by Ben English
Alonzo laughed, and moved to the transom at the stern. He fastened Jack’s towrope to the horizontal bar with a series of quick, efficient knots. “I don’t know, Angie. It’s been more than a year.” He looked at Jack. “Feel up to it? Wanna impress your girlfriend?” Jack looked at her for a second, and Mercedes—to her surprise—winked at him.
“Why not?” Jack said, stowing food in a locker behind the pilot’s seat.
“Okay, here goes. Mercedes, we used to do this on long bus trips.” He licked his lips. “What movie has the longest swordfight ever?”
Angela sniffed. “Too easy for him.”
Jack grinned in agreement. “Scaramouche, 1952, with Stewart Granger.”
“Okay. How about this: Who said that kissing Marilyn Monroe was like kissing Hitler?”
“Tony Curtis.”
“What movie?”
He paused. “Some Like It Hot, 1956. But he said in his autobiography he was only kidding.”
Mercedes spoke up. “What movie had the best kissing scene?”
“Trick question,” Alonzo said. Jack laughed.
“According to the guy or the girl being kissed?” Angela asked.
Mercedes took a sip of cola. “The girl.”
Jack blinked. Pause. Then, “Big Top Pee Wee, between Paul Reubens and Valeria Golino, 1988.”
“Get real!” Alonzo threw the coiled rope at him.
“I’m serious. That’s what she said. They kissed for more than two minutes.”
“How does he know this stuff?” Angela demanded. Her tone told Mercedes it was a throwaway question.
Alonzo had another one. “What is the only movie where the heroine’s life gets saved by –”
Jack grinned. “A derailed train?”
“No. A fax!”
Jack’s reply was instant. “Highlander III.” He finished with the food locker and began squeezing the bag that held their clothes into a dashboard compartment. The two boys had removed their shirts, and Mercedes saw that Alonzo was even harder, more muscled than Jack. Also, terrifyingly white. She quickly put her sunglasses on.
“This feels great!” Alonzo said, stretching and then flexing his blindingly pale arms for Angela and Mercedes. “It’s winter in Australia right now.”
“Yeah,” said Mercedes. “I heard that somewhere.”
“I’ve got one,” said Angela. “What was the first movie ever to have a toilet flush?”
Mercedes knew this one. She almost beat Jack to the punch. “Psycho!” they said in unison.
“How’d they make the knife-stabbing sounds in the shower scene?” Alonzo asked.
Jack shuddered. “They stabbed a melon, a casaba.”
“Ew!” The girls squirmed, enjoying themselves tremendously. “What did they use for blood?” Mercedes asked.
Alonzo sat against the side of the boat. “I know this one. Chocolate sauce.”
“Anybody hungry?” asked Jack.
*
The reservoir really was big, she realized. Nowhere as big as the Bay but easily the largest body of fresh water Mercedes had ever seen. Alonzo took them nearly a mile from the marina, well away from other boats and jet skis, and certainly farther from the shore than Mercedes could swim.
Alonzo brought the boat’s engine to an idle, and almost instantly it wallowed back into its own wake. Even in the center of a mile-wide section of the lake, the air felt hot. The water was a dark, dark clean lime where it met the white fiberglass hull. Angela made a startled sound, and Mercedes looked up in time to see Jack step up and launch himself high, off the bow. He vanished underneath. “Showoff,” said Alonzo, busy with the ropes and skis. “Angie, you want to go first?”
She shook her head, so Mercedes asked, “Can I try?”
“’Course,” Alonzo said, setting the skis out near the apron at the stern. “Let me show you how to get these on.”
Mercedes slipped her outer shorts off and grimaced as she stuck her foot into the clammy rubber “shoe.” Originally she’d planned on letting Jack and maybe his friends go first, so she could watch and get a feel for how to stay balanced, but what the heck, better to get it over with. Besides, there weren’t that many people out on the water yet, and hopefully no one would see her first few hundred wipeouts. Someone had told her once that could really sting. Mercedes kept her t-shirt on.
“’Kay, so when the boat starts to go, it’s going to be really loud,” Alonzo said, “A lot louder than it sounds up here, but just hang on. When the rope comes up, just kind of stand up, and you’ll be okay.”
“What if I fall?” she said right away. Where was Jack?
Alonzo pulled another pair of skis from the long, narrow locker under the floor of the boat. “We put up this little flag,” he pointed at an orange banner on a plastic pole. “and pull around to get you.”
“Catch the rope as it comes by behind the boat,” offered Angela.
“You’ll be okay,” Alonzo said. “Everybody falls the first time.”
The apron across the rear of the boat was partially submerged, and Mercedes shivered when her feet, then thighs slipped into the water. The idling boat barely vibrated under her. Alonzo was still talking, giving advice, and Mercedes was trying to follow him and get into the unwieldy ski (and ignore the fluttering in her stomach) when something clammy closed around her ankle.
Mercedes started and kicked out, leaning ba—no, it was only Jack. He twisted up out of the deep green, kissed the inside of her knee, and surfaced—at a safe distance.
“You had the shoe on wrong. Really!”
“We’ll see, Mr. Aquaman.” She put on the life vest Alonzo handed her, and slipped in the water. It wasn’t bad at all, she floated right at the surface, and the first three or four feet of water was practically lukewarm. The water turned icy at her heels. Mercedes decided she wasn’t nearly as nervous as she thought she’d be. “Okay, Jack, tell me how this works.”
Jack swam around in front of her, pulling her ski tips up out of the water, arranging the rope. He was fun to watch; Jack surged and swirled through the water, elemental. He winked at her. “Easy-easy.” To Alonzo he said, “I’m going barefoot, take her up the first time.”
Alonzo shrugged, and while he put the other skis away, Jack tightened the front of her life vest. He wasn’t wearing one, she noticed.
“Really, this’ll be easy,” he said again. “Keep your hands wide on the handle, and try to touch your elbows to your vest.” His hands guided her. “Don’t fight the boat; this is about angles and leverage. You’ll probably get it right off the bat, but remember that you’re top heavy—
“Excuse me?”
“I am too; everybody is when it comes to waterskiing. Use your legs to keep your balance.”
He let her go, treading water loosely. “I’m going to go with you the first couple times. I’ll be right with you.” A smile quirked across his face, and he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, moving in and away too quick for her to react. “You’ll be great.”
Alonzo looked down from the rear of the Mastercraft. “Hey buddy. Where you wanna go?”
“Let’s take her under the bridge.”
“You sure you don’t want a jacket?”
Jack shook his head, and Alonzo turned back to the controls, muttering something unintelligible. Mercedes took a deep breath, wrapping her hands tighter around the rubberized tow handle. She liked this feeling, the dangerous, new edge of anticipation. It was like being on a roller coaster, creeping towards the top.
Jack took his place behind her, close, his arms reaching around to take the tow line and his legs slowly gyrating, pressing his torso into her back.
“Thanks for not telling me I’m going to fall.”
He chuckled in her ear. “Of course you’re going to fall. Everybody falls the first time. Just don’t put your hand up to catch yourself; Al gave himself a black eye one time.”
Mercedes rolled her shoulders. “Why do I think this is going to be a king-sized wedgie?”
/> Jack laughed and leaned his head away. “Hit it.”
The Mastercraft grumbled and everything started to move. It was louder, with her head down close to the water. The boat roared, loud enough to drown out the thought, and Mercedes almost dropped the line. The lake pushed hard against her feet. She tensed, then relaxed, skis wide, plowing through the water, leaning back into Jack. Their speed increased, and Jack slipped his feet right up behind hers. Her body was flush against his from ankle to shoulder. It was almost easy, finding the balance and synchronicity of their strength, feeling the hard flatness of him breathing, and then they were standing, skimming along the water; in flight.
Ahead, Alonzo raised his arms in triumph.
*
She fell a few times, hard, but Jack stayed with her, releasing the rope just as she fell, plunging in behind her. He gave her pointers while Alonzo pulled the boat around, and they’d go again as soon as she could breathe. Soon after that he got his own pair of skis and a second rope from the Mastercraft, and they skied side by side. It was perfect. They flew under a steel suspension bridge, staying far to the right of a crowd of kids taking turns leaping off the girders. People shouted down, and Al waved, but Mercedes couldn’t make out what was said.
They switched with Al and Angela, and Jack drove while Mercedes relaxed in the bow. She ached pleasantly, except for a bruise on her hip. The sunlight fell like a warm blanket. Twice they came near other skiers, but the most popular watercraft on the lake was a jetski. Mercedes sat up and watched as a family on two jetskis tore by, laughing and leaning through the spray of their turns. They jumped the wake behind Alonzo and Angela, and Jack made a disparaging sound. “That’s bad,” he said to Mercedes. “Really dangerous. A kid at our school lost his leg last year after he fell and got run over by a jetski.”
Al and Angela looked none the worse for wear. Maybe Jack was overreacting. They slid back and forth, trying to hold hands in the chop of the wake. Mercedes joined Jack in the pilot’s chair, watching him drive, and something made him swerve to the side, leaving the center of the lake.
A group of jetskiers swirled in front of them, long spumes of water flying up behind. The machines were new, and larger than the others on the lake. She frowned as they came closer; one of them was Kyle Dremel.
“The gang of drunk dropout sidekicks,” she said as they passed by. Two of them looked over as the Mastercraft slid by, yelling something inaudible over the engines. “Good thing it’s a big lake.”
Jack didn’t answer, and Mercedes was surprised to find Jack swearing steadily under his breath, white-grey as an old bone himself, even under his tan.
The reservoir was enormous, with side-canyons and whole valleys of water, and they soon left the whine of jetskis behind. Alonzo gave the signal to stop and Jack cut the power. By the time he turned from the wheel he was his regular self again.
They all ate a snack and laughed at something Alonzo said. Jack went by himself next, barefoot and showing off. He pulled a barefoot flip, drawing the handle in hard to his hip and somersaulting low, just to the side of the towrope. Even Angela was impressed. Jack made as if to bow, and lost his balance, skipping across the surface of the water like a slung stone.
The afternoon sped on. Summer pressed down on the lake; they perspired even when they were in the water. Alonzo went by himself, on one wide ski, then Mercedes went again. She removed her t-shirt and the life jacket—no one else she’d seen wore one—and had no problem getting up by herself.
It felt great. The water skimming by underneath, the spring and pull of her muscles against the towline. She leaned to either side, feeling the angles of the water against the skis. Alonzo looked back, talking to Jack, then stared off sharply to one side.
She didn’t hear the jetskis until they flashed around her, crashing like thunder. One clipped the towline before her, almost close enough to touch, and Mercedes’ arms nearly left their sockets. All her weight went forward on one ski, and if the boat hadn’t slowed a touch she’d have been lost. Mercedes fought for her balance, wobbling.
The jetskis had come in at a hard angle, in front and behind. Their hard thunder died down as they swept away, and Mercedes heard Alonzo and Angela yelling.
She had her balance, somehow, and looked back. They were turning behind her, coming around at high speed and throwing up avalanches of water behind. In the lead, Kyle Dremel bent low and roared up hard behind her.
Alonzo replaced Jack in the driver’s seat, and the Mastercraft began to pour on speed, but even that was no good. Much faster and she’d lose control. Jack stood at the back of the boat, hands on the back rail as if he would dive over it.
Her knuckles ached, and Mercedes could barely think over the hard roar and splash of the machines. They came up on either side now, laughing, and she saw the other two right behind, nearly touching her skis. If she fell now she’d go right under them.
She struggled to keep her skis inside the wake of the two front jetskis, nearly sobbing with the effort. The one to her left leaned in, grabbing, and Mercedes angled right as much as she could, practically brushing up against Kyle. He reached out, then swore, clutching at the handlebars. Mercedes saw his wrist was tethered to a pin in the steering column, an automatic shutoff switch. He worked at it with his other hand, tearing at the Velcro.
A machine behind bumped her ski, and Mercedes screamed. Kyle freed himself from the safety tether, and gunned his engine, slipping in closer. She heard them laughing, caught a desperate glimpse of Jack and the others in the boat ahead of her, arguing, shouting, and then—
Anger. It didn’t shoot up from some hidden well, it didn’t boil over inside her, it didn’t build from anything close to her rising panic. An echoing, strange rage gripped her, shook her from inside, and Mercedes felt her balance on the skis turn absolute. Through a haze of crimson she watched Kyle grope, leaning nearly past the point of steadiness on his perch.
Her scream turned to a snarl, and he looked up just as she seized a handful of his black moppy hair. Kyle’s body twisted in the seat, the nose of his machine sparred with the air, and Mercedes tore him right off the jetski, shrieking, tumbling behind her. Both hands again on the towline, quick as she could.
The other jetskis immediately dropped away, and Alonzo let the boat go another quarter mile before he throttled back. The boat slowed, and she slipped slowly down into the water. It seemed suddenly hot, though the warmth was unable to penetrate her cooling skin. Alonzo killed the motor, and her hands started to shake. By the time Jack pushed her into the boat Mercedes entire body shook from the chill. Her teeth chattered and she stumbled, heavy, crippled under fatigue.
Someone was shouting from a distance, but wasn’t that strange, since the boat was pretty small and she couldn’t see the speaker because at that minute her eyes closed.
*
Thirsty. Mercedes came awake slowly, and the first thing she noticed apart from the thirst was her dry hair. Her suit was almost dry. Shifting, her skin prickled from the wool blanket that was over and under her. Her free arm stuck to the plastic cushion; she’d been lying in the front of the boat for some time.
The sun sat low, just over the green ridges, but the air was still warm and she pushed out of the blanket. The deck rolled slowly underneath her, and as the sleep cleared from her eyes she saw they were in a kind of cove, away from the main body of the lake. Jack was asleep a few feet away, having pushed out from under the heat of the blanket next to her.
Mercedes stretched and yawned. Her muscles ached, especially at her shoulders where the towline had nearly yanked her arms off. The nightmare with the jetskis seemed just that—a shadow left behind with sleep, but she knew she wasn’t thinking clearly. She yawned again, and rubbed her sides. The wool blanket sure made her skin itch.
With a start she realized Jack was awake. He stared at her with an odd expression, then cleared his throat. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Am I? I guess. What happened? —I must have been really scare
d; I’ve never passed out before.
“What happened to Kyle?” She found some bottles of water in the cooler they’d brought, and handed one to Jack.
“He’s alright, but I’ve never seen anybody that scared. One of the guys behind him ran over his jetski, really messed it up, I think.” He looked at her again. “Al got us out of there once you were in the boat. We were pretty scared, but you were just in shock—I mean, you didn’t hit your head, or anything, so we covered you up.
“I dropped Al and Angela off at the party and was going to take the boat back to the dock, so I could take you home, but you started to shiver. Your skin was like ice, so I lay next to you until you got warm again. Didn’t think I’d fall asleep, too.”
He was doing his best not to blush, but there was something else in his expression. Jack’s eyes kept straying to the cove’s narrow entrance, and Mercedes thought of Kyle and the other idiots. Jack stood and folded the blankets over, making a better place for them to sit, but there was a tightness around his mouth and eyes – he didn’t want her to see it, but Jack was anxious, maybe even scared. After the way she’d felt, boxed in by the jetskis, fear was understandable. And Jack was just a kid, the same, she admitted, as herself.
She finished her water and joined him in the bow. “I’m okay. A little dizzy.” He watched her. “I think I’ve had enough skiing for awhile. So you’re missing the party because of me?”
“Are you kidding? Mercedes, you passed out, at least we’ll go to the hospital—”
“—Jack, I feel fine.” She held out her arms to show him, and suddenly he was holding her fast, squeezing, though not too hard. His expression slowly softened into a smile.
“You feel okay to me.”
She laughed, and shoved him away, crashing, into the other seat. “That is the lamest line!”
He knew it, too. “I got that from Al. One of many I was supposed to try out on you later at the party.”
“So he’s not just your fashion consultant?”