Christopher - The twenty-one-mile swim

COPYRIGHT I979 BY MATTHEW F. CHRISTOPHER

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL MEANS INCLUDING INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER, EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER WHO MAY QUOTE BRIEF PASSAGES IN A REVIEW.

Hachette Book Group

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New York, NY 10017

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First eBook Edition: December 2009

ISBN: 978-0-316-09455-9

Sports Stories

THE LUCKY BASEBALL BAT

BASEBALL PALS

BASKETBALL SPARKPLUG

TWO STRIKES ON JOHNNY

LITTLE LEFTY

TOUCHDOWN FOR TOMMY

LONG STRETCH AT FIRST BASE

BREAK FOR THE BASKET

CRACKERJACK HALFBACK

BASEBALL FLYHAWK

SINK IT, RUSTY

CATCHER WITH A GLASS ARM

TOO HOT TO HANDLE

THE COUNTERFEIT TACKLE

LONG SHOT FOR PAUL

THE TEAM THAT COULDNT LOSE

THE YEAR MOM WON THE PENNANT

THE BASKET COUNTS

CATCH THAT PASS!

SHORTSTOP FROM TOKYO

LUCKY SEVEN

JOHNNY LONG LEGS

LOOK WHOS PLAYING FIRST BASE

TOUGH TO TACKLE

THE KID WHO ONLY HIT HOMERS

FACE-OFF

MYSTERY COACH

ICE MAGIC

NO ARM IN LEFT FIELD

JINX GLOVE

FRONT COURT HEX

THE TEAM THAT STOPPED MOVING

GLUE FINGERS

THE PIGEON WITH THE TENNIS ELBOW

THE SUBMARINE PITCH

POWER PLAY

FOOTBALL FUGITIVE

THE DIAMOND CHAMPS

JOHNNY NO HIT

THE FOX STEALS HOME

SOCCER HALFBACK

JACKRABBIT GOALIE

DIRT BIKE RACER

THE DOG THAT STOLE FOOTBALL PLAYS

THE TWENTY-ONE-MILE SWIM

Animal Stories

DESPERATE SEARCH

STRANDED

EARTHQUAKE

DEVIL PONY

To Cora and Gus

HI, PEEWEE! Want a ride?

Joey Vass looked up. He was standing on the end of the twenty-foot long, three-foot wide dock that projected out into the lake, watching small fish swimming around in the shallow water beneath him. He was fourteen, five-foot three inches tall and weighed a hundred and twenty-one pounds. But he wasnt amused by anybodys calling him Peewee.

In that little boat? he shouted back to the caller.

Ross Cato laughed. No! In that big boat! he answered, letting go of the right-hand oar of the rowboat to point at the sailboat moored to a buoy some sixty feet off shore. Sitting at the stern was Paula Kantella, her long blond hair whipping about her pretty face.

How long you going to be gone? Joey asked.

About an hour! Come on!

Joey thought about it.

Its a lot of fun if youve never been on a sailboat before! Ross said.

Joey had never been on a sailboat in his life.

A grin spread across his oval face. I havent got trunks! he said.

Thats okay! Come on, anyway! replied Ross, and started to row the boat toward shore in Joeys direction. With Paulas weight holding down the stern, the bow of the ten-foot, wooden rowboat glided up on the graveled shore with a protesting crunch and ground to a stop.

Just give it a little shove and hop in, advised Ross.

Joey did so, getting his sneakers wet in the process. The boat slid out, and Ross began to row with short, jerky turns of the oars. After they reached deeper water, he turned the boat around with expertise and started to row to the sailboat.

Did you ever ride on a sailboat? Ross asked, taking long, even strokes now that shot the boat across the water in swift, even strides. He was wearing red trunks and a red band around his forehead. His back and shoulder muscles bulged like rope on his six-foot, streamlined frame. He had the sleek physique of a swimmer, developed over the past few years doing laps in the pool at Merton High.

Never, said Joey.

Always been a landlubber?

Right.

How come you moved near a lake?

My father always wanted to live by water, explained Joey. He likes to fish, and he likes boats. So, here we are.

He caught Paulas green eyes looking at him over Rosss gleaming shoulder. She had on a white two-piece swimsuit and held a white rubber cap on her lap. My dad loves fishing, too, she said. And he knows some good spots. Bass, trout fish like that. They ought to get together sometime.

Good idea, said Joey.

On the other hand, he wasnt sure that they would. Both his mother and father were immigrants. They had come to the United States from Hungary when the communists took over the country. Even though that had happened more than twenty years ago, their English vocabulary was still limited, and their speech was noticeably accented. They were usually self-conscious and reluctant to make new acquaintances.

They neared the sailboat, and Ross said, Grab the line, Joey.

Joey grabbed the line; at the end of it was a snap-on latch hooked to a round metal loop secured to a buoy. Ross laid the oars inside the rowboat, hooked the rowboats line to the loop, and took the line from Joey.

Okay. Hop in, he said as they pulled the rowboat alongside the sailboat.

It was a twenty-one foot, fiberglass cabin model, a streamlined beauty whose smooth, white hull glistened in the bright June sunlight. A burst of admiration went through Joey as he began to realize that his dream of riding on the boat was coming true. He had first seen the sailboat when it was brought here about the middle of May. Twice it had gone out with two people aboard, one of whom, Joey now realized, was Ross. The other was an older man, probably Rosss father. The tall, triangular sails billowing out before the wind and the boat sailing through the water, bent slightly by the wind, had been a picture he had hoped to be a part of someday. Now, today, the time had unexpectedly come.

Loosen up those halyards, Joey, said Ross, pointing at the sail tied around the boom.

Halyards? Is he pulling my leg by using sailing lingo on me? Joey wondered.

Ill help you, offered Paula.

While they worked to free the sail, Ross got the tiller out of the hold and secured it in position.

Hey, man, if you got up off your knees you could work faster, he said to Joey.

Joey, unraveling the sail from the boom, shrugged, and smiled to show that the wisecrack didnt bother him even though it did. He wondered why Ross had asked him to join them. Was it just to look better than him and show off to Paula? We cant all be tall Adonises like you, Ross, he said.

Right, said Paula. Everybody cant be a six-footer like you are.

Six and one-half inch, to be exact, said Ross, straightening up his solid, sun-browned frame.

Ugh, snorted Paula. Talk about modesty.

He laughed. Okay, lets quit the chatter and get these rags hoisted, he said seriously. Paula, grab the tiller, will you?

Joey met Paulas eyes and saw them look skyward in an expression that clearly indicated she didnt think much of Rosss self-adoration.

He didnt know how the two knew each other since they went to different schools. Ross was sixteen, a junior at Merton High. Paula was fourteen, a student at Gatewood Central, and Joeys height. But he didnt need glasses to see why Ross could be attracted to Paula. She was the prettiest girl he had seen since his family had moved here.

She sat on the stern seat and grabbed the tiller while Ross raised the jib and then the mainsail. The boat was already starting to move through the water, drawn by the wind as it filled the sails. Ross secured all the lines; then he went and took over control of the tiller from Paula.

You two put on life jackets, he ordered. Theyre right behind you, Shorty.

Joey found the bright orange life jackets and tossed one to Paula. He watched her put it over her head so that it rested against her neck and shoulders and began to do likewise with his. He pulled the cloth belt tight around his chest and knotted it, just as a gust of wind hit the sails, tipping the boat enough to knock him off balance and almost into the water. He sat down hard, grabbing the side of the boat in a vise-like grip.