“Higher!” Maddie yelled down to me, pulling herself through the tree branches like a pro. Only a branch or two below her, I continued my ascent. Pinecones tugged on my hair and dry bark scraped against my skin. When Maddie finally halted her climb, I joined her on the sturdy branch. It was just far enough outside the pine tree that we could clearly see the lake before us, despite the dimming natural light. I eyed the grey clouds hovering in the distance and felt the chilly breeze shepherding them towards us.
Still, Maddie’s face radiated bliss. We observed the quiet shore that had quickly been abandoned as the weather darkened. “I’m going to miss this tree,” she said, inhaling the potent fragrance from the branches. I nodded my head, knowing exactly what she meant. It wasn’t that this particular tree smelled any different than the other evergreens surrounding us, but this tree had history.
My sisters and I found this tree a few years ago. I was ten at the time. We liked it because it was part of a small cluster that grew close to the shoreline and was located half a mile from the cabins—not super far, but enough to get out of sight. If we ever wanted to escape our boring parents for a while, we’d take off running and play on our own. Of course, we did get in trouble sometimes—like the time Maddie was only five and was scrambling after us, trying to keep up with my sisters and me. She didn’t climb very far, but she fell and fractured her wrist. It was after that summer that we promised to play together and not ditch Maddie just because she was seven years younger. This tree became a sort of clubhouse—without the actual “house” part, of course.
So it was no wonder that on our last day at Hidden Pines, Maddie and I found ourselves climbing one more time to take in the beautiful view and capture the fresh scent of nature drifting through the air. It was our tradition to say goodbye. I propped my back against the tree trunk, straddling the branch, and letting my right leg swing casually back and forth. Maddie faced me, balancing her position by holding onto the branches around her.
“What are you looking forward to this year?” I asked her.
“Gymnastics.” Her smile broadened. “The beginning class is too easy now, so Mom said I can move up to the next level and go three times a week. By next summer, I will be almost as fast and strong as you!”
I laughed with a nod. “I’m sure you will.” A few drops of rain hit me in the eye, and I wiped them away with my hand. “We need to get back soon.” Maddie didn’t even seem to notice the cooling breeze and the droplets dampening her shirt.
“What are you looking forward to?” she asked, returning the question. “All those boys that like you?” She puckered up her lips in a pretend smooch.
I kicked playfully at her leg, making a face. “Nah, not the boys. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.” I wouldn’t get into the details with my young cousin, but I had little intention of getting serious with anyone for a while. “Our basketball team is going to rock it this year, though. That’s what I’m excited about.” Running suicides to Coach’s whistle, with my sneakers squeaking and sweat dripping onto the court, were not my favorite drills, but it was all worth it for the adrenaline of game day.
“You gonna be captain?” Maddie asked. “You should be, with your whole family on the court this year!”
“Maybe. I think so.” After the thrill of Sectionals, I couldn’t wait to play ball with my sisters again. It would definitely be a memorable tribute to my senior year. No other year would be able to compare.
Our conversation came to a halt when a sheet of rain showered us. The storm had moved fast. “Time to go!” I called to Maddie, making the first move down the tree. With a frown, she followed suit. Just as I reached the bottom, Maddie hopped down from her branch with a quick thud and took off running.
“Wait, where are you going?” I shouted, watching her movements take her away from the cabins.
“The river! Just one more time!” Maddie didn’t even glance back to see if I followed. “Come on, Allie! Hurry up!”
“Madison, don’t run off.” My words were more to myself than Maddie, who was far ahead of me. With only her giggle for a response, I picked up my pace, weaving in and out of trees and following the dancing head of blond hair. My shoes imprinted in the ground, the dirt already softening and giving way to the rain.
Our run lasted a couple minutes before I caught up with Maddie—or her shoes, rather. Having removed her sneakers, she was already stepping across the boulders, the uneven line creating a path from one side of the river to the other. It was a game we played every time we visited the river, racing to see who could cross first, but it didn’t feel like a good idea right now.
“Hey, get back here! Didn’t you notice it’s raining? We can’t play here today. It’s not safe!”
I lunged to the embankment, swiping at her arm, but failing to catch her. Maddie only laughed, edging further along.
“You’re going to get us both in trouble!” I had to yell over the loud drumming of the rain mingling with the roar of the river. I knew our parents wouldn’t be happy, and as the older cousin, I would be blamed. Still, I couldn’t help but smile at Maddie’s determined energy.
I removed my shoes, setting them next to Maddie’s, though it was pointless with how soaked I already was from head to toe—but that was part of our game to cross barefoot. I pulled my toe back from the chill of the water. “It’s freezing!” My body shivered in objection, but I planted both feet in the icy river anyway.
Two arm’s lengths away, Maddie laughed and said, “How much do you want to bet that I can make it all the way across to the other side and back?” Her hands rubbed at the water cascading down her face, her eyes blinking rapidly.
If she was going to cross, I intended to go with her. We’d both crossed the river a hundred times before, but today felt different—an air of warning lingering around us. As if to emphasize the worry in my stomach, my balance teetered and I almost slipped. Maddie, too, hesitated as the river forced her to regain footing. The confidence in her eyes dimmed.
“Madison, get back here! The current is too strong.”
At last, Maddie seemed to agree with my assessment, eying the current rushing faster than we’d ever witnessed it before. Her lips pouted and she let out a huff of air, but at least she seemed to be listening now.
Wrapping my arms around myself to shelter my saturated body from the forceful wind, I watched Maddie pivot towards me. I glared against the bullets of rain targeting my skin. The game had lost its appeal. All I wanted was for Maddie and me to get out of the river, but I wasn’t getting out without her.
My fingers reached for hers as I fought to withhold my stance against the river’s pull. Her fingers close to grazing mine, I leaned forward, inches away from her.
Her foot slipped. I gasped as she disappeared from my reach. She let out a fearful cry as the river fully submerged her little body.
“Maddie!” I screeched her name, propelling myself back onto the embankment. Barefoot, I chased after her, hurdling bushes and fallen branches—ignoring the sharp pain from debris puncturing my skin. I could still see her afloat, though at times the river briefly sucked her under before she popped back up to catch her breath.
She was young. She was strong. I had to believe she was going to make it—she just needed a little help. Losing sight of her again for a moment, panic tore at my stomach—but there she was, clinging to a boulder, eyes wide with fright.
Maddie was a fighter.
I uncurled my numbing fingers to grab hold of a branch, tugging it loose from where it had fallen into a bush. I bent over the river’s edge, extending the branch like a lifeline.
“Allie! Allie, please help me!” Maddie’s natural confidence disappeared with the river, and all that was left was a cold and terrified nine-year-old child. She threw out one arm in a desperate attempt to grab the branch. Her fingertips knocked the end of it before she returned her two-armed grasp around the boulder.
Kneeling on the embankment, I scooted my body forward, pushing the br
anch as far as I could reach. “Come on, Madison! You can do it! Just a little farther!” I hoped she couldn’t hear the terror behind my instructions, my heart beating as loudly as the pounding rain.
With a leap of faith, Maddie thrust herself towards me, both hands grasping hold of the branch. A touch of terror left her eyes at the same time that I let out a breath of relief. Though the river still pulled, I held her securely, my grip on the branch steady and my determination strong. I had her. Everything would be ok.
As I attempted to pull Maddie towards me, my grip on the wet tree limb slipped. In my haste, I leaned forward to keep hold of the bough. With my body already at the very edge of the embankment, my impulsive movement flung me headfirst into the river.
Icy water swallowed me whole. The river stole my breath, numbing me with fear all over again. I shot my head out of the water, inhaling air and water. Flailing my arms, I fought to grab hold of something—anything—my body smashing into boulders in the process. I grunted, searching for Maddie.
Gasping, I spotted her bobbing a fair distance before me. She turned her head, blue eyes meeting mine for just a moment. Her cries were lost, whether because of my own gurgling shrieks or the sounds of the triumphant river whirling her around, I couldn’t be sure. The river continued to dunk her up and down… until her little blond head failed to resurface.
My legs fought to find footing beneath me. My body twisted in vain. I inhaled as much water as I did oxygen, fatigue wrapping itself around my limbs, my mind. Thrown against the embankment, my arms tangled themselves in some brush. My fingers braided into the thick undergrowth, holding me in place while the river tugged on me, wrenching my body parallel.
Eyes barely open against the water rushing past my face, I caught glimpse of a figure above me. A murmured voice called out. I wanted to respond to the voice—wanted to see who it was… but I felt myself slipping, physically, mentally, giving in to the river’s pull—until even the sound of the river’s victorious roar was heard no more.