blanket with him cradled in my lap like a toddler; surprised when he drifted off to sleep. I laid him down next to me and watched him peacefully sleep. The only time my little brother was peaceful was when he slept. Normally, he was in constant wild motion.
Less than ten minutes later, he woke up talking.
“Tessie, where are the guys who saved me? Do they still have my raft?”
Max’s raft was probably held ransom until I gushed all over myself thanking his saviors for pulling him out of the ocean. No thanks. Max was on his own. He looked around to see where his new heroes were sitting. Once he spotted them, he jumped up and pointed.
“There they are. Come with me,” he insisted, leveraging his 60-pound body to yank me to my feet. “You should thank them, too. If I died, Mom would be really mad at you.”
“Yes, she would be mad at me,” I laughed, “but don’t you want to thank them by yourself? If you’re scared to go without me, I’ll go.” Child psychology; worked like a charm. Max went alone, but this time I watched him closely.
One of the swimmers, the thin one, sat with three other guys. They all looked like surfers: longer hair, tan, athletic bodies. None of them had surfboards, but they had an edgy look as if they sought trouble more than trouble sought them. They spoke to each other with their eyes. It was a closed circle of friends. Max was oblivious that he was breaking into anything and jumped right into conversation. I sat a comfortable distance away and listened.
When my dad was alive, he called me his shadow. He took me everywhere and taught me so much, like how to shoot a sling shot, how to throw a boomerang, and how to run really fast. The best thing he taught me, though, was how to see and how to listen. Dad said I could train my eyes and ears to see and hear things at a distance most people couldn’t. So he trained me. I still practiced all the time, especially when Jon and my Mom went to have a private conversation. I didn’t always know what they were talking about, but I could almost always hear them.
Today I listened to Max. He gave the guys a nod as though he was Mr. Cool now. “Where’s the big dude?” The four of them looked around and shrugged in unison. The thinner guy who helped in the rescue walked to Max smiling. My gregarious, younger brother reached out and executed some sort of multi-step handshake that the teenager seemed to know, or follow; must be a guy thing.
Max said, “Thanks, dude. My sister was s’pose to be watchin’ me. Good thing someone was watchin’ me.”
Nice shot, Max. You’ll pay for that later.
“No problem, little dude. You have to watch the current. It can pull you out pretty quickly. I’m Cole. What’s your name?”
“Max,” he stated confidently, now with his hands on his hips like a superhero. That’s my sister, Tessie,” he added and pointed over his head back towards me.
“Max,” Cole said with a nod, then pointed to his friends. “Brendan, Troy and Brad. First time at Clowder Beach?”
“Yup.”
Gabe plopped down on the blanket, scattering sand over my legs.
“What’s Max doing?”
“He has a new audience.” I glanced backward. “He’s talking their ears off.” I turned to watch some more and couldn’t help giggling. “Lord knows what family secrets he’s sharing with them.”
“We don’t have any family secrets.”
“Whatever he’s telling them comes with exaggerated arm movements and wild facial expressions.” Thanks to what Dad called my bionic eyesight, I could clearly see the guys’ faces. They were entertained. I concentrated to hear Max, but the noise on the beach increased and interfered.
Cole was the one talking to Max while the others listened and laughed. Although I couldn’t hear much, I was laughing too. The big guy returned to the group. He watched Max, and then scanned the beach until we locked eyes. I turned away before he summoned me over to bow and thank him.
“I’m bored,” Gabe said. “Let’s go over with Max.”
“I’m comfortable.” Or at least more comfortable than I would be over there. I finger-combed some semblance of order to my mass of red hair as my eyes scanned each of them again. The big one was looking at me still.
“Let’s go swimming, Tess.”
“Let’s not. I don’t want Max back in the water.”
“Wanna get a soda?”
“No,” I said, picking up my book.
Gabe wandered away in a huff over to Max. I resumed reading and relaxing for what felt like a nanosecond when Gabe and Max returned and tried to pull me to my feet.
“We challenged the winners to a volleyball game. Their game is almost over.”
“I’ll watch from here.”
“If you don’t play with us, I’ll tell Jon you weren’t watching Max.” Gabe stuck out his tongue.
“Brat,” I said and stuck my tongue out back at him.
“Yup,” Gabe answered victoriously.
Relaxing would have to wait.
Chapter 3
Gabe, Max and I were on one team. It was the three of us against three kids around 10 or 11, about Gabe’s age. The hardest part of the game was to set shots for Max so he felt like he was playing. We easily won the first game, lost the second on purpose and won the third. I made sure the score wasn’t too lopsided. No reason to crush them. My mother encouraged me to be a polite competitor and not show off.
After volleyball, the three of us spent a while in the water cooling off – my brothers insisted on going back in. Jon was gone for close to two hours. Maybe he needed a break from us, too. When he finally returned, I was relieved to see him. It was tense watching Gabe and Max swim.
“My turn to relax,” I said and shoved my brothers toward Jon. Then I hurried back to our blanket to snag some money from my shorts.
“Anything I need to know?” Jon asked, once he caught up to me.
“The current is strong. Don’t take your eyes off Max. I’m going to see if they have ice cream at the concession stand.”
He nodded.
I dried off, draped my towel over my shoulders and headed straight to the ‘Snack Shack.’ An ice cream would be a melted mess in a few minutes, but it sounded tasty. The girl behind the counter was very slow. She seemed to make mistakes on every order. The long wait was bad enough, but the person behind me stood so close I could hear him breathe. He must have had allergies, because he kept sniffing; although, the noise reminded me more of a curious puppy than someone with a cold or allergies. Maybe my hair smelled like Jon’s cinnamon gum. Welcome to my new home, I thought, where the local people sniff you.
Then it was my turn in line.
My mouth watered as I watched the snack bar girl carefully weave the
