Indian Summer by Tracy Richardson Page A

has tied by hand, the kids mostly use night crawler or red wiggler worms for bait. Marcie has been fishing since she was able to walk and baiting her own hook since she was Drew’s age, so putting a live, squirming worm on a hook doesn’t bother her. Her friends, on the other hand, are totally grossed out by the whole process. It’s bad enough to pick up the worm, but impaling it on the hook and having it ooze worm blood and squirm around is too much. Marcie usually baits the hooks when her friends visit the cottage.
    They spend the next hour or so fishing and relaxing in the boat. As usual, Al and Drew catch the most fish. They each have four “keepers”—fish over six inches long—in the fish basket hanging over the side of the boat. Eric has two and Marcie doesn’t have any. It’s probably because she is too impatient. Fishing requires stillness and patience; two qualities she doesn’t always possess. Drew can sit quietly, which is unusual for a boy his age, waiting and watching for a nibble on his line. Marcie doesn’t really careabout catching fish, though. She likes the peace and solitude of fishing and the companionship of Al and her brothers. At least Drew, and sometimes Eric. That peaceful feeling is interspersed today with the feeling you get that someone is looking at you and you turn around and there
is
someone looking at you—except that this time nobody is there. She keeps getting a prickly feeling on the back of her neck and turns around expecting someone in a nearby boat to be looking her way, but there aren’t any boats nearby. Just the breeze moving through the trees making whispering sounds in the leaves.
    As they are eating their picnic lunch, the quiet is suddenly broken when a large wave runner comes roaring up to them, executing a sharp turn in front of the boat and splashing water on them before idling around to the side and stopping.
    “Thanks a lot!” yells Eric, half angry, half jokingly, as Kaitlyn laughs at them. “You got our lunch all wet.”
    “Well, you
are
in a boat, it’s to be expected. Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to splash so much. Marcie, do you want to come over to my house for a while this afternoon? I can take you over on the wave runner.”
    “Are you old enough to drive the wave runner?” asks Drew. “Mamaw and Poppy say you have to be 16.”
    “No, I’m not 16 yet, but my parents let me take it around the bay, and I’ll just be taking Marcie over to my house. What do you say, Marcie?”
    Marcie looks at Al. She knows it is not only against her grandparents’ rules, but also against the law for Kaitlyn to drive the wave runner. But she really wants to go. She can’t tell what Al is thinking, but Eric is giving her the evil eye, which only makes her want to go that much more.
    “Al, I think Mom and Dad would say it’s okay since we’d just be going over to Kaitlyn’s.” He looks at her intently for a moment and then seems to come to a decision. He nods his head and says, “Yes, I think you should go with Kaitlyn. Just don’t be gone too long. We’ll be here about another hour.”
    “You could stay over the rest of the afternoon until the cookout if you want. Then we won’t need to hurry back.”
    “That sounds good. Is that okay, Al?” Marcie is already climbing out of the boat onto the back of the wave runner.
    “Fine with me. I’ll let your parents know where you are.”
    “But you’ll miss the rest of our fishing trip!” says Drew. “Don’t you want to fish some more?”
    “Oh, there will be other times, Drew. I’ll see you tonight, too. Bye!” Kaitlyn starts the engine and Marcie has to raise her voice to be heard. They idle away from theboat, and then Kaitlyn takes off. Marcie looks back over her shoulder and waves. Eric is glaring at her. Drew waves back, and Al is looking thoughtful, as his hand moves slowly through the air.

Eight
    T HE GIRLS ZOOM across the water towards Owen Point and the Swyndall house. A slight