Devin’s scream lasted for as long as it took the bus to catapult over the edge and hit the bottom. She must have blacked out because when she next opened her eyes, there was water up to her chin. The front third of the bus had been torn away completely and water was pouring in from all directions. Spluttering, she thrust her foot against something soft – she didn’t know what and didn’t want to either – and pushed up and out through a gaping hole. For a moment the mangled remains of the bus bobbed beside her, before she was carried ahead by the current.
What had been a sparkling green ribbon far below was a massive waterway up close. Devin hurtled past slick rocks and overhanging trees. She tried to swim for the riverbank, but there was too much wild water. It wasn’t anything like doing a lap in the school pool. She switched to dog-paddling, frightened that she wasn’t making any progress at all. Something slammed into the back of her head and she went under again, clutching out wildly. Her numb fingers connected with fabric and she snagged it, pulling it to her. It was a bus seat, foam filled and buoyant enough to give her tired body a break. She clung to it and kicked, making for a gravel beach up ahead.
She almost missed it. It took a superhuman effort to haul herself up onto land.
Devin lay on the gravel, sobbing and retching, her long blonde hair in rat-tails around her face, the river just inches from her nose. She forced herself onto her elbows, and there was the bus, moving slowly and majestically downriver. Scrambling to her feet, she frantically scanned the beaten-up metal for any sign of her classmates. A hysterical cry burst from her, a scream that made no sense. There was no response. The bus surged around a bend in the river and was lost from sight.
‘Oh my God,’ Devin whispered. The walls of the gorge appeared to tilt inward. The sliver of blue sky was so narrow and the rushing water so deafening, she wasn’t sure if God could even hear her at all. The whisper became a shout, ‘Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!’
When her shouting eventually subsided into harsh hiccups, she heard a rasping cry. She choked down a sob and listened intently. There it was again. The end of the little beach was piled with driftwood as high as her head. She stumbled over to it. A boy lay entangled in the driftwood, a stain of red floating around his submerged legs, water splashing up into his face.
Devin stared at him. Rocky Rewiti. She’d hardly spoken two words to him in all the years they’d shared a school, had been too aware of her own status as an Untouchable to even moon after him as many girls did.
He tried to sit up but couldn’t quite manage it, and she suddenly realised how silly it was to just stand there when he so obviously needed her help. Awkwardly, she slid her hands under his armpits, and dragged him out of the driftwood and onto the beach.
He lay back against a smooth boulder, wincing and holding his leg. His jeans were slashed right across the calf and his face was contorted with pain.
‘I’m not the only one,’ Devin said, her voice quavering. ‘I thought I was the only one.’
‘I didn’t. I heard you shouting.’
Devin wiped the snot away, rubbed her eyes. ‘Your leg.’
Rocky gingerly pulled open the gaping denim and peered inside, before biting his lip and sinking back against the rock. ‘It’s pretty bad.’
Devin tentatively put out a hand. ‘Can I?’
He didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes. She gingerly inserted two fingers in the ragged material and pulled. The denim ripped further, and she was able to tear down along the inside seam and expose the wound. The water had turned it bloodless and white. The gash was deep, but no major arteries had been hit.
‘You need a bandage.’
‘I’ll just pop down to the chemist then, shall I?’
The stitching along the bottom ribbing of her sodden sweatshirt was coming away. Devin yanked it off and wound the blue band tightly round the gash. Rocky gasped and clenched his fists, his face turning pale under his tan. She patted her snarled hair, pulled out a black hair slide and fastened it over the end of the fabric to hold the makeshift bandage together. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. She nodded, satisfied.
‘You probably need stitches, but that’ll have to do for now.’
Rocky opened his eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. Devin realised he’d been holding it throughout her clumsy nursing.
She sat back on her heels and shivered. Although the summer sun was shining brightly, the river was cold and she was soaked through. She took off her torn sweatshirt and hung it on the pile of driftwood. Shoes and socks followed. She paused, her thumbs hooked under the elastic of her trackies, and cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks colouring with the familiar hot sensation she detested.
‘I have to take my clothes off.’
He smiled weakly, raised an eyebrow. ‘Sorry, but I’m not really in the mood.’
Devin swallowed, her mouth strangely dry after all that water. ‘We’ll get hypothermia or something.’
‘True, that.’
Devin looked at the sky, the cliffs, the river. ‘You should … er … take yours off too. Jeans’ll take forever to dry.’
‘Wait.’ He leaned back, raised his hips, felt in his back pocket. ‘This might help.’
On his palm, the sodden remains of a small joint, and a red plastic lighter.
Her face lit up. ‘Sweet.’
