Page 4 of Through the Water

Almost.

Even from where I sat, it was clear the three boys hadn’t come to enjoy the water.

“She was my girlfriend, you son-of-a-bitch!”

I sucked in a breath and flattened my spine against the bark of the tree. The boy who’d spoken turned and glared in my direction. I brought my hand over my mouth, pleading with my body to be silent. An eternity later, he returned his attention to his companions.

A boy with dark hair, who I assumed was the target, stepped forward until his toes were almost even with the angry boy’s. He let out a rough bark of laughter as if seeing someone upset amused him. “You want me to believe that Blair was your girlfriend? How much crack did you smoke before you called me down here?”

My nostrils flared from the exertion of keeping my breathing steady, but no one spared a second glance in my direction.

Then, without so much as a warning, the angry boy clenched his hands into fists and punched the smug one square in the jaw. The two began to pummel each other while the third boy stood off to the side, clearly not willing to get involved. He was obviously the intelligent one of the group.

Those who spare the rod of discipline hate their children…

I’d heard Papa say the words more times than I cared to admit, but it was apparent that no one had ever told the dark-haired boy. Rather than making a scene, he needed to take his correction and choose to do better in the future.

Then again, it seemed they enjoyed being hurt.

After landing a particularly rough hit, the dark-haired boy stepped back and ran a hand through his dark hair. He flashed a triumphant grin, seemingly ignoring the river of blood running from his own nose.

The mistake was in not checking behind him. His heel got caught up in a pile of rope someone had left behind, propelling him backward. As he fell, his head caught the edge of an abandoned metal cooler, and he landed against the dock with a sickening thud.

My lips parted in a silent scream when the boy didn’t get back up. He lay motionless, arms splayed out at his sides. The other two looked at each other in question, but it was clear the fight was over.

“H-help him,” I urged with a whisper, sighing in relief when the angry boy bent to lift his body. Instead of going for help, he dragged him farther onto the dock before unceremoniously dropping him into the water when he reached the end.

My book fell from my lap, forgotten, as I mashed my fist against my lips to keep from screaming.

The smart boy seemed to share my horror. “What the hell, Chris? I said I’d help you fight him, not kill him. Shit, I can’t be a part of this!”

Get him out of the water.

It was now close to dusk, and the sunset cast an eerie orange glow over everything, but there was no longer beauty in this place. The two boys took off across the beach in a dead sprint while I watched the end of the dock, hoping the boy would resurface.

“H-h-he’s not y-your problem,” I reminded myself, the words bitter on my tongue. The theology I’d cut my teeth on had collided with a new reality. If I held fast to my beliefs, I was condemning someone to death. But if I acted on his behalf, then I was betraying my family and my church.

Fear paralyzed my limbs, keeping me pinned up against the tree. I stayed there until the two disappeared from view before making my decision.

“Y-you are S-Scar—Scarlett O’Hara,” I hissed. “B-br-bravely f-facing down the Y-Yankees on your way home to T-T-Tara.”

And then, with no regard to the teachings or even my own safety, I ran toward the danger. The water cooled my sweat-drenched skin, yet pushed my small body back to shore. I fought my way past the waves before diving under with a growl. The water was murky, and every blue-green shadow looked like a body until I was right on top of it.

Just as I began to lose hope, I saw him, caught under the dock. I looped an arm around his chest and tried tugging him toward the shallows. Instead, his dead weight pushed us toward the bottom, and it took all of my strength to propel us in the right direction. My lungs burned something fierce, urging me to let him go and swim for the surface.

Black spots began to move among the blue-green shadows, but I kept swimming, willing my body to relax. I’d been around water my entire life. There was a pool in the community, as well as a small fishing hole. My sister and I had snuck out more than once to visit them when the heat was unbearable, and sleep refused to come quickly.

Sneaking out of the house after curfew hadn’t been easy, but time and time again, Ashlynn and I had gotten past the guards without being seen. She was the one who’d taught me to swim and, later, how to hold my breath for increasingly extended periods.

It was training that had paid off not two weeks ago.

A guard had discovered my nightdress near the fishing hole and begun searching the grounds. Ashlynn had pulled me under as his flashlight skimmed over the water. The minutes had ticked by, and my vision began to blur, but the guard eventually moved on. When the water went dark, we’d kicked our way to the surface, desperately sucking air into our lungs. I’d been forced to sneak back into the house naked as my nightdress had been confiscated, but we’d never been caught.

You can do this.

I relaxed and let the waves I’d fought against moments before carry us lazily toward the shore. Then, using my legs and the last of my energy, I pushed us forward until the sandbar rose up beneath my feet. It was enough for me to propel the upper half of my body above the water with a strangled gasp. After several attempts, I managed to lift the boy’s head too.

Exhaustion set in, but I kept pushing forward, dragging the boy onto the beach before collapsing across his chest with a groan. Waves lapped against the shore, punctuated only by the sounds of my ragged breathing.

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