Journal of Rose Ingrid Castle

JOURNAL OF ROSE INGRID CASTLE

Fern didn’t talk to me the day after she saw Billy and me kissing.… She made basic conversation (“Pass the tomato sauce,” “No thanks, I don’t want to go to the river”), but things were frosty enough that even Mum and Daniel noticed something was up.

“What’s going on with you kids?” Daniel asked over lunch.

“Nothing,” the three of us said in unison.

“Are you sure?” Mum asked.

“Yep.”

That was our line and we were sticking to it, at least where Mum was concerned. But even in private, Fern wasn’t talking. It was strange. I was starting to get the feeling that I was right when I suspected Fern liked Billy. And now she was mad at us.

“Come on, kids, snap out of it,” Daniel said finally. “It’s your last night. Go swim. Go on. Off with you.”

We tried to protest, saying we were tired, but Mum and Daniel were adamant. I think they wanted some privacy.

We walked to the river in single file. Billy got straight into the water, keen to get away from the obvious tension. I sat on the riverbank beside Fern and waited. One thing I knew about Fern was that she wouldn’t talk until she was ready.

After an hour had passed and she still hadn’t talked, I felt nature call. Billy was showing no signs of getting out of the water—splashing and swimming and swinging from the rope—so I headed deep into the trees. After everything that had happened, I didn’t want Billy seeing me pee. It was slow going; it was dark and I was barefoot—I had to watch every step I took.

When I returned to the river, Fern was gone.

“Fern,” I called. “Fern! Where are you?”

It was strange for her not to be in the spot I left her. It might have been that, combined with the fact that I was a worrier, that put me instantly on guard. “Fern?”

“Here,” came a small voice.

And then I saw her, illuminated by a patch of moonlight in the shallows of the river. She was standing eerily still.

“What are you doing?” I asked. There was something about her facial expression … it gave me a bad feeling even before I saw what she’d done.

I took a step toward her and she lifted her hands. Something rose to the surface of the water beside her. A sliver of pale, unmoving flesh.

“Fern,” I whispered. “What have you done?”