The Day I Fell in to the River (youngsters:adventure, 3148 words)
Author: Joe E.	Added: Jul 22 2003	Views/Reads: 5068/2856	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Jackie, an eighth grade student, reflects on a walk that he took by the river where he meets a magic coyote, gets off the main trial, and falls in to the river.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

You'll never believe this. I was on my way back. There's this patch of
woods like. And, on this side of it there's this big field. The coyote 
came up from the river. He started across the road and then he saw me. 
He stopped right in the middle and turned to face me. I'm dead still in 
my tracks also. We're there, looking eye to eye. Not a sound but the 
flow of the river. It seemed like years went by, and like no time at 
all. Then, he got up, and trotted off toward the woods. He went about 
fifty feet or so at a slow trot just at this edge of the trees. Then, 
he turned to face me, nodded his head once, and took off again. I just 
stood there rubbing my eyes 'til he disappeared from sight. 

Today, when I come up on the woods, there's no sign of him. The field is
different now. It's covered with big green bushes. And on the bushes 
are these bright blue and purple flowers, lupine, I think. It's 
unbelievable, just plant after plant after plant covered with purple 
flowers. It stops me dead in my tracks. I focus on the closet plant. 
Hundred of delicate, silky petals. The sun comes out from behind a 
cloud and the whole field brightens. And there's shadows from other 
clouds drifting across the flowers. To my left, there's flashes of 
river between the tangled green blackberry bushes. Then, in the middle 
of all this, I see the coyote. He's standing between three giant 
luminous lupine bushes smiling at me. I'm not sure what to do. If 
you're gonna make it to the park you'd better get going, a voice tells 
me. I look from the coyote to the bending road in front of me. When I 
return my eyes to the coyote, he's gone. I start back down the road 
searching the field, but there's not a sign of him. 

Around the bend, there's a low spot in the road covered with water. At
the edge, I discover it's at least a foot deep. You have to turn back, 
I tell myself. I hold still for a minute wondering what to do. Maybe I 
can go to one side and get around, I think and start off the road to my 
left. In a minute or less, I discover a fallen tree. Yea, you can ford 
the water on that, I tell myself. Suppose you fall off? I wonder 
knowing how mad my old man would get if I came home with wet shoes. I 
take a deep breath and climb up into the branches. I can really walk 
good across trees and stuff. My little sister goes to gymnastics. I 
watched her on the beams a couple times. The secret is to look straight 
ahead, not at your feet. I tried it on the curb down by the almond 
orchards. It really works. Your feet find their own balance. In the 
wink of an eye, I'm across and back on my way again. Better hurry, I 
think and pick up my pace. 

In a few minutes, I come to spot where I can go right and travel along
the gravel levee road or go left and look for the grass road closer to 
the river. I figure the levee road is quicker and head up. From the top 
of the road I can see over the bushes to long stretches of river. The 
water is wide, brown and flowing fast with white ripples of current 
every so often. On the other side, farmland stretches out for mile and 
miles. But, not another human being in sight. Almond orchards, 
vineyards, and fields of alfalfa and grain go on and on forever. 
Everything inside my head stops and I can feel each footfall strike the 
earth and echo across the fields of time. Above, the white puffy clouds 
are playing tag. 

Then, it suddenly strikes me. I realize the real reason why I want to
make it all the way to the park. It must have been in the back of my 
mind all the time.  Melody's grandfather lives on a farm somewhere near 
the river. Wouldn't it be something if we ran into her? I ask myself. I 
remember her telling Jenny that she sometimes biked all the way to the 
park. In my mind, I picture her peddling the trail. It's warm enough 
she could be wearing shorts, I'm thinking. I picture her long black 
hair tucked up under a helmet. There's the bench above the trail. We 
could sit there and watch the river. The wind might kick up. I could 
loan her my windbreaker. Maybe put an arm around her. She would look at 
me with those smiling violet eyes. 

Yea, right. She'd ride right by and never even see you. You know, she's
a spirit leader. Hangs with the in people. You didn't even make the 
basketball team. You're no good in math.... Broke your ten speed.... 
myself tells me. 

Yea, but she did laugh when I got Mark with a spit wad yesterday in
English, didn't she, I answer, and continue to daydream about meeting 
her. 

After a good half hour of hard walking, I get to the bend in the river.
I can see straight road for at least two miles before it bends again. 
Half hour or more to the park. Never make it back in time, myself tells 
me. I picture my old man standing outside the car waiting, and spin in 
my tracks. 

When I get to the bend that goes closer to the river, I'm getting just a
little winded, but I decide to get off the road anyhow. I still got a 
few extra minutes I'm thinking not wanting to be standing around 
waiting for my dad. The grass road narrows down to a footpath and turns 
hard right. There's a whole long trek between these really big bright 
green thistle plants. You know, how most of the time when you see them 
they're all dried up and dying. These are all fresh and green. And they 
have these really bright purple flowers. And there's so many of them. 
As far as I can see on both sides plant after plant after plant with 
the sun shinning down on them. At the end of the thistles, there's 
slender trees and blackberry bushes. I have to work my way through in a 
couple spots. Then, I'm right on the river less than two feet away. 

The sun goes under a gigantic gray-white cloud as I turn to look at the
rushing waters. It's running really fast now. It looks a lot higher 
than when I first came down. At the curve, there's half a tree bumping 
up and down with a lot of drift wood bunching up. The water just rushes 
by way wider than the field of thistles and washing over the rocks and 
on to the ocean. It sounds so much louder now, booming in places. 

It's what they call the roar of the river, myself tells me. 

Does the tide affect the river, too? I ask myself. 

Must be high tide, myself answers. 

The wind answers back sending gusts of ripples across the water. Better
get going, I tell myself. Still I stay for another moment. The river 
gurgles with a wisp of wind. I follow the play of wind and water for 
near a quarter mile, and then step to the edge for a closer look. I can 
swim, you know. I could probably make it across on a calm day. But, 
it's a little frightening just the same. I picture myself kicking my 
legs and trying to keep my head up. A flash of fear runs through my 
body. As I start away from the water's edge, there's a loud splash. I 
look around to see if somebody threw a log or something. In the water 
there's what must be a beaver or a muskrat caught in a current. He's 
holding his head above water fighting to ride it out. But, he turns and 
looks me straight in the eye. He gives me such an angry look that I 
jump back a couple feet. And, he holds it while he paddles down river. 
It's like he's thinking, "If I make it back on shore I'll bite his 
stinking fingers off." 

At the spot where I have to ford the ditch, everything looks different
the water is higher, three or four feet. And, somehow, the tree doesn't 
make it all way across. It's closer to the river too. One little slip 
and you're dead meat, I'm telling myself. 

This can't be the right path. No way you can make it across, myself
answers. 

I turn and try to figure where I could have strayed off. Just head
inland a little. The water probably won't be as deep. So what if I get 
my shoes wet. It's better'n being late, I'm thinking.  Right off the 
path are blackberry bushes and these slender trees that grow real close 
together. It's really hard picking my way through. My legs get tangled 
up in he vines and I trip a couple times and start to sweat. I have to 
detour way down river at this one spot where the bushes are too thick 
to get through. When I get back to the water it's even wider and deeper 
here. There's a current in it. If I go any further inland I'll never 
make it back in time, I tell myself. 

Yea, but your old man will be even more up tight if you drown yourself
down here, myself answers. 

I fight my way back to the river, and check out the ditch again. Where
the path leads in to it it's at least up to my knees. So what if I get 
my pants wet. They'll be almost dry. They're my pants! I tell myself. 
Still in my mind I picture myself tripping or something, catching a 
current and heading into the river. Go inland along the edge of the 
ditch, I figure. 

If the tides coming up, you'd better get a move on, myself tells me as I
feel my heartbeat quicken. 

About ten feet away from the river, I pick my spot. It's a couple body
lengths wide. It looks like maybe up to my knees. I step a foot in. 
It's icy cold. I pull out my foot wondering if this is the best 
crossing. You don't want to get in that water, myself tells me. 

Come on, I say in another voice picturing my old man. To my right, a
little, I see a small tree whipping in the water. Walk across by that, 
I tell myself and start back in the water. In four steps, the water is 
up to my knees. 

Get out' a here, myself yells. 

Couple more steps, I think. Next thing I know the waters up to my waist.
I'm picturing myself getting tangled up in the tree, tripping and 
washing on out to the river. Then the bottom goes out from under my 
feet and I'm in over my waist. I throw myself out full length and start 
swimming for all I'm worth holding my neck up out of the water just 
like the muskrat. My eyes are closed and I'm taking long hard strokes 
and kicking my feet. Every ounce of energy is focused on getting to the 
other side. It's like my whole life passes before my eyes until I'm 
finally pulling myself up out of the water and standing on solid 
ground. 

We made it. We make it, I'm telling myself. 

Yea, wait 'til your old man sees you, now. You stupid idiot! myself
answers as I slosh forward. I take off my windbreaker and start to 
wring it out. Then, I remember my wallet. Soaking wet. I figure I'll 
carry it outside and maybe shake it a little bit to dry it out. 

What a miserable looking figure, myself tells me and I picture what I
must look like, water sloshing out of my shoes, pants all muddy up to 
my knees, a soaked wallet in one hand and a dripping jacket in the 
other. 

What if Melody rides by on her bike? I ask myself, bending my head to
the ground. 

My old man is right. I am a constant mess up, I'm thinking. 

Then, to make matters worse, I come to the bend and see where I first
took the levee road. Oh, no. I got off the road too soon, I tell 
myself. 

Your dad is right. You never pay attention. 

He is right. I am an idiot.... 

I come to the little ditch and climb up on the fallen tree. It's nothing
like the one behind me. How could I ever have thought that it was the 
same ditch? I ask myself. 

I told you to turn back, myself answers. 

When I crossed over, the sun came out. I could see my shadow dragging
behind me. I picked up my pace pass the lupine fields watching my dark 
footsteps. 

Then, it happened again. I saw the coyote. He was at the patch of woods
on his way home. He looked right at me, winked his eye, and took off. 
Wow, I told myself, as I stood dead in my tracks. 

Then, I figured falling in the river wasn't such a bad thing. We got to
see the coyote. We made it across the water. Man, that was some bad 
swimming. So what if we got a little wet, I was telling myself as I did 
a little skip step. I looked up at the bright blue sky and gigantic 
gray and white clouds and picked up my pace. 

Just tell your dad that you fell off the tree. You don't have to say
anything about taking the wrong path. He's not such a bad guy, He'll 
understand, myself told me. 

But, I wasn't listening that close. I was watching a giant cloud
swallowing up the tail of serpent looking one and wondering if I should 
tell Melody I was out near her grandpa's house on the path along the 
river. 


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