by A. LaFaye
Water wouldn’t chase me out of my own life anymore. I’d chase it. Push it back. Watch it dry up in the sun. Yeah, I’d face that stupid lake.
Stepping outside, I stood on the porch, Kippers winding his way between my legs. Felt the moistness of the night air on the wood of the railing. Didn’t let it bother me, just walked down to the wispy grass.
Standing there, I listened to the water. Heard Mem whisper in my ear, “Just think of it as a nice, smooth swing rocking in the wind—up, then back, up, then back. Nothing to fear. You always know it’s coming.”
Up, then back, up, then back. I imagined myself on our patio swing back home, Mem beside me, her arm over my shoulder, keeping me safe.
Inching my way to the top of the first step, I wished the railing came into our yard. I grabbed the rail as I eased my foot onto the next step. Then a wild wave froze me halfway between steps as it crashed into the rocks below. I imagined Mem saying, “Just the swing getting a little riled.” But I hated the lurching twist of a swing pushed too hard.
Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that the water couldn’t reach me that high up on the shore. Put both feet firm on the ground. I closed my eyes and stood there without prickling up. My skin felt calm. My muscles felt loose. I could even breathe like normal. Felt a hint of good seeping into me.
Then the air changed a little, got a bit thicker, even wetter. A bit spooked, I opened my eyes to see Mem and Pep standing on the steps below me, staring. Their eyes looked gray and glassy in the moonlight.
“Kyna?” Mem asked as if to say, “Where are you headed?”
“I, I . . .” I couldn’t tell them about my little private water war. Giving away the secret would mean they’d force me to keep my word. They’d never let me back out. Pointing to a tree, I said, “I just wanted to know if you’d buy me some night film. I’m going to take a picture of an owl in flight.”
“Are you, now?” Pep asked, looking like he only half-believed me.
It would make a pretty good picture, but film had nothing to do with why they’d found me there.
As they walked toward me, ignoring just where they’d found me, they stood on either side of me, so we could all go into the house together. Mem said, “Sounds like a plan to me. Maybe you could capture a shot of one of those great horned owls. I love them.”
“Have wingspans the length of a kayak, they do.” Pep said, heading to the stove.
“Can eat a skunk, those owlies can,” Mem said.
“Must give them powerfully bad breath,” Pep added.
We laughed, then shared a cup of cocoa before bed, dropping a marshmallow down for Kippers to bat about. I could tell by the way they brushed my hand, looked at me over their steamy cups, and tucked me into bed for a little too long that Mem and Pep knew just what a big water step I’d taken that night. Their pride made me feel hot cocoa warm all over. I fell asleep believing I might even be able to take the next step.
WOODS
My owl story had all the fixings. It gave me a need for night film. A good goal for my county fair picture. And a reason to be out at night with Tylo, who wanted that picture to shut his brothers up. Of course, Mem and Pep insisted on meeting him before they let us trolly off into the woods.
Tylo stood by the kitchen table, decked out like he’d just stepped out of a tomb-raiding video game—all shoulder-strap pouches, binoculars, and adventuring garb from his brown hat to his hiking boots.
Pep squinted at him. “You look pretty well outfitted.”
Tylo tugged on his straps. “Yep.”
“Got drinking water, have you?”
“Yep,” Tylo tapped on his canteen.
“Torch?”
“In the woods?” Tylo asked, shocked.
Smirking, I told Tylo, “He means a flashlight.”
“Oh,” Tylo nodded. “Yep.” He turned it on and off, nearly blinding Pep.
With a leer, Pep teased, “Glow in the dark compass?”
Tylo patted his chest pocket. “Yep.”
Mem and I laughed to see Pep stifle a look of surprise.
“And what do you do if you get lost?”
“Scream until someone comes and finds us?”
Pep curled his nose in disgust. “No.”
Tylo laughed and gave Pep a shove. “I know.” He held up a walkie-talkie. “It’s got a ten-mile radius. Five in the woods. Beeps when it’s out of range, so when I hear it beep, I turn around.”
Pep nodded, impressed. “And your mem has the other one?”
“Mem?”
“Mom,” I told him.
“Yep.” Tylo nodded, looking a little confused. He didn’t expect that meeting my parents would require a translator.
Once Tylo had written down his number so they could reach Tylo’s mom if they needed to, Pep finally agreed that Tylo was ready for the woods and let us go.
I grabbed Tylo by the shoulder and pushed him toward the door. “Let’s head out. I want to catch an owl while it’s still hunting. I don’t want to see it actually catch anything.”
“Owls?” he asked as I pushed him onto the porch.
Luckily, Mem and Pep were shouting, “Happy hunting!” too loud to hear him.
Heading off the deck, I told him, “Owls are my cover story, so don’t blow it.”
“I thought your parents knew about the silkies?”
“They do.” Drat, I’d trapped myself. If I told Tylo why I needed a reason to be on the steps the night before, then he’d find out I’m afraid of water. And there’d go another friendship. But wait, I had a way out. “You didn’t want them to come with us, did you?”
“Nooo.” Tylo shook his head as he headed for the steps to the beach.
He raced down them like they were nothing more than the stairs that got him from his bedroom to his breakfast.
Seeing him get closer to the water, I froze up. “Hey, Tylo.”
He stopped.
“Owls don’t go down there.” Okay, so I couldn’t go down there, but the owl excuse had worked so far.
“Right.” Tylo spun around and ran back up.
Felt lighter to have him up at the top with me. We headed into the woods.
As I followed him through the trees, I struggled to find a way to keep us away from the water, but close enough to photograph his jumping fish-silkies. The need to keep the camera dry would keep me out of the water, but not off the beach.
Beaches freaked me out. Not only did they border the water, but the suck-in-your-feet sand pulled you down if you stood in one place too long. Tylo had complained about all the rocks on the beach, but rocky beach or not it was still too close to the water. I could feel the moisture in the air like liquid mold on my skin and smell the rotting weeds. Yuck!
But wait. Smell—yeah, that was it. “Hey, Tylo.”
“Yeah?”
“I hear silkies can smell as well as they can see.”
Tylo kept walking, but he shouted over his shoulder, “They can see underwater, even in the dark.”
“Well, did you know they can smell you from a hundred yards away?”
“Oh, man!” He said it with a heavy bummer accent. “And my mom made me wear this stinky bug spray.”
If we could get up high enough, I’d be fine. Heights didn’t scare me, just water. And if we could watch from above, I could convince myself the black water was nothing more than wheat moving in the night wind. High. That’s it. My tree fort would be perfect!
Tylo stared at his bangs, trying to think.
“I’ve got some place.” I grabbed him and started to drag him to the clearing. We made it there before I got my first bug bite. Now, that’s what I call trailblazing.
The moon lit up the clearing all glittery blue. Made the climb up easy.
Tylo asked, “You build this?”
“Me and Pep.” Felt good to say that.
“Cool. But how can we see a silkie from here?”
I pulled his binoculars up to his eyes then pointed through the branches.<
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“Mega-cool,” he said, leaning out.
I held my breath, then snuck a peek. In the dark, even with the full moon, the sway and swash of water just looked like wind wooshing wheat around if I squinted my eyes just right. Crouching down on the floor Pep and I had lashed down, I could hear the waves below, but I just gave the swing in my head a push and kept calm—up, then back, up, then back—no problem.
Lying down, Tylo brought out his goodies—brownies and bug juice (aka Kool-Aid). We were set for a night of silkie spotting.
But all we saw poking up out of the water were rocks, rocks, and more rocks.
“Did you know that silkies can come ashore and take their pelts off like a robe?” Tylo asked, smooshing brownie bits to his teeth.
Know it? I’d heard the story so many times I repeated the second half without even thinking. “And if someone finds their pelt where they’ve hidden it on the beach, the silkies are doomed to walk on dry land as a human for the rest of their lives.”
“Yeah,” Tylo frowned as he licked his teeth. “I guess they die of sadness.”
Or they would if they existed. But luckily, Tylo never got a chance to test my belief in silkies, because the bushes to the south of the beach started to shimmy.
“Look,” Tylo whispered in my ear. “It might be a silkie trying to return to the water.”
Jumping fish didn’t start in the bushes, so I asked, “You saw them come out of the bushes?”
“No,” he pointed toward the water. “I saw them jump off those rocks.”
More like over them, I thought, looking at the boulder peninsula he pointed to.
“Here they come.” He nudged me as the bushes rustled again.
Out of the bushes waddled two raccoons, a mama and a papa followed by babies make five. A little food-washing lesson, I bet.
“Wow,” I put on my amazed voice and started taking pictures. “The rare ring-tailed silkies. Who would believe it?”
“Shut up!” He gave me a shove. He was a shovey kind of kid. Must be from having so many brothers.
The raccoon family washed their meal, then moved on. We switched back to our thrilling rock watch until Tylo started to do the potty squirm. I had to go, too, but I wasn’t going to squirm around like a snake with its tail caught in a trap.
“Be right back,” Tylo scurried down to the ground. It’s pretty convenient to have ready-made bathrooms behind every tree. But I’m not a big fan of leaf toilet paper. That’d really make Aunt Rosien mad.
Tylo came back up, then started dumping canteen water on each hand.
I held my breath, watching the water gush over his hand, hearing the lake lapping at the shore down below. I started sinking below sea level in my mind’s eye. If I didn’t get a handle on it, I’d pull a freak-out and Tylo would never want to see me again. Oh come on, Kyna, it’s just water. A little wash up, as Pep would say.
But I’d already backed up and Tylo had started staring at me, so I had to talk fast. “I’ve seen enough rocks. Let’s go home.”
Startled, Tylo dropped his hands, saying, “Now? Can’t we stay a little longer? They came last night. Why couldn’t you have come last night?”
“We had to go to Albany for the night film,” I told him, breaking the last brownie in half to share it with him.
“Well, maybe they’ll be back tomorrow.” He looked so sad, I almost gave him my half, too. “Will you come back tomorrow? I can bring more brownies.”
“Sure, I’ll bring some Irish biscuits.”
“Biscuits?” He frowned.
“They’re cookies, silly.”
“Oh.” He stuffed his half into his cheek, then said, “Okay.”
We headed back through the woods. We said our good-byes at the edge of my yard, then headed for home. Seeing him disappear into the trees made me a little nervous. “Hey, Tylo!”
“Yeah?” He called back, but I couldn’t see him.
“How about you give me your walkie-talkie and then call me when you get home?”
Tylo came back. “You know, my dad used to say that worrying is in a woman’s genes.” He laughed. “I used to think he meant jeans with a ‘j.’ So when my mom wore jeans, I asked her to show me her worries. She gave me lint. I put it in a box in the stand by my bed. I thought it’d make her worry less. But she still worried a lot. Then my brother told me about genes with a ‘g,’ so now I know what Dad meant.” He handed me the walkie-talkie. “Here you go, Worry Genes.” He laughed and walked back into the woods.
“Good night, Lint Boy,” I called after him.
“Yadda, yadda.”
“Be quiet or I’ll track you down and steal all of your leaves.”
He stopped. “Just try getting past my brother.”
“I’ll send a fairy after him. She’ll cart him off to a fairy hill and you’ll never see him again.”
There was a pause, then Tylo’s voice came back, “Sounds good to me!”
I laughed. “Good night, Tylo.”
“Good night.”
Heading back to my room, I realized Tylo had been right, I was a Worry Genes. I worried that Tylo would get lost and he didn’t have the walkie-talkie to call for help. Worried that he’d fall into a hole in the dark and be trapped there all night. Petting Kippers to keep calm, I still couldn’t stop spinning scary maybes until the staticky pop of the walkie-talkie made me jump out of my deck chair.
“Back safe, Worry Genes.”
“Good night, Lint Boy.”
“Good night.”
WORRY
Sitting on the deck in the dark, I started thinking about the lint Tylo collected from his mom. He did it so she’d worry less. That’s breakfast-in-bed nice. Not me. I made my mem worry more with all of my fears and freak-outs.
I could take another water step to change that. Face that water down. And wash her worries away.
With Rosien giving her grief, Mem deserved a little worry lift. So I forced myself to do more than walk down those steps onto that beach. This time I’d go into the water. Walk straight into my fear.
Keeping my eyes on the trees, I marched right for the steps to the beach. One step. Two step. Three. Then I heard a noise, an echo-off-the-water bark. Like a dog on a dock. Stopped me cold. Did I really hear that?
Splash! Something hit the water. Did somebody pitch balls off their dock for a dog at night? Was that what Tylo had seen the night before?
Mystery solved. And if I got a picture of the dog, Tylo could prove he’d seen something in the water after all. And a strange something at that. Not too many dogs went diving after dark.
I had to test this theory.
My little quest pulled me like an anchor to the rock line of the beach. Scanning the water, I searched for the dog that made the sound. But I saw nothing. No dog. Not even a ripple in the water.
But Mem and Pep had to have gone swimming. They always did. Why couldn’t I see them? Why couldn’t I hear them? Seeing only the inky black water filled me with a slimy sense of dread. I tried to wash it down with a hope to myself that they must’ve come ashore. I scanned the beach, the rocks in the water, even the dock floating way out. No Mem. No Pep. Where could they be?
ROCKS
“Mem! Pep!” I jumped onto a big rock to get a better view. Nothing. “Mem! Pep!” I jumped to the next rock, screaming for them. Running, I leapt from rock to rock, calling out. Did they go back up? No, they would’ve passed me on the stairs. Did they go farther down the beach to swim somewhere new?
No one swam like Mem and Pep. No way could they’ve drowned.
But my birth father sailed Tierra del Fuego and he drowned.
“Mem! Pep!” I screamed so hard my voice cracked and all I could do was whelp out a croak. Fear tumbled like rocks through my chest. Oh God, please keep them safe. Mem called him the Good Giver because he gave everything life. Now I prayed he’d give them back to me.
But what if he didn’t?
I felt the panic coming on like a tidal wave. It’d wash me cl
ean out of the here and now.
What good would I be to Mem and Pep then?
Hold it back, Kyna. Keep your wits.
To calm down, I started to repeat all of the first aid I could remember from the lessons I took while other kids learned to swim. To give CPR, check for response, give rescue breaths, and pump. As I looked up I found myself on the other end of our beach. Still no sign of them.
Seeing a neighbor’s steps, I ran for them. I had to call for help.
“Kyna!” Mem shouted from behind me.
Spinning, I saw her waving from the rocky point to the south. “Here, sweet. We’re here!” Pep crawled up behind her. Was he pulling on his trunks?
Embarrassed, I faced the shore and covered my face. My fear crashed into a wave of anger before falling into a sea of embarrassment. My parents had gone skinny dipping. I could’ve melted. I ran for our own steps and didn’t stop until I got to my room.
My nerves kept me pacing, flipping my emotions back and forth—one second scared enough to cry, the next so embarrassed I could’ve hidden under my bed for a week. My parents had been swimming in the lake without any clothes on. Teenagers did that. Not parents!
“Kyna!” Pep shouted, charging into the house.
I couldn’t talk to him. Or even look at him. I thought he might be drowning or lost or whatever! And he was . . . oh, I didn’t even want to think about it.
I heard him pound up the steps. He threw open the door like the house had caught fire and he had to get me out.
Even in his trunks, I kept thinking about what he’d been wearing a little bit ago. Or not wearing. Facing the wall, I said, “Did you have to?”
Mem rushed into the room, panting.
“Have to . . . ?” Pep asked, confused.
“What? What’d she say?” Mem wanted to know.
I stared at my feet. “Skinny dipping? Did you have to? What if Tylo’s mom saw you?” They did live south of us. And I bet his mom stayed up until he got home. If she’d seen them, she’d never let Tylo come over to my house again.
Silence. Then Mem and Pep started to laugh.