"Lardass!" he spat, delivering a loud smack on my shoulder. "You jump into a river again before you learn to swim proper and I promise to give you a good lickin', you hear?"

We sat wordless for a moment in front of each other, our shadows stretched out and entangled upon the groves. Both of us were shivering beneath the weight of our drenched clothes, but Henry seemed to quiver more violently with every angry gulp of air. The Sun continued to descend reluctantly behind the hills, spilling blood-red light wherever it kissed the land. What a sight we must have been under its seething glow! I fancied the Sun would never have set until one of us spoke a word, for it seemed that even the summer cicadas have leaned in to listen to our little skirmish.


"Opie," Henry began, softer now: "Promise me you won't ever go in the waters when me or your Pap ain't around, alright? Your Pap's going to skin us alive when he finds out what you done - and I'll be the one belted most! It's too dangerous, and I don't want you getting drownded."

He paused to lick his lips.

 "You’re my family now. I’m goin’a have to take mighty good care of you – and I swear to mum I will! So don’t you ever listen to a word them fellers tell you to do ‘cause most of them ain’t half as bright-minded as you, a'right? And if they come and bother you again, I’ll—“ he hesitated for a moment – bless the boy! – before carrying on in a sudden burst of determination, “I’ll slug ‘em where it hurts! So will you promise me this, Opie?"

By this point, my girlish heart had been so vigorously stirred by the earnestness of his speech that I was quite flushed with sentiment, and was surprised by the quake in my voice and the mist over my eyes as I swore my oath. Henry, however, did not appear satisfied with a simple verbal contract. He produced from his pocket a Swiss-army knife (given to him by his dead father, he told me), flicked the blade open and instructed me to put my thumb out.

"But Henry!" I cried, pulling my fists closer to my chest, "This is jus' reckless! I promise never to go into the river again. There - ain't that enough?"

Henry made it clear to me that he thought otherwise and threw a disdainful scowl at my remark. "No, 'tain't! This is an oath between brothers. Didn't you say you don't want to be no sissy gal, Opie? Huh? Didn't you say so?" It was evident that this order was peremptory. I gave him a solemn word of consent before tentatively sticking my finger out. "Well then," he said, "We will make a blood oath, because you are my little brother if you say you are, Opie. Never forget this."

How could I ever! It had been imprinted on my memory as though we were children yesterday (but to this day, aren’t we all still?), and I could clearly recall the sturdiness in his voice and the spark in his grey eyes, both resilient and assuring, as he announced this declaration of acceptance. In the space of a single heartbeat, it did not seem to matter how long I have known Henry for. He had abolished all significance embodied within matters of blood relations; all at once he became my lifelong brother, my friend, and my rock, to whom I would faithfully seek shelter from and embrace in times of calamitous tides.  

Without further ado, Henry brought the tip of the blade to my thumb and scored a neat, swift incision on my flesh. I recollect the sudden presence of an awful, searing hot sensation on my thumb, and I snatched my hand out of Henry’s in an embarrassingly ferocious manner only to proceed, afterwards, to shower my pathetic nerves with a series of vulgar inward curses. Henry, of course, looked quite comfortable maiming himself that I almost felt a pang of envy for his strength and endurance. This was recovered somewhat by my assuming that he must have practiced this ritual with his friends several times before.

 

We pressed our thumbs together so that our blood mingled. Henry led away the rite, telling me to repeat the following words:

“I, Ophelia Van Trout – dubbed ‘Opie’ – swear upon our mother’s grave (“Oh! But your mother isn’t dead yet, is she?” I interrupted. “No, Opie,” Henry replied, “We just need something to swear by, that’s all.”) that I shan’t, under any circumstenance, jump into the river or any deep water whatsoever lest I should like to get drownded.”

Henry said, professionally, that I did very well on my part after I had finished, and that it was now his turn to speak his part of our pledge. This was what he said:

“I, Henry Van Trout – dubbed ‘Henry’ – swear upon our mother’s grave to always keep a watchful eye on Ophelia, for she (formal talk, Opie! You know you’re my little brother) is now my family and blood kin, and won’t ever let any harm come near her.” He made a thoughtful pause before adding, “I promise to punish whoever would hurt her, and slug them proper if I must.”

The deed is done. We detached our thumbs from each other’s and wiped them on our wet shirts. Henry advised that I should suck on the cut if blood continued to escape. Presently the stars have begun to show themselves, and only a rosy tint remained where the Sun gave out the last light of day before it expired for the night. We should go home, Henry said, for Pap would be very angry at us if we didn't soon.

I slipped my small hand in his as we walked home together, hushed beneath the weight of both fatigue and complacency until we arrived in a drowsy stupor in front of our little blue door.

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a/n: i hope this didn't sound /too/ undone? critics appreciated, of course.
things to do in next writing: change the THEME and maybe genre | write in 3rd person
if you managed to read all of that and thoroughly enjoyed it you deserve 10 golden star stickers **********