Fast Slide by Melanie Jackson

the forest.
    As plans went, it was pretty lame.
    As Brad advanced, I slid along the wall toward the tube opening. Distract him . Get him to brag some more. I said, “You got Judd to put on a lynx mask and make it obvious to me that he was wearing it. What was that about?”
    Brad checked his watch. “Aggie warned Judd she’d tell everything. She said she’d already mentioned ‘Links’ to you. She said next time she’d tell you who Links was.
    â€œI had to convince you that it was an animal reference. After I went home to change my suit, I stopped by a costume shop for a lynx mask. I got Judd to wear it while I was visiting you. That way you’d think of lynxes—and you’d suspect him of being the Lynx.
    â€œI fed you a line about being bullied. It was vital that you feel sorry for me, Clay.”
    I couldn’t see straight. There were several Brads floating across my field of vision. I focused on the one in the middle. “I didn’t feel sorry for you, Brad. I liked you. But know what? I feel real sorry for you now, buddy.”
    Brad didn’t reply. Again he checked his watch. Brad—the many Brads in my vision—fished the cuff links out of his pocket. He rolled them around again like dice.
    Maybe Brad was thinking about dice too. He shrugged, “You took a gamble, champ. And you lost.”
    The different Brads formed a circle and spun like a Ferris wheel. More than anything, I wanted to shut them out, to sleep. I leaned back and rested my eyes.
    The first spray of water was refreshing, like rain.
    But it wasn’t rain. I struggled to sit up.
    The few drops turned into a coursing river. Water was surging from the landing pool into the tube. It was now clear to me why Brad kept checking his watch. He had set the timer in the control room to open the pipes. The Boa was filling. He’d set the controls to full blast.
    Brad intended to drown me.

Chapter Twelve
    I started sloshing toward the tube entrance, but Brad blocked me. “This is what I’m gonna tell them: You set the timer. You tried to shove me in to drown me. But I got away.”
    We both swayed in the force of the water. He said, “I made sure to shut the door at the end of the tube, Clay. And you won’t be able to swim up again. Being a champ won’t help even you.”
    I dove for his legs, toppling him. I crawled toward the daylight-filled tube opening.
    Brad dragged me back by the feet.
    I was underwater now. Brad was above me, fist upraised for a punch that would knock me unconscious—like Aggie had been.
    I veered sideways as his fist descended. I staggered up. By now Brad’s wet glasses were blurring his vision. He flailed his arms wildly, unable to pinpoint me.
    Still, if I tried to move past him, those flailing arms would lock on to me. There wasn’t enough room in the tube to give him a wide berth.
    I made a decision: if I was going to die, let it be by water, not Bradley Costello. I could at least die by something I’d always loved.
    Brad lurched closer. The water was swirling around our waists now. I leaned back so I was floating. Lifting one foot, I smashed it into Brad’s face.
    I didn’t need to backstroke away from him. The water carried me toward the first plunge in the waterslide. I saw Brad’s glasses splinter—saw blood spurt from his nose.
    And then I was swept down the tube.
    The Boa’s initial flat surface was fairly gentle. Now, with the gravity of that first drop, the current turned into a vortex. The Boa was sucking me down, whirling me around in a fury of bubbles and white foam.
    It was a minute and a half to the bottom of the Boa. Holding my breath that long was nothing—as a swimmer, I was trained to hold it for at least two minutes.
    Another challenge bothered me more: Boa’s killer current. A strong swimmer might survive it. But I’d been battered and bashed around. Brad’s words came back: