Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Suggestion 4
NOTHING IS BY CHANCE
ANNA
“Are you a mermaid?” I open an eye and lift my hand to block the sun, which is so bright it’s almost blinding. “Are you?” I’m asked by an adorable, chubby little girl who’s squatting down next to me. She looks to be about four, with blonde hair in two pigtails, and she’s wearing a hot-pink polka-dot swimsuit with frills around her waist.
“No.” I smile at her as I sit up.
“Your hair looks like mermaid hair.”
“I know, but sadly, I’m not a mermaid,” I say, then wonder if I should have lied when her expression falls. “Where are your mom and dad, honey?” I look around. The beach isn’t empty, but there still aren’t many people out, and no one has come close to where I’ve been lounging all afternoon.
“Over there.” She points down the beach toward a couple who look to be asleep under an umbrella. “They’re taking a nap.”
Irritated that they’ve left her unsupervised, especially so close to the ocean, I push myself up off the ground and hold out my hand toward her. “Come on. I’ll walk you back over to them.”
Her eyes drop to my hand, and she shakes her head. “I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”
Great, well, at least she knows that. Maybe her parents should have told her not to wander off.
“My name’s Anna. What’s yours?”
“Amy.” She drops her eyes and kicks her foot through the sand.
“Okay, Amy, let’s go wake up your parents. I’m sure they’ll be worried if they wake up and you’re not around.”
She tips her head back and crosses her arms over her tiny chest. “I want to go swimming.”
“Okay, let’s go wake up your parents so they can take you swimming,” I prompt, and she shakes her head and takes a step back.
“I want to go swimming.” She stomps her foot.
“Amy.” I try to add a tinge of warning in my tone, but it comes out more as a plea.
“No, I want to go swim!” she yells, then turns and takes off toward the water.
“Amy, get back here!” I run after her as she heads right toward the surf, and then, with no other choice, I follow her into the water. I start to panic when a large wave sweeps in, knocking her backward before dragging her out with it. I pick up speed, scanning the water around me, and then spot the top of her head coming up before she disappears once more. With my heart lodged in my throat, I dive under the surf and kick as hard as I can in her direction, praying I’ll be able to find her.
It’s difficult to make out much of anything, even though the water is clear and the sun is shining. I need a breath before I pass out, so I shoot up to the surface and gasp for air while looking around. My lungs seize when I feel something brush against my leg. Hoping against hope, I dive once more and scan the darker water below for any sign of what I just felt touch me.
I spot Amy’s hair waving through the water, and relief and fear make me dizzy as I grasp her limp hand and pull her toward me. I kick as hard as I can toward the surface, and the moment I break the top, I gasp for air and look at her pale face. “God, please,” I whimper. I shout for help and shout for her to wake up as I swim toward shore. The moment I feel sand under my feet, I start to walk through the water with her in my arms, not even realizing people have started to gather along the water’s edge.
“I’ve got her,” an older man says, trying to take her from me, but my hold on her tightens.
“She’s not breathing.” I shake my head, then repeat, “She’s not breathing.”
“I know. I’ll help her.” He places his arms under her limp body, and I let him take her from me, then watch as he runs the rest of the way out of the water before dropping to his knees in the sand and placing her on the ground. My knees wobble as I watch him start to give her CPR.
“Come on, dear.” I look over at an older woman wearing large shades and a big hat as she places her arm around my waist in an attempt to hold me up when I start to fall.
“EMTs are on the way,” I hear someone say, and I look around the crowd, then down the beach, where I spot Amy’s parents still asleep under the umbrella, even with all the activity going on.
“Her parents.” I shiver, even though I’m not cold.
“Pardon?” the woman asks, adjusting the big floppy hat on her head.
I stumble away from her with my entire body shaking. “She needs her parents. They’re sleeping.”