Water, Iz, Life

• Danica Lamb, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2009

The water swallowed me, just like I had swallowed it. The cold, salty water burning my throat. I opened my eyes. Then, I saw.

“Be prepared” that’s what they told me. “Be prepared, high school’s gonna be a challenge”. They couldn’t be more right. We sat in Mr Nawn’s office, staring at the numerous photos, trophies and stationary. “Isn’t it a great Friday morning!” he exclaimed, taking a seat in the over-polished leather chair.

“Miss Lisbon Curney and Mr Danny Log! My year 10 school captains!” he exclaimed with joy.
“ Please sir, call me Iz” I reminded him, again.
“Well, yes. Iz. First on the agenda, the fundraising carnival!”
At this point Danny and I looked at each other, smirked, and stood up.
“Ok sir.” Danny sighed “We’re on it! We’ll have bucket loads of ideas for you next week”
Picking up our folders we rushed to his office door, “Wait a minute! Lisbon! Just a moment!” I spun on my heels to face him again.
“I hope you make the most of this opportunity. You always were resourceful, independent, smart.” He trailed off in thought, then returned “I hope you make the most of this year.”
“Yes, sir. Certainly sir.” And with that I shuffled out of the room.

Mum and I lived in the main suburb of Brown. Well, the only suburb in Brown. Mum ran the backpackers resort/ hotel/ motel in Brown. ‘Curney’s Corner’ was the only tourist accommodation but most people who came through were just young surfers coming to catch the ‘totally dope’ waves of Brown Beach anyway.

I strode up to our bright red door, hooked the key in and shifted in. The smell of Mum’s yoga incense hit me in the face like it was trying to punch me.
This was pretty normal until I heard a male voice coming from the kitchen. I quickly ran around the dining room, through Mum’s room and into the bathroom. I knew the walls were thin and I could hear whatever was going on in the kitchen. As I slide down the wall to find the cold, tiled floor I remembered playing spy games with Danny as a kid. Running around, with walkie talkies spying on whoever we could find. This flashback was interrupted as I heard a familiar voice. The hair on my arms and legs stood straight up. I breathed out the gasp I had just taken in. Dad? No way. After eight years his voice was the same. The exact same.
The last time I heard it was that day, back when I was seven. I had my lifesaving gear on, my hair full of salt and sand. Laughing on the way home from the beach. Lifesaving was our thing. I loved it, he loved it. When he left us, Mum and I, on that day eight years ago I vowed never to do it again. Even to the extent that I hated water. No life saving, no pool parties, no swimming carnivals. Showering was an issue, but two minutes a day was enough, at least I saved water that way, for people who actually liked it.



He grumbled. She responded. He grumbled louder. She responded louder.
Mum was always strong. When he left she was strong for both of us. When I got over the fact he left us and wasn’t coming back she made me strong. We had lived a good life, ignoring father’s day and instead celebrating our family of 2.

Mum put on a stern voice, instructed him to leave. He refused. I stood up, wanting to walk out there myself and push him out. She hissed at him. He hooted something as he strode out, his steps rattling the wooden floorboards and he opened the door, storming out and shutting it. The coloured glass on the window rattling. The goose-bumps on my arms and legs were more intense than ever.

Sitting in that same office, I was thinking about my dad. Since Friday there had been 4 calls for Mum that ended up in hushed tones, a few shouted ‘No’s’ and hang ups. It was Tuesday afternoon, yesterday, that really caused me to fear why he came back. He wanted me. He wanted me back. ‘Back’ ‘he said like he had me in the first place and Mum took me.

“Iz? Izzzzz? IZ?!’ Danny shook my arm.
“What!?” I yelped. Rubbing my arm where he pinched it.
“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been all weird since Friday and now you’re starting to scare me. What’s wrong?” he looked genuinely concerned.
“Nothing. Just worried about this carnival on Friday.” I was possibly the world’s worst liar. Of course he didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t have believed me.
“Iz. We’ve been best friends since we were in nappies. What’s wrong?”

Thankfully, Mr Nawn walked in. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I tell Danny? My best friend since forever?

“LISBON! You are signed up for the Dunk Tank. No arguments. Ok?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Dunk tank. Water. Why wasn’t I paying attention?! This was going to get interesting.

After begging numerous times nothing could change Mr. Nawn’s decision. I needed some air. I needed to breathe…

The beach’s sand felt cool under my feet. The waves stretching up, almost to comfort whoever was at its shore on such a bleak day. I saw him, sitting in our usual spot. I dug my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and continued striding through the sand. I planted myself down close to him, leaned my head on his shoulders and sighed.
“You’re such a freak, you know that?” he turned to look at me.
“Why?”
“You’re the only person I know that wears socks to the beach” he chuckled.
I let out a laugh too, “You know I don’t like the feeling of the sand though. It’s all tingly and sticky and goes everywhere”
This is what I loved about Danny, making me smile even when I felt like crying.
“My Dad. He came back last Friday. Last night he said he wanted me to go to Queensland with him. Mum doesn’t know I know, I’ve kind of been sneaking around…that’s what’s wrong. ” I blurted. It just all spilled out. And it felt great…


Friday came. It had to. I thought about faking sick. My conscious got the better of me. Raising money for those poor African children was something you couldn’t fake sick for. I had to raise money for water by landing in it, even though I couldn’t stand the stuff. This was going to be a great night...
I went, suffering from a bad case of remorse.

The neon lights shone like small pixels of hope. Each one flashing on and off in crazy patterns. The noise was unbelievable. Screaming, shouting, laughing and talking. The chilly autumn air was whipping hair into my face, sticking to my lip gloss. My “summer of ’09 baby!” shirt, drifting along with the wind, covered my pink one-piece as I climbed the pedestal to the dunk tank. In that moment I saw 3 things:
1. Mr. Nawn smiling enthusiastically with a huge smile and two thumbs up.
2. Danny looking at me from the snow cone booth looking worried and pointing to,
3. MY DAD.

My fingers gripped the stool until my knuckles turned white, my mouth hung open. If a small insect happened to be flying around at that moment it would have been caught up in my gasp, where I would choke on it, then it would miraculously fly out and continue buzzing about.
He strode up the tank, looked me in the eye and asked,
“Where’d you get that shirt?”
“Where’d you get that shirt?” Are you serious?
I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say. Why did you leave? Why are you back? Why do you want to know where I got my shirt?
“Look,” he continued “I know, you know. Don’t think your mother and I don’t know you’ve been sneaking around. So I guess you know, what do you think about Queensland?”
I laughed at this. I don’t know why, I just let out a loud, spat of a laugh. Then a giggle.
SMAAAAACK!
A ball hit the back board. The dunk tank, right. Flying balls, ice cold water, my custom-made-suit-and-Italian-shoe-wearing father and an extremely worried best friend serving people flavoured frozen water. How could this get better?
“I think you should leave. Now.” I cautioned.
“Are you sur-“
“Leave,” The word I couldn’t say was spoken for me. Danny’s hand gripped my Dad’s shoulders and affirmed him. “now.”
SMAAACK!
Another ball hit just as I began balling my eyes out. I felt like running away, but I couldn’t. So instead I did the equivalent of storming out by, carefully, climbing of my seat, down the stairs and into the girl’s bathroom. My tears leaving a drizzly trail on the pavement.
He called at six am. SIX AM. On a Saturday. I lifted my face from the pillow, hair clouding the rest of my view and picked up my, now, extremely irritating phone.
“Good morning sunshine!” he chirped.
“What-do-you-want?” croaking out every word,
“Gee. Someone isn’t a morning person”
“I am a morning person.” I checked to see if it was dark outside. I slid out of my sheets and peered out the window, thankfully it was still dark. I yawned and continued to prove my point. “It isn’t morning if it’s still dark outside. It’s still night time.”
“Well fine. Night time. And what I want is for you to get down to the jetty, like, now.”
I grunted, yawned and hung up.
After pulling my hair into a ponytail and pulling on a jumper over my pyjama bottoms I ended up sitting on the end of the jetty, feet dangling off, at six in the morning.

“I’m glad you choose to wear your pants with the cute little whales on them. If ever there were a more stylish pattern for pyjamas…” he continued, smiling. “So, what did you say to Mr. I-wear-black-shiny-Italian-shoes man?”
I exhaled, “I told him to get stuffed,” I pushed Danny’s mouth close as it hung open “Well. I said I liked it here in Brown. With my Mum, my best friend and my over enthusiastic principal”
I leant over, bumped him and smiled.
“Let’s celebrate!” he slid off his flip-flops, un-zipped his jumper, took off his shirt and dived into the electric blue ocean.
“C’MON!” he shouted holding his arms out. “I’ll catch you!”
“You know I hate water.” I contested. As I said this, he stuck his head under the deep water. His beige pants no longer visible.
“Danny?” nothing. “DANNY?” Still nothing. I shot up, where was he? Five seconds passed, ten. Then, I did it.

The water swallowed me, just like I had swallowed it. The cold, salty water burning my throat. I opened my eyes. Then, I saw. Diving down, I pulled his limp body up. My legs kicking as hard as possible to get us to the surface. When I hit the surface, the rush of air was incredible. Like a thousand fireworks going off in my body as the oxygen flowed through my blood. Pulling him up to the shore, he began coughing.
“You did it,” he coughed out more water “You dove in, for me?”
“For you, anything”