This Might Hurt(5)

“Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.” Sir started the engine.

I opened my mouth, swallowed. “I’ll just . . .”

“Get your sister in the boat,” Sir said to Jack. He walked away and glanced around the lake, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Jack reached for my hand. I gave a tiny shake of the head. She exaggerated her reach, stretching toward me. I shook my head again. Her eyes widened, first with fury, then in fear. Now, she mouthed.

I can’t, I mouthed back.

Her eyes darted from my face to Sir’s. He was studying the boat’s dashboard. I could see her doing the calculations: How much longer would he be distracted? What would he do when he realized she hadn’t done what he’d said?

Please, she pleaded.

On one seat, I spotted a bright orange life vest. I could put it on as soon as I stepped aboard. I didn’t want to get my sister in trouble again; you never knew how bad the punishment might be.

I gave her my hand. Relief flooded her face. She pulled me into the boat.

“You’ll be okay,” she said.

I was too busy racing to the back to respond. The life vest was halfway over my head when Sir boomed over the roar of the engine, “Take that thing off.”

I froze, then turned to him.

He arched a blond eyebrow. “Does my driving concern you?”

“No,” I squeaked, tightening my grip on the vest.

He jabbed a thumb toward the house. “We left all the cowards behind today. No daughter of mine needs that thing.”

I didn’t move. The vest lingered above my head.

“I’m not gonna tell you again,” Sir said. Jack lunged toward me, ripped the life vest from my hands, and tossed it back on the seat.

“Let’s get going,” she said.

Sir edged the boat away from Aunt Carol’s pier toward the middle of long and skinny Lake Minnich. Ten miles of shoreline, Mother had told us while we packed yesterday. Sir had worried that the water would be swamped with families taking advantage of the dwindling summer weather, but Mother had reassured him most kids would be back at school by now, didn’t have a late start like our district did. She was right. On this Monday in early September, the lake was empty. While Sir and Jack waved at the few boats we passed, I gripped the metal rail with both hands.

“How about this for a view?” Sir crowed, gesturing at our surroundings. My sister and I obediently took it all in: a few small beaches, cabins and trailers set back off the shoreline, sycamores so big they threatened to swallow the houses whole. One squirrel chased another. A frog croaked. For a second I forgot to be afraid.

After twenty minutes, my fingers loosened around the rail. I sat back in the cushioned chair, letting the sun warm my face. I hardly flinched when a drop of water splashed me.

The boat slowed. I opened my eyes. We were in a cove, tucked away from the main waterway. Jack was kneeling next to my chair, dragging her fingers through the water. I winced at the way she was angled over the side of the boat, grabbed the back of her shirt to be safe. She glanced at me and winked.

Sir stopped the boat in the middle of the cove and pulled a bag of food from under his seat. Jack made us bologna sandwiches, carefully taking the crust off mine the way I liked, which she almost never did. After scarfing down the sandwiches, we lounged on our backs and gazed at the sky. Sir gave me his jacket to use as a pillow. Jack lay there, nibbling her lip and waiting, I didn’t know what for, while Sir and I pointed out animal shapes in the clouds.

He gestured at one wending its way toward us. “That there’s a unicorn.”

I giggled. “Unicorns aren’t real.”

He mocked offense. “What would you call it, then?”

I considered. “A rhino?”

“A rhine-er-ocerous?” he said, pronouncing it the way I had when I was a little kid. I glanced at him. He kept watching the sky but nudged my shoulder with his. I imagined my heart growing two sizes like the Grinch’s. Perhaps this would be one of those days I always remembered. Did we know we were making our favorite memories while they were happening?

Sir’s knees cracked as he pulled himself to standing. He put his hands on his hips, lips pursed as he scanned the water. He was almost handsome standing there. Six feet tall, strong and tan from building rich families’ pools all summer. From this angle, you couldn’t see the jowls starting to form, the growing gut on his otherwise lean body. I wondered what he was thinking.

He crouched in front of me, sitting on his heels. “Tell you what, sweets.” I warmed. He called me that only when he was especially pleased with me. “If you can stay afloat in this lake for an hour, you can skip swim lessons.”

Jack’s shoulders stiffened next to mine.

“I’ll give you six points.” Sir stroked his stubble. “You won’t get a better offer than that.”

I already had nine points today. I could get to fifteen by helping with dinner and finishing that book Sir was making me read, the one by the Carnegie guy. I sat up and forced myself to meet his eye. “I’ll take the lessons.”

“You’ve put them off for two years.” He screwed up his face. “Almost nine years old and no clue how to swim. It’s embarrassing.”

My face burned. “I’m only eight and three-quarters.”

He gestured to Jack. “Your sister sailed through all six levels and is set to lifeguard in a couple summers.”