going to stay that way for long. The sky was piercingly blue, and a light dry wind was blowing across the water.
I got two paddles and a life jacket from the shed and took them down to the water’s edge. I wanted to feel totally normal, but in fact I was jumpy. Lugging the canoe across the wet ground, I slipped and dropped it hard on my foot. I was glad no one was there to see me, but I doubted it was going to be my last screw-up of the day.
I set the canoe in the water and paddled over toward Alice’s dock. By the time I pulled alongside it, she was striding down the lawn beside a man I guessed was her father. He looked jolly. She looked miserable. Was there a chance he’d told her she couldn’t go?
“Good morning, Adam!” the man said with a friendly smile. “I’m Dan Jensen.” He put out his right hand to shake mine, but I was using it to hold on to the dock. When I let go, the boat drifted just enough that I couldn’t reach him. I grabbed for the paddle and drew closer again, and this time he just slapped me on the shoulder. “Never mind about the handshake. Good to meet you.”
I nodded, speechless as usual. Alice was pulling on her life jacket, so I guessed the trip was still on.
“Do you have everything you need?” I asked her. I climbed down the length of the canoe and took my place in the stern.
“Whoa, there,” said Mr. Jensen. “A boy’s got to go through a little basic interrogation before he makes off with my daughter. Especially on the high seas.”
I felt my face go red. I was getting a sense of why Alice looked miserable.
“Do you know what you’re doing in this craft?”
“Yeah,” I said dumbly. I hoped he hadn’t seen me out there learning to solo paddle the first time.
“Do you know how to swim?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“How well do you know the lake?”
Alice spoke up. “I told you, Dad. He’s been coming to the lake since he was a kid.”
“Well, he’s not much more than a kid now!” Mr. Jensen laughed. “And you’re still a baby!”
Alice rolled her eyes. “We’re going, Dad,” she said, and climbed into the front of the canoe. She reached back for the second paddle, and I passed it up to her.
“Wait! Wait!” a high, quavering voice called out. We looked up to see Mrs. Jensen trotting down the path from the house with a cloth grocery bag in her arms. She was breathless when she reached us. “I packed you kids a little picnic. I thought you might get hungry out there.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Alice said grudgingly.
“Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Jensen,” I said.
Mr. Jensen stowed the bag between me and Alice — underneath the thwart, the wooden bar that spanned the canoe in front of my seat. “There,” he said. “I think you’re set. Do you have your cell phone?” he asked Alice.
Alice patted the pocket of her shorts. “Right here. See you guys later.”
Taking her cue, I shoved off the dock.
“Good-bye! Have fun! Be safe!” her parents called as we made our way across the water.
I chose the shoreline route to start us off so we’d be out of their sight as quickly as possible. Unfortunately this meant passing my cabin again, which put me at risk of a sighting and an interrogation from Mom and Grandma when I got back. But if they had their noses pressed up to the windows as we paddled past, I couldn’t tell.
Neither of us said anything till we had rounded the bend, away from the docks and our families. Then Alice sighed and twisted around to face me. “Sorry,” she said. “My parents can be so embarrassing.”
“No problem,” I said. It had hardly been worse than when she’d met my Grandma.
“I wonder if you can justifiably complain that your parents love you too much,” she mused.
A pair of blue damselflies whirred past my shoulder and came to rest on top of Alice’s paddle. She held the paddle aloft and watched them linger there. When they flew off, she continued paddling.
“Do you think?” she asked.
“What?” I
I got two paddles and a life jacket from the shed and took them down to the water’s edge. I wanted to feel totally normal, but in fact I was jumpy. Lugging the canoe across the wet ground, I slipped and dropped it hard on my foot. I was glad no one was there to see me, but I doubted it was going to be my last screw-up of the day.
I set the canoe in the water and paddled over toward Alice’s dock. By the time I pulled alongside it, she was striding down the lawn beside a man I guessed was her father. He looked jolly. She looked miserable. Was there a chance he’d told her she couldn’t go?
“Good morning, Adam!” the man said with a friendly smile. “I’m Dan Jensen.” He put out his right hand to shake mine, but I was using it to hold on to the dock. When I let go, the boat drifted just enough that I couldn’t reach him. I grabbed for the paddle and drew closer again, and this time he just slapped me on the shoulder. “Never mind about the handshake. Good to meet you.”
I nodded, speechless as usual. Alice was pulling on her life jacket, so I guessed the trip was still on.
“Do you have everything you need?” I asked her. I climbed down the length of the canoe and took my place in the stern.
“Whoa, there,” said Mr. Jensen. “A boy’s got to go through a little basic interrogation before he makes off with my daughter. Especially on the high seas.”
I felt my face go red. I was getting a sense of why Alice looked miserable.
“Do you know what you’re doing in this craft?”
“Yeah,” I said dumbly. I hoped he hadn’t seen me out there learning to solo paddle the first time.
“Do you know how to swim?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“How well do you know the lake?”
Alice spoke up. “I told you, Dad. He’s been coming to the lake since he was a kid.”
“Well, he’s not much more than a kid now!” Mr. Jensen laughed. “And you’re still a baby!”
Alice rolled her eyes. “We’re going, Dad,” she said, and climbed into the front of the canoe. She reached back for the second paddle, and I passed it up to her.
“Wait! Wait!” a high, quavering voice called out. We looked up to see Mrs. Jensen trotting down the path from the house with a cloth grocery bag in her arms. She was breathless when she reached us. “I packed you kids a little picnic. I thought you might get hungry out there.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Alice said grudgingly.
“Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Jensen,” I said.
Mr. Jensen stowed the bag between me and Alice — underneath the thwart, the wooden bar that spanned the canoe in front of my seat. “There,” he said. “I think you’re set. Do you have your cell phone?” he asked Alice.
Alice patted the pocket of her shorts. “Right here. See you guys later.”
Taking her cue, I shoved off the dock.
“Good-bye! Have fun! Be safe!” her parents called as we made our way across the water.
I chose the shoreline route to start us off so we’d be out of their sight as quickly as possible. Unfortunately this meant passing my cabin again, which put me at risk of a sighting and an interrogation from Mom and Grandma when I got back. But if they had their noses pressed up to the windows as we paddled past, I couldn’t tell.
Neither of us said anything till we had rounded the bend, away from the docks and our families. Then Alice sighed and twisted around to face me. “Sorry,” she said. “My parents can be so embarrassing.”
“No problem,” I said. It had hardly been worse than when she’d met my Grandma.
“I wonder if you can justifiably complain that your parents love you too much,” she mused.
A pair of blue damselflies whirred past my shoulder and came to rest on top of Alice’s paddle. She held the paddle aloft and watched them linger there. When they flew off, she continued paddling.
“Do you think?” she asked.
“What?” I
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