A Sacrifice to the River Gods by Julie Steimle (e book reader pdf .txt) π
Excerpt from the book:
Amber has a crush on a boy who just won't notice her unless she does something extreme. Hopefully that extreme thing won't kill her.
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fall,β the young man said. It was one of the group of boys that came and already leapt off the rope swing. They were on their second run and lines of them eagerly waited their turn. Amber smiled and whispered a quiet thank-you.
Amber turned once again to the top, this time with a renewed effort. The twelve-year-old already had the stick in her hand and gleefully swung down to the river below. Her giddy splash let Amber know that she was next. It took little effort to stand on the platform. The thin plywood sagged under the wet step of her feet. Amber looked down to the shore below. The people were so small. Matthew was but a head looking up. Becca was a mere addition to the debris left on the shore. The teams of men were but children staring at a spectacle, a bird or a hippo perched in a tree. She was going to die.
The tanned boy ran up the log with the lead rope and tossed the stick end up for Amber to catch. Clasping an upper branch with her right arm, Amber reached out. The miss was embarrassing, but he continued to throw. She continued to miss. Her palms grew clammy as she stared at the people below, reaching for the rope. It swung and spun. A third time he threw the swing. Amber grasped the worn rope and hung on it like it was her life.
There was no going back. If she were to climb down the tree, she would never forgive herself. She had to swing. She wished that her mind didnβt go to putty when she saw Matthew. Why couldnβt he just vanish and not be such an emotional nuisance. Amber closed her eyes, taking three blood-charging breaths of oxygen and grasped the pole.
βHold tight, Amber!β Matthewβs voice carried up.
Amber nodded and jumped off the platform.
Amber wasnβt sure when it happened. The thrill and the rush of speed in flight was a heart pounding, sweat pouring delight. She let go at the right time, she was sure. She was more than halfway above the river and certainly near the deepest part. The rope would swing back. She was sure to make an impressive entry in the water. All the boys were looking. She remembered now. She had closed her eyes. She didnβt see the rope wrap around her ankle. It strangled her leg like a boa constrictor, wrapping, pulling a tight hangmanβs noose and jerking her upside down. In factβ¦all she knew was that she was hanging, half underwater and wondering if the rope would let go soon.
The rope swung back, and as if untied by angelic hands, unwound and dropped the helpless girl in the water. Watchers on the shore held their breaths, waiting for Amber to surface. Icy wind chilled each towel-wrapped friend. Matthew ran to the edge of the rippling water.
Amberβs head popped out, gasping for breath.
*
Tanned boys. They stood clustered around Amber as she swam to shore. They scrambled around her as they helped her up the hill. Handsome young men, muscular and finely toned, led by that charming man that helped her up the tree. Oh, if only they would stay with her forever. If only Becca would stop screaming and crying. Becca hand such an annoying voice. Why should she get hysterical? She wasnβt the one who got hurt. Amber did not understand what Matthew saw in her. And Matthew, when was he going to stop asking if she was all right? Amber said she was when she reached shore. Sure, her ankle was sprained. Thatβs what happens when a rope tangles around your ankle when you fall. Amber giggled to herself.
Boys, tons of them and all handsome. Matthew could have hysterical Becca. Her ankle really didnβt hurt that bad. Shock did that to a person. Sure, it would probably be in terrible pain the next day, but that day swarms of gorgeous young men helped her to her car. Mobs of gods were anxious to see if she was safe. Even Matthew felt guilty that he brought her there to the river, and he offered to drive her home. Amber smiled contently at the crowd as Matthew turned the ignition key. The car rumbled and rolled out of the lot. As they drove off, Amber could still see people leaping from the swing as if nothing had happened. It didnβt matter. For one brief moment she was the one looked at and fawned over, and though her glory would be over in an hour or two, it was enough. Imprint
Amber turned once again to the top, this time with a renewed effort. The twelve-year-old already had the stick in her hand and gleefully swung down to the river below. Her giddy splash let Amber know that she was next. It took little effort to stand on the platform. The thin plywood sagged under the wet step of her feet. Amber looked down to the shore below. The people were so small. Matthew was but a head looking up. Becca was a mere addition to the debris left on the shore. The teams of men were but children staring at a spectacle, a bird or a hippo perched in a tree. She was going to die.
The tanned boy ran up the log with the lead rope and tossed the stick end up for Amber to catch. Clasping an upper branch with her right arm, Amber reached out. The miss was embarrassing, but he continued to throw. She continued to miss. Her palms grew clammy as she stared at the people below, reaching for the rope. It swung and spun. A third time he threw the swing. Amber grasped the worn rope and hung on it like it was her life.
There was no going back. If she were to climb down the tree, she would never forgive herself. She had to swing. She wished that her mind didnβt go to putty when she saw Matthew. Why couldnβt he just vanish and not be such an emotional nuisance. Amber closed her eyes, taking three blood-charging breaths of oxygen and grasped the pole.
βHold tight, Amber!β Matthewβs voice carried up.
Amber nodded and jumped off the platform.
Amber wasnβt sure when it happened. The thrill and the rush of speed in flight was a heart pounding, sweat pouring delight. She let go at the right time, she was sure. She was more than halfway above the river and certainly near the deepest part. The rope would swing back. She was sure to make an impressive entry in the water. All the boys were looking. She remembered now. She had closed her eyes. She didnβt see the rope wrap around her ankle. It strangled her leg like a boa constrictor, wrapping, pulling a tight hangmanβs noose and jerking her upside down. In factβ¦all she knew was that she was hanging, half underwater and wondering if the rope would let go soon.
The rope swung back, and as if untied by angelic hands, unwound and dropped the helpless girl in the water. Watchers on the shore held their breaths, waiting for Amber to surface. Icy wind chilled each towel-wrapped friend. Matthew ran to the edge of the rippling water.
Amberβs head popped out, gasping for breath.
*
Tanned boys. They stood clustered around Amber as she swam to shore. They scrambled around her as they helped her up the hill. Handsome young men, muscular and finely toned, led by that charming man that helped her up the tree. Oh, if only they would stay with her forever. If only Becca would stop screaming and crying. Becca hand such an annoying voice. Why should she get hysterical? She wasnβt the one who got hurt. Amber did not understand what Matthew saw in her. And Matthew, when was he going to stop asking if she was all right? Amber said she was when she reached shore. Sure, her ankle was sprained. Thatβs what happens when a rope tangles around your ankle when you fall. Amber giggled to herself.
Boys, tons of them and all handsome. Matthew could have hysterical Becca. Her ankle really didnβt hurt that bad. Shock did that to a person. Sure, it would probably be in terrible pain the next day, but that day swarms of gorgeous young men helped her to her car. Mobs of gods were anxious to see if she was safe. Even Matthew felt guilty that he brought her there to the river, and he offered to drive her home. Amber smiled contently at the crowd as Matthew turned the ignition key. The car rumbled and rolled out of the lot. As they drove off, Amber could still see people leaping from the swing as if nothing had happened. It didnβt matter. For one brief moment she was the one looked at and fawned over, and though her glory would be over in an hour or two, it was enough. Imprint
Publication Date: 11-13-2009
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