The lifeguard grabbed the shoe.

Then he saw the little boy.

He was caught near the drain, one arm tangled in the strap of the floating backpack, his small body barely moving.

The lifeguard pulled once.

The strap didn’t break.

Above the water, the little girl pounded her fists against the pool edge.

“Please!”

The rich father stopped shouting.

His face turned pale as the guests finally understood the child had not been causing drama.

She had been begging them to listen.

Underwater, the lifeguard yanked again, harder this time, until the strap snapped.

He kicked upward with the boy in his arms.

They broke through the surface.

The girl screamed her brother’s name and collapsed beside him as the lifeguard laid him on the hot pavement.

For one terrible second, nothing happened.

Then the boy coughed.

Water spilled from his mouth, and his chest lifted.

His sister grabbed his hand and cried into it.

“I told them,” she sobbed. “I told them you were under.”

The lifeguard looked at the rich father, breathing hard, eyes full of anger.

The man couldn’t meet his face.

The little boy opened his eyes weakly and whispered,

“She saved me first.”