Finding Sky

It was Zed. Of course.

Mesmerized, we al watched the other boats cross the finish. Zed was already at the bank getting out of the kayak when his brothers reached him. After some rowdy arguments in which the word ‘unfair’

was shouted several times, the tal est one picked Zed up and threw him in. He went under—but it was a calm backwater so he merely bobbed up to the surface. He grabbed his brother and pul ed him over.

From the easy way the boy fel , I guessed that this was not unexpected. That left Yves on the bank but he was getting royal y splashed before lending a hand to haul his brothers out. They col apsed on the bank, laughing, until they got their breath back. It was odd to see Zed happy; I’d come to expect nothing but dark looks from him.

‘My younger sons,’ said Mr Benedict with a shrug.

As if hearing a whistle out of the hearing of the rest of us, the Benedict boys looked up.

‘Get the raft launched, Dad, and I’l be right with you when I get changed,’ shouted the tal est one.

‘Zed’l take the kayaker.’

‘That’s Xav,’ said Tina. ‘He only left school this year.’

‘Is he like Zed or Yves?’

‘How do you mean?’

We tagged along after the rafting party as it headed to the landing stage.

‘Hostile or friendly. I think Zed’s got it in for me.’

Tina frowned. ‘Zed’s got it in for a lot of people, but not usual y girls. What’s he done?’

‘He … it’s kinda hard to explain. When he notices me—which isn’t often—he seems real y irritated.

Look, Tina, is it me? Have I done something wrong?

Is it because I don’t understand how things are done here?’

‘Wel , there are these vicious rumours that you prefer drinking tea to coffee.’

‘Tina, I’m being serious!’

She put her hand on my forearm. ‘No, Sky, you’re doing fine. If he’s got a problem with you, that’s what it is exactly: his problem, not yours. I wouldn’t worry.

Zed’s been acting kinda strange for a few weeks now—more of everything, more angry, more arrogant—everyone’s noticed.’

Our discussion ended as we had to pay attention to Mr Benedict’s instructions as to where we were going to sit. ‘River’s ru

‘That’d be you, Sky baby,’ said Nelson, nudging me forward.

‘One of my sons wil take the paddle at the front, and you,’ he pointed to Nelson, ‘take the other side.

That leaves you two girls to sit behind them near me.’ He beckoned Tina and another girl from high school forward. They both were issued with paddles; I was the only one without as I had to be in the middle.

Zed approached, having dumped his wetsuit and put on shorts and a life jacket.

‘Xav and Yves are taking the kayaker,’ Zed a

His father frowned. ‘I thought that was your job.’

‘Yeah, wel , I saw that he was going to be a jerk.

Yves’s better at handling that.’

I decided there and then that Wolfman had missed out on the devilish charm-school part in his anti-hero training.

Mr Benedict looked as if he wanted to say something—a lot of somethings—but was prevented by us listening in.

We took our places in the inflatable raft. This arrangement had the unfortunate consequence that I was next to Zed with Nelson on the other side. Zed appeared to be studiously avoiding looking at me—

I’d become Miss Invisible Sky.

‘Girl in the middle at the front—Sky, isn’t it?’

I turned round to see Mr Benedict was speaking to me.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘If it gets rough, link arms with your neighbours.

Girls up my end, make sure your feet stay in the toeholds on the bottom of the raft when it starts to buck. They’l keep you from fal ing in.’

Nelson grunted with disgust. ‘Not worried about the boys then, is he?’

Zed overheard him. ‘He thinks men should be able to look after themselves. Got a problem with that?’

Nelson shook his head, feeling the dig. ‘Nope.’

Sal y would just love this, I thought. As a card-carrying feminist, she would think Mr Benedict a complete dinosaur. She wouldn’t be too impressed by Zed either.

Mr Benedict pushed the raft off from the moorings.

With a few strong pul s from Zed and Nelson, we were out in the current. From here on, paddles were mainly about steering as there was only one direction on this stretch of the river—downstream very fast. Mr Benedict shouted instructions, plying the rudder-paddle at the rear. I hung on to the seat, biting back my shrieks as the raft spun round a rock jutting out into the water. When we passed it, I saw what lay ahead.

‘Oh my God. We’re never going to survive that!’

The water looked as if there was a giant whisk churning away on the fastest setting under the water.

Froth flew in the air; rocks pierced the surface at irregular intervals, making navigation round them impossible as far as I could see. I’d watched what happened to eggs in a food mixer—that was going to be us in two seconds.

With a great kick, the boat surged forward. I screamed. Nelson roared with laughter and shouted

‘Yee-ha!’, swinging his paddle to help stave off the rocks. On my other side, Zed calmly did the same, showing no sign that he felt the exhilaration, the danger or even noticed that I was having a minor panic attack.

‘Devil’s Cauldron’s looking a bit frisky,’ shouted Mr Benedict over his shoulder. ‘Keep us central, boys.’

The stretch he referred to looked more than frisky.

‘Frisky’ is what you cal boisterous foals on a spring morning, gambol ing in the sunshine; this was an autumnal savaging bear in a kil ing frenzy, wanting to stock up for winter with extra body fat. A raft-load of humans seemed to me the perfect menu.

The strains of the Jaws theme tune thumped in my mind.

The raft plunged in. The nose momentarily dipped under the surface, dowsing us in icy water. Tina shrieked but she was laughing as the water sloshed away. We were buffeted on al sides. I was thrown against Nelson, then into Zed. I slipped my arm through Nelson’s elbow, but didn’t dare do the same on the other side, Zed looked so forbidding. Nelson gave my arm an encouraging squeeze.

‘Having fun?’ he bel owed, water dripping down his face.

‘In an awful “I’m-go

I shouted back.

Just then, the nose of the raft got wedged between two rocks, pressure of water pushing us sideways.

Waves slopped over the side.

‘I’m going to push us off!’ Mr Benedict shouted.

‘Al to the right.’

He’d taught us this dril on shore—it involved piling over to one side of the raft to make it lift half out of the river. I ended up sandwiched between Nelson and Zed, the stem of Nelson’s paddle clipping my chin.

‘Left!’

On the order, we lurched to the other side. The raft began to slide free.

‘Back to your places!’

As I scrambled to obey the order, Zed suddenly threw his arms around me, tackling me to the floor, face down in the water that sloshed ankle-deep.

‘Keep hold or you’l fal in,’ he yel ed in my ear.

Water going up my nose, I panicked and struggled free, just as the raft leapt down another rapid.

Floundering on the floor, I was propel ed towards the side. I had no grip so I parted company with the boat and tumbled backwards into the water.

Cold—rushing

water—screams—whistles.

I

thrashed to the surface. The boat was already ten metres behind as I was swept like an aspen leaf through the Cauldron.

Float! The order punched its way into my brain—a voice in my head that sounded like Zed.

I had no choice but to let the current take me where it would, trying to lie as flat as possible to stop my legs hitting submerged rocks. Something scraped my calf; my helmet col ided briefly with a boulder. Final y I was spat out into the slack water of an eddy. I clung to a boulder, fingers frozen white spiders spread on the stone.