by Holly Bourne
I changed the way I bent them and just about made it – though I would have cramp until Christmas probably.
“I think I’m in.”
“It’s a miracle!”
“You ready, Calvin?” I was now wedged in such a way that I couldn’t look behind me any more.
“I…guess…so,” his small voice answered. “Just…please…can we not rock the boat?”
“We would all drown,” I agreed. “Now, who knows how the hell to row?”
The answer was: none of us. It took a good twenty minutes of giggling and calls of “One, two, three, GO” to even put ten metres between us and the pier. We drifted in circles and splashed water all over ourselves as we put the oars in wrong.
“We’ve hardly left the pier!” Calvin whined. “Everyone else has rowed for miles, and we’ve hardly left the pier!”
“We’re trying our best, Calvin.”
“You guys can’t row!”
“We are aware of that, Calvin.” I pulled a face because he couldn’t see me. Children were so ungrateful in real life. In stories, if you do a good deed for a kid, they’re all beamy, covered in chimney smoke and say stuff like “Why, thank you, Mister Scrooge, God bless ya”. But, in real life, they just whinged and nothing you did was ever enough.
Calvin’s humiliation at not having a partner was forgotten. “This is stoopid.” I felt him drop the oar into its holder.
I remembered my camp pledge to be Disney at all times.
“Now, we can’t do this without you, Calvin. We need you to row.”
I ploughed my oar into the water again, pulling it backwards. It hurt my arm, the pain aching all the way up to my elbow. The boat only spun us about twenty degrees, so we looked directly back at the pier, and at the pitiful distance we’d put between us and it.
“I wanna go over there,” Calvin whined.
“I can’t see where you’re pointing. But if it’s any further away than ten metres, I think you need to lower your expectations.”
“Ahhhh MAN.” The boat starting rocking and vibrating.
“Is he crying?” I whispered back at Whinnie, desperately trying to move the boat forward at the same time.
“I think so. I can’t turn around. My stomach hurts.”
“I have cramp of the entire body.”
And the boat shook harder as we both dissolved into silent laughter.
“You’re LAUGHING.” A wail echoed out of him and around the lake.
“Shh, it’s okay, Calvin,” I said. “Whinnie and I are trying our hardest. Whinnie, ready on the count of three?”
“Ready for what?”
“Rowing.”
“Oh yeah. What do we do on the count of three?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Umm – how about you go backwards and I go backwards. Then we’ll move…backwards?” she asked.
“That sounds like a plan. You joining us, Calvin?”
He wailed his answer. I saw two boats heading towards us – one was Kevin’s, the gold canoe slicing through the water effortlessly. The other was a standard red boat.
No, I wouldn’t let Kevin rescue me. I’d rather get blisters all over my hands that bled. Popped. And then bled again.
“One, two, three, GO!” I pulled back my oar, dipped it down into the water, spun the blade and then yanked it back, using all my strength. Whinnie’s oar did the same thing…we were getting it…we were totally getting the hang of it….hang on…the boat just circled again…
Calvin cried harder. “You two are the worst.”
I ignored him. “Whinnie?”
“Yep.”
“The boat is broken. That is what I’ve decided.”
“That is a most excellent decision.”
“So, when Kevin gets here to rescue us, our line is the boat is broken.”
“The boat is SO broken.”
“I know. You hear that, Calvin?”
“The boat’s not broken, you’re just both LAME.”
We attempted two more pathetic oar strokes, but the boat still twisted aimlessly in the water.
Kevin was almost with us. He was grinning, I could see it from here. The red boat was almost with us too. I sighed. It was Kyle’s boat. He was also grinning.
“We have rescuers,” I deadpanned.
“Really? Why?” Whinnie asked. “I could probably wade to the beach from here.”
“YOU GUYS OKAY?” Kevin called.
“OUR BOAT IS BROKEN,” Whinnie and I called back in unison.
“THEY’RE JUST LAME,” Calvin added.
“Shh, Calvin, that’s not the official line.”
Kevin and Kyle arrived at the same time. I tried not to look at Kyle’s arms as he worked the oars. I didn’t try very hard. He had Jenna in the back, as well as my hyperactive nemesis – Charlie Brown.
“What’s going on here?” Kyle expertly brought his boat up against ours.
“Our boat is broken,” I repeated.
Kevin pulled up on the other side so we were in a superior rower sandwich.
“Hey, guys, looks like you’ve got into some trouble.”
“The boat is broken.”
“Umm,” Kyle looked down at the oar in my hands. “You’re holding your paddle wrong.”
I looked down with him. “This is a perfectly acceptable way to be holding an oar.”
“Yeah, if it was an oar and you were in a rowing boat.”
“I am in a rowing boat. That’s what a canoe is.”
“Well, that’s not quite true. And also, this isn’t a canoe anyway. It’s a kayak.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“So…have you considered what that massive flat plastic thing is on the end of your ‘oar’?”
“That’s the annoying bit.”
“No. That’s supposed to be in the water too…like this.” He pushed our boat away so his was floating freely again, and then pulled out his oar, holding his hands at both ends with his arms wide. He dipped one end over one side of the boat, and then the other end over the other side of the boat, like a rocking motion. His canoe, or kayak or whatever, glided forward a good metre or two.
“Oh…” I said.
“Oh…” Whinnie said.
Charlie Brown looked at both of us in disbelief.
“You guys are TOTALLY lame.”
Calvin had stopped crying. “I know, right?”
Bumface Kevin let out a huge thundery laugh. “Well, I guess I forgot to tell you guys how to paddle a kayak. I’d say right now you’re rowing that boat like it’s out of Wind in the Willows.”
“We’ll be fine now, thank you,” I said sternly.
“Let’s mix things up a bit, get Calvin to see the lake a little.”
“No, thank you. We know what we’re doing now.”
Kevin stroked his bumchin as he thought about it. “I know.” He pointed at me. “Amber, you swap with Charlie Brown. He’s a good paddler, aren’t you, Charlie B? You can help Whinnie and Calvin?”
Charlie Brown started scrabbling out of the boat.
“Hang on,” I yelled, as he jumped down, practically on top of me. “I’m not ready yet.” How would my legs get out of this canoe? They’d barely made it in! I turned to Whinnie, but she just shrugged, still holding her paddle wrong.
“Careful, Amber,” Kevin said. I gave him my best glare and tried to free my feet so I could stand.
“Charlie, seriously, you’re in my way.” He rolled his eyes. A bloody ten-year-old rolled his eyes at me, but he wiggled to give me room. I tentatively stood up and the boat rocked. I threw my hands out to steady myself.
“Careful,” Kyle said. It didn’t annoy me when he said it. He was watching me closely, his eyes squinting against the sun. I looked at the small hole Charlie Brown had left. Then I took a deep breath and stepped one foot in. Kyle’s boat lurched away from the impact, making me almost do the splits.
“Hang on.” Kyle pushed his paddle down to steady the boat.
> “I just ripped my crotch in two,” I howled.
“Just move your other foot in quickly.”
“I’m scared!”
“It’s all right, I’ve got you.” Kyle reached out his hand and I took it, still surprised by how nice his skin felt, even though I should’ve been immune by now. He gripped it and pulled me towards him, coaxing my other foot off Whinnie’s boat. My centre of gravity shifted and I grabbed him tighter as I stepped down.
Everyone applauded.
“You go, Amber!” Kevin whooped.
Another glare.
Charlie Brown had already slotted himself into my old space and grabbed my paddle. “I’m the captain!” he yelled. And, before Whinnie and Calvin knew what was happening, their boat had taken off, powered by the strength and sheer egotism of a ten-year-old American who is good at sports.
I wedged myself down into a new hole of humiliation, which gave me a view of the back of Kyle’s head. Some of his hair had grown long, curling around his ears. I looked back, towards Jenna.
“Hey, Jenna,” I said, smiling. “I’m your new boat roomie.”
She gave me a stern look. “You’re not very good at paddling, you know that, right?”
I wiggled in, turning my back to her.
“I don’t consider paddling a very important life skill. When will I ever need to paddle?”
“Umm…right now?”
“Well aren’t you clever?” I muttered under my breath. The boat rocked as Kyle laughed and craned round to us both.
“Now, Amber, are we ready to go? Do you think you know what you’re doing with the paddle?”
I gave him a big fake grin. “Putting it in the water?”
“And not just one end…but?”
“Both ends?” I rolled my eyes.
“Good job,” he said, as only Americans can. “On the count of three, ready, Jenna? One, two, three…”
…The boat turned in a circle as I deliberately shoved only one end of my paddle into the water.
“What the…?” Kyle craned round again, I smiled even more sweetly, holding my paddle up in admission.
“That…” I said, “was payment, for all the patronizing.”
Once I got the hang of rowing and/or paddling – whatever the hell it was – it started to get quite nice.
Okay, so the paddle was already forming two hefty blisters between my thumb and finger, but Kyle, Jenna and I hit a rhythm and the canoe/kayak glided through the lake like it was being pushed by the gods.
Soon the pier was a tiny speck, and the other kayaks were too.
The water spread out in all directions, the trees lining it looking tinier and tinier. I pulled my baseball cap lower to shade my eyes from the harsh sun, looking around me in humbled awe as we dipped our paddles in the water – the steady splish-splosh uniting us like a common heartbeat.
“How long till we reach the other side?” I asked, embarrassed by how far we’d gotten in the time it had taken Whinnie and I to move five metres away from the pier.
“If we paddle hard for five more minutes, we’ll make it,” Kyle called back.
“And what’s at the other side of the lake?”
“More trees,” Jenna replied.
“Oh.” I was disappointed. “I thought there would be, like, something different.”
“We’re doing it for the achievement, Amber.” Jenna’s voice was so authoritative. “We’re doing it because we can.”
I pulled a face I thought that neither of them could see, but Kyle turned round and caught it.
“I was telling her about the first person to ever climb Mount Everest,” he said, by way of explanation. “I read a biography about him. When he came down from the mountain, everyone asked him, why did you do it? And his famous answer was, ‘Because it was there’.”
I sighed. “He sounds like a douche.”
“Ummmmmm, you just cursed!” Jenna sing-songed behind me.
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Douche is not a curse word.”
“UMMMMM, YOU JUST DID IT AGAIN.” She cackled with giggles, a weird hiccuping sound. I deliberately splashed her with my paddle and she squealed. “HEY, YOU SPLASHED ME.” She splashed me back.
“Oi.”
“Can’t get me.”
“Yes, I ruddy well can.”
And we both dolloped water onto each other.
Kyle called behind him. “Amber? Can I remind you you’re supposed to be a responsible adult?”
“When have adults ever behaved responsibly?” I twisted and grinned at Jenna. We both nodded and simultaneously aimed our paddles at Kyle, dowsing him too.
“You stinkers!”
He aimed back, and by the time we’d all calmed down we were totally soaked through. I laughed myself out, feeling good. About how the sun was already drying my clothes, about how it looked bouncing off the ripples, about the way the trees were so dense and old that they seemed to whisper secrets, about how Kyle had looked at me when I soaked him.
“Come on,” Kyle straightened his paddle. “We’re almost at the other side.”
We pushed on, the trees getting nearer, the whoosh of our paddles stronger. Then, with an unceremonious thud, our kayak hit the bank of the lake.
“We did it,” I cheered, and Kyle and Jenna whooped with me.
Kyle turned round again. “Whoever would’ve thought it was possible?”
“Oi, I just wasn’t trained properly,” I replied. “And kayaking isn’t a key life skill. I’m good at useful things, like making a roux.”
“A what?”
“A roux. It’s the base of any white sauce, or soup. It’s when you cook flour and butter together, a roux.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m starting to realize this is quite common.”
I stuck my tongue out. “Roux are more useful than kayaks, I promise you.”
“You’re a good cook then?”
I nodded. “Do you know what a roux is?” I called behind to Jenna, not breaking eye-contact with Kyle.
“Of course,” she answered solemnly. “You need a good roux for macaroni and cheese.”
“See,” I said, triumphantly. “I bet the guy who climbed Mount Everest didn’t know how to make a roux.”
Kyle held a smile and then turned to paddle the kayak back the opposite way.
“Right, ready to head back? We’ve got swimming soon, in the lake to cool off.”
“Yay!” Jenna yelled. “Can I show you my dive? Can I? Can I? I can dive REALLY good.”
“Sure,” we both replied.
We got back into the flow of paddling – the pier unbecoming a dot, and growing into a blob, then a bigger blob. Other kayaks joined us, all heading in the same direction. I spotted Russ, his feet up on the front of his boat, his arms crossed behind his head, relaxing as two kids paddled frantically behind him.
“That’s it,” Russ called, half-asleep. “You’re doing great.” The kids seemed to find it funny.
“Hey,” I yelled, over the water. “Child labour is illegal in the States, you know?”
Russ jerked up and almost fell out. He saw it was me and covered his eyes with his hands to shield them from the sun. “From what I’ve seen today,” he called back, “you are in no position to give lectures on the art of paddling.”
Whinnie’s boat was just in front of us. Charlie Brown was still paddling madly, like a wind-up toy on MDMA. The boats began to thump together, forming a disorderly queue up to the pier. Bumface Kevin was already there, reaching down with his big strong arms to yank children out, lavishing them with praise.
“You go, well done you, you are so smart, what a team!”
I turned round to Jenna. “You have fun?”
She nodded. “It was adequate.”
And both Kyle and I shook the boat with our laughter.
We waited to dock our kayak. It was only when we’d s
topped paddling that I realized my hands were red raw, but I didn’t care. I felt all light – from chatting to the girls, from them helping me understand Melody, from learning how to kayak…
Speaking of Melody, she seemed to be waiting for Kyle on the dock. She’d rolled up her camp T-shirt into a minitop and rested against the wooden poles, one tanned leg cocked perfectly to accentuate her lean angular muscles.
We lifted Jenna from the boat first, and she ran in the direction of the beach. Then Kevin pulled me up onto the dock, then Kyle.
I hung back, waiting for Whinnie. Trying not to watch Kyle and Melody together. But not really trying.
She manoeuvred Kyle away down the length of the pier. I watched them stop, and she tucked a stray piece of his golden hair behind his ear.
I didn’t hear it all, but I did hear her say…
…“I had such a good time last night.”
And my stupid heart hurt, and all the good-feeling went again.
Like it always does. When you mistakenly let people in.
SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:
Trying to talk to your friends about boys
+
A past record of not being very understanding about that topic
Fifteen
From: LongTallAmber
To: EvieFilmGal
Subject: Death to cheerleaders
Hello again you sexy gorgeous friends of mine.
How’s the British summer going? I looked on the BBC site here (it’s so weird, guys, there are ADVERTS on it in America) and…well…yes…sorry about the rain? I feel most smug here in the burning sunshine while you’re being pissed on from grand heights.
Thanks so much for the last Spinster Meeting! It really cheered me up. The FCP girl is so much easier to handle now I have an academic-but-essentially-cruel word for her in my head. She’s inevitably got together with the Prom King guy, because life is so ridiculously clichéd sometimes I wonder why we bother living it when nothing is ever a surprise any more… NOT BITTER. Definitely not bitter.
Love you all, miss you loads
Ax
PS Lottie, no, I won’t send you photos of my sunburn. I told you, it’s gone down!
PPS Did you know that canoes and kayaks aren’t the same thing?
From: EvieFilmGal
To: LongTallAmber
Subject: RE Death to cheerleaders
Hello tall one,