The object remained blurry beneath the water.
Box-shaped.
Carmelo worked faster.
I carried full buckets away from the edge.
A blue bead stuck to my wrist.
I brushed it off.
It rolled across the patio and disappeared beneath a chair.
I brushed it off.
“Stop,” Carmelo said.
I turned.
He had cleared enough to see one corner.
Acrylic. Thick. Sealed.
The case was larger than a coffee table and weighted at the base. Something had been arranged inside it, though the layers of water and moving Orbeez distorted everything.
He had cleared enough to see one corner.
Carmelo leaned closer.
Then he went completely still.
“What?”
He did not answer.
He reached into his pocket and took out his phone.
“Carmelo?”
He pointed through the water.
He went completely still.
At first, all I saw were pale shapes.
Then the Orbeez shifted.
Yellow plastic flashed beneath them.
Small.
Bright.
A handle.
My fingers closed around the pool rail.
Mason’s shovel had been yellow.
At first, all I saw were pale shapes.
He carried it everywhere that summer.
The beach.
The park.
The festival.
The police listed it among the items missing with him.
Tiny yellow shovel with a crack near the grip.
***
Carmelo called 911.
The police listed it among the items missing with him.
He spoke clearly until the dispatcher asked what was inside the case.
Then he looked at me.
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