Swifty

The sun is already blazing at 9 in the morning, a sure sign that the temperature will soon become unbearable. Over the meadow just behind Grandma and Grandpa’s house, a heat haze quivers and plays tricks on the eyes. Dangerous animals arise from it, desert oases, wondrous castles, princes and princesses. The scent of the village is particular, intoxicating — juicy peaches and apricots, goose droppings, dust, fire, and earth. The smell makes your head spin, and your chest rise and fall deeply, barely managing to draw a full breath. The scent of the earth hits to the groin, something the children do not yet know, but it makes them wilder and more energetic than even usual.

In the yard, Zvezda’s grandparents discuss the gasping heat with serious faces.

“Can I join the other children on an outing?!” begs the girl. For nothing in the world will she admit that they are going to Swifty. If she did, Grandma wouldn’t let her go and will scold her terribly. And how can it be otherwise, when compared to it, the Big Canal looks like a calm pond?

Just in time, Mariana appears at their gate, an old towel slung over her shoulder.

“We’re going to the Little Canal,” she grins, but Grandma raises her eyebrows. Marianas’ and three other families don’t live in the Roma neighbourhood, but in theirs. Mariana is a loyal-to-the-bone friend, yet Grandma frowns upon her granddaughter associating with the Gypsy.

“Ree-ally? You are not, by any chance, sneaking off to Swifty? Don’t you dare go there, you hear me?!” Grandma raises her voice to her grandchild but stares coldly at Mariana. The girl is already used to such treatment from everyone, which would only worsen as they grow older. Thank God at least Grandpa is winking at her.

“No, no! We’re going to the Great Poplar; then to the Little Canal to splash around,” the neighbour girl says quickly. Children lie to adults in those days, and every child knows how. Otherwise, punishments and beatings follow — often harsh ones.

From the end of the street appear Andrei and Mitko (Zvezda’s heart leaps like a little rabbit), Nikolai, and other boys. They only wear shorts, their skin baked golden like the wheat by the sun. Behind them girls follow, which seems to reassure Grandma.

“Off you go, then. And be back by six!” she huffs while Grandpa is smiling at them all. Zvezda and Mariana hurry through the gate, the boys have already rushed ahead. All girls hasten down the village road past the dried out, thorn-choked grass of the meadow.

Soon they gain on the boys and tear off together, laughing and shouting, towards ― naturally ― Swifty. The road is a rural dirt track, and when they pass sheep, carts, or heaven forbid, the rare car passes them, clouds of dust rise.

The sun scorches mercilessly. The golden wheat fields on either side of the road smell of baked straw. Here and there, a hobbled horse grazes; a swarm of flies buzzes around its tail, which it swishes lazily, trying to shoo them away. It knows all the same that it is a lost cause. The sun pours over the children’s heads, making them shriek even wilder. Zvezda’s hair spills like liquid gold from her head, inevitably drawing glances.

Already after the Little Bridge the children run to the Big Oak, throats burning, and collapse into its thick shade. Only Zvezda and Mariana have thought to bring water, and gulp eagerly from their glass bottles. Mariana then lets hers circle around with a generous gesture. Many drink a little, though some shyly refuse. The road to Swifty is long, and there’s water only at one spot far from here. But Zvezda doesn’t put away her own bottle. She is waiting for a certain person to ask for it, but he is messing around with Andrei and pretends not to see her. Anger and embarrassment flare in Zvezda as she makes to put her bottle away.

“Hey, Zvezda! Can I drink too, huh?”

It’s impossible to tell if he’s flirting or really thirsty. Zvezda hurries to hand him the water, and Mitko steps very close, looking her straight in the eye, making her uncomfortable. Her heart thumps violently, her body stiffens, and on her cheeks, she feels peonies blooming. Mitko drinks, fixing her with his gaze, and Zvezda gets utterly flustered. Then he roughly shoves the bottle back into her hand and runs ahead to chase Nikolai and Andrei. Eleven-year-old boys are idiots.

The path winds between the Big Canal and the golden fields, and the children run along it, swallowing dust. Streams of sweat pour down their necks, regularly wiped with grimy hands. Tiny flies rush into their eyes, larger flies buzz around them, even horseflies occasionally attack. After the wheat fields come the tobacco plantations. Yet, there isn’t a soul in sight. The farmers sleep a well-earned afternoon nap, everyone, except the children and part of nature. The other part buzzes around them, hums, roars with the braying of the donkey under a plum tree, maddened by the heat. It squawks like a jay, warning that an eagle circles above. The children lift their heads as if on command, shielding their eyes from the sun—and indeed, about twenty meters above them, a golden eagle hovers.

“It’s her!” exclaims Nikolai, who knows all the birds around here. “Hunting mice, to feed her young. Last week she stole two of my pigeons right after I released them. Damn her… why didn’t I take my slingshot?!” he fumes, punching the air. The children look at him sympathetically. In the 1980s at their end of Europe environmental protection is a vague concept barely mentioned at school. Nature is wild and still a threat. Also, Nikolai has a pigeon loft and loves his birds like brothers.

“Older brother[1] Andrei, aren’t we going to get there?” whines someone, looking back at the invisible village. The road to Swifty is about four kilometres, which in the hellish heat seems longer.

“Just a little more, right around that bend! You will dive into the cold water, right? Hold on a bit!” Andrei reassures them, pointing somewhere ahead where the dusty road descends between the fields. Then he blushes, noticing Zvezda listening, though he always blushes at something. Their drinking water has run out.

Without the sleepy nature sounds it’d be completely silent, and it makes them feel uneasy. The village has long vanished from view, and suddenly they feel very small ― dots under the eagle’s eye hurled across the wide Thracian fields, under the beautiful, rounded shoulders of the Rhodope mountains. The children quicken their pace, heads burning as if boiled in water.

At last, to the left the sunbaked field slopes down into a ravine, which on closer inspection takes the shape of a canal. The children ran down it as if flying. A fresh, cooler air brushes them, as if they’re entering a forest.

Swifty is medium-sized but deep and foamy, a canal built to regulate the water in the Big Canal. When the latter runs low, Swifty opens its rusty gates with a creak, letting hectolitres of water rush out for the fields’ irrigation. No one knows exactly when the gates will open, and if you’re unlucky, the unleashed water can sweep you away and drown you. It’s happened before, and the stories circle through the village, Andrei reminds them as a warning, grinning toothily. Some children freeze at the edge of Swifty—but only a few.

“C’MOOOOON!”

A triumphant roar escapes Mitko, and Andrei. The two launch themselves into the foamy canal. Zvezda raises an eyebrow at Mariana. Should they take their T-shirts off? At eleven, Zvezda’s breasts are just beginning to grow, and Mariana’s too, though she’s barely Zvezda’s shoulder height. They’ve never worn tops before.

“Come on, Zvezda!” her friend urges, pulling her T-shirt over her head. Mariana looks so wild and free with her short black hair and dark skin that Zvezda stops worrying. Both girls stand on the bank, wearing only the bottoms of their swimsuits, scanning for a place to dive in.

Andrei and Mitko stop swimming, staring at them with wide eyes, as if expecting the girls’ breasts to start growing right before their eyes. Zvezda plunges into the cold water, face flaming with embarrassment. Mariana swims with broad, professional strokes parallel to the bank, but Zvezda pushes off farther. Then suddenly, Mitko blocks her path.

He looks like an ancient Thracian, as the history textbook describe them, Zvezda has noticed this for a long time. Mitko is muscular and strong, the chestnut hues of Thrace reflected in his hair, eyes, and skin. The harder she tries, the more impossible it becomes to ignore him.

“Don’t drown, city girl!” he teases, caramel-coloured eyes twinkling as she loses all sense and speech. Mitko sees that she’s flustered, laughs idiotically, and wades back to the middle of Swifty, letting out mocking, self-satisfied cries. Eleven-year-old boys are idiots. Zvezda dives to wash away her confusion and others join in, while only two girls stay on the bank, dipping their feet.

The neighbourhood splashes in Swifty, whose waters are tugging at them. They let themselves be carried along, then struggle back. The current drags Zvezda closer to the rusty gates, behind which the water level is twice as high. For two years, they have been learning to swim at school, and her father has taught her more. Nothing can happen to her.

“Don’t go there!” someone calls out, and naturally Zvezda heads straight for the gates. Mariana, however, wisely stays near the bank.

By the gates the water is both calm and charged with tension, and the smell of rust hits the nose. Zvezda circles around the iron doors, feeling the pressure of the water mass behind them. Nikolai paddles over to keep her company and begins diving, measuring the length of the gates.

“They must be four meters deep! I couldn’t reach the first time. I didn’t judge how much air to take!” Nikolai babbles after each noisy resurfacing, spitting out water. Mitko’s climbed onto the bank, ready to leap back into Swifty, squinting at him. Then, virtuoso-like, he dives in turn and reaches them.

“Noo way! Four meters, rea-ally?” he shouts, taking a breath and diving to the bottom. Zvezda wonders if he can see her thighs underwater—but in the muddy canal it’s surely impossible. She dives with her eyes open. Dust and dirt float through the water, along with weeds. The murk is so thick that hardly anything can be distinguished. Suddenly, very close, Zvezda sees the outline of a leg. And then, heart-stoppingly, unmistakably, the gates next to her start to shake. Their piercing creak echoes through the water.

The desperate urge to resurface and escape the incoming wave propels Zvezda upward. She bursts out like a champagne cork and sees Mitko and Andrei swimming around her with twisted faces.

“Quick! Come on!!” they shout, paddling forward, though Andrei keeps glancing back at her. Dazed, Zvezda notices other children ahead scrambling like piranhas toward the bank—but they are so close to it, not like her.

The gates begin to open with a thunderous creak, and water rushes through the gap. Zvezda is now fighting both the current and the panic threatening to drown her. She grits her teeth and paddles twice as hard —but with another deafening groan, the iron doors swing open halfway, and a river bursts through. It sweeps Zvezda along, spinning her like a top and dragging her beneath it.

The girl struggles with all her might, holding her breath in her mouth.

Just don’t give in to panic, just don’t give in—her father’s voice echoes in her mind. The water roars and foams, pulling her under, and Zvezda loses all sense of depth. A giant hand is dragging her toward the bottom, while darkness thickens around her. Her lungs protest the lack of air, and dancing stars swim before her eyes. She can barely hear the ugly creak of the gates anymore as they continue to open. She knows that when they open fully, she will be gone.

Zvezda kicks furiously and pushes upward with her arms—but where is upward? Around her there is only brown, roaring murk. Panic finally overwhelms her, and the girl realizes she has only seconds before opening her mouth to scream. Then in the dark, earthy waters of Swifty, an iron palm grabs her ankle and pulls, dragging her headfirst like a doll.

The desperate need to breathe. Zvezda is on the verge of screaming and swallowing water, but two palms now twist her upright and an arm clamps around her waist like a corset. Zvezda claws wildly at the body that is hauling her upward — at least she hopes it is upward. Her lungs contract from the lack of air; she barely holds on. Still, she continues to kick with her last strength. Her hands never manage to unfasten from the man's shoulders.

She cannot go on without air — her lungs reach their limit. The terrible pain in them forces her mouth open in a violent convulsion to draw breath. Zvezda gulps water and begins to choke. Yet then, without warning, they finally break Swifty’s surface.

Both spit and cough, blinded by the whirlpool that keeps pouring in through the gates. Zvezda chokes and does not hear the screaming children on the bank. She can register that the person she’s clung to for dear life is Andrei, but nothing is over yet, their life still depend on the next few minutes. Her panic erupts with full force now.

“Help! Help!” Zvezda coughs, sobs and spits, clinging to Andrei’s neck, who swims with enormous effort toward the shore.

“Calm down! … with the other hand… help! And.. legs! Fast!” he pants. Zvezda unfastens one arm from his neck — the hardest thing she’s ever done. They push away from the incoming water, but Zvezda’s muscles start to shake violently now. Children hang over the bank, hoarse from shouting, wildly pointing. Too late, they will never make it. Zvezda hears more than sees the gates opening fully with an ear‑piercing screech and a torrent like an avalanche fills Swifty to the brim.

Somehow, the pair is still fighting near the shore. After several insane, suffocating moments, Mariana, Mitko and Nikolai haul them onto dry land.

The pair collapses on the ground, neither dead nor alive. The neighbourhood crowds tightly around them.

“Didn’t we tell you?! Didn’t we tell you?!” many girls stammer, trembling almost like Zvezda despite the forty‑degree Celsius. They lean over her and watch her breathe and shake violently, sprawled on the grass‑grown bank.

Andrei tries to sit up, but he, too, can barely catch his breath. Purple fingerprints from Zvezda’s fingers mark the side of his neck. His little brother is quiet and sniffles, even Mitko is silent and somehow greenish. But not Mariana.

“Good thing ol’ bro got you out, huh? What would’ve we done if he hadn’t been so quick?!” she asks sharply, coal-dark eyes fixed on Zvezda. “Next time don’t do that, you scared us all!” Mariana adds angrily. The other children nod forcefully.

Zvezda agrees, still coughing, and crosses her arms over her nearly non-existent breasts. Andrei looks away and smiles shyly with the gap in his teeth, shakes the last drops of water from his hair. Only now does the full awareness of what happened hit Zvezda.

“I… um… really… thank you, older brother,” she says (calling him “older brother” for the first and last time) and feels her cheeks burn. That’s nothing compared to the 13-year-old boy, however. Quick to blush even at the smallest thing, now crimson patches spread across Andrei’s entire face. Even his breath shortens.

“It’s nothing,” the boy mutters. Then his hand seems to move on its own and gently strikes Zvezda’s bright blond hair. She freezes under the scorching sun, while the children shriek with glee.

“Wooo-hoo! Andrei’s in love with Zve―zdaa! Andrei’s in love with Zve―zdaa!” they chant on the shore. Even Mariana. The gates are instantly forgotten, and now everyone echoes the refrain. Everyone—except Zvezda, Andrei, and Mitko, whose smile seems steeped in vinegar.

Zvezda detests the thought of Andrei being in love with her. It makes her feel queasy. Mariana, sensing this, goes silent ― but she’s the only one. Andrei endures the mocking chant, squawks at them to shut up, and finally flicks Mitko, who now sings the loudest, on the neck. For a moment the latter wonders if he should do the same but then theatrically shouts.

“OOOUCH!”

Amid the general laughter, Andrei moves away to watch the water now settling. The gates have closed again.

“They likely won’t open again today” announces Andrei, while Swifty steadily calms. And just like that, some children dive back in, led by him and Mitko.

“Come on, Zvezda!” Andrei calls from the canal, seeing her fear. “Jump, I’m telling you! Don’t be scared!”

He lacks the words to explain that if she doesn’t go back into the water now, she might never do so again. His gaze is so insistent, however, that Zvezda shrugs and, reluctantly, Mariana on her side, slips back into the water. Swifty rushes on, but after the initial shock, Zvezda adjusts to its rhythm. Soon, like the others, she dares to play with the current again.

They splash around until their hands look like strangely amphibian. They gulp down so much water it starts to weigh them down.

The neighbourhood only leaves when the scorching heat begins to ease. They set off on the long return path, but instead of dragging themselves in exhaustion, it feels as if someone injected them with adrenaline. The kids skip with laughter, deliberately stumble or push each other, their hearts bursting with happiness.

[1] In the original Bulgarian text, the respectful Bulgarian word is used for older friend, family or neighbour.