moving too fast for us to get to the bank.
“We’re going to die,” I mumble. “They’re going to write: Here lies Xander and Thea, the idiots who got lost tubing and were never seen from again. We’ll become one of those ghost stories they tell kids around a campfire.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he says in a calm, sure tone. “We’ll be fine. This probably just brings us out in a different area. We’ll meet up with the others in no time. You’ll see.”
I strain, listening closely. “Do you hear that?”
He listens too. “What is that?”
I look behind me, but it’s hard to see. I squint my eyes, trying to piece together what I’m hearing. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“Waterfall,” I say.
Xander’s eyes widen, and for the first time, I see him begin to panic. He lets go of my raft and grabs onto my hand. “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
I want to argue that I might not have any choice in letting go, but I’d rather pretend everything is going to be okay.
The sound of rushing water grows louder the closer to the waterfall we get. I look again and see that it’s about six-foot drop, so thankfully not too steep, but it’s going to be a drop nonetheless.
We go over, and I scream as the tube falls out from under me. Xander’s hold on my hand tightens to the point of pain, but he still has me so I’m not going to complain. We go underwater and the cold water sears my skin with its iciness. I kick my legs, propelling myself up where much-needed air is. Xander’s hand is still in mine and he surfaces a few seconds before I do. Perks of being a giant, I guess.
We look around, but our tubes are long gone.
“Kick as hard as you can,” he says. “We’re swimming for that rock and then to the grass. Okay?”
I nod, my teeth chattering. It might be early July, but the water is frigid enough for January. Now I have a new worry to add to my previous ones. Hypothermia.
We swim over to the rock, kicking and using our arms as much as we can without losing our grip on the other. The current is fast and keeps dragging us in the opposite direction which makes it hard to get where we’re trying to go.
Finally, after what feels like an hour, we make it to the rock. I’m out of breath and panting like I’ve lost a lung. Heck, maybe I did and it’s now floating down the river.
Come back, I need you.
Xander’s out of breath too, which makes me feel a little better since he’s an athlete. “Ready?” I shake my head no. “Thea, we have to. We’re going to wear out from trying to hold onto the rock.”
I whimper and nod. I’m too out of breath to offer him any words.
“Three, two, one.” He counts down, and then we’re off, swimming for the bank that seems a mile away even though I know it’s only fifteen or so feet away.
I kick hard, fighting against the current that seems desperate to send us further away.
“Almost there,” Xander says.
When we tumble out of the water onto land, I burst into tears. I don’t even know why I’m crying, and it’s embarrassing, but I can’t stop them.
Xander hovers above me, pushing my wet hair from my eyes. “Are you okay?” He looks at me worriedly. “Why are you crying?”
Anger rushes over me and I push his shoulders, shoving him away. “You said I’d be fine. This is not fine,” I practically shriek at him.
“I’m sorry, I guess we sort of dozed off and floated down the wrong path.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “This is a mess. We’re soaking wet, lost, and I don’t know about you, but I’m currently exhausted.” As if to drive home my point, I fall back into the grass, staring up at the sky. “Great, and my sunglasses are gone too. Fucking fantastic.”
He laughs. “It could be worse. At least we’re alive.”
“At least we’re alive,” I mimic. “From the guy who said we weren’t going to die.” I inhale a deep breath. “How are we ever going to find the others?” I question.
“Well—” he looks back the way we came from “—hiking back that way isn’t an option, so we’re going to have to go this way and hope for the best.”
“Xander,” I whine, “there might be bears. And snakes. And I’m in flip-flops. I can’t outrun a bear in