Sports Camp

by Rich Wallace

  “Any better, Liston?” Shawn asked, grinning.

  Riley shrugged. “One last blast,” he said. “I think that’s the end of it.”

  “Too bad it had to happen today,” Shawn said. “You had a good chance of qualifying.”

  “I’m still swimming,” Riley said. “I can do it.”

  “You haven’t eaten anything.”

  “I’m starting to feel hungry. That has to be a good sign, right?”

  Shawn looked Riley over and put his palm across his forehead. He tilted his own head from side to side, thinking. “Okay. If you eat something and if it stays down. And if you start feeling the slightest bit shaky, you get right into a boat. You hear me?”

  “Yeah. What can I eat?”

  Shawn made a “come with me” gesture with his hand and led Riley to the counselors’ cabin. “Crackers, peanut butter, fruit. Eat whatever you want. We got pretzels and chips, too. Just don’t overdo it.”

  “I won’t.” Riley spread peanut butter on six Ritz crackers and ate them one at a time. Then he peeled an orange and ate that.

  “Thanks,” he said to Shawn. “I better get down to the dock.”

  “I’ll be right over,” Shawn said. “You start in twenty minutes.”

  Most of the Cabin 3 campers were sitting on the dock when Riley got there. Patrick stood up. He gave Riley a sheepish grin. “Heard you joined Eldon in the pukers’ club.”

  “Yeah.” Riley shook his head. “I ought to be president of that club after what I went through.”

  “I was a little queasy myself, but me and Barry probably built up an immunity to that Jersey Chicken after eating it every night.”

  “Don’t mention Jersey Chicken,” Riley said, laughing. “Ever.”

  Barry rapped his fist on the dock. “Look who’s coming,” he said.

  They all turned toward the path. The Cabin 4 people were on their way down. They’d be doing the qualifying swim at the same time as Riley’s group.

  “Remember,” Barry said, “we have no idea who messed up our cabin.”

  “Ghosts,” Vinnie said flatly.

  “The spirits,” Hernando said, holding back a laugh.

  Cabin 4’s apparent leader—a muscular guy with dark skin and squinty eyes—walked onto the dock and nodded to Barry.

  “Afternoon, Kelvin,” Barry said, all friendly.

  “Heard you boys had a bit of an incident at your cabin the other day,” Kelvin said.

  “Where’d you hear that?” Barry asked, gazing out at the water.

  “Around.”

  Barry shook his head and licked his lips. “Strangest thing I ever saw,” he said softly. “Otherworldly. As if we’d been singled out by a poltergeist.”

  “Weird stuff,” Kelvin said.

  “Beyond weird.” Barry shook his head. “I had a bad feeling when we got assigned to Cabin 3. I remember last year…. Looks like it’s happening again.”

  Before the guy could respond, Shawn and another counselor stepped onto the dock. “You got two minutes,” Shawn said. “How many swimmers?”

  Eight people from Riley’s cabin and nine from the other raised their hands.

  “You non-swimmers will ride with the counselors,” Shawn said. “Put on life jackets and get in the rowboats. Everybody else line up along the edge of the dock. No contact with any other swimmer or you’ll be disqualified.”

  Barry smirked. “I was planning to dunk a few of those jerks,” he said under his breath. “Guess I’ll have to wait till the water-polo match.”

  Riley stared out at the lake. He wasn’t sick anymore, just nervous. That turnaround buoy was a long way out.

  “The twenty fastest out of all six cabins qualify,” said one of the counselors. “There were some quick times in the first group, just so you know.”

  The counselor blew a whistle and the seventeen swimmers plunged off the dock. Riley did a shallow racing dive and took a few strokes of the crawl before settling into the breaststroke. That was his most comfortable stroke, and even though it wasn’t as quick as the crawl, he figured he ought to gauge his energy level before going all out.

  Several swimmers sprinted to the lead, including Vinnie and Colin from Cabin 3. Riley eased over to the side to avoid their splashing feet, falling in behind one of the rowboats.

  The water was cool and smelled of vegetation; there were some thick green patches of “seaweed” here and there.

  Riley wondered where he’d need to place in this group in order to qualify. The first two cabins had finished earlier, and last year’s champion—Duncan Alvarez of Cabin 1—had been more than a minute ahead of the next closest. But then there’d been a pack. So all Riley could do was swim strong and finish strong. There were two more cabins to go later in the afternoon.

  Within five minutes Riley had caught a few of the swimmers who’d gone out too fast, including Barry and Hernando. But there were still a half dozen kids out front. The leader—Kelvin from Cabin 4—had fifty yards on Riley and looked relaxed. They were almost halfway to the buoy.

  Stick with the breaststroke until the turnaround, Riley told himself. He’d kick it in if he had the strength. So far, last night’s illness didn’t seem to be affecting him.

  The day was overcast but warm, and the sun peeked through every few minutes and then went behind a cloud. There was a breeze blowing straight at the swimmers as they headed up the lake, causing a few chops in the water.

  Eldon was just ahead, and Riley took some quick overhand strokes to pull alongside him. Eldon glanced over and spit out some water.

  “You good?” Riley asked.

  “Little cramp in my side. You?”

  “I’m good. Switch to breast till the cramp goes away.”

  “Okay.”

  Riley gradually pulled away from Eldon and inched closer to Colin and a swimmer from the other cabin. As they approached the buoy, Riley picked up the pace.

  Vinnie, coming toward Riley now on the way back to the dock, called, “Go get ’em, Night Crawler.”

  Riley quickly raised his fist. “You too.” But the leader was at least fifty yards ahead of Vinnie and looking strong. Vinnie was locked in a battle for second with Tony and another swimmer.

  Colin, the quiet Cabin 3 kid with lean muscles and very short hair, was right next to Riley as they rounded the buoy. “Let’s work together and drop this guy,” Colin said, jutting his chin toward the Cabin 4 swimmer who was a yard or so ahead.

  It was the first time Riley could remember Colin speaking to him.

  Riley took a glance back. Eldon was just making the turn, and three other swimmers were within a few yards of him. So there were at least seven swimmers in contention for fifth place.

  Riley had figured that a top-five finish would almost certainly qualify him for the final. There were three heats and twenty qualifying spots, so the law of averages said six or seven from each race would advance.

  The sun broke through again and the wind picked up, and Riley noticed a shadow moving through the water a few yards off to his right. He felt a chill and a surge of adrenaline and fear. The water was dark, and visibility through it was nearly zero, but something big definitely seemed to be hovering near the surface.

  Riley kept stroking but turned his head hard to watch that spot. Whatever it’d been was already gone. He switched to the crawl and moved faster to get away from that area as quickly as he could.

  After thirty yards of hard swimming, Riley had moved into fifth place. If that had been Big Joe, there were now at least a few more swimmers in his domain. Lots of fingers and toes to choose from.

  That burst of speed hadn’t been a good idea as far as Riley’s racing was concerned. He was puffing now, out of that smooth rhythm he’d developed, and there was a long way to go.

  He switched back to breaststroke, lifted his head, and unleashed a loud burp. Then he turned his head and heaved up a large mouthful of orange and brown puke. Peanut butter and Ritz. He swiped at the glob and it quickly spread across th
e surface of the lake.

  Riley kept stroking. The closest rescue boat was about twenty yards behind him, following Eldon’s group. Riley had no need to be rescued, but he didn’t want to be pulled from the race against his will just because of a little vomit.

  “That’s nasty!” shouted Colin. “You got puke on my shoulder.”

  “Dive under,” Riley called back. “It’ll wash off.”

  Riley didn’t feel very sick, but he was still gasping for air. Colin and the Cabin 4 swimmer caught up and gave him some hard looks. Then they started pulling away.

  By the time he was three-quarters of the way to the dock, Riley had regained his breath and settled back into his rhythm. But he was in seventh place, about ten seconds out of sixth and about the same distance ahead of eighth. He could hold that position, but would it be enough? He didn’t have much energy left for a sprint.

  He could see the swimmers ahead of him—the leader had a sizable gap on Vinnie and Tony, but the fourth-place swimmer was definitely struggling. Riley knew he’d have been able to catch him if he were feeling right, but today he’d just better try to hang on to the spot he had. Colin and the other kid were closing the gap on that guy, however.

  Two counselors in a rowboat moved rapidly toward the fading swimmer. By the time they reached him, Riley had caught him, too.

  “You done?” asked a counselor.

  The kid shook his head. “Just low on gas,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Riley swam to the right to stay clear as he moved into sixth place. “Hang in there,” he said.

  “You too,” the kid replied.

  They were less than a hundred yards from the dock. Riley turned and could see Eldon coming strong. He was fifteen yards back but was stroking with everything he had.

  Riley continued with the breaststroke, keeping his face down most of the time. Every muscle was aching now.

  Eldon was his teammate, but Riley knew every place counted at this point. Beating Eldon could mean the difference between qualifying or not. So he dug as deep as he could and found a little something more. Eldon got closer but Riley held him off and reached the dock a couple of strokes ahead.

  He barely had the strength to climb out of the water. He crawled to the edge of the dock and lay flat on his back, too tired to move.

  He lay there for at least ten minutes. By then the next two cabins were gathering for their qualifying race. Shawn stepped over to him and poked him in the arm with his toes.

  “You okay?” Shawn asked.

  “I will be.”

  “You need anything?”

  “Dinner.”

  “It’s two-thirty. Dinner is three hours away.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s go see Mrs. Doherty.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “She’s in charge of the mess hall. Responsible for all those delectable meals we’ve been eating.”

  Riley was pretty sure Shawn was being sarcastic, but at this point he’d eat anything.

  “Think I qualified?” Riley asked as they walked up the path.

  “Looks pretty good,” Shawn said. “You and Eldon are twelfth and thirteenth so far. Depends how the next heat goes.”

  When they got to the mess hall, they went in the back way. Riley’d never been in the kitchen.

  “Hello, Mrs. Doherty,” Shawn said. “Riley here is in need of sustenance.”

  “He is, is he?” Mrs. Doherty was an overweight woman in her sixties with dyed-blond hair. She looked Riley up and down and pinched his arm. “Mighty skinny.”

  “And drained,” Shawn said. “He caught a bug last night and couldn’t keep anything down. Now he’s famished.”

  Riley nodded. “That’s true.”

  “Well,” she said, “dinner is meat loaf, but it isn’t near ready. We’ve got leftover tuna fish from lunch.”

  Riley just looked at Shawn.

  “Maybe something a little less pungent,” Shawn said. “A turkey sandwich? Or chicken?” He smiled at Riley. “Plain chicken.”

  Mrs. Doherty opened a large refrigerator and took out a plastic container. She pulled off the lid and showed Riley the contents. “This was supposed to be my supper,” she said. “From home. A pork chop, mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy. You want it?”

  Riley’s eyes grew wide as he nodded quickly. “That’d be great.”

  “My husband made that last night.” She put the container in the microwave and shook her head with a smile. “Guess it’ll be meat loaf for me.”

  “I sure appreciate it,” Riley said.

  “I know you will.”

  Riley felt like he hadn’t eaten in a week. He gobbled down the food and sat for a few minutes, watching Mrs. Doherty and her assistant prepare dinner for the fifty-nine other campers. He might be hungry enough to have some of that later. But for now, he was full and exhausted.

  He had two hours of free time ahead. He planned to spend it lying in his bunk.

  CAMP OLYMPIA BULLETIN

  Friday, August 6

  ALVAREZ LEADS 20 INTO BIG SWIM FINAL

  Defending Champion Sets Record

  Cabin 1’s Duncan Alvarez led all qualifiers for the Lake Surprise Showdown, setting a record of 22 minutes, 44 seconds, for the three-quarter-mile trial.

  Alvarez is the defending Showdown champion, winning last year’s race in 38:09.

  The Cabin 3 Threshers had five qualifiers, more than any other cabin.

  The 1.2-mile Showdown takes place a week from today—the final evening of camp. We’ll have a light early supper that night, with the swimming marathon set for 7:20 p.m. A chicken barbecue and marshmallow roast will follow.

  Qualifying Results

  (Swimmers in boldface advance to the final.)

  HEAT 1 (Cabins 1, 2)

  Duncan Alvarez (1) 22:44

  Jerry Irwin (1) 24:16

  Ryan McDonald (2) 24:19

  Nigel Singh (2) 24:23

  Omar Ventura (2) 25:09

  Mark Shields (1) 25:49

  Jason Sullivan (2) 26:22

  Jorge Medina (1) 26:29

  Dennis Chan (2) 26:31

  Peter Mickelson (1) 27:04

  HEAT 2 (Cabins 3, 4)

  Kelvin Dawkins (4) 24:22

  Vinnie Kazmerski (3) 24:47

  Tony Maniglia (3) 24:58

  Colin Dugan (3) 25:28

  Malik Rivera (4) 26:02

  Riley Liston (3) 26:21

  Eldon Johnson (3) 26:24

  A. J. Castillo (4) 26:42

  Tom Foley (4) 27:12

  Barry Monahan (3) 27:20

  HEAT 3 (Cabins 5, 6)

  Danny Avila (5) 23:53

  Avery Moretti (6) 24:17

  Johnny Rios (5) 24:26

  Troy Hiller (6) 25:42

  Lionel Robertson (6) 26:18

  George Macey (5) 26:34

  Eddie Zevon (5) 27:13

  Hector Mateo (6) 27:31

  Rory Hiller (6) 27:38

  Marc Goldman (5) 27:52

  Today’s Events

  Morning free-throw contest

  Afternoon water polo

  Evening softball

  Sloppy joes for dinner! With ketchup!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Double Dunk

  Barry Monahan stared at the Bulletin, slowly shaking his head. “I was twenty-seventh fastest!” he said. “That’s what … only fifty-two seconds faster and I would have made it.”

  “Tough break,” said Vinnie, bending the paper toward him to take a closer look.

  “The dream is over,” Barry said, flopping down on his bunk. “Can you imagine how unprecedented it would have been for the hot-dog-eating champion to also qualify for the marathon?”

  “Truly Olympian,” said Vinnie.

  Riley sat on his own bunk and looked at his copy. Ten swimmers had broken twenty-five minutes, and Riley thought he could have at least gone that fast if it hadn’t been for his stomach problems. Top ten out of the entire camp would be a huge
accomplishment if he could pull it off. And since the final was a considerably longer race, he was pretty sure he could place that high. The longer, the better.

  Riley figured being wrenched out and dehydrated had to have cost him a minute, the Big Joe scare slowed him a bit more, and throwing up in the water wasted a little time, too. On a good night, he could definitely move up.

  “Training,” Barry was saying. “If I’d trained hard instead of sitting on my butt all summer, I would have qualified.”

  “Yeah,” Vinnie said, “that’s a heck of a big if. You’ve never trained for anything in your life.”

  “Not quite true,” Barry said. “I trained for the hot-dog contest. Lots of eating. Quickly, too.”

  Riley stepped outside and stretched his arms high over his head. They were scheduled for a water-polo game in a few minutes—the showdown with Cabin 4—but Riley was thinking ahead to after the game. The big race was still a week away; he had time for some training. He’d be sure to do some laps in the swimming area this afternoon.

  Exhausted, Riley sank gently beneath the water, letting his body hang limp for a few seconds before rising to the surface. The ball had gone over the goal and out of bounds, and they were waiting for someone to retrieve it.

  Cabin 3 was clinging to a 3–2 lead, and Riley had played most of the game. It’d been intense, with fierce scrambling for the ball and rough play that saw players constantly being dunked and elbowed. Riley couldn’t wait for it to end; just a few more minutes and it would be over.

  “I hate these guys,” Barry mumbled, staring across the water. He’d been playing goalie the entire second half, and he’d made several key saves. Riley had been a big factor, too, helping to slow the Cabin 4 assault.