Swim the Fly (24 page)

Think of Kelly. That’s what this is all about. Make it a game. Each handful of change you bring to the surface is one step closer to being her boyfriend.

I suck in a deep breath and dive in. My clothes soak up the water like a sponge. I clear my ears as I kick down, air bubbles streaming from my mouth.

Picking coins up off the bottom of a pool is harder than you’d think. It’s not like you can just scoop up a handful. You have to pluck them one at a time; otherwise they kind of flutter off, this way and that, like you’re on the moon. Nickels are easiest because they’re thick and you can get a good grip. Quarters are not too bad because they’re bigger around. It’s the dimes that are a pain in the ass. Why the hell are they so small? Shouldn’t they be bigger than nickels? Who was the idiot who designed these things?

Stupid dimes.

When I can’t hold my breath anymore, I swim to the surface, clutching my handful of loot. I dump the wet change onto the concrete and imagine Kelly leaning in to kiss me. What will that be like? Her warm breath. The taste of her lips.

It’s pretty good motivation.

Another suck of air and I plunge down again. My saturated clothes make the whole process so much harder. Which I guess is the point, but it’s starting to piss me off. I toy with the idea of taking my pants off and leaving them at the bottom of the pool until I’m finished. Ulf would freak if he found out. I can’t even imagine what he’d do. Which is why my pants stay on.

By the time I’m finished, it has taken me the full twenty-three minutes and I’m completely drained.

Hanging on to the ledge of the pool, I separate the coins and stack them up into piles of dollars. There’s thirty bucks here, just like I knew there was.

Ulf approaches and stands over me, studying his watch. “Twenty-three minutes, fourteen seconds. Very close. But not close enough. You will do it again Thursday. Please arrive thirty minutes early next class. I will have already poured the change into the pool by the time you get here. Next time, you will have only twenty-two minutes.”

Are you kidding me? God! I need to reconsider this whole going-to-jail thing. How bad could a trespassing sentence be?

The rest of the swim lesson is even harsher, if that’s possible. We have to swim laps with our legs tied together, laps with our arms tied behind our backs, laps dragging one of the other kids behind us. All topped off with another sixteen laps of butterfly.

And I thought Ms. Luntz was sadistic.

Once again I’m the last one out of the pool by a long shot because I still can’t finish more than a couple of laps of fly without having to stop and tread water.

I’ve come to the realization that, while I might just barely be able to complete four laps by championships, there’s no way I’m going to be able to compete in
sectionals this weekend. Not a chance. I’ll need to figure a way out of it. Something more convincing this time.

I’m completely bagged, and I struggle to get my body out of the pool. Ulf reaches out and gives me his hand. He pulls me up from the water and tosses me my towel.

“You are a terrible swimmer,” he says.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“But you keep going. Even though you are terrible.”

“It’s not like you’re giving me a choice.”

“There is always a choice.”

I huddle inside the cocoon of my towel, trying to get warm.

“Why do you come here?” Ulf follows me to the bench where my clothes lie in a soggy heap. I reach for my khakis and start to tug them on.

“You’re making me. Remember?” The pants are cold and clingy and feel gross on my skin.

“No. Before this. The first time. I am curious.”

“It’s a long story.”

Ulf sits on the bench. “There are many pools to swim in. Ones where you do not have to lie to gain entry. Did you come here just to take my class?”

“No,” I say, maybe a little too quickly. “I mean, I didn’t even know there was a class here. I just needed somewhere to practice. Someplace where nobody knew me.”

“Why where nobody knew you?”

I grab my drenched shirt and wring out some of the
water. It falls on the concrete like heavy rain. “I told you. It’s a long story.”

“You are not very old. How long could the story be?”

“Long enough that I don’t want to talk about it.” What’s up with this guy? Why does he even care?

Ulf scratches at his cheek with his black-painted nails. “My great-grandmother once said to me that the things we do not want to speak about are the very things we need to speak about most. What do you think about that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if I offered you a deal? You tell me why you came here, and I will no longer require you to come to my class.” And, as if Ulf was planning this all along, he pulls my ID card out of his back pocket and waves it in the air.

“Seriously? What’s the catch?” Because there’s always a catch with Ulf.

“Yes. There is one catch.”

He’s probably going to put my ID in a safe and then throw it into the pool so I’ll have to pick the lock while holding my breath.

“The catch is, I think you will return to my class anyway. On your own.”

I let a quick, forceful are-you-kidding-me? laugh burst past my lips without meaning to. I clear my throat to try and cover.

Ulf raises his eyebrows. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Now all I have to do is make up some bogus story and I’m out of here, scot-free.

I reach for my ID, but Ulf pulls it back and smiles. “I know what you are thinking. But the deal is for the truth. I can tell when there is wool in my eyes. I knew from the minute you arrived something was not as it seemed. And I am a man who enjoys to have a row of ducks. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Sort of.”

“Because if you lie to me. Well. All I can say is, if you thought things were hard now, you do not have any idea of what hard can be.”

Ulf holds the card out to me again.

Something drops into me as I slide the card from his hand. Like a conscience, maybe. Or that damn shoulder-angel again. I don’t know. But I feel like I have no choice except to tell him the truth.

Or, at least, most of it.

“Fine.” I take a deep breath and sit down next to Ulf. “Obviously, I suck pretty bad. I mean, you’ve seen how awful I am.”

“But not as awful as the first week.”

“Yeah, well, not anywhere near where I need to be. That’s why I came here. To practice in private. So people I know wouldn’t see how bad I was.”

“I still do not understand. You are dancing a jig.”

“I was trying to impress a girl, okay? So I volunteered to swim the hundred-yard butterfly for my swim team.”

“Was she?”

“Was she what?”

“Was she very impressed?”

“I guess. I don’t know. She said she thought it was cool.”

Ulf makes an
mmmm
sound, like he’s mulling this over. “Okay,” he says. “You are free to go.” He stands.

“That’s it?”

“Why? Is there more?”

“No.”

“Then you have said it. You have owned it. Now we shall see.”

“See what?”

“If you are as Ulf-like as I think you might be.” Ulf walks off, leaving me there, sitting on the bench, staring down at my ID card, wondering what the hell he meant by that.

“OH, BY THE WAY,”
Coop announces as he weaves his DeathBot ship through a barrage of space debris on his laptop screen. “In case you didn’t know. It’s national ‘That’s What She Said’ Day.”

I give him the thumbs-up. “I like it.”

“That’s what she said.” Coop laughs.

We’re camping out in Sean’s backyard tonight. It’s another one of our traditions. One night, every summer, we buy a ton of junk food and energy drinks and set up Sean’s six-person tent in the far corner of his yard.

We’ve got an extension cord running from the garage so that we can rough it in style, with computers and a TV and DVD player. There’s a citronella candle burning in the middle of the tent to ward off mosquitoes and to mask the thick stink of mildew. Everyone’s brought sleeping bags and pillows, but we aren’t planning on logging too many Zs.

Sean enters the tent carrying his Xbox. “I don’t think there are enough sockets for all these.”

I waggle my eyebrows at Coop. “That’s what she said.”

Coop busts up.

Sean stands there, looking confused. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what she said,” Coop says, sending him and me into hysterics.

Sean sighs and puts the Xbox down. “I can see this is going to be a long night.”

“That’s what she said,” me and Coop howl in chorus.

“Are you guys done yet?”

Coop is practically in tears. “That’s what she said.”

“Okay. I’ll just keep my mouth shut,” Sean grumbles.

“That’s what she said.” I can barely talk I’m laughing so hard.

“Enough. No more. My cheeks hurt,” Coop says, rubbing his face.

I point at him. “That’s what she said.”

And with that, the three of us fall over in fits.

“Oh, man, now look what you made me do.” Coop motions to his computer. “That was my last DeathBot ship.”

“That’s what she said,” Sean blurts out, laughing at his nonsensical joke.

Coop and I stare at him, and then simultaneously, we hit Sean in the face with our pillows.

“What?” Sean shrugs. “It’s funnier when it doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“No, it isn’t,” Coop says.

“Well, I think it is.” Sean grabs a bag of Doritos from our mountain of snacks.

The screen door to Sean’s house creaks open and slams closed. Someone’s approaching.

“Hey, morons. Put your wieners away; I’m coming out there.” It’s Cathy, Sean’s sister. She pulls back the tent flap, crouches down, and looks inside. “Mom said you girls wanted to see me. This better be good.” She grabs a bag of salt-and-vinegar potato chips from our junk food stash but doesn’t open it.

I’d say something about her stealing our snacks, but I don’t want to piss her off.

“We have a picture for you,” Sean says. He turns to Coop. “Go on. Show it to her.”

Coop digs his cell phone out of his overnight bag and flips it open. He hits a few buttons, then hands the phone over for Cathy to see.

“Well, well, well. The Virgin Mandy having a panty party. Who’s the muscle-head with her? I can’t see his face.”

“It’s Tony Grillo,” I say.

“The deal was for naked.” She hands the phone back to Coop. “Why didn’t you wait a little longer? It looks like they were about to get busy. What happened? Did you guys wet yourselves?” Cathy reaches over and grabs a Kit Kat bar and an Almond Joy.

“No. But there was . . . an interruption,” Sean says, his eyes darting to the side.

“Matt?” Cathy laughs. “Were we incontinent again?”

“No,” I say, looking away, shaking my head.

Sean leaps in. “Come on. She’s practically naked.”

Cathy ponders this as she rummages through our pile of chips and candy. She grabs a package of Ring Dings. “I know. I’ll just crop the picture of you guys so it’s just from the waist up. That seems fair. Half a cross-dressing picture for a half-naked Mandy.”

“Oh, come on,” Sean says. “If you posted that on Facebook, it’d be good payback. I mean, it’s pretty embarrassing.”

Cathy glares at her brother. “Are you kidding me? There are dirtier pictures in a Sears catalog.”

“Okay.” Sean sighs. “How about the picture of Mandy
and
I’ll be your slave for a week? Would that work?”

Cathy taps her finger on her lips. “Two weeks.”

Sean groans. “Aw, come on.”

“Three weeks.”

Sean’s shoulders slump. “Fine. Okay. God.” He glances between Coop and me. “But we want to see you erase the picture of us.”

“Where has the trust gone in this world?” She takes her cell phone from her pocket and finds the photo. She smiles wistfully. “It’s a shame, really. You girls look so pretty.”

“Okay, okay. Just do it.” Sean makes a get-on-with-it gesture.

Cathy turns the phone so we can see. She presses
DELETE
, and the picture of us vanishes. “Happy?”

The three of us sigh with relief.

Cathy laughs. “I’ll let you guys get back to playing show-and-tell.” She plucks another bag of chips from our rapidly dwindling store. “Thanks for the free snacks, losers. Bah-bye.” Cathy stands with her loot, then leaves.

“What if she made copies?” I say.

Sean shakes his head. “No chance.”

“
I
would have,” Coop says. “Just in case my phone died or something. She probably downloaded it onto her computer.”

“Yeah, I’d be worried about that,” Sean says, “if Cathy was even remotely organized. But I know my sister. It would have been too much of a hassle. Just like putting her plate in the dishwasher.” He collapses onto his sleeping bag. “You guys can stress, but I, for one, feel like I can breathe again.”

“Yeah, well, enjoy it. Because I’m still holding my breath until I figure a way to get out of swimming the butterfly this Saturday.”

“Too bad you screwed us at the mall.” Sean lies back with his hands behind his head. “Otherwise we’d help you out.”

“You’re just mad because I outsmarted you guys.”

“No, actually,” Coop says, “we’re mad because we had a chance to achieve our summer goal and you blew it.”