“Do you even know where you’re going? What rock is he on?” Aidan asked. Then he put a sneer on his lip that would make even Lily Trần proud. “There are a lot of rocks around here, you might want to be more specific.”

The girl shrugged. “The one that looks like a cat or a . . .”

“The Sphinx Rock?” I said, and all three of them bobbed their whooshing helmet heads.

“Come or don’t,” the sneering second boy said. He put his foot in position back on a pedal. “But you never know—he could get rescued, and then it’ll be a miracle!” And then they pushed off and started pedaling, back the way we’d come.

Sam ran over and righted his overturned bike. “It might be one of Merjeme’s friends, Fred—come on!”

Aidan looked between me and Sam. “It’s who?”

There wasn’t time to explain, so all I said was “Someone we might know,” and then I hopped on my bike.

And even without needing to turn around, I knew Jed and Aidan would be right behind us.

50

Sphinx Rock

The steep wooden staircase leading down to the beach was crowded with gawkers when we pulled up. People were hanging over the railing and looking out toward the Sphinx. Sure enough, a little lone figure was huddled near the head; the rock was already half-submerged, but the path back to the shore was already completely underwater. The kid was hugging their knees and looking out to the gray sky and horizon.

The three menaces we’d followed had already ditched their bikes and were racing down the wooden stairs, joining a bunch of other kids.

“I don’t see the lifeguards or ambulances anywhere,” Jed said, removing his helmet and running his fingers through sweat-wet hair.

“There are no lifeguards around—not until December,” I said, and felt my heartbeat kick up with the words and what they meant.

There were so many people standing around and staring, but no one was doing anything to help.

“How long do you think before he’s under?” Aidan asked, a waver in his voice.

I could feel Sam shiver beside me.

“Dunno—maybe an hour?” Jed said. I leaned against his shoulder, feeling as though I might fall over from his words.

While we were watching that huddled little figure, the tide seemed to get higher still—the waves crashing against the Sphinx’s hind legs.

“It’s Merjeme,” Sam said, and I turned to look at him.

“It is. She’s cut all her hair off, but . . . it’s her.”

When I looked again, I knew it, too—it was Merjeme down there. She’d come to the beach she knew when she’d been caught thieving.