The Book of Winshire

Chapter Twelve

Today was a brilliant day, the night was alive. The blokes had never felt so free since Zack had recovered from his tragic trauma. They were all in right places, and big halves of them were feeling great.

However, Kyle was in his own little world. He couldn’t tell what was wrong with him, but he was sure it wasn’t from the drinking. Alas, he had to be there, although not literally doing what his mates did. Disappointing his friends was never a thing he’d ever planned.

‘I swear if you don’t come in to the water right now, Lauren,’ shivered Hughy.

‘I don’t want to,’ Kyle remarked, ‘’m too lazy to change later.’

‘Then just stay naked, then. Nobody will tell you off’—coaxing was really what Hughy sucked at—‘except for Fievel, because someone’s gonna take pictures of you like when that one time Ian almost slipped his joggers off in the veranda. I don’t know why he wanted to show off. His bologna pony is just the size of a sausage.’

‘Shut up, I was feeling casual,’ Ian tutted, as he, too, quivered, and Hughy snickered with half his face under the cold water, eyes crinkling. 

Not too far from them were their mates, building sandcastles in the silhouette. The wind was suddenly frosty, to Zack’s dismay. He rubbed his palms together and hugged his knees. There was something about the air that was disturbing his grand time and reminding him bad ones.

‘We should have something to eat by now. We’ve been here for hours but the barbecue hasn’t started yet.’

‘Let’s go prepare things, then,’ Zack said to Henry who was hugging himself.

Two heads of brunettes snapped at the sound of something weighty plunging just near them. Ian clumsily made his way up the slippery yet rough-surfaced rocks. He glanced over here and there to no hint of Kyle’s presence.

‘Kyle?’ called Ian. His face preserved a worry look after silence answered him. ‘Kyle?’

‘Eh . . . he’s prolly just fucking around,’ convinced Hughy, although he was as worried.

‘No, I don’t think so—KYLE,’ Ian’s voice was more urging than earlier. ‘Kyle, answer me!’ He caught a quick breath and dove in where he last saw the blond-head.

Hughy could feel his breaths hitch as soon as Ian came up for air, empty-handed. He imitated what Ian did and returned to the surface with the same result.

The blokes lost count of how many times they were diving down and coming up around the sharp rocks where Kyle sat just before, and then around the small isle they were fooling around with him.

Lousily, Henry came to mind their panic and asked, ‘Why? What’d happened?’

And then Zack, who was looking over other huge rocks, chimed in, ‘Where’s Kyle?’

‘We don’t know, he sort of—disappears,’ Hughy quickly explained before he, too, vanished beneath the salty water.

‘I heard something falling in to the water—and I really think it’s him, because we couldn’t find him anywhere else,’ close to tears, Ian clarified. He went to where he thought the splashing sound came from, and slapped the layer of the liquid helplessly. He weakly lowered his head down when time had already flown too far.

Henry lunged in to the water.

‘No, get back up, the water is tiding soon,’ Hughy warned, one hand grabbing his partner’s arm.

Now Henry would usually agree to what Hughy had got to say, but just not this time. ‘I want to look for him, too. I’m not going to leave him somewhere probably under the water—’ he exclaimed, ‘—drowning!’