Fast Slide

Fast Slide

Fast Slide

Melanie Jackson

o
rca
currents

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

Copyright ©
2010
Melanie Jackson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Jackson, Melanie,
1956
-
Fast slide / written by Melanie Jackson.
(Orca currents)

Issued also in an electronic format.

Electronic Monograph
Issued also in print format.
ISBN
9781554693443
(pdf)
--
ISBN
9781554694679
(epub)

I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents
PS
8569.
A
265
F
38 2010     
JC
813'.6     
C
2010-903581-
X

First published in the United States,
2010
Library of Congress Control Number:
2010929087

Summary:
Clay Gibson, teen lifeguard, has to solve the mystery of the emptied register.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover design by Teresa Bubela
Cover photography by Getty Images

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www.orcabook.com

13 12 11 10 • 4 3 2 1

To the other Melanie J.—my editor,
Melanie Jeffs—with appreciation.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

Her fingers dug into my arm.

“Come on, Clay. Say we'll take lunch break together.
Please
?”

I shook her hand off. I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice. “No, Aggie. You're nice and all, but I don't want to have lunch with you. Now get lost.”

Aggie stared at me with her pale gray eyes. Everything about her was pale: her bleached hair, her skin, her lips.

Aggie Wentworth was a summer employee at North Vancouver's new jungle-themed water park, Safari Splash. She was a cashier in the souvenir shop.

I was a lifeguard at the Boa, a two-hundred-thirty-foot waterslide that twisted down Grouse Mountain. The Boa was the most popular ride at Safari Splash. It was the fastest—and the loudest. The tube was like an echo chamber. It amplified every crash of the rubber rafts against the tube wall. Also, every scream and every sound of the passengers, including the occasional cuss word.

The noise only made the Boa more appealing. People who had come to the park planning to try only the easy rides would hear it and decide they couldn't miss out on the excitement.

My job was to make sure every passenger got out of their raft and safely onto the landing platform. After churning around inside the Boa for the fast winding drop, passengers were dizzy. Left on their own, they might topple into the landing pool.

The end of the tube was like a Boa's mouth, complete with fangs hanging down. It was corny, but people loved it. They snapped up the
I rode the Boa!
T-shirts at the souvenir shop.

Boa guard—a dignified start to my résumé. I'd wanted to be an apprentice lifeguard at Kits Beach. My swimming medals and my Royal Lifesaving Society certificate were enough to get me a job there.

But Mom insisted I take this job. She and Dad were friends with the owner, Bill Costello. In vain I'd argued, yelled, sulked. So, here I was, stuck hanging out at the landing platform with Aggie.

Aggie giggled. “I like your intense routine, Clay: that fierce scowl, those smoldering blue eyes…”

That made me laugh. It was too true. I curved my fingers into claw shapes and growled at Aggie. She was fun. At least she had been till she got clingy.

The first couple of days here, I hadn't objected when Aggie tagged along with me at breaks. I was glad to meet her. I didn't know any of the other kids. They all lived near the water park and went to the same school. I was the stranger. But then Aggie began glomming on to me. I couldn't shake her. It was like I'd become her obsession.

With the back of her hand, Aggie wiped a band of sweat off her upper lip. Her pale eyes studied me, worried. “That growling thing you did just now. Was that a lynx imitation? Were you making fun of lynx?”

This was so left field, I just stared at her.

Aggie confided, “I'm afraid of lynx.”

She glanced around the park, and then I got it. The Lynx was a ride at Safari Splash. The slide was fairly tame. It was only a triple spiral before splashdown.

I laughed at her. “Lynx is nothing. It's Boa that's the safety hazard.”

We'd had to close the Boa briefly last week after someone hit their head against the tube wall. It was some idiot not obeying the rules. He took off his safety belt. When the Boa reopened, it was even more popular than before. People loved the idea of risk.

Aggie shook her head. She was gripping my arm again. “I'm not kidding, Clay. Lynx is dangerous.”

I tried to pull away. She raised her voice. “Please don't ignore me, Clay.”

People were pausing to stare. I knew what Aggie was up to. She was trying to embarrass me into agreeing to hang out with her at lunch.

Through the waterslide tube, I heard passenger screams. I heard the raft crashing against the Boa's sharp twists. Soon the raft would slam into the landing pool.

Prying Aggie's arm loose, I pushed her away. I didn't shove all that hard, but she staggered and fell on the platform.

She lay there, not moving.

“Aggie…
Aggie
…,” I said.

With a moan, Aggie sat up. She rubbed the elbow she'd smashed against the platform.

“I'm really sorry,” I said, helping her to stand. “I just need to be on my own for a while. I never meant to knock you down.” Privately, I wondered if I should start wearing a
Danger: Do Not
Approach
sign. My folks kept urging me to curb my temper. They had a point.

Aggie's elbow was bloody.

I said, “We'd better get you to the Red Cross station.” There was one behind the office. I could signal Judd, the guard at the top of the Boa, to halt the rides till I got back. People in line would be mad, but they could work on their tans.

Aggie shook her head. Her eyes got kind of buggy. I didn't get it.

I didn't have time to think about it. The giant tube winding down the Mountain shuddered with the force of the raft inside.

“We'd better move,” I warned Aggie.

I jumped out of the way. I could have pulled her with me, but I was afraid to touch her. She seemed easy to damage.

Wham
. The raft crashed into the pool. A gigantic wave rose like a hand to slap down on Aggie.

The people watching from below frowned at me. I bet they blamed me for Aggie's dousing.

I threw Aggie a towel from the stack we kept for people getting off the ride.

Aggie was looking around like she expected to see someone.

I looked around too. I saw what I always saw. Below us was the Ruby Parrot, a short waterslide for kids. It had lots of squawking sound effects. The Lynx, beside it, was one age level up from the Parrot. The Safari Splash office was farther downhill. Beside the office was the Starfish Souvenir Shop, with its tacky T-shirts and plastic jewelry. That place was sucker heaven.

On either side of Safari Splash were the slopes of Grouse Mountain, the Douglas firs a vivid blue-green in the bright sun.

Who, or what, was Aggie looking for?

I turned to help two teenage couples onto the platform. Three of them were laughing and shaking water loose from their hair. The fourth, a guy with a buzz cut, was greenish, like he was ready to throw up.

I thought again about how I could have been an apprentice lifeguard at Kits Beach. There would be sun, surf, pretty girls needing resuscitation. At least, that was what I imagined.

“Clay, how much do you know about Lynx?”

The only girl paying attention to me at Safari Splash was this pale clingy one.

“Get over it,” I snapped. “It's just a ride.”

At the top of the Boa, Judd was sending a raft with a fresh round of passengers into the tube. I heard squeals as it bashed into the first turn. The echo-chamber effect was so distinct, I also heard the passengers' every word.

“I LOVE YOU, HENRY!”

“SO MARRY ME, ALICE!”

Henry and Alice didn't realize how clearly their voices carried. A waterslide. What a stupid place to launch a marriage, I thought.

But then, I was cranky.

I warned Aggie, “You're gonna get clobbered by another wave.”

Aggie's eyes took on a sharpness, an acceptance. “All right, Clay. I'm through bothering you. I do like you though. You're a good guy. It's a shame.”

She looked feverish. Red splotches stood out against her pale skin. That's why she was blathering nonsense, I thought. She was sick.

“Aggie, you gotta go home. I'll tell Mr. Costello you don't feel well.”

She shook her head, like I'd got the wrong answer.

She glanced around the park yet again. This time her gaze came to rest on Judd, at the top of the Boa.

She turned to walk away—but not before I saw the glint of fear in her eyes.

Chapter Two

The Boa shook violently. The next instant, it spewed out another squealing group. Everyone was laughing except for an old lady holding her hand over her mouth.

I grabbed a barf bag from beside the towels and held it out to the lady. Warnings posted at the Boa included cautions against older people taking the ride. It took five seconds to stop and read the warnings. Why didn't people bother?

Instead of taking the barf bag, the old woman leaned over and heaved right into the pool.

Now I had to close the Boa to scoop out her barf.

I waved my arms at Judd to signal that he shouldn't let another raft go.

I also wanted to ask Judd why Aggie was afraid of him. But that would have to wait.

I helped the old lady and the other passengers out of the raft. I managed— just barely—to give them a cheerful Safari-Splash smile.

Then I started scooping out the old lady's barf.

“Hi, Clay. How's it going?”

Bradley Costello, the owner's son, was standing on the platform, watching me through his black-framed glasses. Wiping a Kleenex over his sweaty forehead, Brad managed to knock the glasses crooked. Before he could catch them, they tumbled to the platform.

It was a classic dorky Bradley moment. I felt like pointing out that Brad wouldn't sweat so much if he didn't wear a suit. A silk suit, yet.

Brad had a job in the office.
Helping
out
. Right. He surfed the Net while the rest of us, stuck in moronic camouflage-style uniforms, had to do actual work.

Since Brad and I were toddlers, my parents had tried to get me to hang out with him. Mom, especially. She was always saying it wasn't his fault he was bookish.

Bookish? Try encyclopedic. Our families' get-togethers were painful. At dinner Brad would fidget and blurt out factoids with a high-pitched laugh, trying to impress everyone. One day it would be weather patterns. The next visit it was economics or mountains in Peru. We learned every useless detail about whatever he happened to be into.

The irony was, I did make friends with a Costello—just not Brad. I liked talking to his dad. Mr. Costello had been a swim champion at college. His trophies lined the hallway of his house, shining like the Milky Way. Mr. Costello had inspired me to take swimming seriously. The Costellos had a pool out back, and he'd noticed me plowing up and down in power laps.

You've got a gift
,
Clay,
he told me.
You're a natural. But being a natural isn't
enough. When you've got a gift, you've
gotta work at it. It's like a duty.