The riverbed shone in the morning sun. Sometimes it’s so fresh and clean, with the stones and water, and trees on the banks, that I want to stand there and remember everything about it. I never say anything like that to my mates, of course.

But one thing I’d like to do is write about this place. I like reading; I’m pretty good at English. Mum reckons I’ve got some of Aunt Maggie’s genes. I like Earth and Space Studies, too. Dad says the weather is different these days: more storms, longer droughts. That makes farming harder, too. I could write something about climate change and how it’s affecting our valley.

The Waimoana gurgled along under the bank. On days like this, it was hard to believe the floods that almost killed people, the times when just slipping as you waded across could mean death. Most rivers are like that, I guess. Another one killed Nana Ailsa’s Great-uncle Angus when the train he was on crashed into it. And I saw a kid from high school nearly die in ours.

It was just over a year ago. I was heading down for a swim, and I was in a bad mood because I had to look after Meg. My bad mood got badder when I saw a flash car parked just past the far end of the bridge, and heard voices yelling down on the riverbed. Townies, or maybe one of the lifestyle blocks (though most of them have their own pools). What made them think they could just drive out and use our river?

My badder mood got gooder when Meg and I were crossing the stones, and I saw Melody sitting by the water’s edge. Kahu was with her; she must have been given baby-sitting duty, too. She wore gold-coloured togs; she looked amazing.

Meg rushed over, and started ordering Kahu around, as usual. He grinned and took no notice, as usual. I couldn’t think of anything cool to say to Melody, as usual. She gave me that smile, nodded at the yelling from just downstream, and said ‘Noisy, eh?’

There were two guys and two girls: must have come in that flash car. They were a few years older than us, Year 12 or 13. Right then, one of the guys — he was standing high up on the far bank above the deep part — called ‘Kamikaze!’ and did this enormous, look-at-me dive into the river. His mate yelled ‘Go, Luke!’ The girls, who sat in the shallow water making sure their hair didn’t get wet, cheered and squealed.

Luke: I recognised the guy. He was from our high school. Year 13, one of the super-cool studs who’ve always got girls hanging around them. I recognised one of the girls, too: the loudest squealer.

The second guy started scrambling up towards where Luke had dived. ‘They need to be careful,’ Melody murmured. ‘The bank slopes out under the water.’