Wild River

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Authors: P.J. Petersen
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bridge. Of course, it would have been even more beautiful if people had been standing on it. But I wasn’t complaining.
    I slid off the mattress and waded to shore. I stripped off my life vest while I ran across the rocks. My sweatshirt, sopping wet, was still tiedaround my waist. I tried to untie it, but my hands were shaking too hard.
    I climbed up the bank to a paved road. I stopped for a second and looked both ways. And saw nothing.
    I felt like screaming again. It wasn’t fair! I’d come all the way down the river to the bridge. I’d won the game. But there was nothing here. Just an empty road with trees and bushes in both directions.
    I glanced down at Tanner’s watch and took one long breath. Then I started to run. I chose the left for no reason and raced down the middle of the road. At first, my legs were wobbly. But it still felt good to be moving.
    I spotted a metal roof up ahead and ran even faster. Off to the right, down a dirt driveway, was a cabin. Painted white, with a green door. No cars parked in front.
    The place looked empty. I ran down the driveway and pounded on that green door anyway.
    Nobody there.
    I grabbed a rock. I’d use it to break a window. Then I’d climb in and use the phone.
    I ran to the first window and looked inside. Bunk beds, an old woodstove. Hanging from the ceiling was an old-fashioned oil lantern.
    I groaned and dropped the rock. There wouldn’t be a phone in there. They didn’t even have electricity.
    Just then I heard the rumbling of an engine. What an awesome sound! A truck. Coming this way.
    I raced down the driveway. I spotted the truck off to my left. Barreling along. Getting closer and closer.
    I couldn’t let it get past. This was a race I couldn’t lose. I stretched out and ran as hard as I could. Straight into the road.
    I stood right in the middle, waving my arms over my head. I heard the horn and squealing brakes. The truck swerved to the edge of the road.
    I started to smile. I had won the race. The truck was going to stop.
    The squealing brakes got louder. The left headlight was coming right at me. I stood there and watched it get bigger and bigger.
    I finally realized that the truck couldn’t stop in time. I leapt to the side, and a big fender zipped past me.
    The truck screeched to a stop. The air was full of blue smoke from the tires. I rushed forward and slammed my fist against the driver’s door.
    “You idiot!” the driver shouted. “What’s the matter with you?”
    “Emergency!” I yelled. “Emergency!”

T he truck driver gave me a jacket and took me to a store with a phone booth on the porch. I called 911. I talked to the operator, then the sheriff’s office, then a helicopter pilot from Search and Rescue. When I told him about the yellow X, he laughed and said, “Good job, buddy. This will be a piece of cake.” I dropped the phone and slid down onto theporch. My legs couldn’t hold me any longer. I curled into a ball and closed my eyes.
    After that, things get foggy A woman wrapped me in a blanket and put a bandage on my chin. Somebody gave me hot chocolate, and I spilled it all over the driver’s jacket. I spent some time on an old couch, but I can’t remember how I got there. I woke up later when Dad was carrying me to the van. “Don’t try to talk,” he told me. “Tanner’s in the hospital. He’ll be fine. Just rest.”

    Six days later, Tanner was home. He had a bandage on his head, and some of his hair had been shaved. His eyes were purple and puffy. But he still had his puppy-dog smile. Our house was full of balloons and candy. Half the girls in town came by to visit him.
    The doctors said Tanner was doing great. But they didn’t want him to play football. “That’sokay,” Tanner said. “I’ll try out for the cross-country team.” And he’ll probably be a star at that, too.
    That first night, after his friends finally left, Tanner came to my room. “All right, Ryan,” he said, “I want to hear about

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