Mary Anne to the Rescue

by Ann M. Martin

  Melody and Timmy jumped away. Dawn was hit in the face with a cold shower. “Oh!” she gasped. “It isn’t heated?”

  “Heyyyyyy, surf’s up!” bellowed the voice of Linny Papadakis.

  “Banzaaaiiiii!” called his sister Hannie.

  The two of them were racing across the backyard, dressed in bathing suits. Linny is nine and Hannie’s seven. My BSC safety antennae went up immediately.

  “Whoa, wait a minute!” I said. “You can’t go in there without Mrs. Korman’s permission!”

  “We always swim in the pool,” Linny explained.

  “Yes, but not when the Kormans are gone,” I protested.

  “It’s all right,” Mr. Sinclair called out. “I’ve got my eye on them.”

  Dawn laughed. “Don’t be a pool party pooper, Mary Anne.”

  I was outnumbered. “Okay.”

  Linny and Hannie leaped into the pool. Mr. Sinclair was watching them carefully, still clutching his can of cola.

  I sat back and tried to relax.

  Soon Timmy and Melody were in the water, too. Bill ran inside and brought out some Super-soakers, and before I knew it, a water war had started.

  The kids were shrieking and laughing. Dawn and I had to move our chairs to avoid being blasted. Mr. Sinclair had given up on his paperback and was chuckling at the chaos.

  “I, Neptune the sea god, shall swim away from this terror!” Linny declared. Plunging headfirst under the water, he swam to the deep side of the pool and emerged near the diving board.

  “I, Rocktune the pool god, shall follow you!” Bill bellowed.

  Linny hooted with laughter. “No such thing!”

  The two older boys were soon climbing out. The younger kids were still at war at the shallow end.

  Rrrrrriiinnnnng! jangled a phone from inside Mr. Sinclair’s house.

  “Oops, be right back.” Mr. Sinclair rose from his seat still holding his can of cola. “I think I’ll switch to lemonade while I’m in there. Less caffeine. You girls want some?”

  “No thanks,” we replied.

  As he walked inside, Dawn muttered, “It’s probably from a mix. Do you know how much sugar is in those?”

  She made a face, then settled back in her chair.

  “We’re going to get a Frisbee!” Bill called out. He and Linny darted into the Kormans’ house through the back door.

  The smaller kids didn’t even notice. From what I gathered, they were playing merpeople versus earth people, which basically meant splashing each other like crazy and saying, “Die, invaders!”

  I was feeling a little nervous. Mr. Sinclair had disappeared into his house, which was partially hidden from view by a big maple tree. Dawn had an eye on the kids, but it was a very sleepy eye.

  The sun was starting to beat down steadily. Beads of perspiration were rolling down my forehead. I could just feel myself starting to burn. I have extremely light skin, and I’d forgotten to bring a hat.

  I opened up my backpack and rummaged around for my bottle of sunscreen.

  “I am the great Strepgerm, god of the fast escape!” I heard Timmy announce. “And you shall never catch me!”

  I kept fishing around in my pack: an extra bathing suit, a pair of sunglasses, a copy of Wuthering Heights (my absolute favorite book), breath mints … sunscreen.

  I took it out and read the label — SPF 45. Perfect.

  As I squeezed some onto my palm, I looked out over the pool.

  The kids were still at war in the shallow end. Well, three of them were — Hannie, Melody, and Scott. Timmy had swum away.

  I stood up. I peered at him. Then I dropped my sunscreen and bolted to my feet. Timmy was in the deep end of the pool. His arms were flailing, and his body was bobbing under the water.

  Now the other kids saw him.

  “What are you doing?” Scott shouted. “You can’t swim!”

  That feeling came over me again. That same queasy feeling I’d had in the airport cafeteria. In first-aid class. In the Disaster Drill.

  “Hel —!” Timmy shouted, before the word was cut off by a mouthful of water.

  Help.

  Call for help.

  The words shot through my brain.

  I unlocked my jaw. “DAWN!” I blurted out. “CALL NINE-ONE-ONE! TIMMY’S DROWNING!”

  Dawn shot to her feet. She threw off her sunglasses.

  At that moment, Timmy went under and began to sink.

  Dawn screamed something. I couldn’t tell what.

  I wasn’t thinking at all. I was moving. Fast. Toward the pool.

  Timmy was underwater. He wasn’t going to wait for 911.

  The tile floor gave way beneath me and I was dropping into the water, clothes and all. To my left, the kids were huddled against the side of the pool. I caught a glimpse of Dawn’s blonde hair streaking across the yard toward the back door.

  The water closed over me. I was vaguely aware of the cold. But I was more aware of the limp figure near the bottom of the pool. The hair waving like dark sea grass. The weak stream of bubbles that floated upward from Timmy’s nose and mouth.

  I pumped hard with my arms and legs. I felt weighted down and I remembered I hadn’t taken off my shoes. Too late to worry about that.

  I pushed harder. Timmy was looming closer. His eyes were open but he didn’t seem to see me.

  What was I supposed to do?

  Under the armpit.

  The words snapped through my mind. Shelley’s words from first-aid class. That was all I could recall from her lecture on drowning. The rest was a jumble.

  I reached with my left arm and grabbed Timmy around the back. Holding tight, I pumped upward with my right arm and both legs.

  Timmy was heavier than I expected. I seemed to be moving in slow motion. I glanced up. The sky shone through the surface of the water, rippling lazily as if it had been turned to gelatin. I knew it was just over my head. Maybe two feet. Still, I’d never seen anything so distant. My lungs were bursting. I felt as if I had a tight chain around my chest.

  When my face broke through the surface, air rushed into my mouth. I felt as if I were swallowing a freight train. I gasped so loudly that the noise startled me.

  I lunged toward the edge of the pool. Grabbing onto the lip, I tried to lift Timmy over.

  I heard the quick tapping of bare feet. Then Linny and Bill were in front of me, pulling Timmy’s arms. They hoisted him out of the pool.

  His body was completely limp now. I climbed up behind him, clasped my fists together at the base of his ribcage, and pulled.

  Nothing happened. Timmy just flopped like a doll.

  “Is he … alive?”

  I suddenly became aware of Scott, Hannie, and Melody kneeling by my side.

  I think I answered “Yes” to Scott’s question. I don’t know for sure. All I knew was that Timmy was not breathing.

  Quickly, gently, I lay Timmy on his back.

  Call 911. CPR is difficult. If it’s done wrong, it’s potentially dangerous.

  I shut out Shelley’s words. I had to do something.

  I lifted his chin and tilted back his forehead. His mouth opened slightly.

  What were the instructions? What had Shelley said about CPR for children?

  Look. That was step number one.

  I glanced at his chest. It was not moving.

  Listen.

  I didn’t hear any breathing at all.

  Feel.

  I moved my cheek close to Timmy’s mouth. Nothing. Not a hint of a breeze.

  Dawn was yelling something from the Kormans’ house. Mr. Sinclair’s voice boomed out from the other direction. The kids were screaming. Crying.

  Two rescue breaths.

  That was the next step. I pinched Timmy’s nostrils so no air would escape. Then I took a deep breath, sealed my mouth over Timmy’s and blew deeply … once … twice …

  “Out of the way!” Mr. Sinclair was shouting.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was yanked backward.

&nb
sp; “No!” I shouted.

  Timmy’s body suddenly jerked.

  He rolled to his side, gagging. Water gushed out of his mouth and nostrils.

  Mr. Sinclair was in front of me now, hunched over Timmy. I scrambled around to the other side.

  Timmy was coughing — loud, choking coughs that were turning his face red.

  Then he sat up and looked around, his eyes wide open and bloodshot. Tears cascaded down his cheeks. He was crying. Wailing helplessly at the top of his lungs.

  It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. He was alive!

  My own eyes were cloudy with tears and pool water. I started laughing and sobbing at the same time. Mr. Sinclair was helping Timmy to his feet. Scott threw his arms around his brother, weeping uncontrollably, as Mr. Sinclair guided Timmy to a chair.

  The other kids were gathering around the brothers, all jabbering away, asking questions.

  Dawn put her arm around my shoulder. She was crying just as hard as I was.

  WEEEE-OOOOO-WEEEE-OOOOO-WEEEE-OOO!

  The ambulance siren cut through the quiet street. Moments later, a man and a woman in white uniforms came sprinting into the backyard.

  “What happened?” the woman asked, kneeling next to Timmy.

  “This young man almost drowned,” Mr. Sinclair explained. “He seems to have swallowed a lot of water, but he’s all right now.”

  Both technicians tried to examine Timmy, but he was still screaming, his eyes wild with fear.

  “Well, he sure seems strong,” the man said. “But let’s bring him to the hospital for observation. Looks like you acted quite fast, sir. Good thing you were here.”

  Mr. Sinclair shook his head. “It wasn’t me, it was this young lady,” he said, gesturing toward me. “She saved Timmy’s life.”

  * * *

  I kept thinking of that sentence all the way to the hospital.

  I couldn’t help it. Dawn must have repeated it about twenty times before Mr. Sinclair and I climbed into the ambulance with Timmy and Scott.

  Timmy calmed down on the ride. He stared out the windows, looking frightened as I tried to reassure him. At the hospital, Scott, Mr. Sinclair, and I answered questions while a doctor examined Timmy.

  The Hsus arrived soon after, explaining that Dawn had tracked them both down at work. By that time, Timmy was smiling and happy.

  “I almost drowned!” he exclaimed. “But Mary Anne saved me!”

  I could tell the Hsus had heard the story already. But they listened carefully, their eyes moist.

  Timmy was released soon after, and the Hsus drove me home. They could not stop thanking me.

  As I sat in the back of the car, watching Scott and Timmy chatter and laugh, the whole thing began sinking in. I looked at Timmy and said to myself, If it weren’t for me, he might not be here.

  I’d done what Sharon had done at the airport. I hadn’t fainted. I hadn’t sat around mulling things over.

  I’d jumped into an emergency and fixed it.

  Me, Mary Anne Spier.

  Mary Anne the Town Crier. Mary Anne the Chicken.

  When the Hsu car pulled up in front of my house, Dawn, Jeff, and Logan were waiting out front. They stood and applauded as I climbed out and walked toward them.

  “I am so proud of you!” Logan exclaimed.

  “I called Shelley,” Dawn said. “She’s going to make a big fuss over you in class.”

  “Oh, no!” I exclaimed.

  Logan put his arm around me. “Tell us the whole story. Did you really lift Timmy over your head and swim only with your legs?”

  “Whaaaat?” I said.

  Dawn shrugged. “That’s what Hannie told me.”

  We all sat in the living room. As I went over the story for Logan, Dawn disappeared into the kitchen. Jeff scurried after her. I tried to remember every detail. It all came flowing out, like a dream you suddenly remember after you’ve been awake for hours.

  That was exactly how I felt. Awake. Wide awake.

  Logan was hanging onto every word. When I finished, he let out a long, low whistle. “Whoa, I don’t think I could ever be so calm in an emergency.”

  Another time I would have reassured him. Another time I would have thought he was crazy for even suggesting that I could be calm.

  But I was seeing things differently now. Sure, I’d acted quickly when I thought Timmy was dying. It was an emergency. Emergencies bring out the best in people. Besides, I’d had a little first-aid training, so my confidence was up. But life is full of emergencies. Not just huge, life-and-death ones. Smaller ones, too. Ones we all have “training” for.

  And whenever you face one, you have to make the same decision I did: jump in or stay back.

  Up until now, I’d always thought of Logan as a jumper. But he was facing an emergency. A pretty big one, too. And his knees were locked.

  “Logan, have you talked to your dad yet?” I asked.

  Logan looked surprised. “What brought that up?”

  “It’s just been on my mind. And we haven’t had much time alone lately.” I smiled. “I guess I’m also feeling pretty brave after today.”

  Logan nodded. “I wish I felt the same way, Mary Anne. I feel like a total coward compared to you.”

  Whoa. I never thought I’d hear that.

  “Look,” I said, “this whole thing is making your life miserable. You don’t want to go to the camp. You don’t want to go to prep school. And you have good reasons. Ones that any grown-up would understand. I know you think it’s useless to talk to your dad —”

  “That’s not it,” Logan murmured. “I know it’s not useless.”

  “So what’s wrong?”

  Logan shrugged and looked away. “I just don’t want to.”

  “Why? Are you scared?”

  “No!” Logan shot back. “Well, maybe.”

  “What would happen if you sat down with him?” I asked. “Really told him how you felt, one-on-one?”

  “He’d yell at me, I guess. He’d think I was a sissy or something.”

  “Because you stood up for yourself?”

  “I wouldn’t be doing the things he did when he was my age. All the stuff is important to him.”

  “You’re not him, Logan! He must know that, deep inside.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Look, my dad used to make me dress like a little girl all the time. He treated me as if I would never grow up. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He just wasn’t seeing who I was. But you know what? For the longest time, I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want to offend him. So I just cried myself to sleep. When I finally did talk to him, he understood completely. He felt bad. And I realized I’d been sooooo stupid for waiting.”

  Logan looked at the floor for the longest time. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.

  “Would you be in the room when I do it? I mean, Dad really likes you. It couldn’t hurt.”

  I couldn’t help smiling.

  Oh, well, I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with emergencies.

  “It’s a deal,” I said.

  “Okay, time’s up,” Shelley Golden announced. “Put your exams on the front desk on your way out, and have a fun — and safe — rest of the summer! I have thoroughly enjoyed this class!”

  We all stood up and gave Shelley a big cheer. We’d only had four sessions, but I felt as if I’d been taking the class for a long, long time.

  I sure had learned a lot. I’d found that out on Monday night when I’d studied for our final exam. And the test had not been easy, but I was pretty confident I’d done well.

  “What did you get for number six?” Kristy whispered as I gathered up my stuff. “You know, the one about the pulmonary artery?”

  “I left it blank,” Alan Gray volunteered.

  “Like the rest of your head,” Kristy said.

  “Ooooh, a direct hit, right between the eyes!” Irv remarked.

  Alan was smiling as he brought his test to the front desk. (Honestly
, I believe he enjoys being insulted.)

  “Oh, don’t forget to take another piece of cake on the way out!” Shelley reminded us.

  A half-eaten chocolate cake sat on a desk at the side of the room. It had been delivered to the class by Renwick’s Restaurant, where Mrs. Hsu is head chef. Careful icing script had spelled out THANKS TO MARY ANNE AND HER WONDERFUL CLASS!

  Wasn’t that nice? A little embarrassing, too. Dawn had been right. Shelley did make a fuss over me in class. She called me “Most Improved Student” and said that everyone should think about me whenever they face an emergency.

  It felt great, but, to be honest, I was a bit tired of the attention. Remember when I said that Jeff and Dawn had disappeared into the kitchen during my conversation with Logan the afternoon before? That was because they were laying out a special lunch they’d ordered from my favorite gourmet Chinese restaurant, Uncle Ed’s.

  Later on, at Monday’s BSC meeting, Claudia had taken out a bag full of Skor bars (which I adore) and served Hostess cupcakes decorated with letters of my name spelled out in Alpha-Bits.

  The cake from Renwick’s, I was sure, would be the end of it.

  As Kristy and I left the room, we hugged Shelley, then took small pieces of cake on a napkin (one for me, three for Kristy).

  All of us BSC members gathered outside the classroom to reminisce. Before long, Abby and Kristy split off to go home, and the rest of us headed toward my neighborhood.

  Logan was hardly speaking. He looked nervous. This was The Big Day. He’d warned his parents that he wanted to discuss “the future” around 5:30, right after Mr. Bruno returned from work — and that I was going to be there.

  Mr. Bruno’s reaction? “You’re not planning on getting married, are you?”

  (Talk about embarrassing!)

  Surrounded by our friends on the walk home, Logan looked petrified. He didn’t speak at all, aside from a quick “Good-bye” in front of his house.

  Dawn, of course, knew exactly what was going on. As we walked through our front door, she said, “I’ll bet he calls you three times before five o’clock.”

  Rrrrrinnnng!

  We burst into laughter. You know what? It was Logan.

  And by five o’clock, he had called four times.