Twenty-One Mile Swim by Matt Christopher Page A

it, haven’t you?”
    “Yes, I have.”
    “What’s the difference? Why is it so important to you? You want to break a world record or something, is that it? You want
     to risk your life to get your name in that book — what is the name of it? Guinness?”
    “I guess so.”
    “Well? Is that it? You want your name in that book?”
    “No, Aunt Liza. I don’t want my name in that book. But, you’re right, in a way. I want to prove something.”
    “Oh. Now it is beginning to come out. Okay, so what is it you want to prove?”
    “That I can do something a lot of other people can’t,” he confessed. “That just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m a nothing.”
    “And who says you’re a nothing?”
    “Nobody. But there are people who call me Peewee, and Shorty, and Shortjob, and Squirt, and make remarks about my height.
     It bothers me, and I want to do something about it.”
    She looked at him as if she were trying to see into his mind. Slowly she shook her head. “Joey no matter what you will do,
     there will always be people who will call you such names. A tall, skinny man they will call Slim. Sometimes they will call
     him Fatso. A man with a big belly they will call Fatso. Sometimes they will call him Slim. You know what they call your Uncle
     Janos at his job? Hunky. Because he is Hungarian. Some people just do not care about calling other people by their real names.
     It is much easier to say Slim, or Fatso, or Hunky. You know what I mean?”
    He nodded. “Yes, Aunt Liza,” he said. “But after I swim that lake, it just won’t be the same.”
    “You’re wrong, Joey.”
    “Okay. I’m wrong. But I’m still going to swim it.”
    She got off the chair. “I hope you change your mind before that day comes.”
    He smiled. “I doubt that I will, Aunt Liza.”
    She smiled back. “You’re a little devil,” she said.
    “See?” he said. “You called me little.”
    “I know.” She grinned impishly at him and left the room.

3
    FOR SEVERAL DAYS during the middle of May, the sun beat down like a flaming torch. It warmed up the surface of the lake enough
     for Joey and his brother and sisters to go out for their first swim of the year. Joey, an adept freestyle swimmer by now,
     swam out almost a hundred yards; then he found that the water had cooled several degrees. But the feel of it, and the realization
     that each day from now on meant better and warmer weather, thrilled him. He frolicked about like a young colt let out to pasture
     after having been cooped up in a stall all winter. He laughed and yelled, and waved to Yolanda to swim out to him. She started
     to, came out about halfway, then turned and swam back.
    Oh, wow! He thought. For a while there I really thought she was going to!
    He was glad she didn’t. It might’ve been too far for her. He was at least a hundred yards out now, treading water, and feeling
     the real coldness of it on his thighs and legs. He felt great.
    He started to swim back in toward shore when the sound of a powerboat reached his ears. He looked around and saw the boat
     approaching toward him, waves spouting from either side of its bow like white wings. He caught a glimpse of a water skier
     behind it.
    He hadn’t swum more than fifty feet when the boat started to sweep behind him, and a voice shouted, “Joeeeey!”
    He stopped swimming and looked back. A grin came over his face as he recognized Ross Cato behind the wheel of the boat, Paula
     at the stern, and Cindy on the skis.
    “Hi!” he yelled, waving back.
    Cindy removed a hand from the short stick she was hanging onto and waved to him.
    Joey tried not to let Paula’s being with Ross bother him. After all, Cindy was with them, too. It didn’t mean anything.
    He continued to swim back to shore, but before he got there, he saw that Ross had swung the boat around in a wide circle and
     was comingin to shore ahead of him. Ross cut the engine, and Cindy, sweeping in on her skis behind the boat, slowed down