You May Already Be a Winner

by Ann Dee Ellis

  I looked in and Bart was standing against wall. A gym teacher, the same one I’d seen, with the shorts and the whistle was talking to him. Loud. He was saying, “You can’t keep doing this and expect to pass.”

  Bart nodded. The man’s voice was so, so mean.

  “You know you’re on thin ice.”

  Bart started fiddling with his watch.

  “Hey,” the guy said. Bart kept fiddling. “HEY!”

  Bart looked at him. My hands started to sweat just watching him. How big the guy was and how little Bart looked. He’d never seemed little to me before.

  “Look at me when I’m talking. Look. At. Me. You come to class. You get here on time. You get changed. You participate. I don’t care about what your mom or anyone else says. You’re twelve. Act like it.”

  Bart nodded. Mumbled something. Then he did this, Bart turned, he turned and looked right at me and as he did it, so did the coach.

  I froze.

  “Can I help you?” the man said.

  I . . .

  I . . .

  “Can. I. Help. You.” His voice echoed through the gym and out the door and into my bones.

  So then I ran.

  I ran.

  I ran.

  And when I got to the supply closet I burst in, my lungs burning and my heart pounding and Berk said, “What’s wrong? Are we caught?”

  ~

  That afternoon on the walk home I tried to decide if I should find Bart. Maybe he needed me as much as I needed him even though I didn’t really need him but maybe I did.

  I also tried to figure out if that coach recognized me and now I had to be extra careful in the halls and how I’d messed up. I shouldn’t have stayed there to listen. I should have gone fast. Quiet. Gotten out of there. Straight to Berk.

  Take care of your sister.

  Take care of your sister.

  Take care of your sister.

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  Sick for Berk.

  Sick for me.

  Sick for Bart who got yelled at by a dumb-bum coach.

  Sick for Mom because she was doing this. Why was she doing this?

  Sick for Dad because he didn’t know how bad things were.

  When we got home, Berk played with her friends and I lay on the couch, my belly aching.

  Carlene knocked on the door. I saw her and I didn’t move.

  “Is Olivia home?” she asked Berk.

  I don’t know what Berk said but Carlene went away and I was glad even though it was Carlene and maybe she was going to help me or give me details on Monster Jam.

  I wanted everyone to go away.

  “What’s for dinner?” Berk asked when she finally came in from playing.

  I pointed at the cereal on the table.

  After she ate, my stomach got worse and my head started to hurt too and, “Can we watch a circus?” she asked.

  “Yeah. We can.” I turned it on.

  Cirque Mana of France.

  Trapeze.

  My head pounding.

  My stomach aching.

  Trapeze.

  Swinging.

  And swinging.

  Swinging.

  And Berk.

  Berk lay on her Barbie blanket with her dolls all around her. She always watched TV like this.

  I watched Berk watch. The freckles on her cheeks. Her lips and her perfect little nose. Her mouth opening and closing in anticipation of every move, every jump, every catch. Clapping after each act.

  Before I knew it, I was clapping, too. The pain starting to go away a little.

  Then, right in the middle of the lions, Mom got home.

  Banged through the door.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She looked tired again. And in the office cleaning work shirt.

  “Why are you working late?” I asked.

  She shrugged, put her keys on the table. “I’m saving for something.”

  My stomach clenched again. She was saving for something?

  She walked over. Sat on the floor with Berk. Pulled her onto her lap.

  After a few minutes she said, “Why are we watching this?” Mom said.

  “Because we’re having a neighborhood circus and we have to get ideas,” Berk said.

  Mom looked at me. “A neighborhood circus? Who is?”

  Now Berk looked at me but I didn’t look at either of them. I closed my eyes instead. The headache was back.

  “We are. They asked us to do a circus at the HOA meeting. Tell her, Liv,” Berk said.

  I rubbed my forehead.

  “They asked you to do what? What are you talking about?”

  I stood up.

  “Olivia.”

  I felt dizzy.

  “Olivia!”

  I walked down the hall.

  “Olivia! Get back here.”

  I closed my bedroom door.

  I put all the blankets and clothes and stuffed animals and bags and everything I could find on the bed and then I crawled under it.

  As a reward for Berkeley sitting in the broom closet at my school, Mom dropped us off before work at the rec center on Saturday just like she said she would.

  I thought about asking her if it was okay to swim even with a contagious illness but then I didn’t. I didn’t ask her anything about the illness or what she said to the counselor at school or how she had started lying or what she was saving for instead of taking care of us.

  Instead I ate Lunchables and went to the rec center.

  Berkeley loved going to the pool—especially the indoor pool where they had a pirate ship and waterslides and spray guns. She was a fish and she always made friends and most of all she loved the waterslide, which she could only do if I went with her which I didn’t love but I did it anyway.

  Except today.

  Today I wanted to do nothing.

  I wanted to float in the lazy river and be no one.

  Berkeley said, “Should we go down the slide? Do you want to go down the slide?”

  And I said, “No.”

  “Why not?” We were in the ladies’ locker room and she had been bouncing up and down and singing “Jingle Bells” and whispering to herself, which she did a lot, but when I said no she stopped.

  I was stuffing our things in an empty locker and it would probably get stolen anyway because I didn’t get a lock and she said, “No?”

  “No. I don’t really feel like the slide today. Let’s just do the lazy river.”

  I tried to slam the locker closed but it wouldn’t go, so then I had to take everything out and put it back in and some naked lady next to me said, “Honey child, that thing is not going to fit,” and instead of saying, “Yes it will. Mind your own business,” I said, “It won’t?”

  And she said, “No way in this universe.”

  And I said, “Thank you,” and then she went to the shower and this all put me in a way worse mood, so much that I had almost forgot that my sad little sister who I had just crushed was standing there.

  I looked at her. Her lip was quivering and I could tell that this was not the day to say no to Berkeley. A five-year-old can only put up with so much.

  I took a deep breath, made a decision in the gut place, and said, “I’m sorry, Berk. We can go on the slide as many times as you want.”

  I could do the lazy river when she felt like playing on the pirate ship.

  “YAY!!! Yayayayayayayayayayayayayaay!” she yelled.

  Everyone looked at us but I didn’t care. It really was the best moment of the whole entire week and I told my gut thank you.

  Before I knew it, we were standing on the stairs for the waterslide. The lines were long on Saturday. I’d looked around and my favorite lifeguard, Tro
y, who had almost saved my life, was not there.

  Instead it was the lady who blew her whistle at Berkeley for hanging on the rope one time, which she was just barely barely not even really touching.

  Berkeley was chatting with two other kids in front of us and I stared at the lazy river, which had tons of people.

  I saw a dad running in the river with two kids hanging off him, laughing their faces off and there was a lady sitting on the side and she was laughing, too, and I didn’t know for sure but that was the mom and they were going to go get ice cream after and maybe even fancy hamburgers and then they’d all go home and watch America’s Funniest Home Videos together or something.

  I felt tears start to come so I stopped staring at the dumb-bum lazy river.

  Across the way, through a glass wall, was the competition pool where people who really knew how to swim did laps and where the swim team went for practice and swim meets.

  I wished I was good at swimming and that I could go and do laps back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and forget about everything.

  Right now, the play pools and waterslides were packed. But the competition pool was quiet. It looked like a whole other world over there.

  One where not everyone got to go.

  Only certain people.

  A group was forming on the side of the pool.

  It was a water aerobics class.

  There were a bunch of ladies. Big ladies. Old ladies. Mom ladies. One even looked like Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson. Was that Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson?

  I squinted to see better but it didn’t help. It looked a lot like her. She wasn’t the type of person I would think would do water aerobics. The clock said it was almost twelve so she would be way done selling dolls by now.

  ~

  Then, just as the waterslide line started to move, I saw something I was not expecting.

  I saw something that almost made me gasp out loud.

  ~

  I saw a boy.

  Getting into the water and starting to do water aerobics with all the old people.

  I saw someone I thought I was starting to love and who I watched get in trouble.

  I saw Bart.

  When I saw Bart waving his arms in the water, I knew he was really just trying to make me laugh. And I did laugh. “You’re doing water aerobics,” I yelled.

  He said, “Yes. Is it funny?”

  And I said, “Yes.”

  Then he jumped out of the pool and I dropped Berkeley’s hand and even though there was glass between us, and a hundred kids screaming and moms yelling and the lifeguards blowing their whistle and someone hitting an echo-y ball against the wall, why were they doing that? Even through all that, I heard his voice and he said, “I’ve been trying to find you.”

  And I said, “I’m so sorry! I’m also sorry you got in trouble.”

  And then I ran up the stairs to the opening at the slide and even though there were all these people ahead of me, they said, “GO! GO! GO to him!” And even though a part of me thought, this is so wrong, another part of me thought, this is so right.

  I jumped on the slide headfirst and went through the tube faster than anyone had ever gone before and when the slide went outside the building to the part where you can see the parking lot—this is actually a pretty cool thing about the slide, by the way—at that part, there were thousands of people in the parking lot holding signs that said, LOVE with all your HEART!

  “I will!” I yelled as I zoomed to the end of the waterslide and he was there waiting for me and he was wearing his tank top and puffy jeans but I didn’t care.

  When he saw me, his whole face lit up and he said, “I love you,” and I said, “I love you,” and I ran to him and he picked me up over his head and I put my arms in the air like I was in the Olympics and the whole place was screaming and yelling and cheering.

  The boy said, “Go.”

  And I said, “What?”

  And he said, “Go.”

  He pointed to the slide.

  We were at the top. Berkeley, I guess, had already gone down.

  I sat down. “GO!” someone yelled.

  The water was rushing and my stomach was rumbling and I wondered if I really did love Bart.

  Then someone pushed me and I went down the waterslide.

  ~

  When I got out and I was soaked and hyperventilating because I do not like the waterslide, I looked through the glass to see if he was still there.

  A blond lady in a swimsuit and pants that said ZUMBA on the butt was jumping around on the deck and all the old people and ladies were in the pool mimicking her.

  In the corner, in the back, was Bart.

  My Bart.

  Really there.

  Doing Aqua Zumba.

  ............

  Dear Dad,

  How did you know when you were in love? I’m asking for a friend who likes this boy and thinks it may be love but she doesn’t know anything about him except that he’s nice. And he’s smart. And he works in a kitchen. And he takes a water aerobics class. Is that strange? Would you ever take a water aerobics class? I don’t think you would. Should the girl not like him?

  Also, we’re so happy! Mom seems better than ever and so am I and so is Berkeley. Carlene hasn’t said anything about Las Vegas but she did say that if you wanted to come you could just call her dad. I told her you probably would when you got back to the ranger station. Can you do that? Do you still have his number? I can get it for you.

  Also, I think Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson goes to water aerobics, too. She may know the boy my friend likes because after class the teacher, the boy, and Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson were talking. I only know this because my friend told me and my friend knows Mrs. Sydney Gunnerson because my friend comes over here all the time because that’s what friends do. They hang out together. Or they live by each other.

  Me and Berk really are putting on a circus. Plans are moving ahead and we are getting an elephant and a lion and a boy who can eat fire.

  If you can come to Las Vegas or not come, it’s fine but I would love it if you could tell me. Or if you want to come to the circus, I think we’re doing it right after school gets out.

  Love your daughter,

  Olivia

  P.S. Did you know there is a National Park Tour Giveaway? I’ve entered it a few times. Maybe it will have Bryce!

  ............

  On Monday, I wanted to find Bart.

  So much.

  I wanted to talk to him about the pool because I hadn’t dared after I got off the slide and then I had to follow Berkeley around the pirate ship and by the time I went to look in there again, he was gone.

  At school I didn’t have a chance to go to the cafeteria because I had to eat with Berkeley and I didn’t want to take the risk to go to the gym when I knew he’d be there and also Monday was a bad day because in between two class breaks there were people by the closet door so I couldn’t slip in, which meant I left Berk alone for hours. And even though she said she was okay when I finally went, she was shaking and I could tell she’d been crying.

  Crying.

  We couldn’t do this much longer.

  Now I was home from school and Mom was home early for the first time in weeks and inside taking a nap.

  And Berk was inside, too, watching cartoons with Sadie and Jane.

  And I was outside on the tramp, hoping for Bart. Hoping and hoping and saying, Please come, please come, please come, please come, please come, please come, please come, please come.

  And then,

  Like magic.

  I opened my eyes and there he was.

  He was in a different tank top this time but the same pants and he seemed happy and he was cute. I’m sorry but he was.

  I tried to stop it but my whole body tingled.

 
He climbed onto the tramp and bounced a little.

  “What’s been going on?”

  I smiled.

  “Nothing.”

  He started jumping.

  He said, “Can you do this?”

  He did a front flip, which hello, of course I could.

  I stood up and he got to the side and I did one. Then two. Then three in a row.

  “Whoa. Show-off.”

  “You started it,” I said.

  So then he did a front handspring, which was easy.

  Then I did a backflip and he said, “I can’t do those.”

  “You can’t?”

  He shrugged. “I mean I could but I don’t feel like it because I think they’re dumb.”

  I said, “You’re dumb,” and he said, “You’re dumb,” and then he laughed and then laughed and then there was definitely something different between us.

  I sat down and he sat down.

  I smiled, “I saw you on Saturday.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “At the rec center.”

  His face flushed. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  We were sitting facing each other, our knees almost touching, and at first I thought it would be funny to tell him but then I saw it was not funny. He was starting to sweat. It felt like the lunchroom situation all over again.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t there. You didn’t see me.”

  “I did,” I said. My voice was quiet. “It’s okay. You can tell me stuff.”

  He looked at his hands.

  He stood up. “I have to go.”

  “You have to go?”

  He was about to get off the tramp and I was trying to say don’t go. Please don’t go. Please. I’ve been waiting for you. Please.

  But before I could get that all out, Grant’s truck came barreling down the street.

  We both turned to see it, and Bart jumped down flat on the tramp. “Get down get down get down,” he whispered loud.

  I got down. At least this time it was on the tramp not the hard old ground.

  Grant pulled up in front of his trailer, his heavy metal music blasting so loud the trees were shaking. He turned it off and said a bunch of words so bad some of them I didn’t even understand.