Twenty-One Mile Swim (7 page)

Oh, wow! He thought. For a while there I really thought she was going to!

He was glad she didn’t. It might’ve been too far for her. He was at least a hundred yards out now, treading water, and feeling
the real coldness of it on his thighs and legs. He felt great.

He started to swim back in toward shore when the sound of a powerboat reached his ears. He looked around and saw the boat
approaching toward him, waves spouting from either side of its bow like white wings. He caught a glimpse of a water skier
behind it.

He hadn’t swum more than fifty feet when the boat started to sweep behind him, and a voice shouted, “Joeeeey!”

He stopped swimming and looked back. A grin came over his face as he recognized Ross Cato behind the wheel of the boat, Paula
at the stern, and Cindy on the skis.

“Hi!” he yelled, waving back.

Cindy removed a hand from the short stick she was hanging onto and waved to him.

Joey tried not to let Paula’s being with Ross bother him. After all, Cindy was with them, too. It didn’t mean anything.

He continued to swim back to shore, but before he got there, he saw that Ross had swung the boat around in a wide circle and
was coming
in to shore ahead of him. Ross cut the engine, and Cindy, sweeping in on her skis behind the boat, slowed down quickly and
sank to her thighs in the water.

After an exchange of greetings, Paula asked Joey if he’d care to try water skiing.

“Sure,” he said willingly.

“Okay. Put on that preserver,” said Paula.

He put it on, then secured his feet to the skis, listened to Cindy’s and Paula’s chorus of suggestions, and took off behind
Ross’s expert piloting of the boat. He didn’t make it up on the skis on the first two tries, but on the third try he was up
on them and stayed up for over two minutes before Ross’s slow turn, which forced him to ride the waves that the boat subsequently
created, made him lose his balance and fall.

He managed to get on the skis again and rode for a few more minutes before Ross headed back for shore. This time Yolanda tried
her skill at it, succeeding after a few attempts, and finally Mary tried it.

Joey, standing next to Cindy and Yolanda, watched as his younger sister got up, fell, got up again, and fell again.

“She won’t make it,” said Joey.

“She will, too,” said Yolanda.

She did make it. But for only a few seconds. She went down, both skis going into an X under her. Ross quickly cut down the
power and swung the boat around.

“I think she’s hurt,” Yolanda said anxiously.

“Oh, no!” Cindy moaned.

Joey watched, his heart pounding. His first thought was what his mother would say. “It’s the last time,” that’s what she’d
say. “The last time you get on water skis.”

And Aunt Liza? “I told you!” she’d cry. “That lake is dangerous! She was lucky she didn’t get killed!”

“They’re both lifting her into the boat,” Yolanda said breathlessly. “Oh, dear, I hope she’s not hurt bad.”

“Maybe she’s not hurt at all,” said Joey. “Maybe she’s just tired.”

That’s what he hoped, but he suspected the worse. Both Ross and Paula were tending to her, as if trying to make her comfortable.
Then Ross got back behind the wheel and maneuvered the craft so that Paula could pick the skis out of the water. In a moment
they were speeding in toward shore.

“Oh, man,” said Joey nervously. “Why did we let her try it? She’s too young.”

“She isn’t too young,” countered Yolanda. “I’ve seen lots of kids her age water skiing. It’s just her luck.”

“And ours,” added Joey.

He and Yolanda ran up on the dock, waited for the boat to come up alongside it, and grabbed it. Ross shut the engine off and
secured the boat to cleats fore and aft.

Joey saw blood oozing from a small cut on the side of Mary’s head as she stepped out of the boat.

“Your head’s bleeding,” said Joey, worriedly, helping her out.

“Never mind. I’m okay.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” asked Yolanda.

“No!” she snapped. “I told you I’m okay!”

“Just the same you’d better get up to the house and have that taken care of,” Joey advised.

“I’m sorry about this,” cried Paula, her face pale as paper. “Oh, I’m so sorry about this.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Ross. “Quit moaning, will you?”

“But I was the one who asked her if she wanted to ski.”

“And she said yes. So what? It could happen to anybody.”

“Don’t worry about it, Paula,” said Joey. “She’ll be all right.”

Yolanda removed the life preserver from Mary, then took her sister’s hand, and started to lead her hurriedly off the dock
and toward the steps.

“I’m going with her,” said Paula.

“You don’t have to,” Joey told her. “It’s just a cut. A bandage will take care of it.”

“But your mother will blame me,” exclaimed Paula, stepping out of the boat. “I know she will.”

“No, she won’t.”

“Let her go,” declared Ross, irritably. “You’re not going to change her mind.”

Joey watched her run off the dock and catch up to the girls.

“I guess you’re right,” he said.

He looked back at Ross. Their eyes met, and a wide grin came over the tall boy’s tanned face.

“Hey, man, Paula tells me you’re going to swim Oshawna Lake. The whole twenty-one miles of it. That right?”

Joey nodded. “I’m going to try,” he said.

“That takes a lot of guts, man.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, hell. I know it does. I wouldn’t try it.”

“You might do it.”

“Not me. I’m a sprinter.”

Joey shrugged.

Ross’s eyes searched his curiously. “Why in hell do you want to swim the length of it for, anyway? Just for the fun of it,
or is somebody going to pay you a chunk?”

“Maybe the first part of that is the answer,” replied Joey.

“You’re going to swim it just for the fun of it?” Ross stared at him long and hard.

“Yes.”

“You must be nuts. You won’t make it. You’ll
never
make it. Hell, man, you just learned to swim last year, didn’t you?”

“I’ll make it,” said Joey calmly.

Ross frowned. “We’ll see,” he said.

Paula and Cindy returned from the house a few minutes later. Cindy seemed cheerful — but she always seemed to be that way,
no matter what happened — so Joey couldn’t tell from her expression what had gone on up at the house.

But Paula showed concern. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying.

“How is she?” Ross asked.

“Okay,” Cindy answered. “Mrs. Vass washed the cut, put some stuff on it, and covered it with a bandage. She’ll be okay.”

Paula said nothing. She went past Joey to the boat, stepped into it, and sat down on one of the cushioned seats. She rested
an elbow on the side, placed a curved forefinger against her mouth, and stared into space.

“I know she will. I just feel it’s my fault she’s hurt, that’s all.”

Ross grinned. “It’s that motherly instinct,” he said to Joey. “You know what I mean?”

He kicked over the engine. It sprang to life. “See you!” he yelled. Putting the boat in reverse, he backed it around the dock
and then shoved the throttle forward. The engine roared as the craft shot ahead. Joey waved to them, then turned and headed
for the steps.

The remainder of the spring passed quickly, and in June Joey took final exams and suffered through two days of anguish as
he waited for a report on his mark in Chemistry I. He had passed the other subjects with better than average marks, but Chemistry
I was the killer. He’d be hurt, but not surprised, if he got a failing mark in it.

He didn’t. On the evening of the second day
after the exam, he called Mrs. Berkoltz, his teacher. She told him that he had scored a seventy-six. His anguish over, he
didn’t hesitate to ask her how Paula had done, since both of them were in the same class.

“I don’t give out other students’ marks. Why don’t you call her yourself?” Mrs. Berkoltz suggested.

“Did she call you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Berkoltz.”

“You’re welcome, Joseph.”

He hung up, realizing how excited he must have sounded to her. What’s the matter with me? he thought. I think of Paula, and
I get all funny inside. Heck, she doesn’t care for me. She’s Ross’s girl.

He waited until he calmed down a little and then dialed the number he had memorized quite some time ago. Again he felt a stirring
in his body as he heard her phone ringing. Then the ringing stopped, and a familiar voice said, “Hello?”

“Paula?”

“Yes! Joey?”

“Right. How’d you make out in Chem?”

“I passed! I had eighty-one! Did you call Mrs. Berkoltz?”

“Yeah. Just a little while ago. I got a seventy-six. And I feel lucky. I was afraid I had flunked it”

She chuckled. “You? Phooey! She wouldn’t flunk you, Joey!”

“Ha! Oh, no? That’s what you think.”

“I don’t know about you,” said Paula. “You have so little faith in yourself. Well, except for that long swim you’re planning
on. When will the spectacular event be, anyway? This year?”

“No. Next year.”

“It’s going to be a long winter.”

“I know. Well, see you.”

“Right.”

He hung up and saw his mother in the kitchen, motioning him to her.

“Yes, Mom?” he said.

She pointed at a double-layered chocolate cake on the table.

“Take this to the Kantellas,” she said warmly. “And tell Paula to come over sometime. We have missed her.”

Joey realized that Paula hadn’t been over since Mary had the skiing accident. That really must’ve bothered her.

He smiled “Its a pleasure, Mom,” he said.

THE FIRST TUESDAY of July was turning into a hot, humid day even before the sun had started its climb into the blue, almost
cloudless sky.

Joey’s first thought was of the lake, and he went outside before breakfast to get a close look at it. It was smooth as china
as far as he could see, and dark blue as it reflected the sky. Seagulls flew above it in wide circles as if in time to a music
heard only by their own ears. A quintet of ducks glided at a V-shaped angle low over the water, almost touching it. Far on
the other side of the lake a boat was droning along like a bee.

“Oh, wow!” Joey cried happily.

He ran back to the house and gulped down his breakfast.

“Did you see that lake?” he asked cheerily. “It’s like glass!”

“Perfect for that swim,” remarked Yolanda, dishing up two of the jam-filled Hungarian pancakes on a plate for herself.

“Yes, if I were ready. But I’m not,” said Joey. “I’ve got to put in some long swims first. Five miles. Ten. It’s a great day
to try it.”

“Not right away, though,” advised his mother. “Wait two or three hours.”

Joey smiled. “An hour to an hour and a half is soon enough. Mom.”

He excused himself and left the table. He began to mosey toward the kitchen, paused with his hand on the doorknob, and looked
at his sister.

“Got something on for today, sis?” he asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Yes. A big movie star is picking me up at nine.”

“Yeah, sure. And he’s going to have you costar with him in his new movie.”

Yolanda laughed. “Okay. Why do you want to know if I’ve got something on today?”

“I’d like you to go alongside of me in the boat,” he said. “Will you?”

“Sure. Why not? Dad say we can take the boat?”

Joey nodded. “Yes. He said it’s okay.”

At ten o’clock Joey made his first attempt at swimming across the lake, a distance of two and three-quarter miles. He began
with a moderate, steady pace, swimming freestyle, left arm up and over, then down into the water to sweep him forward, repeating
the procedure with his right arm, while he kicked slowly and steadily with his feet. His breathing was smooth, even.

The yards flowed under him . . . twenty-five . . . fifty . . . seventy-five. Now and then he looked at the opposite shore.
Was he really closing the gap? he wondered. It hardly seemed so.

Eventually Yolanda, who was in the boat with Mary, said to him, “Joey, we’re about halfway across.”

The news startled him, made him feel good. He swam on, the muscles in his shoulders, thighs, and legs beginning to give signs
of pain. But light pain, hardly enough to complain about.

At last he was within thirty feet of the opposite shore. He looked up and saw a gleam of pride in his sisters’ eyes.

“You’ve swum two and three-quarter miles,”
Yolanda informed him. “How about that? How do you feel?”

“Great.”

“Qkay. Let’s turn and go back.”

He turned and headed back, maintaining the same rhythm, and just a slower pace. On and on . . . stroke, stroke, breathe .
. . stroke, stroke, breathe. Little by little the muscles in his body began to protest more, and he began to wonder if he’d
be able to make it back. Two and three-quarter miles each way added up to five and a half miles. If he made it, it would be
quite a feat.

At the midway point he took a brief rest, then swam on. He was within a mile from his home shore when he began to feel a faint,
nauseous sensation in his stomach. He tried to ignore it, as he tried to ignore the little stabs of pain in the various parts
of his body.

On and on he swam, his arms getting heavier with each stroke so that his elbows barely moved out of the water now. The smooth,
steady rhythm was gone out of his kicks.

“Keep going, Joey,” Yolanda said to him. “You’ve only got a little way yet.”

The aches got worse. The nauseating sensation spread.

“Just a little way more, Joey,” Yolanda’s voice
encouraged him. “About another hundred feet.”

On and on . . .

Then cheers and applause went up from the small gallery of spectators as he came in close to shore. His head began to swim.
The nausea was about to explode.

He knew the territory now, so he stood and began to walk the remaining fifty feet or so to shore when he felt it coming up.
He stopped and threw up on the water, washed the vomit away, and threw up again.