Watery Graves by Kelli Bradicich Page A

of them, wearing a bright red shirt and a lop-sided grin, tumbled to a stop near Libby. He made out as though he was guarding her from the stampede. High pitched squeals from the other girls sent shivers down Emmy’s neck like fingernails scratching at ice. The guy in the red shirt was the last to run into the water. Libby buried her face in her hands, giggling. Her flushed pink cheeks glowed through the gaps in her fingers. The girls around her fell about laughing. Emmy sat so stiff and straight her neck ached. She had no idea what had just happened and failed to see what was funny.
    Sebastian was still on the hillside, playing cricket. Emmy crouched, thinking about going to join in the game. But a small fight had broken out on the sidelines, and several boys rushed over to grab at a mess of flailing fists and tumbling bodies. She lost sight of Sebastian. She wanted to run again, but with all these boys now on the loose, she didn’t want to stumble across one on the isolated pathway home.
    In the water, more boys dived in, breaking through the surface, shooting brazen spurts of water from their mouths and flicking their hair in spikes and cowlicks, stroking out to the pontoon in the middle.
    “That’s our call, girls,” the red -haired Teagan said. “Let’s go swimming.”
    “Yeah, baby.”
    “Thank God. I was getting hot.”
    Emmy found herself standing when the group did, following Libby’s lead. But she couldn’t peel her clothes off like them. She couldn’t strut down to the water’s edge joining in the parade of Lycra. And she definitely wouldn’t take to the water as they did, squealing and breast-stroking, their long necks above water like swans. One by one shimmering bodies slid onto the pontoon in the middle of the river. Their hair remained dry in elegant styles high on their heads, exposing naked arched backs.
    Libby was among them. She was one of them, no longer resembling the friend Emmy had grown up with. The swirling air trapped in Emmy’s chest began to spin faster, tightening her ribcage.
    With shaking hands, Emmy picked up her bag, stuffed her towel inside and trudged up the path that would take her home. It took her a moment to realise the high pitched screeching from the pontoon was Libby. “Hey boys. Don’t let her leave, will ya?”
    A collection of shadows surrounded her from behind, crowding her in. She smelt their toxic odour, a mix of sweat and sunscreen. The whirlpool in her chest became more like a hurricane. Her legs and arms grew weak. She couldn’t get a good breath. Two of them hooked their arms through hers, leading her down to the water. She couldn’t feel her feet touch the ground. She didn’t know if she went willingly or if they carried her. But she was there, her feet in the water, sucked down by the mud.
    “I’m not wearing the bikini,” she mumbled, her dry gums sticking on each word. “I mean- ” Emmy pressed her face into her hands and cried.
    It was Sebastian who pried her fingers free, and peered up at her. “It’s okay. Everything’s all right.”
    “Don’t let them touch me.”
    “Nobody’s near you.”
    The boys had dispersed, sharing a joke but sneaking sideways glances at her.
    “I’m going home,” she said, but her feet stayed planted in the mud.
    “I’ll take you,” Sebastian said.
    “You stay. Just get me to the path.”
    “He shook his head. I made a deal with Ingrid that we’d stick together.”
    “Define together.”
    “ Emmy!” they both heard Libby shout, as they marched up the hill.
    Only Sebastian turned around. “We’ll be back another time, Lib.”
    The hurricane subsided into a thunderstorm. A lump in her throat brought on tears.
    *
    “They think I’m a froot loop,” Emmy whined to Maya before flopping down on the bed, jolting the mattress.
    Maya winced, and Emmy snuggled down into her lap, pretending not to see the pain. The embarrassing memories of her first trip down to the river were an easy distraction. Maya