by Don Calame
“It’s hypnotizing,” I say, totally hypnotized.
“Where’s Val?”
“You inspired her. She’s trying on a couple of bathing suits.”
Kelly stops dancing and looks at me through the reflection. “Really?”
“Yeah. She found a couple bikinis she liked.”
“That’s so unlike her.” Kelly laughs and then goes back to admiring herself. I don’t blame her; if I looked like that, I’d spend my entire life in front of the mirror. “Naked,” the devil whispers in my ear.
“I’m going to get this one,” Kelly says. “You almost can’t stop looking at it.”
“I know I can’t,” I say before I can restrain myself.
Kelly laughs.
I feel my cheeks, my neck, prickling.
“Okay, that’s one. I need two more.” She turns and heads back to her changing room.
Coop and Sean approach, each of them waving a couple of swim trunks.
“Wish us luck,” Coop says.
“Wait.” I reach out and grab both guys by the arm. “Don’t. This isn’t cool.”
Coop looks down at my hand like it’s covered in slime. “I’m sorry, what?”
“This isn’t cool,” I repeat.
“What are you talking about? This is the coolest thing ever. Now, let me go.” Sean pulls his arm from my grip. “Valerie’s only got two suits in there. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Coop gives me an are-you-nuts? look. “What’s gotten into you, dawg?”
“Nothing,” I say. But clearly something has.
“Good.” Coop nods. “Then keep an eye out for any trouble.”
“We need a signal,” I say, stalling. “What should I do if someone’s coming?”
“I don’t know.” Coop huffs. “Just say something like, ‘How are you doing in there?’ Then we’ll know to stay down. Okay?”
“Sure.” I take a deep breath. “That’s good.”
Coop and Sean head back to the dressing rooms. They aren’t in there five seconds when I see Coop’s head start to poke up from his stall.
He’s just about to peek over the wall into Kelly’s stall when I am hit with a wave of guilt like you wouldn’t believe.
“How you doing in there?” I call out.
Coop’s head drops down immediately. “Fine,” Coop says. “Just trying on these suits.”
A moment later and Sean’s head starts to rise ever so slowly as he attempts to peer over at Valerie.
And I don’t know why I do it, but I grab my cell phone and speed-dial him. Sean’s ringtone starts to blare “The Real Slim Shady” and his head disappears as he falls off his chair, making a huge racket behind the door as he scrabbles to answer the phone.
“Hello?” Sean says. “Hello?”
But I’ve already hung up because Coop is making another play for Kelly.
“How’s it going in there?” I shout out, causing Coop to duck down again.
“Could be better,” Coop grumbles. “Maybe you could go get me a larger size in this one.”
A pair of red swim trunks fly out of Coop’s stall and hit me in the face.
Valerie calls my name softly from her changing room.
“Sorry,” I say to Coop, throwing the swimsuit back over the door. “I’m needed elsewhere.”
I make my way over to where Valerie is poking her head out from the stall.
“I don’t know about this one,” she says, her head tipped down, her hair falling in her face. “What do you think?” She creaks open the door and stands there. Her feet crossed over one another and her hands pressed into her thighs.
Wow. Valerie’s got the powder-blue bikini on and she looks awesome. She’s curvier than Kelly but in a smokin’ hot way. I don’t remember actually ever seeing Valerie in a bathing suit. When she comes to the swim meets, she’s usually wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
“You look pretty,” I say.
“Yeah?” Valerie looks up, biting one side of her lip, like she doesn’t quite believe me.
“It matches your eyes.” Which it does but, honestly, that wasn’t the first thing I noticed.
“Should I get it?”
There’s something so shy and sweet about the way she says this that I have to smile. “Definitely,” I say. “But only if you want everyone at the beach to be jealous of you.”
I’m not sure why I said that, but I’m glad I did because it seems to make Valerie happy.
She laughs and her ears and neck go red as she waves me off. “Don’t be silly.” She shuts the door quickly and latches it.
The warm feeling I get at putting that smile on her face makes me all the more determined to stop Sean and Coop from doing what they are doing. It’s like I’ve been given the responsibility to protect the honor of these girls. I know it sounds sappy, but the nagging, pain-in-the-ass angel on my shoulder wants me to do the right thing.
Which turns out to be nothing more than stepping aside as the saleslady heads back to the changing rooms.
It’s perfect timing, because both Coop’s and Sean’s heads just start to pop up over the stall walls once again.
The look on the woman’s face is priceless. A giraffe could walk in the store right now and this woman’s eyes couldn’t be any bigger or rounder.
“I beg your pardon!” she calls out. “Just what is it you boys think you’re doing?”
Sean and Coop freeze for a split second, their mouths stuck in a comic-book surprised O shape.
Then, their heads drop down in unison.
“Both of you boys.” The woman pounds on their stall doors. “Come out of there immediately.”
“What’s going on?” Kelly calls from her changing room.
But nobody answers her.
Coop and Sean yank open their dressing-room doors and bolt past the saleswoman, who tries in vain to grab them.
“Come back here!” she shouts. But they don’t, of course. She glares at me, and I try to look as innocent as possible. “I’m calling security.” She huffs as she storms over to the front counter.
My cell phone beeps a second later. I get it from my pocket and flip it open. There’s a text from Coop. Payback’s a bitch! It makes me smile because I can just picture how pissed Coop and Sean are.
When Kelly and Valerie come out, they want to know what happened with Coop and Sean, but I just say that they were horsing around and got kicked out. I’ve accomplished what needed to be done; there’s no reason to narc them out.
“WHAT IS THIS?” Ulf is holding up the Ziploc freezer bag I gave him, pinched between his thumb and forefinger at the corner like it’s full of baby vomit instead of crumpled bills and change.
“It’s the money,” I say. “For the class. A hundred dollars.”
I got to the country club a half hour early because I wore my sneakers this time instead of dress shoes and the ride’s a whole lot faster without blisters. So it’s just Ulf and me standing by the side of the pool. He twirls the bag around, studying it. I only had seventy dollars in bills, so I had to scrounge the rest up in quarters, dimes, and nickels.
“Do you think I am a bubble-gum machine?” Ulf says.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Most people, they get their parents to write a check.”
“Oh.”
“I do not like counting out change.” He shakes the bag, jingling the coins. “This cup of tea is not mine.”
“I can count it for you,” I say.
“Ah, yes. That is a very good idea.” Ulf unseals the Ziploc and pulls the paper money out.
I hold out my hand, expecting him to pass me the bag. But instead, he just smiles.
“You will count out the coins for me.” Ulf’s expression shifts like one of those hologram cards you dig out of a cereal box. Stone-faced, he flings his arm out, sending the change hurtling through the air, splishing into the water. “As you pick every one of them up off the bottom of the pool.” He looks at his watch. “You have twenty-three minutes. If you
are not completed by the time class begins, you will do it all over again. I suggest you get started.” Ulf moves to a lounge chair and gets comfortable. He snaps open a newspaper and that’s that.
Goddamn it. There must have been like two hundred coins in that bag.
I start to tug my pants off when I hear Ulf call out from behind his paper, “In your clothes.”
I stare at the pool, at the glint of the coins scattered on the blue bottom, their shapes morphing with the soft ripples on the surface.
Think of Kelly. That’s what this is all about. Make it a game. Each handful of change you bring to the surface is one step closer to being her boyfriend.
I suck in a deep breath and dive in. My clothes soak up the water like a sponge. I clear my ears as I kick down, air bubbles streaming from my mouth.
Picking coins up off the bottom of a pool is harder than you’d think. It’s not like you can just scoop up a handful. You have to pluck them one at a time; otherwise they kind of flutter off, this way and that, like you’re on the moon. Nickels are easiest because they’re thick and you can get a good grip. Quarters are not too bad because they’re bigger around. It’s the dimes that are a pain in the ass. Why the hell are they so small? Shouldn’t they be bigger than nickels? Who was the idiot who designed these things?
Stupid dimes.
When I can’t hold my breath anymore, I swim to the surface, clutching my handful of loot. I dump the wet change onto the concrete and imagine Kelly leaning in to kiss me. What will that be like? Her warm breath. The taste of her lips.
It’s pretty good motivation.
Another suck of air and I plunge down again. My saturated clothes make the whole process so much harder. Which I guess is the point, but it’s starting to piss me off. I toy with the idea of taking my pants off and leaving them at the bottom of the pool until I’m finished. Ulf would freak if he found out. I can’t even imagine what he’d do. Which is why my pants stay on.
By the time I’m finished, it has taken me the full twenty-three minutes and I’m completely drained.
Hanging on to the ledge of the pool, I separate the coins and stack them up into piles of dollars. There’s thirty bucks here, just like I knew there was.
Ulf approaches and stands over me, studying his watch. “Twenty-three minutes, fourteen seconds. Very close. But not close enough. You will do it again Thursday. Please arrive thirty minutes early next class. I will have already poured the change into the pool by the time you get here. Next time, you will have only twenty-two minutes.”
Are you kidding me? God! I need to reconsider this whole going-to-jail thing. How bad could a trespassing sentence be?
The rest of the swim lesson is even harsher, if that’s possible. We have to swim laps with our legs tied together, laps with our arms tied behind our backs, laps dragging one of the other kids behind us. All topped off with another sixteen laps of butterfly.
And I thought Ms. Luntz was sadistic.
Once again I’m the last one out of the pool by a long shot because I still can’t finish more than a couple of laps of fly without having to stop and tread water.
I’ve come to the realization that, while I might just barely be able to complete four laps by championships, there’s no way I’m going to be able to compete in sectionals this weekend. Not a chance. I’ll need to figure a way out of it. Something more convincing this time.
I’m completely bagged, and I struggle to get my body out of the pool. Ulf reaches out and gives me his hand. He pulls me up from the water and tosses me my towel.
“You are a terrible swimmer,” he says.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“But you keep going. Even though you are terrible.”
“It’s not like you’re giving me a choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
I huddle inside the cocoon of my towel, trying to get warm.
“Why do you come here?” Ulf follows me to the bench where my clothes lie in a soggy heap. I reach for my khakis and start to tug them on.
“You’re making me. Remember?” The pants are cold and clingy and feel gross on my skin.
“No. Before this. The first time. I am curious.”
“It’s a long story.”
Ulf sits on the bench. “There are many pools to swim in. Ones where you do not have to lie to gain entry. Did you come here just to take my class?”
“No,” I say, maybe a little too quickly. “I mean, I didn’t even know there was a class here. I just needed somewhere to practice. Someplace where nobody knew me.”
“Why where nobody knew you?”
I grab my drenched shirt and wring out some of the water. It falls on the concrete like heavy rain. “I told you. It’s a long story.”
“You are not very old. How long could the story be?”
“Long enough that I don’t want to talk about it.” What’s up with this guy? Why does he even care?
Ulf scratches at his cheek with his black-painted nails. “My great-grandmother once said to me that the things we do not want to speak about are the very things we need to speak about most. What do you think about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if I offered you a deal? You tell me why you came here, and I will no longer require you to come to my class.” And, as if Ulf was planning this all along, he pulls my ID card out of his back pocket and waves it in the air.
“Seriously? What’s the catch?” Because there’s always a catch with Ulf.
“Yes. There is one catch.”
He’s probably going to put my ID in a safe and then throw it into the pool so I’ll have to pick the lock while holding my breath.
“The catch is, I think you will return to my class anyway. On your own.”
I let a quick, forceful are-you-kidding-me? laugh burst past my lips without meaning to. I clear my throat to try and cover.
Ulf raises his eyebrows. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Now all I have to do is make up some bogus story and I’m out of here, scot-free.
I reach for my ID, but Ulf pulls it back and smiles. “I know what you are thinking. But the deal is for the truth. I can tell when there is wool in my eyes. I knew from the minute you arrived something was not as it seemed. And I am a man who enjoys to have a row of ducks. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Sort of.”
“Because if you lie to me. Well. All I can say is, if you thought things were hard now, you do not have any idea of what hard can be.”
Ulf holds the card out to me again.
Something drops into me as I slide the card from his hand. Like a conscience, maybe. Or that damn shoulder-angel again. I don’t know. But I feel like I have no choice except to tell him the truth.
Or, at least, most of it.
“Fine.” I take a deep breath and sit down next to Ulf. “Obviously, I suck pretty bad. I mean, you’ve seen how awful I am.”
“But not as awful as the first week.”
“Yeah, well, not anywhere near where I need to be. That’s why I came here. To practice in private. So people I know wouldn’t see how bad I was.”
“I still do not understand. You are dancing a jig.”
“I was trying to impress a girl, okay? So I volunteered to swim the hundred-yard butterfly for my swim team.”
“Was she?”
“Was she what?”
“Was she very impressed?”
“I guess. I don’t know. She said she thought it was cool.”
Ulf makes an mmmm sound, like he’s mulling this over. “Okay,” he says. “You are free to go.” He stands.
“That’s it?”
“Why? Is there more?”
“No.”
“Then you have said it. You have owned it. Now we shall see.”
“See what?”
“If you are as Ulf-like as I think you might be.” Ulf walks off, leaving me there, sitting on the bench, staring down at my ID card, wondering what the hell he m
eant by that.
“OH, BY THE WAY,” Coop announces as he weaves his DeathBot ship through a barrage of space debris on his laptop screen. “In case you didn’t know. It’s national ‘That’s What She Said’ Day.”
I give him the thumbs-up. “I like it.”
“That’s what she said.” Coop laughs.
We’re camping out in Sean’s backyard tonight. It’s another one of our traditions. One night, every summer, we buy a ton of junk food and energy drinks and set up Sean’s six-person tent in the far corner of his yard.
We’ve got an extension cord running from the garage so that we can rough it in style, with computers and a TV and DVD player. There’s a citronella candle burning in the middle of the tent to ward off mosquitoes and to mask the thick stink of mildew. Everyone’s brought sleeping bags and pillows, but we aren’t planning on logging too many Zs.
Sean enters the tent carrying his Xbox. “I don’t think there are enough sockets for all these.”
I waggle my eyebrows at Coop. “That’s what she said.”
Coop busts up.
Sean stands there, looking confused. “I don’t get it.”
“That’s what she said,” Coop says, sending him and me into hysterics.
Sean sighs and puts the Xbox down. “I can see this is going to be a long night.”
“That’s what she said,” me and Coop howl in chorus.
“Are you guys done yet?”
Coop is practically in tears. “That’s what she said.”
“Okay. I’ll just keep my mouth shut,” Sean grumbles.
“That’s what she said.” I can barely talk I’m laughing so hard.
“Enough. No more. My cheeks hurt,” Coop says, rubbing his face.
I point at him. “That’s what she said.”
And with that, the three of us fall over in fits.
“Oh, man, now look what you made me do.” Coop motions to his computer. “That was my last DeathBot ship.”
“That’s what she said,” Sean blurts out, laughing at his nonsensical joke.
Coop and I stare at him, and then simultaneously, we hit Sean in the face with our pillows.
“What?” Sean shrugs. “It’s funnier when it doesn’t make any sense at all.”