Read Online Ten by Lauren Myracle - Free Book Online

glancing over. Not Mom mom, because she’d set herself up in a far-away pool chair and was absorbed in her paperback. Also not Erica’s mom, I was guessing, because surely she’d come over if she saw her daughter getting involved in a kiddie pool brawl.
    But other moms were giving us the we’re-watching-you stares that all moms knew how to do. If things turned ugly, I knew who would be blamed.
    â€œAre so,” Erica said despite my traffic-cop hand. I couldn’t believe how sure of herself she was even in the presence of someone who was clearly older and wiser. Are so, are so, are so , her tone matter-of-fact and almost bored.
    I scooped Ty up. “We’re done here, Erica. Colors are for everybody, and good-bye. I’m glad we had this little talk.”
    I turned and sloshed through the shallow water.
    â€œI’m right and you’re wrong,” she said to my back.
    It took all my will to keep sloshing.
    â€œIs she?” Ty asked, once we were a safe distance away.
    â€œWhat? No ,” I said. “No way.”
    We reached my blue-and-white striped beach towel, and I bumped him off my hip so that we could both plonk down.
    â€œHi, kids,” Mom said, glancing up from her novel. “Having fun?”
    â€œOf course we are, because we always have fun at the pool,” I said. I didn’t look at her, but kept my eyes on Ty. He wasn’t having fun. My job wasn’t done if Ty wasn’t having fun.
    â€œOh, good,” Mom said. She returned to her novel.
    â€œCan we have money for a snack?” I asked.
    â€œI thought you didn’t like the snacks here.”
    â€œI don’t. Can we?”
    â€œWinnie, I packed lunch for us for this very reason.”
    â€œBut Mo-o-o-m —”
    â€œOh, fine,” she said, obviously more interested in getting back to her book than in arguing with me. She pulled a vinyl pouch from the pool bag, unzipped it, and gave me two dollars. “Chips or popsicles. No caffeine.”
    â€œCome on,” I said, pulling Ty back up to standing. “Thanks, Mom!”
    Erica stood in the knee-high water of the kiddie pool, her hands still on her hips. Her head swiveled as she tracked our movements, but we marched past her and paid her no mind. Ty started to, but I squeezed his hand and said, “Eyes straight ahead, buddy. Eyes straight ahead.”
    We marched past the shallow end of the big pool. We marched past the snack bar.
    â€œWait,” Ty said, trotting to keep up. “We didn’t get snacks.”
    â€œWe might later. That was just so Mom wouldn’t ask where we were going.”
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    We reached an empty-ish spot of lawn near the deep end of the pool. From here, we had a good view of the slide, the diving board, and the plain old swimming area.
    â€œThis’ll work,” I said. I nodded, then sat down and dangled my feet in the water. I patted the cement next to me. “Sit. Observe. Learn.”
    He dropped down beside me. He dangled his feet in the water. A person flew out of the end of the slide, which was shaped like a tunnel, and the splash made both of us recoil.
    â€œCool,” Ty said.
    â€œEhh,” I said. “I’ve seen better. I’ve done better.”
    I scanned the landscape of bodies, bodies, and more bodies, searching for someone who was unusual in one way or another. I had utter confidence I’d succeed. At the pool, if you opened your eyes and didn’t just focus on backflips or whatever, there was always someone unusual.
    Last week, for example, I went into the ladies’ changing room to use the bathroom, and I saw a teenager put on a pair of undies that said Tuesday across the bottom, even though it was a Friday. I also saw an old lady—like, Mom’s age—step into a pair of Ariel the Mermaid panties. I knew from going to New York that the Disney store did sell grown-up sizes of princess underwear.