I heard voices as Uncle Gord and his friends stepped onto the boat. I heard clanking as they set down their scuba tanks and the rest of their gear. I didn’t need to see them to know what they looked like. I had seen them a couple of other times. All three looked like football players. They had short hair and square faces. I remembered seeing themand thinking lawyers like that would be good for scaring judges. I wasn’t worried that they might open the locker I was hiding in. They wouldn’t need any of the rental wet suits. All of them had their own wet suits. People who dive a lot don’t like using rental wet suits. Why? It sounds gross, but there are no toilets underwater. Sometimes divers have to go so bad, they go in their wet suits and let the water wash it away. The four of them moved around the boat. They didn’t talk much. There were other sounds: the slapping of water against the boat; laughter from parties on other boats. But on Uncle Gord’s boat, all I could hear was my own breathing.
