Color the Sidewalk for Me by Brandilyn Collins Page A

struggled to raise my head. Kevy had surfaced again but wasn’t moving, Danny swimming toward him with all his might. Somehow I pulled myself to my feet and lurched through knee-deep water, shoes saturated and pulling off my heels. I could taste blood from a cut in my hand as I pressed it against my mouth. Breathing another prayer, I watched Danny as he fought to close the gap. They neared a bend in the river, and suddenly I jerked to a stop, hearing the rapids far too loudly. The gorge ahead would be swollen to capacity, the icy water churning in its headlong plunge over heavy rocks.
    Kevy slipped out of sight around the curve. A moment later Danny was gone, too.
    I heaved myself out of the water and ran down the bank, tripping over rocks and logs, calling their names. I reached the bend and rounded it, the roar of the rapids hitting me in the face, and saw the water’s hue lighten as it began to spiral into a surging white. There I saw Danny Cander throw an arm around my brother, pause a moment to change course, then begin to swim toward shore with one hand, face taut with effort.
    â€œSwim!” I screamed. “Swim!” I fell over sun-bleached wood, pulling up immediately. Danny was sliding with the current faster than he could reach the shore, eyes bulging with the knowledge that he could not make it. I watched him falter, then slow, losing precious headway as the current strengthened. They were so close, twenty feet from me now, but the river was beginning to funnel, plowing them back into its center. “Danny!” He lifted his head and caught my eye. “Swim!”
    In three steps I’d jumped back into the water, diving into a shock that snatched my breath away. Then I was stroking toward Danny. Seeing me, he struggled harder, pulling against the current. Yes , I cried inside. Yes! In another minute our fingertips were touching, and then my arm was around his shoulder, straining toward shore as he pulled my brother. The rapids rose to a scream in my ears, my eyes blinded by foaming water. Then Danny’s arm fell away and he floated aimlessly, eyes half closed, his other hand loosening its grip around Kevy. “No!” I kicked, connecting with Danny’s thigh, and dazedly he shook his head. His eyes opened, filling with fear. With a final effort he strengthened his fingers around Kevy and began to swim. I felt us both lift slightly, then surge forward.
    The shore stretched before us, rugged and unreachable. Close the gap, close the gap, I chanted in my head, the frigid water numbing my senses. Kevy’s dead weight was like a giant stone around our necks. Get to shore, close the gap. Would the bank ever grow near? Stroke, kick, stroke, kick. Hold Danny tight. Danny, hold Kevy tight. Stroke, kick. The rest of the world ceased to exist. I was in a dazzling white, cold place, no sound as loud in my ears as our gasps for breath. Then a thought spun across my mind with sudden, brilliant clarity. Our own choking was louder than the rapids’ roar.
    We were going to make it.
    The knowledge lent me a burst of speed. We moved faster through the water, the gathering sweep of current behind us. Two more strokes and I let my legs sink, touching bottom. I stood, shaking ferociously, and pulled Danny and Kevy toward me. Danny dragged himself to his feet, bent over and heaving, gripping my brother so tightly that I had to forcibly unclench his fingers. “It’s okay, Danny,” I gasped. “We made it.” We huddled, filling our aching lungs. I glanced at Kevy. He was still, his eyelids and lips cold and blue. “Come on, we gotta get him out of the water.” Still gasping, we floated Kevy to shore and dragged him up the rocky bank, his head rolling listlessly, arms limp. Kneeling over his body, we slapped his cheeks. “Kevy! Kevy!” My voice sounded tinny. His wet, cold face stung my fingers. “Kevy! Wake up!” I gripped his wrist, checking for a pulse,