Oscawana

by Frank Martin

  But there was something about the jet ski that got to April. The way she could maneuver around the water made her feel powerful. It kind of reminded her of riding Oscar, the way she had a sudden burst of speed right at her fingertips. Except the jet ski wasn’t alive. It didn’t have a mind of its own. Unlike Oscar, April controlled the watercraft completely. And she clamped down on the throttle, thrusting the jet ski forward like a bullet across the water.

  It was the first time April opened it up to full speed and was surprised she didn’t blow right off the back. The torque was incredible and she had to squeeze her fingers around the handlebars and her thighs to the seat to keep from falling off. The entire jet ski bounced as it moved, the bottom skimming across the water like a jet-propelled skipping stone.

  Eventually, April released her grip on the throttle a bit, toning it down to a speed she was comfortable with. Before long, she was zooming back and forth across the lake, making tight turns and jumping off of her own tiny waves. April was having so much fun that she got lost in the thrill of it all and completely forgot about Oscar. Or at least she did…until she looked in the water and saw a large grey mass following her directly underneath the jet ski.

  Oscar’s features were distorted under the water, but for some reason he looked bigger below the surface. Bigger than the jet ski and bigger than April was used to, though she mainly just chalked it up to seeing him at an angle she hadn’t before.

  Realizing he wanted to play, April smiled and tightened her grip on the throttle, racing across the lake. She moved pretty fast but was surprised Oscar easily kept pace. Like partners, the two of them weaved in and out of the boats in their way, Oscar mirroring her every move under the water. None of the boaters seemed to notice him, either. They were too focused on April rocking them side to side with her wake.

  No matter how fast she went, April could never break free from Oscar on her tail. She had a feeling though, he could’ve passed her anytime he wanted.

  The pair must’ve lapped the entire lake seven times before April felt the need to catch her breath. She brought the jet ski along the backside of Goose Rock and killed the engine, allowing the hull to slowly drift up onto one of the rocks. Once she felt it was secure enough not to float away, April stepped off and carefully made her way across the slippery, lichen-covered surface. She made it about halfway to the other side when Oscar leapt up on top of a large boulder beside her.

  He appeared happy with his tongue dangling out of his mouth. No sign of the bloody meal he devoured only a few hours earlier.

  “Was that fun?” April asked him.

  Oscar straightened his legs, flexing his entire body atop the rock like a gargoyle perched on the edge of a skyscraper. Looking down at him from above the jet ski, the creature seemed like just a massive blob to April, but now, looking up at him as he towered over her, April could see just how large he truly was, like a muscular cat the size of a horse.

  “Okay,” she said, laughing while looking back at the boats across the lake. “Get down. People will see you.”

  Oscar didn’t jump off the rock. He sat down relaxed instead, allowing his tentacles to hang below.

  April turned her back on him and crossed her arms, employing her best use of reverse psychology. “Or don’t. Stay up there if you want. Not like it’s my problem if they catch you.”

  After letting out a frustrated huff, Oscar pushed himself backwards off the rock, diving into the water. He then slowly circled around and climbed back up onto Goose Rock using the same path April had taken on the jet ski.

  April’s eyes widened as he approached her. He looked even more monstrous up close. “You really have gotten big, haven’t you?”

  She brushed her hand across his scales, pushing aside the torrent of water dripping of his body. “How large are you going to get?”

  Moving her hand downward, April examined the talons on his sides. They looked like mini-hands now, having protruded even further off his ribs than before. She then looked up to the ring of fins around his neck, where she noticed Oscar peculiarly staring at the beached jet ski.

  “You like my new ride?” April asked him.

  Oscar grunted, which April couldn’t decipher as him being impressed or jealous. Could’ve been either one. Or both.

  “It’s not mine,” April said, amused by his reaction. “I borrowed it from some guy who I’m pretty sure thinks I’m going to make out with him for letting me use it.”

  Oscar blinked at her, causing April to retract her hand from his side. “And you have no idea what that means, do you?”

  Rolling her eyes, April stepped away from Oscar to wander to the other side of the rock. “It probably says more about me than it does about him.”

  The rock rumbled beneath April’s feet as Oscar walked up alongside her. She could feel him staring at her but kept her gaze fixated on the choppy water beyond the rocks. “He and his friend…”

  April took her time with a sigh, allowing her head to fall into her chest. “Boys like that don’t change. Their clothes might change. Their toys might change. But douchebags are everywhere. They’ve been around since the beginning of time. I’m like a magnet for them.”

  Sulking down even further, April took a seat at the edge of the rock with her legs dipped in the water. “That’s not entirely true. Honestly, I sought them out. Back home I wouldn’t have thought twice about hanging out with guys like that. That’s probably why I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”

  Mimicking her, Oscar sat down as well, his tentacles dangling in the water next to her feet. “But after spending some time with my uncle I was kind of glad I did. I thought things might’ve finally been different here. I thought Henry might’ve actually been someone I could…”

  April finished her sentence with an exhale before abruptly popping to her feet. “You know what? It’s not important. What’s important is you, Oscar.”

  The creature looked up at April but remained seated, more curious by her enthusiasm than excited.

  “You, me, and the water,” April said, wrapping her arm around his back, which was about up to her shoulder. “Forget those stupid boys and that obnoxious jerk in the seaplane. This right here is going to be my summer. This right here is—”

  A joyous scream interrupted her, causing Oscar’s head to perk up. Together, the two of them looked out over the lake and quickly spotted the wakeboard boat tearing across the water in between a handful of annoyed fishermen and kayakers. Pulled behind the boat on his board, Brad cut hard towards the boat’s wake and launched himself off of it. He soared through the air, allowing his legs to swing out under him momentarily like Superman before pulling them back down and landing on the other side.

  April was quite impressed by the trick, but any respect she had for him was lost when he took his hand off the rope just long enough to flex his bicep in April’s direction.

  Oscar gurgled as he and April watched the wakeboarder continue on, disappearing on the far side of the lake.

  “Yeah,” April grumbled with a nod. “That’s them. Don’t worry. I doubt they saw you. They’re probably so wasted they don’t even realize what they’re looking at.”

  After a moment of silence, Oscar slithered forward, entering the water without so much as a splash.

  “Hey!” April shouted at him.

  Oscar didn’t respond, verbal or otherwise. He just flapped his tentacles and was off, zooming towards the center of the lake like a torpedo.

  “Oscar, come back!” she yelled again.

  He didn’t. A moment later he was gone, vanished into the murky darkness of the water.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lying on his stomach with the board securely attached to his feet, Brad scooped his hands in the water, doggie paddling over to the back of the boat. Smiling, he pulled himself onto the small wooden swim platform and unzipped the thin neoprene vest tightly wrapped around his chest.

  “Did you see that last three-sixty?” he asked, ecstatic.
>
  Randy swiveled around in the driver’s seat to face him but never looked up, too focused on his task of sprinkling ground up marijuana into a strip of rolling paper. “Nah. I missed it.”

  Brad stood up on the swim platform facing his friend, the board still attached to his feet. “What the hell, man?”

  Barely caring about Brad’s accomplishment, Randy shrugged while licking the edge of the rolling paper. “I tried but it’s hard to watch you and drive the boat at the same time, moron.”

  Leaning over, Brad pulled back on the old school foam bindings to wiggle his foot free from the board. “I nailed the grab with it.”

  Randy’s eyes remained fixated on his fingers as he tightly rolled the joint. “Nice. It’s about time.”

  “Hey,” Brad exclaimed, climbing from the swim platform to one of the boat’s cushion seats. “You gotta lot of nerve talkin’ shit for someone who won’t even try an invert.”

  Randy paused from rolling the joint to look up with an offended sneer. “I don’t like going upside-down, okay?!”

  “All right,” Brad laughed, amused by Randy’s insecure anger. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

  “You mean your mom’s panties?” Randy asked with a smirk before lewdly licking the edge of the joint to seal it. “Because she’s the one who gave them to me.”

  Brad rolled his eyes and held up the wakeboard. “You goin’ or what?”

  “Yeah,” Randy said, popping the joint into his mouth and taking out a lighter. “Just gimme a sec.”

  After lighting the joint, Randy sucked in hard, holding his breath with his chest puffed out for several seconds before coughing out a thick cloud of smoke.

  “Yo, bro,” Brad said with his hand out. “Pass that.”

  Still coughing, Randy handed Brad the joint, who then mirrored his friend’s exact action right down to the cough.

  Brad extended the joint back to Randy when a loud voice from shore startled them both. “Don’t think I don’t see you out there, Bradley, smoking that reefer.”

  Both boys turned and saw Paul Dutchman standing at the edge of his dock. He posed with both hands firmly on his hips in a freshly changed Hawaiian shirt as his seaplane floated next to him perpendicular in the water.

  “Oh, will you just give it a rest, old man?” Brad shouted back.

  “Yeah,” Randy added, his voice distorted by a lung full of smoke. “Nobody’s bothering you.”

  Dutchman took one hand off his hip to gesture wildly to the dock under his feet. “Nonsense. I can smell it all the way over here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Brad asked, accepting the joint back from Randy. “We just lit the damn thing.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Dutchman scolded, now using the hand to point a sturdy finger at the boat. “I know you’ve been out there toking all day.”

  After zipping up his vest and placing the wakeboard down on the swim platform, Randy squirted a little soap in the foam bindings and began slipping his feet inside. “You know what? You’re right, Mr. Dutchman. We have been smoking all day. So can you do us a favor and go make us some milkshakes? We got the munchies real bad.”

  Fed up, Dutchman used his hand one last time to angrily wave at the boys before storming back down the dock.

  Brad repressed his chuckles as he handed Randy the wakeboard rope. “Just get in the water, man.”

  “Fine. But only if you swing back around close to his dock. I want to take that plane for a spin.”

  “Roger,” Brad replied, heading back to the front of the boat.

  Randy leaned forward off the swim platform straight into a belly flop. He landed face first in the water at the exact moment Brad plopped down into the driver’s seat. The timing was so exact it sounded to Brad as if the seat cushion made a splash when he sat in it. He giggled at the thought, though he knew it was probably just the weed kicking in.

  With the joint firmly clasped between his fingers like a cigarette, Brad started up the boat, checked the gauges, and adjusted the oversized rearview mirror on the windshield. After giving his friend shit for not seeing his three-sixty, he wasn’t about to miss a second of Randy’s run.

  A second later he turned around and saw Randy floating in the water on his ass, the board bobbing in front of him with his feet secured in the bindings. The rope attached to the tower was taut. Randy held the handlebar on the other end, which pulled on him ever so slightly as the boat puttered forward.

  Moving the joint to his mouth, Brad gave Randy a thumbs up. The universal sign for, “are you ready?” Randy gave it back to him, and Brad slowly pressed down on the accelerator, causing the boat to plow through the water before settling down on a plane.

  Brad peeked in the rearview mirror and saw Randy was already up, cruising on his board in the middle of the boat’s ‘V’ shaped wake. After sufficiently clearing Dutchman’s house, Brad lifted his finger in the air and spun it in a circle, letting Randy know he was turning around.

  With the joint still dangling in his mouth, Brad turned hard on the wheel, spinning the boat back around the way it came. Randy leaned back hard on the rope, letting the boat whip him around out into the flat water. Keeping a steady pace, Brad drove the boat straight along the shoreline, way closer than he was supposed to. The remnants of his wake created a series of waves that smashed into the docks, rocking the boats side to side like they were caught in a squall. Randy stayed clear of all of them…until he approached Dutchman’s.

  As the seaplane loomed in front of him, Randy hopped off the water ever so slightly into a one-eighty, essentially switching his legs so his back foot was now in front. He then bent his knees and bounced up and down, preparing himself with the seaplane looming in front of him.

  As he reached it, Randy ducked under the wing and popped off the water, landing squarely on the plane’s large pontoon. The boat continued to drive forward, pulling Randy across the top of the pontoon as he grinded its surface. When he came to the end, Randy casually swiveled his legs back around for another one-eight while sliding into the water.

  Watching the whole move unfold in the rearview mirror, Brad let loose a victorious scream that Randy matched while pumping his fist in the air. Their joyous cheers drowned out Dutchman’s profane-ridden shouts as he stormed back down the dock after them. It was too late, though. The boat was already zooming away towards the center of the lake.

  Randy’s first run went on for about five more minutes while Brad continuously shifted his focus back and forth between the mirror and the boats scattered around the lake. Randy managed to pull off a couple of sweet tricks. Nothing earth-shattering, though. And certainly nothing like grinding across the pontoon of a seaplane.

  Brad knew he would have to hear Randy brag about that one for years. Probably until the day he died.

  At the end of the run, they reached the cove at the far side of the lake. Now free from any kayakers, swimmers, or other boats that could be in the way, Brad whirled his finger in the air to let Randy know he was turning around again. A moment later, Brad spun the wheel slowly, easing the boat into a nice, wide turn.

  He kept his eyes on Randy the entire time, watching to see if his friend got careless and let his board catch an edge. Brad told himself it was out of concern, but he secretly knew he just didn’t want to miss it if Randy face planted hard into the water.

  As the boat straightened out for a second run down the lake, Randy grew antsy and prepared for a quick jump across the wake before they left the cove. He bent his knees, leaned back into his stance, and carved deep against the water. Randy hit the wake hard and immediately spun on an axis as he launched into the air. He torqued so tight that Brad thought he was going for a five-forty, a trick he had never pulled off before. Randy soared above the wake, twirling like a professional figure skater, and at the peak of his jump, a large animal leapt out of the water from the opposite wake to tackle him mid-flight. The two opposing forces collided at full speed and Randy let out a sudden whelp as it looked like h
is entire torso was caught in the creature’s unhinged jaw.

  Watching the attack happen in the mirror, Brad cursed as he looked back, but all he saw was the loose wakeboard rope dancing off the water as the boat continued driving ahead. Brad’s heart instantly started pounding like a hammer against his chest. Reacting on instinct, he flicked the joint into the lake and pulled down hard on the wheel to turn the boat around. He sped back the way he came, looking for any sign of Randy floating in the water. He saw nothing. Not a limb. Not the board. Not even his life vest.

  Darting his gaze back and forth between the shore and the water, Brad brought the boat to the edge of the cove, about where he thought Randy was when he started his trick. He then stopped the motor and sprinted back to the swim platform, breathing more rapidly than he thought he was capable of.

  Leaning over the edge of the boat, Brad screamed Randy’s name into the water and waited. No response. He then screamed and waited again. Still, there was nothing. Just the echo of his shouts bouncing off the valley walls.

  Panic started to set in as Brad’s brain began replaying the image in his mind. Did he really see what he thought he saw? Did some animal leap out of the water and grab Randy in mid-air? What could possibly do that? There wasn’t anything in this lake but bass and those tiny little bitch-fish that picked at your toes. Nothing big enough to attack a person. And certainly nothing big enough to jump out of the water like that.

  Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Randy just tried a crazy trick and fell. But then where the hell was he? Brad couldn’t get the question out of his head. Where the hell is my friend?! He screamed Randy’s name again, hoping for a different result that never came.

  Finally, Brad realized there was nothing left to do but jump in the water and desperately look for him, as pointless as that might seem. He stepped up onto the edge of the boat and readied his arms to dive when a faint bubbling under the surface grabbed his attention.