Not Off The Hook

"Stay in the house okay?" My mum said, grabbing the car keys and opening the fly-wire door. "And look after your brother for me." She blew a quick kiss, the skin around her always happy eyes crinkled with fatigue and age.

I stared as she locked the door and maneuvered across the overgrown garden to her battered ute. She'd locked us in but had forgotten the spare house keys hanging precariously on a hook by the door.

"Well, she never said the garden was not part of the house." I mumbled to Charlie, who was crouched on the wooden floor patting Ruphus, our white terrier. "Come on, lets play some soccer." I dragged him out of the house.

"Watcha playin' Ben?" I looked up at the familiar voice and saw a boy from my class leaning on the rickety fence with a couple of others. It was Lucas and his mates, some boys who believe they're at the top of the social hierarchy at school.

"Nothing." I replied quickly, standing in front of Charlie who struggled to get a better view of the scene. Ruphus started barking at the unfamiliar group of people, baring his teeth.

"Well, since y'all doing nothin' how 'bout ya come with us to the waterhole?" His invitation caught me by surprise. I blinked, my eyes felt dry in the scorching heat.

Stay in the house okay? My mum's voice rang in my head. Disobeying will get me grounded for the rest of the holidays or worse removed from the soccer tournament. I jangled the keys in my pocket and nodded.

"Sure."

Charlie jabbed me hard in the back. I swiveled around and looked deep into his round, hazel eyes. He did not say a word but those large eyes held a lot of meaning. "Im bringing you too." I said to him, "I'm doing mum a favour - now do me a favour and come." He bit his bottom lip and stole glances at the group of boys, I could tell that he was scared. "We'll bring Ruphus." I whispered. My brother cracked a weak smile and hugged the dog, which looked like a floppy white teddy in his arms. I turned to Lucas who smirked, but gestured for me to come over.

The waterhole was eerie and quiet when we arrived there together. There was not a single soul and even the birds were silent.

The waterhole used to be a popular place for kids to hang out during the scorching summer holidays. However, after someone drowned last year, there were no more dare-devil divers jumping from freakish heights or sun-kissed snoozers bathing under the scorching sun.

The water was murky, its calm surface glittered in the midday sun. Its shore of small black pebbles littered with dead, skeletal like trees made the place almost ghostly.

I took off my worn sneakers and felt the warm surface of the small rocks beneath my feet. Lucas was distributing something to his friends before he came up to me. "Want some? Hacked it from me dad." In his hands he held a squashed packet of cigarettes. On the front was the agonizing image of a man who lay half-conscious with no hair, waxy yellow skin, extremely hollow cheeks and eyes that had rolled to the back of his head. Mum had told me about cigarettes, and how uncle Dave passed away after using them for twenty years. But I'm only going to use them once, I told myself.

"Sure."

Lucas nodded with approval as he carefully slipped the orange, papery stick from the box. He grabbed the lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette. I had never smoked before, and I had no idea how to do it. I observed the others as they calmly sucked at their cigarette, inhaling who knows what, and puffing out smelly, grey fumes. I mimicked them.

After thirty minutes of laughing, chatting and smoking, I was interrupted by Ruphus bounding towards me with his ears high, as if he was in alert mode. He snatched one of my sneakers. "Hey! What are you doing alone? Where's Charlie?" I yelled, as I chased the small, fluffy dog. I coughed, and tasted the icky cigarette taste in my throat. But I kept chasing, ignoring the excruciating pain of sticks and stones under my foot. Not a trace of Charlie. Ruphus led me down to the water, where it was too deep to see the bottom. He dropped my shoe and started barking frantically at something in the water.

The front page of the local paper with the article about last years drama at the waterhole flashed in my mind. Charlie could not swim!

I dove into the water. The iciness made me gasp and all my muscles tense. What have I done? What have I done? These words bounced around in my head, sounding alarms. The adrenaline kicked in, making my heart thump hard. My sight was blurred from the water. It was dark, and slightly murky, but I could make out the colour of my brother's red shoes. I snatched it and pulled him out of the water.

But it wasn't him.

I stood there dripping and cold, red shoes in hand and feeling dumb-struck. Charlie rolled out from his hiding spot behind a tree barefooted and sucking his thumb. I was unsure of what had just happened. A part of me was relieved that he was safe and unscathed, but the other part was annoyed. My mute, six-year-old, skinny and small as little brother had given me the biggest fright of my life - with the help of our dog.

"You better not tell mum about this," I told him, once we arrived home "shell be crazy mad." Charlie nodded, his eyes unsure. The others had left by the time I walked back, fazed, with my little brother. So we made our way home by ourselves. I rinsed my hair and dried it, locked the front door with the spare key, placing it on the kitchen bench before immersing myself in a television show.

The door lock clicked and the familiar footsteps of my mother filled the hall. "Boys!" She greeted, dumping her sagging, black workbag on the floor. Then after a pregnant pause, "I'm only going to ask once. Did you leave the house?"

I gave my brother the look. "No."

My mum gritted her teeth. "Where have you been? Don't lie. It will make things worse." She put the spare keys back on the hook emphatically and raised a brow. "You boys are in a heap of trouble."