A Sacrifice to the River Gods, Julie Steimle [young adult books to read TXT] 📗

A wind blew lightly through the slightly overcast September sky, brushing through the branches and leave of trees that lined a small river. Broken logs and debris were scattered over the landscape of the shore and a considerable crowd of local teenagers and college students climbed on the logs and in the tress. Amber was among them with her friends, standing in a deep blue bathing suit and a soft peach towel wrapped around her shoulders. She had already seen several of her friends swinging on the lower rope swing across the river and gazed with frightened amazement at the muscular boys as they plummeted off the higher swing several feet away. If it had been left up to her, she would have been content to swing on the lower swing and splash about in the freezing water with the other girls, but it was not to be. Mathew was there.
Matthew was a tall, tan, and wonderfully good-looking boy of twenty-two years old, only a year older than Amber. He was witty, intelligent and everything Amber had been looking for. He was one of the few boys that ever paid attention to her, something she lacked as she grew up. She thought herself rather plain, a sort of nobody, except her father had always said that she was the type that boys married, whatever that meant. Amber watched Matthew as he stood in his dark green swimming trunks. He stood there laughing and teasing in ever charming way, flirting with every girl in sight. He knew he was handsome. His eyes glittered when he laughed and his laugh was so recognizable that Amber always knew when he entered a room. He was the type that could not get by without laughing or grinning. His very presence stripped every bit of common sense from her brain and transformed it into oatmeal, ready to be served and spiced to his liking. She could already feel her heart beat harder and her knees melt into her lower legs. Amber would have succumbed to the patter and trailed behind him like a lost puppy had they come alone. That was impossible. Becca was also there.
Amber clenched her teeth and took a deep breath. How could she not be jealous of Becca? Becca had everything, gorgeous hair, the perfect body, the straightest teeth, and she had Matthew. She wasn’t dating him, per se, but she had his attention. She had the attention of all the boys. Becca laughed on the shore, standing barefoot and twisting her hair with her finger as she chatted with Amber’s dream. Her cherry bathing suit suited her well. Bold and brassy, and a brazen little hussy, Becca was seeking her kill. Amber sighed in disgust. Surely Matthew wasn’t as shallow as that.
The excited laughs and bare chests of several young men passed Amber’s gaze and her eyes wandered at the hormonal sight. Each smooth bicep, every toned muscle taunted her inexperienced eyes. She turned and blushed, peeking out of the corner bashfully as the boys continued to walk up to the line for the higher rope swing.
Amber glanced up at the battered oak tree. Several people hung in the branches, bracing their feet on precariously nailed boards, pounded in ages ago by the first river-goer to swing above the frigid waters of the Hale river. A young boy, no older than thirteen, stood at the top of the line, clutching the branch just above his head. He called out to the men below. They responded quickly, as if they were all the same age and all excited daredevils willing to sacrifice themselves to the river god. One of the tanned men Amber had seen pass by jogged into the water and picked the end of the rope out of the water. With haste, he continued to jog up the shore and started to climb a fallen tree trunk that leaned next to the oak. Both boys counted and the first tossed the rope upward for the other to catch. The thirteen-year-old missed the rope the first two throws. When he at last grabbed the rope, he grasped the stick that was tied on with both of his hands, and with what seemed an effortless leap, the boy sailed into the air. The giggling masses watched as he reached the center of the river and dropped into the water, screaming and scrambling like a cartoon character trying to defy gravity. The splash barely scattered water towards the shore. Another eager body climbed to the top board.
Amber shivered in the cold breeze, clutching her goose-fleshed elbows and shrugging her shoulders for warmth. Body after body plunged into the water, flung out by the flimsy stick and worn rope. Each time, a young man, already wet and dripping from the river, would return the rope to the next in the line. Amber was content to watch, ignoring the strange nagging that she was being a party-pooper, or worse, a wimp for not swinging. The river looked too cold to jump into. But there was Matthew. He no longer stood flirting with Becca on the higher edge of the shore. He was flirting with her in the line for the high rope swing.
Panic filled Amber’s chest. Her heart pounded realizing that Becca would show her up on the rope swing if she didn’t put a stop to it right then. She couldn’t just jerk Becca from the line; it would be ridiculously obvious she was jealous. Amber knew she had to do the one extreme thing she never dared to do. Amber glanced up again at the top platform in the oak tree. She peered at the nailed on boards and watched the others struggle over the gap where an old board had once been. She swallowed. Her fate was set.
Amber had been at the rope swing a number of times but had always kept strictly to the lower swing. It was closer to shore and certainly less of a drop into the water. She looked back up at the higher swing. It was inevitable. Looking for a grassy patch along the edge of the slope, Amber laid down her towel. She quickly unsnapped her shorts and added them to the pile. She continued to undress, unbuckling her sandals and tossing them. The line was growing and she had to hurry if she was to be right behind Matthew. The rocks and trails of mud skidded as she slid down the hill. She tried to rush to his side without looking conspicuous, but it was too late. A cheerful, little local twelve-year-old had already taken her spot.
Amber would have screamed if she had not been the type that kept to herself, and certainly couldn’t scream at the innocent young girl that stood before her. The giddy child smiled and jabbered about how many times she had swung on that high swing and how she was once so scared she hung on the rope and not the stick, and barely let go when she was above the water. Amber smiled painfully, glancing over the girl’s head at Matthew’s impressive figure. He glanced back and smiled, nodding as he talked with Becca. Amber nodded back, still listening to the babble of the girl.
The line progressed. People moved father up the chain, and loud yells and splashes echoed across the water. Amber could barely see the people swinging from the rope now. The trunk blocked the view and the animated conversation of Becca was enough distraction for Matthew and therefore disturbing to Amber’s enjoyment of the whole situation.
Becca was the first to reach the tree and quickly climbed up, aided by Matthew every cling and scramble. He propped her perfect feet with his knee and shoulder. Her tender wrists held firm while her delicate, long fingers clasped the branches, grinding against the bark. She stood atop the platform and shivered bashfully as she looked down from its heights. The muscular boy below gladly tossed her the rope, and she expertly took it, folding the lead rope carefully in her hands. She grasped the stick, took a courageous breath, and leapt.
Becca’s landing was perfect. Sure, she screamed as she fell into the water, and sure she made such an awkward splash, but a girl like Becca could have thrown up while swinging across and all the boys would have fawned on her, thinking she was the most precious thing.
Amber clenched her fists, stared up the tree, and prayed that she wouldn’t die. She took a shivered breath, closed her eyes, and stepped on the first wooden rung. Immediately she grasped the worn branch, just three feet above the ground. Amber looked again up the tree. Matthew stood above, help in the twelve-year-old up the bare spot on the tree. She shuddered. Taking another breath, Amber stepped up the next rung. Clinging to the tree, she panted in fear. What was she doing?! Was she crazy?! Apparently she was. She knew her brain had quit functioning as soon as she stared at Matthew’s tanned body.
Matthew was holding the stick to the swing. He stood poised to go, clasping the branch and perched like an acrobat. He hesitated. The wind blew chillingly through the boughs. Amber clasped tighter to the tree and tried to pull herself upward. She glanced up again. Matthew was still here. Was he frightened? People were screaming for him to hold tight. He nodded. Echoes of words hollowly fell down through the branches.
“What am I doing up here?” reached Amber’s ears. Frightened words ran warmly to her own heart. The boy was human. Still, Matthew took a breath and swung out of the branches. His young body flew above the river water, helpless and at the mercy of the motion. All eyes watched and Becca’s cheers echoed at the feat. He let go. His fall scrambled in that jerky panic. Amber watched him go under the water and pop up again. She could tell from his drenched grin that he enjoyed every minute of it.
Amber stared once again up the tree. The next rung was too far up. She had to go. She had to make it. The sweat from her shivered forehead blew off by the cold breeze and only she knew how petrified she was. She couldn’t let them see it. Becca would mock her and Matthew . . . Amber closed her eyes at the thought. Hugging the tree, she reached for the higher rung and grasped it, desperately keeping herself from falling to her inevitable doom. She pulled herself up, scrambling with her feet and legs to reach the rung that touched her chest. Her forearms ached. She gasped and groaned under the strain. Her toes scraped on the bark, scratching and scrambling for some stable foot hold. She could feel the touch of a tender hand that lifted her foot and gently placed it on the rung. Amber peeked down immediately, blushing. A blue-eyed smile watched her from below.
“I won’t let you