Under The Boardwalk

• Sara Mcgraw, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2017

Our car swerved around the rickety roundabout where the faded word read CALOUNDRA. As we pulled into the driveway marked ‘Seaside Views’ my stomach churned with excitement. Our small apartment up on the headland had a large balcony with ocean views. I headed down to the beach.

The ocean was a dazzling Caribbean blue and the frothy white waves crashed close to the sandy beach. I struggled to stay on my feet as the water crashed onto my knees. I turned, observing the view like a camera taking a panorama. As I looked past the Boardwalk, I noticed an illustration of a young girl carved into the stone. She looked about six years old and had curly hair. A boy was carving at the picture with a blunt knife. He wore clothes filled with sand and his hair stuck up in all directions. I plucked up the courage to walk over.
“That’s a nice carving,” I said.
“Thanks,” he uttered.
“My name is Isabel,” I told him. “Do you live around here?”
“I’m James,” he answered, avoiding my question.
“Where do you live?” I asked more firmly than last time.
He sighed, then glanced over next to a rock. He was looking at a small palm branch lying on the sand. I raced off towards the unit. There I found my parents both asleep. I collected a blanket, and some tins of food.

“You what?” I shrieked as I handed James, Dad’s scruffy, brown jumper. “Why do you live here?” I asked again.
“My parents fight all the time at home. My little sister went to live with my grandma but I didn’t so..”
“You ran away,” I said finishing his sentence. I thought about this for a moment. “How long have you been here?”
“One week so far,” he replied. I smiled back sympathetically.

I had been taking him food, water, games and clothes for a couple of days. While collecting food from the pantry late at night, the lights flicked on and out stepped my very angry looking parents. My mum was first to speak.
“Honey, What are all the tins needed for?” she asked in a stern voice. I couldn’t lie to my parents. I told them the whole story; about the boy under the boardwalk and how I had been taking him food and clothes.
My parents wanted to get the police involved and called them straight away. I stomped down to the beach to get James. I grumbled knowing I had let James’s secret out.

KNOCK. KNOCK. The moment I had been dreading. James shuffled over to his parents and his sister, who waited at the door. A relieved smile shot across his face as they started hugging him. I sighed with relief.

The next day I went down to the beach. As the waves hastened through the glistening water then poured over my hips, I knew, with the promise of seeing James again, this was by far the best trip I had ever had.