KRACK, the log under Ophelia’s feet disintegrated, she fell then slid into the pool with an almost supernatural alacrity, as if she were being pulled into the black water by a hidden vortex. Annie ran forward, screaming NO!, but the body of the Shakespearean character had already disappeared under the surface.
The Bird called to Annie, forgetting she was still invisible to her friend, but the athletic teen’s actions made it clear that words wouldn’t have stopped her anyway. Wild determination in her eyes and pony-tail flying behind her, she stepped briskly into the pool, dark water splashing noisily in front of her once, twice, then she dove, her hands in front of her knifing into the water, her body looking like a torpedo beginning its strike.
The dark surface of the water swirled, dense fog hovering above. A moment later Annie emerged, gasping and leaning forward, her face contorting in agony, her right arm emerging from beneath the surface and exposing the face of Ophelia, her skin already a deep shade of sickly blue.
Transfixed, The Bird watched from the bank of the pool as Annie swam with one hand toward the shore. Her feet finally touching ground, Annie lifted the limp body of Ophelia completely out of the water, then carried her out from the pool, past the gravelly shore, and finally dropped her down with gentle firmness into a small field of tall grass.