Chapter Thirteen:
Man Overboard
I zipped my wetsuit up to my chin and clipped the life jacket together across my chest. I’d floated the Boise River before, but this was the big time. We even had a guide.
Wading into the water, we all wobbled for a moment as we tried to climb into the unstable raft. Chance and I straddled the right side with Mom behind us, and Dad sat with the girls across from us. Our guide, Mitch, gave us all paddles and demonstrated different techniques—kind of like Coach Carpenter’s tennis lesson, except this time I listened.
“Oh, man, I wish I’d brought my water gun.” I looked across the expanse before us.
“Joe,” Dad scolded. “I think we are going to get wet enough without your help.”
“Let me know if you don’t.” I slapped the river with my paddle and sprayed water across the raft.
The girls shrieked.
“There will be time for that later,” Mitch said as he took a seat in the rear of the raft. “We’ve got a rapid coming. You guys ready?”
“Woohoo,” I hollered. I lifted my oar overhead like a barbell.
“Here we go.” Mitch’s voice trailed off as the raft slipped down a small slope with a splash. “Right side, row hard.”
That was me. I brought my oar down and pushed against the waves. A cold shower of water blasted me in the face as the raft nearly bent in half.
“Go, go, go,” shouted Mitch. “There’s a cave on the other side just around this bend. Let’s see if we can get to it.”
Chance’s muscles bunched in his shoulders. “Let’s go, people.”
“Argh,” I grunted as if I were a pirate.
Isabelle laughed. “Ahoy, me mateys. Buried treasure ahead.” She had a pretty good pirate voice going on.
Mom noticed, too. “Isabelle, you should be an actress.” She stopped rowing.
“Mom,” I yelled.
The current threatened to take us right past the dark spot in the wall of rock. Water roared and crashed.
Chance and I stuck our paddles in deep and tried to maneuver closer to the hiding place.
The nose of our raft made it into the opening, but the back half got bounced around as the river tried to pull us downstream.
Mitch yelled something I couldn’t hear over the noise.
“What?”
Mitch pointed past me.
What was he pointing at? It was just a wall of rock.
I started to look back at Mitch again, but Isabelle dove toward me.
She stretched on her stomach across the front of the raft and grabbed onto the roots of a shrub growing overhead. “Help.”
I reached up as well, and together we pulled the raft into the cave.
The quietness of the cavern muffled the sound of the river and it felt as if headphones covered my ears. The reflection from the sun shining on the water made rippling patterns on the damp cave walls. The strange light turned Isabelle’s high ponytail into the glow of a halo.
I knew she wasn’t an angel, but she wasn’t a typical girl either because she could work. She climbed back to her spot on the other side of the raft.
I was impressed. But I didn’t want to sound impressed. “Shiver me timbers,” I said.
Mom laughed. “This is beautiful—better than buried treasure. Good work, Captain Lancaster and Captain Michaels.”
Chance glanced over his shoulder at me. “Shiver me timbers?” he teased.
I turned away to ignore him and accidentally met Isabelle’s gaze.
She smiled.
I smiled back. Maybe I could be friends with a girl.
Mom sang lyrics from “Yo Ho (A Pirate’s Life for Me).” It echoed off the walls, sounding eerie.
“Are you ready for more?” Dad asked from his position behind Isabelle.
“Bring it on.” The cave was pretty and peaceful. I could only handle that for so long.
“Then let’s go.” Mitch spun the raft around and shoved off a rock.
The rapids grabbed us and wouldn’t let go. It was a wild ride—probably as close to a bucking bronco as I would ever get.
I hung on with one hand and waved the paddle in the air with the other. “Yee-haw!” I’d gone from a pirate to a cowboy in a matter of seconds.
Mitch yelled directions and we tried to follow. Bumping into a rock that Mitch told us to avoid made us spin around and sent us backward down a water slide-like slope. Waves slapped us in the face.
Christine screamed.
“Right side.” Mitch ordered Chance, Mom, and me to row again.
Though my side was doing all the work, we got the raft headed the correct direction. Chance and I were good. We had everything under control. I decided to be a guide when I grew up. I was a natural. I was—
I was thrown out of the raft. Sitting down one moment then—pop. I bobbed in the water.
“Joey,” Mom yelled.
The water swirled and pushed me away from the raft. Wow, I floated fast. I flipped over to my stomach and began to swim. The trees on either side of me raced by. I felt like an Olympian.
“Joey,” Mitch yelled. “Remember what I said about leaning back and putting your feet in front of you.”
Oh, yeah. I sat as if I were in a chair so my legs could keep me from getting slammed into any rocks. The water was freezing, but I was too excited to care.
“Hang on,” Dad yelled. “The rough part is almost over.”
Bummer. It should all be rough. It was white water, wasn’t it?
The current slowed, loosening its grip on my arms and legs. The waves stopped swooping over my head.
Dad and Mitch expertly rowed toward me. Mitch reached down, grabbed the back of my life jacket, and scooped me out of the water.
I flopped on the floor of the raft like a fish.
Mom helped me back into my spot. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“We call that fanny floating,” Mitch told us.
Chance laughed. “I should have known Joey would be the first to fanny float.”
I pushed on Chance’s vest as if I was going to knock him in the water. “Watch it, or you’ll be next.”
We all drifted quietly for a few minutes. No waves. No rapids. Not even a tiny splash to entertain us.
I could fix that. Angling my oar toward the river I sliced off the top layer of water and sent it across the raft.
“Stop it, Joey. I don’t want to get wet.” Christine sent me a death glare.
Mitch chuckled from behind us. “I wouldn’t start a water fight with the girls, Joey. You might lose.”
I looked over my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m a water fight professional.”
“Joey.” This time Isabelle’s voice called my name.
I turned to face my new friend, but she didn’t even give me a chance to ask what she wanted. She just tried to drown me with a wall of water. I sputtered and wiped at my eyes.
Christine giggled with glee. “Some water fight professional you are.”
Isabelle sat grinning at me with a bucket in her hands. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since you’re already wet.”
She figured wrong. “Where did you get a bucket?” I demanded.
“Mitch.”
My mouth hung open, and I stared at the guide. He’d just become the enemy.
Mitch laughed. “The bucket is usually used to bail out water.”
They had ganged up on me? “Well, now I’m bailing out.” I lifted my left leg over the side to join my right leg and slipped into the water. I fanny floated the rest of the way down the river.
The Water Fight Professional Page 17