo, Bria!” Maggie screeches, falling.
    When I hear the rubbery thud as she lands in the raft, I figure she’ll forgive me.
    â€œNice,” Gray says.
    â€œBria!” The raw anger and fear in Maggie’s quavery voice seem to bounce off the water. “Your butt is mine the next time I see you!”
    Outraged, I holler back at her. “You’re welcome for saving your life, you ungrateful cow!”
    Maggie says something else, but I’m too hopped up to hear it.
    My frantic heart thunders in my ears, and there are so many things going on right now—splashes and screams coming from somewhere nearby, the relentless lapping of the waves and bobbing of the plane, the boys conferring next to me, the people still in danger, the people that are dead and, worst of all, the nagging feeling that I’m missing something. It takes me a minute to regroup. There seems to be another clump of survivors with their own raft at the back end of the plane, but I can’t worry about them now. I have to focus on my gang.
    Okay. Okay.
Take a deep breath and think, Bria
, I tell myself, but it’d be easier to take a deep breath and dive to the bottom of the ocean. It’s just not happening.
    The head count inside my head, meanwhile, scrolls on. Maggie and An are safe. That just leaves me, Gray and Carter, right, and we need Gray and Carter’s strength to grip the raft while the others jump, so that means—
    â€œSammy! You next!” I command.
    Sammy, who’s hanging on to the handle on the other side of the door from me, shoots me a withering look and gestures me toward the raft. “Females first,” he says. “That’s a rule—”
    With no warning, Carter lifts a foot and boots him in the butt.
    â€œThis ain’t 1860, dude,” Carter mutters.
    Sammy yelps and disappears over the edge. There’s a thud . . . a splash . . . a shocked cry from An . . . and a coughing gurgle.
    I can’t see very well, but I think it’s safe to assume that Sammy fell into the water to one side of the boat.
    â€œGet in here, genius,” An says over Sammy’s continued coughing. I