Lucia’s Creek
HANNAH SMITH
In sixth grade, Stephen Collins and I spat on our palms and shook to the promise that we’d never stop coming to Lucia’s Creek every summer. It was at this creek where he and I would spend sunrise to sundown wading through icy water, building forts, and climbing trees every day for three months. The days stretched on for miles and the world we’d built was infinite.
I had every faith that we’d uphold our promise. It was a spit swear after all. Those were unbreakable.
‘Will I see you by the creek tomorrow, Collins?’ I yelled from across the street.
‘You betcha!’ My shaggy-haired friend replied, waving me off as he turned the corner towards his house.
Stephen had asked me to call him ‘Collins’ on the first day of second grade as he split his piece of gum with me. It was my first day at Sailor’s Meadow Primary after having moved into town over the Summer. I knew no one. My mum never allowed me to have gum, and we, sure as anything, weren’t allowed it at school. Collins was already the coolest person I’d ever met.
‘Do you have a nickname?’ He had asked me, leaning across the table.
‘Not really.’ I’d replied, shrugging. ‘My name’s Archie Lopez, but I guess you can call me whatever.’
‘How about Arlo?’ Collins had suggested.
‘Yeah… I like that.’ I’d grinned. ‘Arlo.’ I’d thought to myself smiling down at my desk.
After a while, we’d figured out that Lucia’s Creek was the halfway point between both of our houses. The creek stretched into a stream that ran for miles through our town, weaving its’ way in between the properties and shrubs of Sailor’s Meadow. One could walk twenty minutes east along the stream and would reach the bush behind my house. Twenty minutes west, and you’d reach Collins’s place. In between, a jungle of Eucalyptus trees threaded their way through surrounding shrubs of green and brown. They sat entangled between twigs and spiders over a bed of soggy leaves.
The creek became our hangout spot after school and on weekends. Aside from the sweat that pasted our shirts to our backs and the bugs that clung to our necks, we were at peace.
*
The early December heat felt sweeter this time around. As I trudged my way through the canopy of leaf litter towards Lucia’s Creek, I thought about the relief of never having to go back to school. High school was finished. Over. No more exams or late-night studying. Nothing but Collins and our scared creek for the next three months. Bliss.
There was only one problem when I arrived at the clearing this morning. There was no Collins.
I waited all day by a fallen log in the clearing which connected both sides of the stream. Some old homework at the bottom of my bag reminded me that I used to know how to make paper boats. I spent most of the day folding and crumpling the paper, but by sundown there was still no sign of my best friend.
There continued to be no sign of him for the next four days.
The only time he hadn’t shown up to the creek during a Summer was when he broke his leg in ninth grade. We had been racing each other up different trees all afternoon when he stepped on an uneasy branch, sending him toppling to the ground below.
I visited him at his house every day for six weeks after that. We would sit in his room making paper boats which we eventually raced down the stream once he was able to walk again. His were always faster than mine.
*
It was only on the fifth day of Summer when I finally saw his tall silhouette make its’ way through the shrubs towards the clearing.
‘Your phone broken or something?’ I asked, annoyed, as he emerged from the trees.
‘Sorry, I know I didn’t answer your calls.’ Collins replied awkwardly, looking up at me. ‘Something came up.’
‘Something came up?’ I retorted. ‘Right, okay? So, you didn’t even have a spare minute to call your best friend to say you couldn’t make it? Not for just one, but four days?’
‘Just leave it okay.’ Collins said, now staring at me. ‘I’m sorry. I’m here now.’
We stood in silence for a few minutes, shuffling the dirt around with our feet. Neither of us with anything to say.
‘Don’t you ever think about what happens after Summer?’ I finally asked.
‘Arlo, can we not talk about it please?’ Collins pleaded, shaking his head.
‘I’m just thinking realistically. You know what’s about to happen.’ I responded, focusing in on him.
Silence.
Collins’s feet shuffled; his eyes now turned back to the ground.
‘I think I’m just going to go home.’ I finally mumbled, turning to leave.
‘Arlo, wait.’ Collins replied, looking up.
His dark brown eyes were apologetic as he stood, watching me.
‘I’m not going to bail on you again, I promise. I’ve just been feeling a little off that’s all.’
‘That’s all?’ I replied turning to face him. I wanted to believe him.
‘Yeah. I’m good now. I’m not going anywhere. Please stay’
‘Fine.’ I said, ‘I’ll stay.’
Collins picked up a pebble next to his feet and threw it towards me, grinning shyly.
Catching it, I smiled, ‘Oh, you’re on.’
Collins laughed and ran towards the water, picking up another smooth pebble on his way. I chased him, now laughing too as we reached the waters’ edge. One after the other, we both skimmed our rocks along the stream with ease, counting each bounce along the rippling water. I hated that he knew how easily I’d forgive him.
We spent the rest of the afternoon finding and skimming the perfect rocks until our wrists couldn’t take it anymore.
‘I better see you tomorrow, Col.’ I said as we picked up our bags by the stream while the sun set behind us.
‘You will, I promise.’ Collins replied earnestly.
*
The next couple of months were spent as they always were during the Summer. Clambering up trees, collecting frogs by the creek, and making teepees out of fallen branches.
One morning, we found an old rope in my dads’ tool shed and used it to make a rope swing that hovered over the creek.
It was probably our best idea of the summer. We tied the thick rope over a twisting, gnarled branch which leant a few metres over the stream below. Both Collins and I took turns swinging off the rope and splashing into the ice-cold water below. We felt like kids again.
‘Again! Again!’ I laughed, stumbling out of the water to have another turn.
‘I’ll put the rope up higher this time. The jump will be more fun.’ I said, making my way up the tree.
‘Careful mate.’ Collins said from the ground. ‘I’m not sure how shallow the creek is around here. You don’t want to hit the bottom.’
‘Don’t worry I tested it earlier. It’s pretty deep.’ I yelled, untying the rope from its’ current branch.
I grabbed hold of the rope and made my way up higher, until I found another arm which hovered over the creek. Shuffling my feet along the trunk, I knelt down to tie a knot around the wobbling branch.
‘She’s ready!’ I yelled down at Collins, admiring my handiwork.
‘Go on Arlo!’
All my faith was resting on this rickety part of the tree, but I knew I had to do it. I clutched the rope beneath my feet and jumped.
Crack.
I had barely made contact with the rope before the trunk holding it snapped. Within seconds, I was toppling down layers of foliage, knocking into branches and offshoots one after the other.
‘Oh shit!’ I heard from below.
Splash.
*
Small waves tugged at my ears and trickled past my neck, flowing further down the stream.
‘Please wake up, I’m begging you Arlo! Open your eyes.’
It was Collins.
His eyes were glazed over and staring into mine with great concern.
‘Can you hear me?’ He asked, holding onto the side of my head.
‘Yep, unfortunately.’ I smirked.
He breathed a sigh of relief and hoisted me out of the water with one arm.
Every inch of my body stung with grazes and my head was filled with fog.
‘Come sit down.’ Collins said, leading me towards the hammocks we’d set up a few weeks ago.
He laughed as he noticed I was clutching the rope in my hands like it could still save me.
I dropped it, also laughing now.
‘You gave me a heart-attack. My god, Arlo.’ Collins said, reclining onto the hammock next to mine.
My arms were burning with scratches and patches of blood were starting to show up on my legs and chest. I grimaced at the sight of them.
‘Well, that was fun while it lasted.’ I chuckled, looking over at Collins.
My smile quickly faded as I realised how rattled he was. His eyes were welling up with tears as he stared into the distance.
‘Hey.’ I said leaning over, giving Collins’s hammock a nudge. ‘Chin up, Col. I’m alright.’ I smiled at him, squeezing his shoulder. ‘Look at me, I’m fine.’
Collins looked up, misty-eyed. His cheeks were blotted with tears.
‘I don’t want to leave you, Arlo.’
‘You don’t have to. Stay a little while.’
‘I mean when we go off to Uni.’ Collins sighed. ‘When this Summer’s over, when will I see you again?’
A part of me sunk inside, remembering that he and I were headed to different states for university in just under a month.
‘We’ll make the time.’ I reassured him softy, my vision, also becoming cloudy with tears.
Collins got up and sat on my hammock next to me. His eyes focused in on mine and his head fell against my shoulder. Tears continued to pour down both of our faces because the truth was, we didn’t know what was going to happen.
‘You know why I didn’t come to the creek for the first few days of Summer?’ Collins mumbled.
‘Why?’
‘I thought that if I stopped hanging out with you as much, it would make it easier to say goodbye when it was time to leave… That was a stupid idea.’
I chuckled. ‘Yeah, I know. How could you think it’d be easy to say goodbye to a guy like me? Regardless of how much time we spend together.’
He laughed in return.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll come and visit you.’ I said. ‘I’ll need you. I don’t know how to make a paper boat myself.’
‘But I taught you in ninth grade.’ Collins replied, looking up at me.
‘Yeah, but I’ve forgotten. I tried making them when you weren’t here at the start of summer. They all crumbled and sank into the creek.’
Collins laughed again. ‘That’s pathetic.’
‘I know.’ I chuckled.
Collins spent the next few hours re-teaching me how to make paper boats of all shapes and sizes.
‘So, you just fold it here and here.’ He kept saying, pointing to different corners of the paper.
‘Yep. Just like that.’ He said, looking down at mine. ‘Perfect. You’re good to go.’
I smiled, looking at my handiwork.
‘Looks like a boat to me.’ I said looking up at Collins.
‘Let’s race.’ He grinned.
Much to our delight, both boats floated beautifully down the creek, weaving in and out of pebbles and reeds. The two of us ran alongside them on land, watching as they glided and swam with ease.
Bio Note:
Hannah Smith is a full-time music listener and part-time roller coaster rider from Sydney. Throughout her life she has dappled in songwriting, poetry, and short stories with a focus on coming-of-age stories. Her imagination stretches beyond the bounds of this world and is forever experimenting with the unknown.
