by Dayle Gaetz
“JUMP!”
Dad’s shout caught me off guard and I started to fall forward. Dark water stared up at me in the narrow gap between boat and dock. It was either jump or fall in, so I pushed off with my toes and leapt through the air.
I landed heavily on the rough wood of the dock. Somehow I tripped over the rope in my hand and fell sideways. But I never let go of that rope. I scrambled to my feet and eased the boat against the dock.
Dad stepped off to tie the stern rope while I tied the bow. I waited for him to say, “Nice work,” or,” Well done,” or maybe, “Sorry I yelled at you,” but he didn’t even look my way. He patted the pockets of his shorts. “Anyone seen my wallet?” he asked.
Amy appeared from nowhere. “I’ll get it, Dad,” she said and disappeared into the cabin.
I stared after her. Dad? Since when was he her dad? This kid wanted everything that was mine.
Amy jumped onto the dock with the wallet in her hand and a self-satisfied smirk on her face. She glanced at me slyly.
“Thanks Amy,” my father said.
I turned away.
While Amy and her mother went to buy groceries, Dad and I filled up the gas and water tanks. I kept thinking about the way Amy called him Dad. It burned me up.
If they thought I would ever call Patti Mom, they had better think again. Patti would never replace my mom. My mother died when I was eleven. I still missed her so much that sometimes, when no one was around, I cried.
Mom had long, shiny black hair, soft brown eyes and a gentle smile. She loved the outdoors. We used to hike in the rain forest and paddle our canoe in the sea. She taught me about the birds and animals of the West Coast. She told me stories about my Native grandmother. Mom was so proud that I looked like my grandmother.
No one would ever believe I belonged in this family. Patti and Amy were both blue-eyed, blonde, and—I hated to admit it—pretty. My father had blue eyes and light brown hair. The three of them looked like they belonged together. I was the odd person out.
I thought about that as I sat on the dock at Powell River and watched Patti and Amy walk back from the store, their blonde hair shining in the sun. Amy wore bright pink shorts and a white T-shirt. She had a stupid pink scrunchy on top of her head to hold her hair back from her face. I hate pink. I figured that’s why all of Amy’s new clothes were pink.
My father was coiling up the water hose. His blue eyes flashed with anger.
“Why don’t you get up and help your mother?” he demanded.
“My mother’s dead,” I snapped. Suddenly my throat hurt and my eyes burned. I waited for him to start yelling, but he only looked back at me with something like pain in his eyes.
I ran to help with the groceries.
Sun sparkled across rippled water. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. I sat on the bow and leaned against the cabin window to sketch a bald eagle. Broad wings outstretched, it glided effortlessly above the tall cedars that grew right down to the water’s edge.
Sara would love it here! We could sketch together, hike into the hills, go snorkelling, whatever.
I turned to a fresh sheet in my sketchbook and wrote:
Dear Sara,
If only you could be here instead of The Spoiled Brat, we’d have a great time. You can’t imagine what she’s like…
“Look at that, Jessica!” my father called.
We rounded a narrow point of land and entered a different world. Ahead, outlined against a bright blue sky, was a chain of jagged mountains bluer than the sea. Their highest peaks were blanketed in snow. The mountains rose straight out of the sea to fifteen hundred meters above our heads. I felt like a tiny speck, a chunk of driftwood floating on the ocean.
We cruised through a channel with forested islands on both sides and those soaring mountains dead ahead until we came to a narrow inlet. We headed up the inlet. On either side of us sheer rock faces rose up to craggy peaks. Little streams and waterfalls gushed down the rocks, disappeared in forests and splashed out into the sea.
We had traveled up the inlet for over an hour when we spotted a small bay and a rocky beach. It looked like the perfect place to stay for a few days to relax, swim and explore.
I stood on the bow as we inched toward shore. That’s when I spotted the river. Behind the beach, almost hidden by trees, white water tumbled toward the sea. A zigzag path of light green alder trees through the darker green rain forest marked the river’s course down the mountainside. High above everything a mountain peak loomed, white with snow.
I could hardly wait to explore the river. Dad would come with me; he had to. How could he resist?
chapter four
We dropped anchor in the bay. When Patti shut the engine off everything went quiet. The only sound was the murmur of river water rushing over rocks.
“The bottom is rocky here,” Patti said, “and it’s so deep the anchor rope goes straight down. To be safe, we’ll need to tie a stern rope to shore.”
“I’ll go,” I offered.
“Amy will go with you,” Dad said.
“Aw…,” we both said at once.
“Amy can hold the dinghy while you tie the rope,” Dad said firmly.
I didn’t bother to answer; I knew when I was beat. So I climbed over the stern onto the swim grid and pulled the dinghy close.
Amy sat in the dinghy’s stern with a book on her lap. I rowed while Amy held one end of the rope, and Dad fed the line out from a coil on Fanta-sea. A brisk wind made the water choppy and a strong current pushed us sideways. I had to row hard to make headway.
“Hurry up!” my father yelled.
“I’m rowing as fast as I can!” I yelled back.
“The wind is pushing us sideways. If you don’t hurry, we’ll be on the rocks!” he shouted.
I ignored him.
When the bow bumped against the rocky shore, Amy handed me the rope. I climbed out, leaving her to hold the dinghy. On top of a low bank was a big fir tree with a root that curled out of the ground. I climbed up. The root was strong and solid so I tied the rope around it.
“Okay!” I called.
Dad pulled on the rope until it was tight and Fanta-sea’s stern swung toward me. Then he disappeared inside the boat. I knew he and Patti were making sandwiches and I could hardly wait to eat. I was starved.
I climbed back down to the beach and saw Amy sitting on a big rock, her nose in her book. Behind her the dinghy bounced over bright waves, drifting away with the current.
“Hey, Amy!” I called.
She looked up slowly and smiled that funny little smile of hers. “This is the best book!” she said. “Want to borrow it when I’m done?”
“You didn’t tie up the dinghy!” I yelled.
Her face crumpled. “I thought you did.”
“That’s what you came for!” I shouted. “You had one simple thing to do. Couldn’t you at least hold onto the rope?”
“I guess I forgot,” she said and turned to look at the dinghy.
Furious, I ran and snatched the book from her hands. “You better start swimming!”
“Give me my book!” She grabbed for it.
“Not until you bring the dinghy back.” I held it over my head, out of her reach.
Amy jumped up and down like a flea, but she couldn’t get it. So she stood very still, did the lip quiver thing and whined, “I can’t swim!”
I knew she was lying. I mean, give me a break! This kid was almost twelve and spent her summers on a boat.
The dinghy drifted quickly along the shoreline. Someone had to go after it right away or it would reach the river mouth and be pushed out of the bay.
“Don’t waste your phoney tears on me, Amy, you’re just a spoiled little brat!” I tossed her book onto the beach. It bounced against a rock and splashed into the water.
“I hate you, Jessica!” she screamed, and ran to save her book.
I took off. I ran as fast as I could over loose rocks. When I was even with the dinghy, I plunged into the water. It w
as surprisingly warm.
I swam with strong strokes and gained quickly on the dinghy. But suddenly the water turned icy around me. I had reached the river mouth where glacial waters spilled into the sea. In front of me the dinghy made a slow half-turn and headed straight out from shore.
The cold water took my breath away. But the dinghy was so close! I put my head down and swam as fast as I could. When I looked again the side of the dinghy was just above my head. I reached for it.
A wave splashed against the dinghy and back into my face. I choked on a mouthful of salt water. Another wave splashed over me. I couldn’t breathe, and now the boat was out of reach.
If I could get into the dinghy I would be all right. But it was drifting faster now, caught in the river current. Then I noticed its long yellow rope trailing in the water.
Coughing and sputtering, I fought my way to the rope. My fingers touched it, but it slipped away. I tried again and caught the loop at the very end. I pulled myself along the rope, grabbed the dinghy and climbed over the stern.
I reached for the oars and headed for Fanta-sea. But the current and wind pushed against me. I started to shiver in my wet clothes. The cool wind didn’t help. Even the hard work of rowing didn’t warm me.
I wasn’t thinking about Amy when I reached Fanta-sea and tied up the dinghy. I was so cold all I could think of was getting inside and into some dry clothes.
Water poured down my legs as I squished across the back deck and looked into the cabin. Dad and Patti were eating sandwiches, drinking iced tea and talking. I could have drowned and they wouldn’t have noticed.
“Dad,” I said crossly. “Can you pass me a towel?”
His head jerked around. He saw me standing in the doorway, dripping wet. His face went hard. “What the…?”
Patti jumped up and grabbed a beach towel to wrap around my shoulders.
“Did you fall in?” she asked.
“No.” I told them what had happened. Everything.
My father took an angry breath. “And here we thought you two would learn to be friends if you spent some time together. But you didn’t even try, did you?”
I couldn’t believe this! After all the trouble Amy caused, he wanted to blame me?
“It wasn’t my fault!”
“You’re more than two years older. You should be watching out for her.”
“Amy isn’t a baby, she just acts like one. She can take care of herself.”
We all turned toward the loud voice wailing on shore. “Mom!” Amy called. “Jessica left me here!” She paused. “And I’m hungry!”
Patti looked at me, then at her own daughter.
“So swim out,” she called. “I didn’t pay for all those swimming lessons for nothing.”
chapter five
Amy was too stubborn to swim. She stood on the beach trying to turn the pages of her soggy book. Then she waved it in the air and shouted, “You ruined my book, Jessica!”
I shook my head. This kid was unbelievable. She acted more like a five-year-old than someone who would turn twelve in a week. But I was glad I had told Dad and Patti about the book.
“I’ll go get her,” Dad offered. “
No.” Patti put a hand on his arm. “Her father always gave into her tantrums. It’s time she started to grow up.”
Patti went back into the cabin where she could keep an eye on Amy without being seen. “Let her sulk for a while. She’ll swim out when she thinks we’ve forgotten about her.”
I wrapped the beach towel more tightly around myself, but I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. So I grabbed some dry clothes and squeezed into the tiny bathroom to get changed. It was the only place on the whole boat where I could get any privacy.
As I dressed I thought about Patti. I knew she was trying to be fair, but that only made it harder to hate her. I didn’t need her in my life, and I sure didn’t need her spoiled rotten daughter.
I dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. Then I pulled a pair of sweat pants and a sweatshirt over top. I sat at the table and ate a sandwich, but I couldn’t face the thought of iced tea. It was too cold.
“Why don’t you get into your sleeping bag?” Patti suggested. “I’ll bring you some hot chocolate.”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell her to leave me alone. But the thought of hot chocolate was hard to resist. “Okay,” I said through chattering teeth.
Dad glared at me. “Is that any way to answer your mother?”
“She’s not …” I stopped. What was the use? We all knew she wasn’t my mother but they wanted to pretend she was. By then I was too cold to care. “Thank you, Patti,” I said and crawled into my sleeping bag.
Dad brought the hot chocolate to me. I sat up and reached for it. He touched my hand. “You’re freezing!” he said.
I wrapped both hands around the hot mug and Dad tucked the sleeping bag up around my ears.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said.
When he returned he gave me a hot-water bottle. “Tuck this against your stomach,” he said. “I’m heating up some water for the other bottle.”
I hugged the hot-water bottle like a little kid with a teddy bear. I must have had hypothermia. In ice-cold water it only takes a few minutes to lower the body’s temperature. When that happens your body can’t warm itself up again without help.
Dad brought the second hot-water bottle and slid it against my back. By the time I finished my drink I was beginning to warm up. But I felt really sleepy. I closed my eyes.
I woke up later, so hot I felt sick. The air was stifling and I was stuffed in a sleeping bag with two hot-water bottles. My T-shirt stuck to my back. I moaned and struggled to get out of the sleeping bag.
“Shut up!” Amy said from the bunk above mine. “I’m trying to read.”
I opened my eyes and reached for my watch hanging on a hook above my bunk. I looked at it, sat up quickly, and looked again. I couldn’t believe it was almost five o’clock. I wriggled out of my sleeping bag.
At eye level, Amy glared at me. “Why aren’t you outside?” I asked.
“Because I got a sunburn when you made me stay on the beach.”
I talked down to her as if she were three years old. “Amy, I didn’t make you stay there. You’re the one who forgot how to swim.”
“Don’t act like you’re my mother,” she growled.
That night I went to bed when everyone else did. But I couldn’t sleep. So I got up in the middle of the night and tiptoed out of the cabin. I crossed the back deck and sat on the stern. The sharp outline of the mountain stood tall and dark above me. Moonlight lit up a patch of snow on the very top.
Gentle waves lapped against the boat and river sounds echoed from rocky crags. Somewhere up on the mountain an owl hooted. It reminded me of other years.
Before Mom got sick all three of us used to go hiking into the mountains together. For the past two summers it had been just the two of us. The summer before, Dad and I paddled up the coast and hiked into the hills. We always liked exploring streams and rivers to find little mountain lakes where no one else went.
This river was a perfect one to follow. With so much water there had to be a lake up there somewhere. If not, it wouldn’t really matter. Exploring was the part I liked best.
Dad and I had our backpacks and tents on the boat. Tomorrow I would ask him if we could take off to go hiking together. He owed me that much. I mean, didn’t I peacefully accept this trip? Hadn’t I been helpful and uncomplaining? I’d used the look only when absolutely necessary and had not yet tossed Amy overboard.
chapter six
The next morning I found Dad sitting on a folding chair on the back deck. I watched his eyes follow the winding path of the river and saw the old glimmer of excitement on his face.
“I bet you’re right,” he said, sipping his coffee. “I bet there’s a lake up there.”
Patti came out then, carrying a coffee mug. Amy trailed behind her.
“Did I hear something about a
lake?” Patti asked.
Oh-oh.
Dad nodded. “Jessica and I might go exploring.”
“What about me?” Amy whined.
“This is just between me and my father,” I told her. I looked to Dad to confirm it. What I saw did not make me feel good. He looked from Amy to me to Patti with a lost expression on his face. Finally Patti spoke.
“Amy,” she said, “Jessica and her father are used to going on overnight hikes together. I think they’d like to get away alone.”
“That’s not fair!” Her whining got louder; she was working on a tear.
“Look, Amy!” Patti said crossly. “You don’t think anything is fair unless it is your idea. Besides, you could never keep up with the two of them on a hike.”
“I want to go,” Amy said stubbornly.
Dad put his hand over Patti’s. “Maybe we shouldn’t go just now.”
No! I cried inside. Don’t take this away from me!
“Anyway,” my father continued, “I hate to leave you two alone on the boat.”
“We’ll be fine,” Patti told him. “What could happen?”
“Well …” Dad looked back up the mountain. “I don’t know.”
Please Dad! I kept saying in my head. Please! Maybe I should have said it out loud. Instead, I gave him the look.
Amy whimpered. Her lower lip trembled. “I’d be so-oo scared,” she said. And there it was, one big sloppy tear. This kid should be in movies.
“I tell you what.” Dad turned to me. “Why don’t you and I just take a day hike? You know, get up early tomorrow morning, pack a lunch and see how far we can get?”
I shrugged. “Sure Dad, whatever.”
Amy smiled.
Tears, two. The look, no score.
I carried my sketchbook around the deck and sat on the bow with my legs dangling over the water. I opened the sketchbook to my letter to Sara. On it I drew a picture of Amy being strangled by two huge hands. Her tongue hung out to one side, her eyes were crossed. Underneath I printed, The Brat.
