GIRL UNDERWATER, the debut novel from Claire Kells (Dutton Books, On-Sale now), has caught the attention of some of the biggest names in fiction. New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult calls it a “compelling coming-of-age love story that will have you rooting for its teen narrator.” GIRL UNDERWATER takes us on an exhilarating ride after a major airline disaster, looking not only at the worst-case scenario, but also at what happens to survivors after they make it through the most terrifying event of their lives.
The novel follows Avery, a competitive college swimmer, who boards a night flight from West coast to East, along with two team members and two hundred strangers. When the plane goes down over the Rockies, only Avery, three little boys, and Colin Shea, the only teammate who has ever challenged her to strike out on her own, survive.
For five days, Avery fights the sub-zero temperatures and unforgiving landscape, creating a makeshift shelter, foraging for food, and searching for rescue. But when that rescue does come, Avery finds her future almost more challenging than her days in the mountains. Her memories of the wilderness haunt her recovery, isolating her from her family and loving boyfriend, Lee. And the media is spinning a very different story about her ordeal than the one she remembers. As she attempts to piece her life together, Avery must question everything she thought she knew about herself, including her feelings for Colin, the boy who challenged her to survive and become her own person. The aftermath of the crash brings about a powerful love triangle as Avery must decide between the two men who love her—only one of whom can truly understand her five days in the mountains.
Like her main character, author Claire Kells is a former competitive swimmer. She has both a degree in English from Princeton and a medical degree from University of California. Her medical knowledge lends itself well to her writing—the gritty and realistic medical challenges that Avery faces in the Rockies are some of the most thrilling parts of the novel.
Crosscutting between the events in the Rockies and Avery’s challenging recovery, GIRL UNDERWATER is a riveting look at the story after survival. Both an action-packed tale of life-and-death and an intense love story, this debut is sure to delight readers of all ages and genres. As Jodi Picoult says: “Trust me—dive in!”
Excerpt from Chapter 10
Girl Underwater by Claire Kells
My mind touches on these things, but doesn’t stay there. Instead, for reasons only my subconscious could possibly understand, it drifts to the first week of my freshman year.
Early September but it feels like fall, because in Northern California, every day feels like fall. Crystalline skies, a blazing orange sun. The outdoor pool glistens like polished topaz, beckoning me to dive in.
There must be a dozen—no, fifteen—lanes, and ten of them churn with the easy, practiced strokes of elite swimmers. Their mechanics are flawless: high elbows in freestyle, with a steady kick that propels the engine. The backstrokers keep their heads perfectly still, their shoulders subtly rotating as the arms follow. The breaststrokers cut through the water, a rhythmic, pristine glide that feels almost musical.
There is one swimmer, though, who stands out from the rest. A butterflier. His dolphin kick is a powerful, undulating beat that starts in his quads and whips out in one fluid motion. He finally surfaces when it’s just legal to do so, right at the fifteen-meter mark. His kick is that powerful; that efficient. Once he takes a stroke, he has to battle surface tension and resistance.
But for this swimmer, these forces hardly seem at play. He doesn’t cut through the water so much as ride it, his tremendous arms powered by a brutal kick. His body works in tandem, the kind of rhythm that eludes 99.9% of swimmers. It’s the rhythm of someone who was born to swim.
“That’s Colin Shea,” says the girl next to me. Mandy, I think her name is. Or Marjorie. She’s one of two other freshmen who didn’t compete in Olympic trials last year. I like to think of the three of us as the clique of mediocrity.
“Oh. Who is he?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Who is he?”
Another girl chimes in. “He’s the next Michael Phelps.” Then, in a hushed tone, as if this is some kind of sacrilege: “He’s better than Michael Phelps.”
Someone blows a whistle, and minutes later, the whole team is on-deck. The giddy chatter of my fellow freshmen dies down. Coach Toll delivers a stilted speech in which the core message seems to be, These are our new freshman. Be nice to them. Then he drones on about practices, expectations, and teamwork. Oh, and have fun.
Fun?
The blitz of introductions is even worse. Names, faces, a roster of hometowns in states and countries I’ve never been. As the upperclassmen weave through the crowd, their small talk makes my head spin. They look intimidating, too. Pretty girls with copper complexions and perfect bodies. Guys that belong in Sports Illustrated or GQ or a hybrid of the two. A billion insecurities that had all but disappeared over the summer come rushing back.
“So, Avery,” one of the seniors says to me. I can’t remember her name. “What’s your event?”
“Uh, distance.”
“Distance?” She frowns. “I thought Coach said you were middle-distance.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, middle distance. The 200. I love the 200.”
Her bronze face brightens again. I actually hate middle distance, but when Coach recruited me, he sold it as the perfect event for me. What he didn’t say was that he already had a legion of talented distance swimmers, and that they were bigger and stronger than me, and that at 5’5” and 125 lbs., I just wasn’t built for the 1500. He also needed a middle distance swimmer because his star 200-freestyler had graduated last year. His back-up quit the team because of “academic difficulties.”
The truth is, I would have swum backwards if he’d asked me to. I wanted to be a part of this team. At the time, I wanted it more than anything.
“Anyway, I, uh…I need to use the restroom.”
She laughs. “You asking for my permission?”
“Uh, no.” I smile in such a way that hurts my face. “Sorry.”
I make a mad dash to the bathroom—to throw up? Cry? Flush myself down the toilet?—as the onus of what I’ve just done comes crashing down on me. A move across the country? To swim? With these people?
I’m too small, for one thing. Those other girls could eat me for breakfast. In a Speedo, my modest chest looks flatter than an ironing board. My arms and legs are toned,
but thin. Too thin. And even though it’s just after Labor Day, I don’t have a tan. My dad enforces sunscreen use like martial law.
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable with being an outsider; high school was not exactly a glowing chapter in my personal history. But college was supposed to be different. A chance to start over, maybe even be someone that mattered. Someone cool.
I look down at my collarbones, at the purple suit straps sloping over my shoulders. A quiet purple, but purple nonetheless, which is devastating because everyone else is wearing black. Of course they are. Everyone here is a professional athlete, and I show up all decked out in something from sophomore year. The swimsuit’s design is a loud, childish network of yellow stripes and green circles on a purple background. I used to think the flashes of green brought out the green in my eyes, but now I realize how stupid that sounds. No one at practice cares about my eyes. I should have worn black. Black is for blending in.
To make matters a hundred times worse, I start to cry. Big, fat, babydoll tears, an emotional flood that won’t stop until I’m somewhere safe, somewhere familiar. I want to go home, back to Brookline. Back to the swim club that nurtured me; back to the high school that made me feel invisible.
“Hello?”
It’s a guy’s voice: deep, husky; a little rough around the edges. As my mom would say, it has a ‘city flavor.’
Oh God I’m in the men’s room.
Reprinted by arrangement with Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © Claire Kells, 2015
Advance Praise for Girl Underwater
Claire Kells, author of Girl Underwater
“Skillfully interspersing flashbacks with current events, debut novelist Kells has written an absorbing tale that will grip anyone who enjoys survival stories or psychological dramas.” –Library Journal (starred review)
“Kells’s visceral story is quite memorable and eminently readable.” —Publishers Weekly
“With its subzero temperatures that will make you reach for a blanket and a wounded but never weakened heroine, Kells’ assured debut is a winner.”—Kirkus Reviews
“The story ably demonstrates that survival is not just physical, but also mental and emotional.”—Booklist
BUY THE BOOK HERE.
ABOUT CLAIRE KELLS
Claire Kells was born and raised outside Philadelphia. She received a degree in English from Princeton University and a medical degree from the University of California. She lives and works in the Bay Area. This is her first novel.
@KathKells
Movie rights?????