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The Bridge

by Julia Katz, Wenham, Massachusetts, USA, Age 15

 

The grass-wet sneakers swung beneath Sarah, and below them lay the river, and streaks of jumping sunlight. Natalie, Delia, Melissa, Jo, and Sarah were sitting on the bridge, hip-to-hip, laughing as a chain, savoring the freest hours of the summer with suspended care. The wind scrambled Sarah's tank top, which flapped against her bare arms and back, and her hair, restrained in a loose barrette. Then Melissa launched herself high in the air, clothes and all, and a blast of water sprayed the girls, now at their feet, leaning over to see Melissa triumphantly arise from the river. Her fist shot up- a challenge.
Delia came next. She didn't jump so much as fell, arrow-tight and shrieking, her hair lifted like a flame, which was received with clapping, and an oh my god, this is crazy! Natalie staggered at the edge, bucking forward, and then, seeing the full fifteen-feet distance to the water, back again (Should I do it? Just do it!), until Jo thrust Natalie over, propelling them both kicking and fluttering into one volatile splash.
" Thanks a lot!" Natalie slapped the water so that it burst out and hit Jo. Screaming, Melissa failed her arms to splash back. Somehow the joke already seemed old, even while they were laughing at it. It was then that Sarah turned, and saw the man sitting on the bench.
He was in his fifties maybe, with a fishing hat and boxers than out-spanned his shorts. He legs were crossed, and he held a newspaper, which he was not reading. Instead, his green sunglasses pointed steadily through the bushes and at the girls.
It was her turn to jump.
She ran down the planks, and in one motion leapt through her hesitance, her left leg meeting up with the right, tucking, and then contact with the surface, dragged into a plunge, the current streaming over her eyes, wide open. Sarah sank into the smooth, ethereal depths, her clothes buoyant, above her, a puddle of light. The silence filled her nostrils.
Sarah Elisabeth Kailing, fourteen years old with brittle brown hair and a toe ring, settled into a pocket of fluid gravity, before being pulled to surface, dizzy voices emerging. Where she appeared the man's shaded gaze was waiting, and she swam a few strokes to the shore, suddenly cold. A towel, Sarah demanded, somebody give me a towel.
"Did you see that guy?" she asked Melissa, when she got to the bank under the bridge.
Melissa kept a brush in her purse and was working at her hair, like she did each morning in the school bathroom, the silky, copper locks filled with intolerable knots only she could see in the filmy mirror, as she frowned and pulled at every crease in her scalp.
"What guy?" And pulled harder, in preparation. "Is he cute?"
"No! Over there."
Sarah averted her eyes, too late. He saw them seeing him, the acidic way Melissa mouthed the word "sketchy", and crossed her arms over the tube top. Below the green sunglasses a sleeper's smile glinted, and carved into Sarah's gut.
"Let's get out of here."
Delia's mother, who had been chosen for her confidence, the frivolous brush of her hand, and oh you girls have fun, was up the road, probably distracted by a vigorous cell phone conservation. The truck was parked at the top of the valley's incline, and Delia, Natalie, and Jo were back on top of the bridge, running around, playing oblivious. Natalie dived in, just to prove she didn't need anyone to push her.
The man stood, and the newspaper fell against the bench. Swatting through the bracken and climbing over, he cleaved a trail, white kneecaps visible.
Melissa clamped tight on Sarah's wrist, like she did during sleepover parties whenever soft, cutting words were exchanged. Together they went up the stairs to warn the other girls, trying to appear casual as they hurried, breathing aloud.
"We have to go now," Sarah said, reaching the top stair. But Delia crossed her arms, and shrugged. She turned to Jo to deliver an expression of annoyance, and Jo tossed her hair, laughing.
"No, really." Melissa said quietly.
"We're being watched." Sarah said.
In defiance Jo yelled, "Good!" and she and Delia began to dance, spontaneously belting out the chorus of a song they had heard on the ride up. Back-to-back they swung, but then caught the eye the man approaching under the bridge and became hushed, Natalie lying still in the water.
The man stood beside the bridge, and rested his arm on the stairs. The glare of the sun, then setting over the river, blotched out one side of his face and neck.
He lifted his chin up to the horizon, sighed, and walked away.
"That was stupid!" Delia said. Jo burst into giggles.
"I can't believe you were actually scared." said Natalie, as she sped out of the water, and rushed up the stairs.
Faded blue was swept across Melissa's eyelids, glistening with the few specks of shimmer had not been washed away by the river, beneath that, smeared strokes of mascara, beneath that, pupils that aimed at Sarah, and a stub nose and furious lips.
"This is getting lame. Let's call Jeremy, see if he wants to drive us to that concert in Knoxlyn."
"Oh my God. That would be awesome."
Natalie, Jo, and Delia tucked their towels around their waists, and trounced of, still reenacting Melissa's warnings with theatrics and hullabaloo. Then their flighty voices became distant from Melissa, who remained on the bridge, and Sarah, who shuddered and avoided Melissa's eyes.
Sarah stood a few boards down the bridge from Melissa, and Melissa charged, cornering Sarah at the edge, and then catching her balance as Sarah plummeted at backwards slant.
Help. Sarah screamed. My ankle just snapped. I think I hit something.
Melissa peered over the edge with a blank expression that was familiar to Sarah. It was an expression often used as Melissa lounged through the hallways, one that Sarah had sometimes figured for guarded loneliness, sometimes for snobbishness, distant now, obscured by rising water, a small face towering over Sarah from the highest hump of the bridge.
Then Melissa turned away, her hair swinging behind her, her back draped in wet pink, leaving Sarah like one of the jettisoned boys Melissa kissed and taunted until she got bored.
Straightening the creases in her outfit, Melissa pulled her tube top firmly over her stomach. She separated the bushes so that she could climb over, making her way up to the road. Wait up!" Melissa yelled, "Wait for me!"