‘This was an extra good one.’
She tilts her head back, dips her hair. ‘Which is better, you think? Rivers or oceans?’
‘Well, with rivers you don’t get this.’ I make little waves in her direction, so they break over her shoulders. ‘Dunno about oceans, though. Never been to one.’
Amie rights herself, gasping. ‘You’ve never been to the ocean?’
‘Nup.’
‘Notever?’
I shrug.
‘Harris,’ she says, making a face, ‘you’ve got to do something about that.’
‘One day,’ I promise. ‘I like rivers pretty good, though.’
‘At least you don’t feel caked in salt afterwards,’ she agrees. She sinks back down, letting the water embrace her. ‘I think…I think I want to try all of them.’ There’s a new note of determination in her voice. ‘The Amazon, the Nile, the Mississippi, the Ganges…’
‘That’s a lot of rivers.’
‘I want to swim in them. Rivers from everywhere.’
‘All the rivers.’ I grin at her.
Her hands are moving back and forth in a spreading motion. I can’t see her legs scissoring under the water but I can imagine them: firm and brown, kicking her weightless.
She frowns, looks skyward. ‘When you see Leon today –’
‘No no no. We’re not gonna talk about that now.’ I throw my head back and float. ‘One hour of not talking about it, not thinking about it.’
She lifts her chin. ‘Okay. One hour.’
We swim a bit longer, then we get out, wring off. Amie uses both hands to skim the water out of her hair. I throw myself down on the grass, lying on my stomach. Leftover water dribbles off me and I feel my back drying. This day is hot and bright and perfect.
Amie flomps down beside me, her clothes clinging and her wet hair like black ropes. She’s still snorting off the giggles, lying back and basking in the rays. ‘Should’ve brought my sunnies.’
‘Put your arm over your face,’ I suggest.
‘Mm, that’s better.’
The grass is warm. Frogs are pobbling somewhere on the bank, and the sun is soothing on my neck. I’ve got one arm curled above my head and one arm tucked under my chest so I can get up on my elbow and look around if I need to. But I don’t need to. This place is quiet apart from us. The birds will let us know if anyone’s approaching.
‘My hair’s gonna smell like river,’ Amie says.
‘Wash it later.’ My voice has a lazy burr.
We lie so long, with the insects ticking in the grass and the sound of the air warming, that I almost forget where I am. I give in to this feeling, let myself doze. My jeans are softening as they dry. Maybe I could lie here forever.
It takes me a second to realise how close Amie is. My eyes are shut, so I sense it more than see it when she shifts. Then I feel a shadow fall on me as she reaches over. Her fingers touch my arm, the one nearest her.
‘What’s that from?’ she asks softly.
It’s the scar I got from the corrugated iron, the one I showed Rachel once, trying to impress.
‘Accident.’ My face is turned towards Amie but I’ve got it tucked into the crook of my elbow, so she can’t see me flush.
Another touch. ‘What about this?’ She traces the old scar on my right shoulder I got years ago, falling off a dirt bike on Furlough Creek Road.
