Tommy
The fire had burned down to a steady roar, spitting sparks into the night. Neighbours were gathered in clusters of chatter, their laughter and music mixing with the sound of crickets. The younger kids had pulled away from the adults, darting along the lakeshore with torches, daring each other and getting closer and closer to the water's edge.
I was halfway through a conversation with one of my father's colleagues when I noticed Jack waving his arms like a ringmaster. "Bet you won't do it!" he shouted at one of Emma's brothers, who was balancing along a slippery log.
My stomach tightened. I knew that tone — the one that meant trouble was seconds away.
"Jack," I called sharply, but the boys only laughed louder. Even Alex was in the thick of it, his face lit up by the fire behind him, desperate to be like his brother.
"Your turn, Alex!" one of the older kids jeered. "Go on, touch the water!"
Before I could get to him, Alex took off running along the bank. His trainers skidded on the damp grass, and then he was gone — one slip, one splash, and the dark lake swallowed him whole.
The sound of it froze me. Then everyone was shouting at once.
"Alex!" Jack's voice cracked with panic.
"Help!" someone screamed.
I lurched forward, but stopped dead at the edge of the water. My chest heaved, my arms trembled, but the truth hit like a stone: I couldn't swim. None of us could. My father had always called it "unnecessary."
And then a blur cut past me.
It was Emma.
Without hesitation, she dove straight into the black water. The lake closed over her head, ripples widening into the night. For a moment, all I could hear was the frantic slap of waves and the hollow thud of my own heart. I prayed for her to come up. I held my breath and stared at the point where she'd gone into the lake.
Then — her arm surfaced, dragging Alex's small, thrashing body up with her.
"Kick, Alex! Kick!" she gasped, voice raw with effort.
The crowd surged forward, but it felt like hours before she hauled him close enough for a neighbour to reach in and grab him.
Alex collapsed onto the grass, coughing up lake water, pale and shaking.
Emma scrambled up behind him, dripping, her clothes clinging to her small body. She bent over Alex, one hand on his back, murmuring softly until his breathing steadied. Relief washed through me so strong my legs nearly gave out.
But then Mother's voice cut through the night. Sharp. Shaking.
"What were you thinking?" She rushed to Alex, pulling him close, then turned on Emma. "You could have drowned! What kind of reckless girl jumps in like that?"
I blinked. "She saved him," I managed to say, but no one heard me.
Emma's mother was already storming forward, eyes flashing, voice low but venomous. "Dragging my daughter into this chaos — putting herself at risk. She has responsibilities, she can't—"
"She just saved Alex's life!" I shouted this time, but the words tangled uselessly in the air.
Emma had gone very still, shoulders tense, her eyes dark with something I couldn't read. Both mothers kept firing words — sharp, heavy, hurtful — until I saw her flinch.
Then she turned and ran.
Through the crowd, past the fire, into the line of trees.
"Emma!" I called, but she didn't stop.
The woods swallowed her whole, leaving only the sound of the water lapping at the shore and my brother's sobs.
And I stood there, drenched in helplessness, knowing she had saved Alex when none of us could… and yet somehow she was the one blamed and shouted at.
Emma
The firelight blurred as I ran, my wet clothes clinging cold and heavy against my skin. My feet pounded over roots and stones, but I didn't care. I needed to get away — away from the shouting, away from their eyes, away from the sting of their words that still rang in my ears.
Reckless. Irresponsible.
As if I hadn't just pulled a boy out of the lake. As if I hadn't been the only one who even tried.
The air grew cooler under the trees, damp moss rising with every breath. Tears streamed hot down my cheeks, mixing with lake water, dripping onto my chin. My chest ached, not just from the run but from the weight pressing harder and harder until it felt like I could barely breathe.
Why did it always end like this?
No matter what I did — helping with Zoey, keeping the house together, watching the little ones when Mum snapped, working until my arms burned — it was never enough. Tonight I had done the only thing that mattered, the only thing that saved a life… and still I was the problem. Still, I was the one to blame.
I stumbled over a branch and fell to my knees, dirt smearing across my hands. The ground smelled of pine and wet earth, and for a moment I stayed there, shaking, sobbing into the dark.
I thought of Alex's face, his wide eyes when I pulled him up, the way he clung to me until we reached the shore. I'd been so sure, so focused — there hadn't been any fear in me then. Just action. Just the need to keep him alive.
But now, now that I was alone, fear seeped in like icy water. What if I hadn't reached him in time? What if I hadn't been strong enough to pull him in?
I pressed my hands to my face and let out a broken sound.
And beneath all that, sharper still, was the humiliation. To be shouted at in front of everyone. To be treated like a foolish child when I'd done what no one else could.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, wishing I could sink into the earth and vanish.
And yet… a part of me, small but stubborn, whispered that I'd do it again. A hundred times, if it meant saving a child.
But that didn't stop the hurt. It didn't stop the ache of knowing that even when I tried my hardest, even when I risked everything, I still wasn't enough for them.
Through the branches, the glow of the bonfire flickered faintly, distant now. I turned my back to it, hugging my knees, hiding in the dark.
And for the first time that summer, I wished I could run far, far away — someplace where no one could call me reckless for caring too much.