Down the River: A New Short Story

I wrote this for creative writing. It's too long to post the whole thing at once, so I'll post more later.

Sam Brinkhart yawned in the mid-80 degree weather Tuesday morning as he paddled his kayak towards the bank of the Snake River. The local scout troop was on a five-day river run in southern Idaho. Sam struggled out of his kayak on the shore and walked up the bank to wait for his turn in the small latrine. As he stretched out his somewhat cramped legs he chatted with his buddies.

“So Matt, I’m thinkin’ you’ll be the first one to eat it.” Sam joked.

“Yeah right. My money’s on you.” Matt responded. It was the extreme unlikelihood of either scenario, which made everyone in the group laugh. Matt and Sam were by far the most athletic boys in the troop, and both had picked up the skill of kayaking with abnormal ease.

“In fact, I’ll bet your tube gets caught on someone’s oar and you fall in.” Matt added. Matt was referring to Sam’s insulin pump. Sam had been diagnosed with diabetes when he was twelve. He was one of the shortest members of the group. He had dark brown hair and a deceptively scrawny build; everyone knew that Matt was the only boy in the troop who Sam couldn’t out-muscle. His genuine friendliness and easy-going nature made it easy to kid with him, as Matt enjoyed doing frequently.

Matt was a state champion wrestler in the 198 weight class and looked the part of tough guy. His high cheekbones, sunken eyes and cauliflower ear were enough to make any physical competitor curl into the fetal position in terror.

Soon the group was back on the water, led by Jim. He was an experienced outdoorsman who had played the part of scoutmaster in the neighborhood for over twenty years. He was especially excited for this group of 15-17 year old boys because of their excellent physical condition and fearless nature.

Bringing up the rear was 26-year-old Tim Treft. He loved being with the boys as it took him back to his days of scouthood. As assistant scoutmaster the responsibility of manning the equipment raft fell on him. All of the food, cooking equipment, tents, and backpacks were in the raft with him.

When the sun started to set, the boys set up camp and began cooking their tin-foil dinners in the campfire.

“What’ve you got in your dinner, Matt?” Sam said, trying to strike up some dinner conversation.

“Ground beef, cheesy potatoes, and some veggies. You?”

“Barbeque chicken, rice, beans—

“Beans!?” the whole troop moaned, “You’re gonna stink up the tent!”

~~~~

The next morning went similar to the day before; the boys joked and raced and soaked themselves to the bone. When the boys stopped for lunch, Sam piped up,

“So, when do we get to some white water Jim?”

“When your mom gets here to hold your hand.” Matt joked.

After examining the map, Jim said, “Looks like the first rapids are about a mile from where we are now.”

This was met with massive cheers from the boys.

“Hang on.” Jim said, “We’ve got to review the procedure of taking on ra—

“Ah come on, Jim! We’ve been over it a thousand times! Aim for gaps, take it slow, watch for obstacles, lean back, we know! Please can we go?”

“Alright, but everyone be careful, we don’t want an accident.” Jim warned.

“And no crying, Sam.” Matt added.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Sam joked back.