CHAPTER 3
1199 Words
MIRABLE POV.
“Please don’t,” I begged, my voice breaking as I wiped a tear. Heights terrified me, and the thought of falling into that pool—especially in front of everyone—was even worse.
“Can you stop acting like a scared kid?” Owen muttered, securing my legs against the metal railing. He stood in front of me, his eyes softening for a moment as he brushed a strand of sweaty hair from my face. “I kind of hoped you wouldn’t show up tonight, you know… because I actually like you.” And before I could process what he said, he slightly pushed me off the balcony.
What does that even mean? But I barely had time to think. I was now dangling above the pool, hands and legs bound, suspended several feet in the air. The crowd of rich, popular kids below had turned their attention to me, some laughing, others just watching in amusement.
I turned back to Owen , who was now leaning over the railing where I’d been bound. “Owen , please… I’m serious, don’t do this!”
“You agreed to be our Christmas play-toy when you showed up,” Owen replied, looking almost disappointed as he shook his head.
“Enough with the chit-chat,” Damian called out from below. I looked down to see him standing next to Vivian, her hand wrapped around his arm, and Noah leaning against the far side of the pool, watching me with an unreadable expression. This was the first time his attention had lasted more than a minute on me, and now he studied me like I was one of his science experiments. I knew what to expect with Damian and Owen , but Noah was more complicated, making this even scarier.
“This year, we decided to make Christmas more exciting and fun. You are probably wondering why we brought the school’s biggest loser to our party. Well, she’s going to be our Christmas project. The reason we are putting her in this pool is to baptize her, get rid of her bad luck, and stop her from being a loser. We wouldn’t want her to enter the new year with the same stinking bad luck she has, would we?”
“No!” the crowd cheered like he delivered some important manifesto.
“I can’t swim,” I said as they lowered the rope. “I can’t swim!” I repeated with a trembling voice.
“Honey, there’s no need for that. You just have to stay underwater for five minutes, and then you will be brand new and no longer Miss Piggy,” Damian smirked and added. “You are welcome.”
I looked over at Noah. If anyone could save me, it had to be him—he was the rational one. One time, he had saved me from a car accident, pushing me out of the way and taking the hit himself. He wore a cast for a month afterward. I tried talking to him during that time, but he’d brushed me off, saying I shouldn’t feel too special and he would have done it for anyone. Still, I was counting on that sliver of kindness now. He didn’t seem to enjoy the show like everyone else, who had their phones out to record my humiliation.
“Please,” I whispered to him. But instead of coming to my rescue as I’d hoped, he turned his back and walked out of the area.
So much for thinking he would save my sorry ass.
“Ready, piggy?” Owen yelled.
I didn’t even have time to answer. I felt the rope give way and plunged deep into the pool without a chance to catch my breath.
I always thought I would die a peaceful death and not one surrounded by students watching me struggle like it was some sick form of entertainment. The fall shocked my system as cold water crashed over me, stealing my breath before I could even gasp. Instinct kicked in, and I tried to kick up, but my legs were bound tight. The harder I struggled, the more I felt myself slipping deeper. My throat began to burn as more water seeped into my mouth, my chest felt heavy, and my lungs were screaming for air. My vision blurred as I twisted, desperately trying to get free. I had never learned to swim, never thought I would need to, and now, here I was—suffocating and completely helpless.
When you are near death, your mind flashes to previous memories trying to comfort you.
I remember every happy childhood moment, the freedom, my mom's laughter, and her hugs.
My mom.
She would never forgive herself if she knew how I’d ended up here, sinking like a stone for a stupid scarf and fifty bucks.
My eyes stung from the chlorine, and I blinked, the world above me shrinking, becoming a distant blur. I swallowed more water as my mind begged me to close my eyes, to let go.
I was about to give in when something splashed into the pool above me, sending a shockwave through the water. And then I felt someone’s strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me upward. I closed my eyes, embracing the comforting darkness.
**************
I could hear faint voices around me, muffled like they were coming from the end of a tunnel. Slowly, the words grew clearer: “Do you think she is dead?” someone asked. “She was only under for two minutes,” another voice said. My head hurt, and I just wanted the shaking to stop so I could rest.
“Mirabel… Mirabel, please wake up.” That voice—it was familiar. Even in my dazed state, I recognized it. It was Noah. “Come on, Mirabel,” he said, sounding desperate.
My eyes fluttered open slowly, and I started coughing up water. Noah’s eyes widened in relief, and he pulled me into a tight embrace, like someone reuniting with a lost lover.
“You scared me,” he murmured.
I wanted to push him away, to scream at him and the others for nearly drowning me and then acting like they cared. But somehow, I couldn’t say anything. Instead, I buried my face in his shoulder and started crying. Maybe it was because I was desperate for comfort or simply exhausted from being bullied and feeling so weak. Whatever it was, I let him hold me, letting myself feel safe, even if only for a moment.
I started to calm down, and that’s when I noticed an intoxicating scent—warm, inviting, and almost impossible to describe. I sniffed, drawn to it, wanting more. Then, to my horror, I realized where it was coming from.
Noah. I pulled away from him quickly as if his touch had burned me. His face registered the same shock, and he whispered, “Mate!”
But it wasn’t just him. Damian and Owen said it in unison.
I shook my head. No, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The timing, the boys—everything about this was wrong.
This should not be happening.
- Writer
