I wasn’t sure the reeds would work. The girl and the boy are smart; they figured it out. But now they are stuck. Like Renn.

Deep down in my depths, I know this is my fault. I knew that what I did would one day come back to haunt me.

I was so angry that night. Watching those wild young men throwing things as if I were a garbage dump. First, the slick rubber tires. Two of them, rolled down my bank. Then the cans of paint, one after the other, poured into me. Torrents of red and black and orange, thick and pungent and stinging. And then the pocketknife, slipping from one of their hands and slicing through my waters.

They were laughing. Punching each other. Drinking from bottles, which ended up in me too. It was a game.

After they were finished, they left in their car, wheels digging into the dirt, fumes lingering.

I erupted. I struck anything and everything in my path. My current was out of control.

In the distance, I heard Renn’s voice, but I was too worked up to listen. I wanted revenge.

I didn’t see the canoe at first.

She was suddenly there, paddling along. I didn’t know. I didn’t know what had happened.

I didn’t know about the baby.