The River Part 2

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14th October 2016 All Rights Reserved.

Not Edited.

Sarah's POV...

I met Jack after school one day after he and his father moved to the town we lived in. It wasn't very big years ago when my dad was a boy. But since then, it has grown quite big with more people coming to the area.

Jack and his dad were some of them that came here to live and I met Jack when he started middle school where I was going.

I didn't have any friends and he was a little short and very shy. The other kids at the school started to bully him straight away.

And since I don't like bullies, I went up to the ring leader, Justin, and snotted him one in the nose as well as kick him really hard in the shins. Then I stood in front of Jack and yelled at the others for picking on my friend.

I didn't ask Jack if he wanted to be my friend, I flat out told him he was since he didn't have any.

So that was how we met and became friends.

We stayed friends for years after that always getting ourselves into all sorts of mischief of one kind or another and when someone wanted us for something, they would usually come down to the river and look for us since we spent alot of time down there fishing.

It wasn't that often that we went home not carrying a couple of six pounder trout or bass with us.

Although I do have to say that it was sometimes hard for us to carry because they were a little heavy for me to carry on my own.

But Jack came up with an idea where he roped together some small branches and we tied the fish to it and carried the branch over our shoulders so that the load wasn't too heavy.

' A shared load is a lightened load' the housekeeper always said to us when things got too hard for me or Jack.

But she was always thankful that we brought dinner home for her to cook. Then after dropping them on the bench in the kitchen, she would shoo us away and out to get 'cleaned up' a bit before coming back to have the dinner that Mrs Beemer cooked for us.

Jack would often have dinner with me while his dad worked, which was a lot. My own dad worked a lot too. He never comes home for dinner and he leaves really early either just after I get up or just after breakfast.

He never tells me when he's going and when he has to travel, it's usually Mrs beemer that looks after me like she always does anyway. I hardly spend any time with my dad, especially after grandad went and had a heart attack and died.

I liked grandad even if he was a 'cold hearted man' Mrs Beemer said sometimes. But I liked him. He was the one to teach me how to fish.

I followed him one day when he wanted to get away from the house he said. I don't think he liked the house much. he was always leaving to go fishing. But I followed him and crouched down behind the bushes watching him.

When he caught the first one, I was so excited that I jumped up and down and squealed really loud because I was so excited. But poor grandad slipped and fell in the water and lost the fish.

When he got himself out after I tried to help him, he just stood there with the water running off his hat and started yelling at me. He was right mad in the face. But all I did was stand there smiling at him.

"You did catch that fish grandpa. You still got him. Can you show me grandpa how to catch one too.Please?" I pleaded with him as he stood there glaring at me as I bounced up and down in front of him still very excited.

"You should be home with your father." Grandpa said to me as he struggled to get up and out of the water onto the bank where I was standing holding his fishing rod.

"We can cook some too, hey Pa?" I asked him all excied still over the fish that was still wiggling on the end of the fishing line.

I have to say that the afternoon I spent with Pa was one of the best I ever had. I followed him all over the place and he eventually gave in and showed me how to fish.

When we had a meal with fish that was included, it was usually what Pa and me had gone and caught when we was fishing down at the river.

Sometimes Jack would come with us and when we caught more than we could eat, I would help Jack carry some of them over to his place and give them to his dad.

His dad's name was Reid and he was really tall. Some of the ladies in town said he was 'ruggedly handsome' whatever that meant. They were always looking at him as if he was a choc chip muffin the way they would be licking their lips.

I asked him once when me and Jack came home one Sunday afternoon with a fish for him that we caught and I asked him about it, but he told me to scat. He called me a feral brat.

I didn't know what that meant but Jack told me to get on home before it gets any darker. So I waved at him and his dad and run off back across the river getting myself home.

I never understood for a while what being a feral brat was. Not until years later after Pa died.

That's when my dad became a bit nastier to me now that his own daddy wasn't here any more and it steadily got worse over the years especially when one of his lady friends would come around and then take off after seeing me running around the house barefoot in my mud splattered jeans.

Every now and again, he would catch me and give me a whooping which hurt like the very devil. But I recovered after a couple of days and ran off to see Jack. Then we'd go out in the woods and go hunting.

When we weren't in school or doing homework, Jack and I would usually be out in the woods or at the river. We loved that river and also built ourselves a few rafts to float down the river sometimes when it was hot.

It was fun.

That didn't change much for years.

At least not until I nearly got myself killed one day by on my way back from the river when one of dad's lady friends who was driving too fast on the road on her way out of town.

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