not to fall off the side. His excitement carried him to the end of the board.
He had intended to bounce at least once, but he didn’t have time. He fell immediately, curled forward like a shrimp. He hit the cold water and sank.
Roy came up struggling. He sputtered and reached out for Retta. In the excitement of his plan he had forgotten the crucial fact that he did not know how to swim. “Retta,” he gasped. He choked and went under again.
Water went up his nose. He struggled for the surface, pulling desperately. He felt as if he were at the bottom of the sea and would never reach air. He bobbed up. He screamed Retta’s name, choked, and went under again.
Suddenly he felt an arm grab him and pull him to the surface. He gasped for air. He turned blindly, wrapped himself around the arm, and crawled up to clutch the attached shoulder. He gagged on the water he had swallowed and held on tighter.
He felt himself being drawn to the side of the pool. He was lifted out and stretched out on the patio tiles. He was shivering violently. He gagged and began to cry.
“Retta!” He clutched the empty air, wanting her to hold him again. “Retta, I almost drowned!”
He looked up through his tears and saw that it was not Retta standing over him. He wiped the water from his eyes and saw the stern face of the colonel.
“Where’s Retta?” Roy asked. His voice quivered on the night air like a bird’s.
“Who is Retta?” the colonel asked.
And Roy turned over and gagged so hard that he lost not only the swimming pool water he had swallowed, but his mashed potato volcano as well.
R ETTA HAD BEEN FOLLOWING her brother for four blocks. Her eyes were as intent as an eagle’s on its prey.
She was breathing deeply, but she did not smell the scent of night flowers in the air. She was filled with the satisfaction that came from doing right. She was, at last, the mother she should have been all along—strong and purposeful. And it was not easy these days, she told herself, to be a strong and purposeful mother.
She lost Johnny as he went around the corner and she felt a quick anxiety. She walked faster. When she caught sight of him again, hands in his pockets, head up, she let out her breath like a horse.
She was walking quickly now, out in the open, forgetting that she might have to slip into the shrubbery and hide. Then suddenly Johnny turned up a walkway, and she stopped. She moved silently into the neighboring yard, pausing in the shadows when the moon came from behind the clouds.
When she was safely behind a hedge, she stopped. Johnny was waiting at the foot of the steps. He shifted impatiently, glanced up at the house, wiped his hands on his shirt. When the front door opened, he moved back into the shadows, then he came forward as he saw Arthur step out.
Arthur. Retta’s mouth drew into a sneer as she said the name to herself. At that moment she hated her brother and Arthur equally. The boys spoke to each other quietly, heads together. Arthur must be slipping out too, she thought with the same sense of disgust.
Suddenly the boys started walking away. Arthur shifted a bag of equipment from one arm to the other. Johnny offered to carry it. Arthur shook his head.
Retta was so intent on not losing her brother that she plunged through the hedge, coming out on the other side with swimming motions. She barely felt the scratches on her arms and legs. She scrambled to her feet.
Ahead, Arthur was talking and Johnny nodding in agreement. They won’t get away with this, Retta promised herself. Now Arthur was explaining something in a low voice. Johnny lifted his hand and waved it in a wide arc. He was almost skipping with excitement. He laughed.
Every movement, every word, made Retta angrier, and the more excited Johnny became, the more Retta wanted to ruin that excitement. It was all she could do to keep from running forward, grabbing his arm, and shaking away his joy.
“I’ll teach you not to slip out at night,” she would
He had intended to bounce at least once, but he didn’t have time. He fell immediately, curled forward like a shrimp. He hit the cold water and sank.
Roy came up struggling. He sputtered and reached out for Retta. In the excitement of his plan he had forgotten the crucial fact that he did not know how to swim. “Retta,” he gasped. He choked and went under again.
Water went up his nose. He struggled for the surface, pulling desperately. He felt as if he were at the bottom of the sea and would never reach air. He bobbed up. He screamed Retta’s name, choked, and went under again.
Suddenly he felt an arm grab him and pull him to the surface. He gasped for air. He turned blindly, wrapped himself around the arm, and crawled up to clutch the attached shoulder. He gagged on the water he had swallowed and held on tighter.
He felt himself being drawn to the side of the pool. He was lifted out and stretched out on the patio tiles. He was shivering violently. He gagged and began to cry.
“Retta!” He clutched the empty air, wanting her to hold him again. “Retta, I almost drowned!”
He looked up through his tears and saw that it was not Retta standing over him. He wiped the water from his eyes and saw the stern face of the colonel.
“Where’s Retta?” Roy asked. His voice quivered on the night air like a bird’s.
“Who is Retta?” the colonel asked.
And Roy turned over and gagged so hard that he lost not only the swimming pool water he had swallowed, but his mashed potato volcano as well.
R ETTA HAD BEEN FOLLOWING her brother for four blocks. Her eyes were as intent as an eagle’s on its prey.
She was breathing deeply, but she did not smell the scent of night flowers in the air. She was filled with the satisfaction that came from doing right. She was, at last, the mother she should have been all along—strong and purposeful. And it was not easy these days, she told herself, to be a strong and purposeful mother.
She lost Johnny as he went around the corner and she felt a quick anxiety. She walked faster. When she caught sight of him again, hands in his pockets, head up, she let out her breath like a horse.
She was walking quickly now, out in the open, forgetting that she might have to slip into the shrubbery and hide. Then suddenly Johnny turned up a walkway, and she stopped. She moved silently into the neighboring yard, pausing in the shadows when the moon came from behind the clouds.
When she was safely behind a hedge, she stopped. Johnny was waiting at the foot of the steps. He shifted impatiently, glanced up at the house, wiped his hands on his shirt. When the front door opened, he moved back into the shadows, then he came forward as he saw Arthur step out.
Arthur. Retta’s mouth drew into a sneer as she said the name to herself. At that moment she hated her brother and Arthur equally. The boys spoke to each other quietly, heads together. Arthur must be slipping out too, she thought with the same sense of disgust.
Suddenly the boys started walking away. Arthur shifted a bag of equipment from one arm to the other. Johnny offered to carry it. Arthur shook his head.
Retta was so intent on not losing her brother that she plunged through the hedge, coming out on the other side with swimming motions. She barely felt the scratches on her arms and legs. She scrambled to her feet.
Ahead, Arthur was talking and Johnny nodding in agreement. They won’t get away with this, Retta promised herself. Now Arthur was explaining something in a low voice. Johnny lifted his hand and waved it in a wide arc. He was almost skipping with excitement. He laughed.
Every movement, every word, made Retta angrier, and the more excited Johnny became, the more Retta wanted to ruin that excitement. It was all she could do to keep from running forward, grabbing his arm, and shaking away his joy.
“I’ll teach you not to slip out at night,” she would
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