Chunky Dipping in the River Spey - Abby Grosslein (good fiction books to read TXT) 📗

Chunky Dipping in the River Spey

The eight of us walked through the quiet town: Ian and Hilary, our President and his First Lady, arm in arm; Nathan, Christin, Kirsty; Tom in there somewhere; and me, Miss Fickle, trying to catch up after deciding to come out after all. Any open pub would end our wandering. Lights displayed goods in windows that we couldn’t buy after 22:00 when Aviemore’s shops slept.
“That’s gotta be a pub,” Nathan said. “Only pubs would use that many Christmas lights in October.”
Decked up in white sparklies, The Winking Owl welcomed us in from the cold. We sat around a booth with pints and Ian started a game of Thumb Masters.
“Last one to put their thumb on the edge of the table has to do a dare.” Everyone looked ‘round at me and I quickly slammed down my thumb. “Too late, Abby! We need a dare for Abby…” My stomach turned over. I hate

truth or dare; this version, however, was the hell cat to the original’s kitten.
“Ok—you have to skinny dip in the river and do 3 strokes.”
I cringed, knowing there wasn’t any way they’d let me get out of it.
I sank into the warm cushiony bench, resigning myself to my watery fate.

“You really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” said Christin.
Did I look upset?
I smiled. “No, I’m gonna do it. This is

college, after all. When am I ever going to get the opportunity again to skinny dip in the Scottish River Spey?”
What did I have to lose? It was only stripping naked in front of seven people I barely knew before running into Kelvin’s worst nightmare cold water; quality.
Wearing my St. Andrews’ castle t-shirt, leggings and trainers, and carrying two towels, I headed down to the riverbank. Nathan shed his kit to a cheesy tune on top of a table, completing his dare. “You missed Ian’s striptease,” Hilary said to me later. “It’s alright, though; we’ve got photos!” Like starchy cotton sheets, the air bunched around me as my breath pirouetted in front my face.
Cameras and cell phone LCDs pierced the inky blackness as Christin and I stood between the Spey and the USKC*. Dressed in moonlight and icicle air, we made ourselves ready.
I took off my shoes and wiggled my toes in the sand for friction’s sake.
“C’mon, let’s get it over with!” Christin said, smiling and taking off her top.
I stepped out my leggings, hesitated a moment, pulled my top over my head and ran, laughing, into the water. I tried to keep my hair dry; squishy river vegetation between my toes, water like frozen silk against my skin, I did one two three doggy paddles. Everyone laughed and cheered, but my own string of expletives overshadowed most of the noise. I scurried towards shore, tripped and scraped my shin, clutching for modesty’s sake, and fell into the towel Hilary held open for me. “I didn’t think you’d do it! I’m so impressed! You’re a legend.”
Wrapped in my warm towel, I suddenly didn’t feel the cold. The air was more forgiving than the water anyway. “Hell yeah!” I said aloud. “That was amazin…” Triumphant and among friends, I snuggled deeper into my blanket of self-pride.


* USKC: University of Stirling Kayaking Club

Publication Date: 11-29-2009

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