Learning to Swim(29)

“But most entomologists study insects that are beneficial or harmful to humans,” Keith explained. “For instance, there's a study going on right now with this form of beetles. They can eat battery acid and turn it into a substance that is harmless. Think of how great it would be if we could cultivate bugs that could eat some of the products that are just overflowing in our landfills.”

I absolutely loved the fact that he was a smartie. “That would be great,” I said. “So what are you going to do?”

“Change my major. I'll figure out a way to pay for it myself.”

I also absolutely loved the fact that Keith felt okay about being poor. Well, maybe not poor, but poorer. It leveled the playing field a bit.

“Come here.” He stood up and offered me his hand. “I want to show you something.”

He pulled me to my feet and led me through the beat-down grass and up a craggy path lined with reeds. We walked in silence, surrounded by the almost deafening hum of crickets. We got to the top of the bluff and stopped on a precipice overlooking the bay. “My mom used to take me here as a kid,” he said.

“It's beautiful,” I said.

“There's a swim meet tomorrow night in Easton.” He hesitated as the smile faded from his mouth. “Watching the pros might help you pick up the strokes much easier. If you want to go, I could take you.”

Did I want to go to a swim meet with him? Did birds fly? Did hearts beat? Did I love bugs?

Then I remembered something. An obligation that I couldn't get out of. And a disease that I just couldn't afford to catch.

“I can't,” I said. “It's bingo night.”

Keith didn't say another word. And neither did I. We just stood there, watching our moonlit reflections wiggle in the current of cloudy water.





11


Steffie Rogers's most shocking moments (from least to most):

When I thought my bra size had increased. (Turns out Barbie had thrown my bras in the dryer by mistake.)



When I passed chemistry.



When Keith offered me free swimming lessons.



When I found out that after years of hating broccoli—I actually liked it.



When my mother said that a married man had asked her out and she had turned him down.



When I ate what I thought was a piece of chicken and it turned out to be frog legs. Disgusting!



When I turned down an opportunity to attend a swim meet with the man of my dreams to play bingo.





Obviously, I was not easily shocked. But turning down a date (official or not) with Keith to play bingo was a topper.

Not that I didn't enjoy the bingo nights. I did. In fact, they were usually the highlight of my life. But that was just the point. I went nearly every other week. How often did I have an opportunity to go to a swim meet? But it was too late for regrets. I had to focus on the positive. Like the fact that even though I was totally into Keith, I had not thrown my friends over just because I had gotten a better offer. (Like Barbie would've done.) I was not a fair-weather friend. Nosiree. And I was fairly certain Alice would appreciate my sacrifice.

“What!” Alice's friend Doris said as we finished our first round of food at the China Buffet. “You passed up a date for a night of bingo and Chinese food with a bunch of old ladies?”

I glanced at Alice for support. “Maybe you should give her some of your Xanax, Dor,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn't a date. It was a swim meet. Besides, he has a girlfriend.”

“Mora,” Doris said, as if the mere word was distasteful. She finished chewing a mouthful of fried rice before saying, “Don't get me started on her.”

“Isabella said they've been having problems for a long time,” Alice's other friend, Thelma, added.

“Isabella, Isabella, Isabella,” Doris said. “Can we have one conversation without bringing up the Coopers’ maid?”

Alice and I exchanged a glance. Doris and Thelma were the odd couple of the island. Although they'd been best friends since the first grade, they were opposites in every way. Doris was thin; Thelma was fat. Doris was blond; Thelma wore a giant red wig. Doris was loud; Thelma was quiet. And of course, Doris was upper-middle-class and Thelma was filthy, stinking rich.

“Girls,” Alice said loudly, breaking up the fight before things got ugly. “We should finish up and go.”

“Is that all you're eating?” Doris looked at Alice's plate.

But the question was rhetorical. We knew there was absolutely no chance that Alice (or any of us, for that matter) wouldn't go back for seconds, thirds, and fourths. Because that was what we did. We'd get tiny portions and then go back for “a little bit more.” And then a little bit more. And then just another bite (after all, we might as well get our money's worth). There was a lot of talk about how we weren't going to eat lunch the next day, and sometimes we'd even talk about how we weren't going to eat lunch or dinner. And then we'd go back and get dessert.

“I'm just not that hungry,” Alice replied.

We all sat there, too stunned to reply. Doris broke our silence. “You'd think you were the one in love, instead of Steffie.”

My ears perked up. How did we get back on that subject? I looked at Alice for help, but she was studying her noodles as if they had suddenly turned into a plate of worms.