Non-classifiable
I marched toward Stillman, who was at the far free-throw line, standing with the ball on his hip. "What exactly is your problem?" I said, looking directly into his black eyes.
"Just you," Stillman replied, an irritating smirk forming at one corner of his mouth. "I thought you were supposed to be a basketball player, not one of the funny boys of the drama department.
One by one, we raised our flashlight beams to the underside of the roof. It was dark. But even in the dim light, we could see that the darkness was moving. It undulated like "the wave" at a hockey game. The cockroaches protested our entry by releasing their hold on the ceiling and flying down at us.
"I'm outta here," Caleb said, heading for the doorway.
"Not so fast," I said, my fingers closing tightly on his collar. "Pull your hood up, Caleb, and get on that ladder. I'll go last."
I hoped that last sentence didn't sound too bitter. I also hoped that all the weights I'd been pumping would help me haul my nonworking leg up. I gripped the ladder beneath my three buddies and hung my cane on one of the lower rungs.
My breathing was heavy, my hands were sweaty. But with one pull after another, I kept climbing.
The water was choppy. I struggled to hold on. If I bailed, I was done for. The coming wave would suck me in and spit me out the back after it had raked me across the reef. No one would be pulling me out of the waves here. There might not be a lot of me left to even pull out.
The wind was a shrieking monster behind us and Jeopardy was barely in control, surfing down steep waves with an eerie roar as the water rushed under her hull. Every so often, a wave came at us beam on—sideways—rolling us dangerously to one side. I'd been out in all kinds of weather, but I'd never seen waves as steep as these. "It's nuts," I said flatly. I raised my voice so that she'd be able to hear me over the screaming wind and the crashing water. "And it's only going to get worse..."
