Whatever Floats your Boat

Chapter Ten

Copyright © Georgie E. - Fruitea on Wattpad  

Chapter 10

The water was calm today, perfect for swimming and sailing - it was at its easiest to manipulate the lake. But no one was out, it was dead with the impending storm. I was on the edge of the lake, sitting on the pebbled bank that always seemed vacant, even in the depth of heat waves.

It was a good spot, one where all the town's kids went to when it was to hectic on the streets. So many parties had happened here, so many lost kisses occurring in the exact spot I was sitting. And it was evident, the beer cans peeking through the rubble. It didn't matter how many incentives were offered to us, it would always look like a skip. But, I guess that's how we liked it.

I'd sat here a number of Thursday's, when the lake was at its emptiest. There may be a few tourist boats but there were always greater time intervals between, every fifteen minutes the small ferry crossed with a new load of cars and travellers. My mum would be there any time now, it was the fastest way home.

I decided last week that the best time to practice would be straight after school on Thursday.

So here I was now, moody and cold sitting on the pebble beach like the protagonist of a sad song. Why wasn't I in the water? I haven't the faintest idea but something was holding me back. I couldn't explain it but there was something disheartening about swimming with no goal.

I usually had Beck at the other end of my swim with his hands ready to pull me onto the boat. Now, I would swim and emerge soaking wet with no reward apart from the length of my swim or a new time of holding my breath. There'd be no cheers, no picnics of hot chocolate and diced apples.

Somehow I got enough mojo to bring myself to my feet and skip from bolder to bolder in my rubber socks.

Not only was this part of the lake secluded, perfect for us brooding teenagers, but it was also home to the swim team's equipment. Apparently, back in the day - according to my mother - there had been multiple beach huts dotted around the area, resembling the line on the sea front of Brighton only shabbier. But there was a fire in the nineties, work of Lakes School's finest, that had all the other schools' sheds ruined. So now, to prevent repercussions, there was only one shed, massive and filled to the brim with all that was needed for the three schools around Windermere.

I climbed onto the docking and entered the combination. Groaning, it opened and I found the inside a mess. Not a lot of the team actually used the equipment, not even in the olden days (showing that the students of Lakes School have been pathetically spiteful even back when). I couldn't think of one person on the team who wasn't made of money, those who sailed had a family boat - maybe even their own boat. What was in this shack was used as a last resort; numerous one-person rowing boats and three team rowers bolted to the walls. In the middle was a single racing boat, only to be used when there's a fault with your own - words of Coach Ian.

I untacked a single rower, dragging it out and along the dock. It was a struggle, the boat wasn't built for a slight girl to drag but I was nearly there.

Just as the front hit the water, a voice called out; "I can give you a lift to the centre of the lake if you want, Lou."

I stopped my hauling to find Rydal leaning against the railing of his boat. I frowned, I hadn't seen him in weeks but I was sure he would have heard about me and his brother by now. If not by Beck himself, then by someone in this town. It was always big news when a steady relationship sank.

"You don't really want to go out on that death trap, do you?" He teased. I sighed as I straightened, my hands tight on the frame of the boat. Rydal groaned as he straightened and crossed his arms. "I just want to give you a lift, Lou."