I was just thinking the same thing!
Then we both noticed a shiny black speedboat that left a massive white spume behind it as it roared past us at double our speed, so fast its front—its bow—was in the air! It seemed to disappear from view in seconds. I gaped after it. It must be awesome to have such power!
The boy was shaking his head almost dreamily. “Speed beats slow any day!”
I laughed, agreeing with him, and he smiled back, his almond eyes arching into moons—supercute.
We then passed a kind of ferryboat carrying a load of—I couldn’t tell, maybe housing shingles or building supplies? A water delivery truck—oh, I needed to remember to tell Penny about this one!
A family group passed us next, fishing from the side of their comfortable-looking cabin cruiser. Not something Dad and Mom would do—they pretty much stay on solid ground. The family waved as we went by. Me and the kid waved back, like we were part of some kind of secret club: the Folks Who Boat on Blue Water!
And now I felt a rush of determination. I had to get Mom and Dad and Penny on a boat, even though Penny would drive us bonkers with thousands of questions about the water, the waves, and the wind; about fish and sea serpents and dragons living under the water.
As the pontoon made its way through the wet and the blue, the foam and the froth, the boy pointed up. Birds, their wings spread wide, glided on invisible currents, too high up to identify—maybe hawks or falcons. Not that I would have been able to tell the difference anyway, even if one landed on my hand. I read somewhere that birds sing while they’re perched in a tree, but they call out when they’re flying. I wondered what the ones overhead were calling out right now. Enjoying the view? I sure was.
The lake ahead of us shimmered in the sun. The lake behind us frothed white from the propellers. The wind in my face held the power of the boat and the lake and the sky, and I inhaled it all—all that energy.
If only I could transfer this intensity into my body! Ahhhhhh!
Just then I heard the cookie-crumbly voice of the firefly boy. “I think I’d like to live on a boat,” he said.
I had to nod my head in agreement.
The boat suddenly slowed down, the motor fading to a hum. No more froth. No more wind. Even the birds, whatever they were, had ceased their cawing. All that power dimmed. I thought about that. It faded—we couldn’t see it, but wasn’t it still there, just waiting to be used? A flick of the switch, or however the heck you rev up a boat engine—and the power, the energy, would come flooding back. It was all stuck inside, waiting.
And all of a sudden I felt like crying. Because… well, that was me—so much on the inside that still could not get to the outside. Energy trapped. Not all of it—I’m glad I have my board to let burps of it out. But, yeah, I’m tangled inside myself. And there’s no magical key to unravel the coils. What the heck? I get on a boat, and boom, I got feelings!
Of course I didn’t cry—not with this boy sitting so close. I wondered, though, if he also felt that way. I bet he’s lived through some stuff too.
But then I began to understand something else. Just because it was sometimes trapped, I still had power—it was there, waiting. I had power. Like that engine, the wind, the waves. Yeah, power.
I had a sudden sense that the boy was watching me. I turned my head and blinked. He was! He grinned. I managed to smile back.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
You know, I’d thought about leaving Elvira in the cabin for the boat ride. I am so glad I didn’t! I touched one tab. “My name is Melody.”
He tilted his head. “Hey, Melody. That’s a really pretty name. I’m Noah.”
I’m sure I looked ridiculous—cheesing like Penny did that birthday when she woke up to balloons in her bedroom. Still, I made myself tap out a question. “I’m a first-timer here—how about you?”
“This is my second go-round. I had a blast last year, so I asked my folks if I could come back.” Then he glanced at me shyly and added, “Do you like it so far?”
“It’s much better than I thought it’d be!”
“I’m glad,” he replied. And it was only then that I realized that the reason we’d slowed down was because one of the counselors had been telling us about the area we were in—I hadn’t even noticed. Noah mustn’t have either, because he said, “Hope there’s no quiz at the end of the ride!”
Then the thrum of the engine shook my chair as we started moving a little faster again. The boat turned in a wide arc—we were heading back to our starting point, I guess.
As we cut through the blue of the water and the white of the foam, I dared another glance at Noah. Yeah, if there was a quiz, I’d bomb it. I laughed out loud.
Noah laughed too. “See you at Fire Time,” he said.
I wobble-nodded okay. He was wobble-nodding back when a tall, bearded guy walked over, squatted in front of Noah, and pointed out something in the distance. I couldn’t tell over the motor’s roar.
Trinity in turn crouched in front of me, an eyebrow arched. “Well, Sailor Girl, what did you think of our boat ride?” she asked as distant trees came back into focus.
I touched my board. “Not bad.”
She found that incredibly funny. I decided to ignore her completely.
Branches, which a few minutes ago had been just a dark blur as we sped by, stood out now like specific personalities, with dangling leaves and rough bark.
We backed into the dock, bumped gently against the wooden pier, and eased into what I guessed was a boat parking space. Captain Carter swiftly tied the boat to the pier with huge ropes. The counselors unhooked our chairs, and moments later we were on solid ground. We waved goodbye to the captain—Athena like she was Miss America, Karyn all smiles. Even Jocelyn gave a rare thumbs-up. My arms didn’t want to wave right then, but my legs wanted to kick, so you know what? I did. And that was good enough.
And as the Purple Panthers rolled off, I watched Noah until he was up the ramp and out of sight.
CHAPTER 22