Chrissa Stands Strong

by Mary Casanova

  When we came around the cluster of cedars that marked the eastern point of Nana’s property—our property—I spotted Tyler and Joel still on the swim raft.

  “Our turn!” I called out as we pedaled closer. I noticed a mound underneath a towel and at first thought they’d brought Keefer, Nana’s Siamese cat, onto the raft. But that didn’t make sense. I mean, Keefer loves to play in sinks and bat at water dripping from a faucet, but I knew he’d hate being on the raft. He is a cat, after all.

  As we drew close, Tyler yanked the towel off a small mountain of water balloons. “Incoming spacecraft!” he shouted. “Alert! Alert!”

  “Enemy invasion!” Joel yelled, launching a balloon at us.

  Like giant jelly beans, water-filled balloons soared toward us and over us.

  We shrieked, pushed hard on the pedals, and veered sharply away.

  One hit the back of our seat with a sploosh! Another hit a pedal—splash!—and broke near our feet. Tyler was doubled over, laughing. Joel picked up another balloon.

  A stray water balloon floated in our path. “Grab it,” I said to Gwen.

  She snagged it out of the water and handed it to me with a smile. “Go, Chrissa!”

  “This is for sending that message!” I shouted, sitting up higher on the paddleboat seat. I pulled my arm back, kept my eye on Tyler, and let the green water balloon fly. To my amazement, it flew straight toward my target! It hit Tyler’s shoulder and burst, tipping him off balance. He teetered and fell backward off the raft and into the lake.

  I was stunned by my lucky aim. Gwen and Sonali cheered.

  When Tyler surfaced, he shot me a grimace. “Hey, Chrissa! Trying to take out your competition for tomorrow’s tryouts?”

  I laughed along with Gwen and Sonali as Tyler swam back to the raft, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and yelled, “This calls for intergalactic revenge! Captain Joel, more water missiles!”

  We pedaled frantically away, laughing while water balloons rained down around us.

  “Joel!” Dad called from shore. “Phone for you! And Tyler, you guys leave the girls alone!”

  Later, after dinner, when Tyler went to sleep over at Joel’s house, Sonali, Gwen, and I set up the tent. We pitched it in the backyard between the lake and the bonfire. Nana, Dad, and Mom joined us to roast marshmallows. As we swatted at mosquitoes, we talked about Cosmos and the cria soon to arrive.

  Sonali tilted her head. “I can’t wait. I’ve never seen a baby llama in my whole life before!”

  “Me, either,” I admitted.

  Like fireflies rising toward the sky, sparks lifted from the fire—along with our voices. Mom taught us songs from when she was a camp counselor, and we sang “Barges” and then “Edelweiss” as a round. When one of us made a mistake, we cracked up laughing until Sonali, Gwen, and I were giggling too hard to sing.

  Once one person started yawning, everyone did, so we doused the fire with a bucket of water from the lake. Then Sonali, Gwen, and I hurried into the tent, quickly closing the zippered screen behind us. From start to finish, it had been a perfect day.

  Settled into our sleeping bags, we talked about school starting soon and swim-team tryouts tomorrow.

  “You know, I’m not a strong enough swimmer yet to try out,” Gwen said, “but I’m happy to come watch.”

  “That would be really nice,” Sonali said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Even if we don’t make it into the diving division, I’m sure we’ll be on the swim team.” I paused. “And Tara’s so good, she’ll be on the team, too. As a team, we’re going to have to work together if we want to win. I guess I still have my fingers crossed that Tara wants to change.”

  At first there was no response from Sonali and Gwen, so I pressed on. “Okay, let’s say she didn’t send that text message and that she really wants to be friends. What if we invited her over sometime, just to see?”

  Sonali clicked on her flashlight and pointed it at me. “I have to see your face. I hoped you were kidding, Chrissa, but you’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Blinded, I blinked and looked away. “Hey, I don’t completely trust her either. But it would be a way to give her a chance. See if she’s sincere, or up to her old tricks.”

  The flashlight clicked off again.

  Gwen sighed. “Count me out, Chrissa. I mean, my hair is just starting to look a little normal and I’d like to hang onto it.”

  “Let’s put it this way,” Sonali added. “If you invite her over, I’ll find some excuse not to come. Sorry, but after quitting her group, it would just feel too weird.”

  Though we were nearly shoulder to shoulder in our sleeping bags, I felt an uneasy distance from my friends. My mind raced. What if Sonali and Gwen are right—why should I believe Tara? But what if I’m right?

  We stopped talking after that, and cricket song filled the silence between us.

  “Girls,” Mom whispered at our tent door, “I’m leaving, but if you’re going to tryouts, you’d better get up now.”

  Stomach fluttering, I popped up from my sleeping bag. It was Monday! We had to get to the pool before eight o’clock if we were going to be on time for tryouts. We grabbed a little breakfast, brushed our teeth, and hopped on our bikes.

  As our tires whirred along the bike trail and the sun filtered through the green canopy, last night’s disagreement seemed to float away. There is nothing like a summer morning—it’s filled with possibilities for the day ahead. My muscles worked against the pedals and I downshifted as we headed up a slope. We passed yard after yard showing off purple coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, asters, and petunias. The day was going to be good—I could feel it.

  As we neared the Community Center, we saw Joel and Tyler biking in from the opposite direction. “Hey,” Joel called. “Ready for tryouts?”

  “You bet!” I answered.

  Tyler didn’t say a word to me, so I figured he was still sore at me for my perfect water-balloon hit.

  “Honestly,” I said as we walked into the center, “that balloon hit you harder than I expected. I didn’t know my aim was that good! Sorry.”

  “Just watch your back,” he said with a laugh, and then he disappeared into the boys’ locker room with Joel.

  Gwen headed straight for the pool. “I’ll be watching from the stands. Good luck!”

  As Sonali and I changed and stuffed our backpacks into our lockers, I looked for Tara among lots of new faces. The Edgewater Swim Team is made up of kids from grades four through six.

  “How many kids make the team?” one girl asked her mother.

  “I don’t know,” the woman answered. “Don’t worry. Just do your best.”

  I smiled to myself. She sounded like Nana. Just do your best, Nana would say, and let the rest take care of itself. I would do my best but would keep my fingers and toes crossed, too. I expected to make it onto the swim team, but making the diving division was my special goal.

  We headed into the brightly lit pool area with its clear water, huge windows, multiple swim lanes, and familiar chlorine scent—so unlike Lake Chandler. I love swimming in the pool in winter, but in summer I prefer the lake, knowing that I share its shadows with tiny minnows, sunfish, painted turtles, ducks, and geese.

  A whistle blew sharply. Our swim coach and former fourth-grade teacher, Mr. Beck, waved us toward the bleachers, as if he were directing traffic. Wrapped in my towel, I sat between Gwen and Sonali.

  “Guess what?” Gwen whispered. “I talked to Mr. Beck and he said that if I’m interested, I can be an assistant! I can help keep times and scores and, maybe eventually, try out for the team.”

  I grinned at her. “That’s great!” I hadn’t wanted Gwen to feel left out, so this was perfect. The day really was going right.

  “Okay, swimmers, listen up!”

  The pool area quieted.

  “I’m Mr. Beck, and some of you know me as a teacher. But I’m also a coach. Here on the team, just call me Coach. Now, as you are all aware, today’s tryouts are for the Edg
ewater Swim Team. We’ll get started with nine-year-olds and move our way up to the twelve-year-olds. Swimming will come first, followed by diving.” He scanned those in attendance. “I would like to tell you that there’s a spot for each and every one of you, but I may have to limit the size of the team. If you don’t make the team today, keep practicing and try out again next time. Got it?”

  My palms turned sweaty. Tyler’s a good diver. So is Tara. How many other kids here are good divers, too? I wondered. When Tyler and I practiced from the swim raft, it seemed as if we would be the only two on the team. But now—I glanced left and right—there must be forty kids at tryouts. Yikes!

  The first two hours dragged by slowly. When it was time for ten-year-olds to demonstrate the breaststroke and backstroke, I felt pretty confident. I went in a straight line and paid extra attention to my form. Although the crawl is my strongest stroke, the breaststroke is my favorite, and I came in second—neck and neck with Tara, who was first. The butterfly is my least favorite, but I made an attempt at it, even though I’d never master that one in a whole lifetime. But I wasn’t alone. Only one swimmer made it from one end of the pool to the other without stopping halfway—Rachel, a girl in Tyler’s class.

  “Okay, divers, line up!” Coach called out. “And I want it quiet enough to hear a pin drop while someone is diving, got it? No distractions.”

  About twenty of us lined up near the low diving board. The high dive, Coach said, was only for qualified divers. “And after today, we’ll know who those divers will be. We’ll start with forward dives, then back dives, and then whatever dive you’d like to do that shows off your skills.”

  I didn’t have a third dive up my sleeve. I raised my hand.

  “Yes?”

  “For our third dive, is it okay to repeat the back dive?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “I don’t expect that you’re all going to have mastered more advanced dives. We’ll be able to work on those as a team.”

  Waiting my turn, my heart thrummed in my throat, and I shivered. To keep myself calm, I repeated Nana’s words to myself: Just do your best and let the rest take care of itself.

  Tara and Jadyn were ahead of Tyler, Joel, Sonali, and me by about six people. If I’d been standing closer, I might have risked whispering “Good luck” to Tara, just to be nice. But then I thought of the text message. Maybe it was better to play it safe. I glanced toward the stands, where I knew Gwen was silently cheering me on.

  My front dive went by so fast, I honestly wondered if my feet had even been on the board. But when I surfaced, Gwen waved and gave me two thumbs up. I smiled back.

  All too soon, we were doing our back dives. Tara climbed up onto the diving board. Head high and shoulders back, she walked confidently toward the end. She pivoted, found her balance, and then pushed up and off. Her body arched and she hit the water almost perfectly, except that her feet were wide apart.

  I made a mental note: Remember your mermaid tail.

  Tyler’s dive was perfect. When he climbed out, he shook his head free of water, just like a dog.

  I inhaled deeply. This was it. I stepped up the diving-platform ladder and walked to the end of the board, feeling its sandpapery surface beneath my bare feet. When I pivoted, I pictured myself as a beautiful mermaid, more comfortable in water than on land. Then I brought my arms down, pushed off, and imagined my legs and feet as one graceful, shimmery tail.

  In a flash I was underwater, pushing toward air. When I surfaced, Tyler’s smile told me I’d done fine. And at that moment, I knew he hadn’t sent the text. I grinned back.

  For my third dive, I repeated my back dive with the same results. As soon as the diving tryouts ended, Coach announced, “Shower up and get dressed. I’ll post the results at the reception desk tomorrow. You can check for them tomorrow morning after nine o’clock.”

  As we made our way to the locker room, Tara shouldered up near me. I flinched, out of habit. “Oh, hi,” I said.

  “I want to be mad at you!” she started.

  I pulled away, but then she used her grand and silly voice again. “No, dear, you don’t understand!” Then, in her regular voice, she said, “Chrissa, your dives were really good. I’m used to getting what I want, and so I really, really want to be mad, but—even more, I just want to be friends.”

  Then she hurried ahead to catch up with Jadyn. I wished that Sonali and Gwen had been there to hear her exact words. There hadn’t been a hint of meanness. In our corner of the locker room, I filled them in. “See? She really is trying to be nice. Things seem different with her. I think she’s changing.”

  Gwen wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  Sonali slowly shook her head. “Chrissa.”

  I got dressed quickly, frustrated that they wouldn’t at least try to see new possibilities. “Meet you outside,” I finally said.

  The next morning, Gwen, Sonali, and I met up early and biked down the winding road as fast as our legs could pedal. I couldn’t wait to find out the results of yesterday’s tryouts. Breathless, we hurried inside the Community Center. True to his word, Coach had posted the tryout results next to the reception desk. Tyler and Joel were already there. They’d beaten us by about a half-minute.

  “We made the swim team—and the diving division!” Tyler said, shooting his fist in the air, then high-fiving with Joel. “Excellent!”

  I didn’t know if “we” meant just him and Joel, or if it included me. I stepped up and ran my finger along the list of names. Not only had I made the swim team, but my name was under the heading of “Divers,” too. I couldn’t stop smiling. “And there you are, too, Sonali! And look who is listed as assistant manager!”

  Gwen stepped closer. “Hey, that’s me! Cool.”

  Sonali gave a little cheer for the three of us. Then she ran her finger down the list of names. “And Tara and Jadyn are divers, too.” She shrugged. “Oh well, we’ll have to make the best of it.”

  As we biked back home together, I silently hoped that this would be the start of new friendships—possibly including Tara and Jadyn. It was still a long shot, but maybe by being part of a team, everyone would learn to get along.

  That afternoon we took out the small sailboat, but the breeze was fickle, playing games as it switched from one direction to the next. Just when the sail filled, it wilted again as the wind shifted. Now that I was ten and had proved I understood sailing basics, Mom and Dad let me go out as long as I stayed in our bay—and everyone wore a life vest.

  “Come about!” I called out, pushing the rudder hard to the left. As we tacked and switched direction, the boom—the long horizontal pole that secured the bottom edge of the sail—swung right. Sonali ducked just in time and joined Gwen on the other side, counterbalancing the gust that now filled the sail.

  “Trying to get rid of us, Chrissa?” Gwen asked with a laugh.

  “No, I would never try to knock you out of the boat!” I answered.

  “Yeah, not like someone we know,” Sonali said. “Tara’s like that boom.”

  “The boom?” I repeated.

  “Well, you’re just moving along,” she explained, “thinking everything is fine, and then—boom!—Tara clobbers you.”

  Gwen laughed. “Maybe we should call her Boom-Boom.”

  I thought of how different Tara had been with me lately. Though I wanted to be part of their fun, I couldn’t go along with their joking. “Let’s not call her names.”

  Gwen and Sonali looked at each other.

  “Boom-Boom is actually a kind name for Tara,” Sonali said. “Believe me, I’ve heard her call others far worse names.”

  “That’s for sure,” Gwen added.

  Sonali continued, “Come on, you know how Tara is, Chrissa. I can’t believe you’re going soft on her.”

  Just then, the breeze shifted, the sail drooped, and the boom swung wide.

  “Watch out!” I cried. But it was too late.

  The sudden movement of the boom sent Gwen and Sonali toppling backward into the wat
er. I glanced back, relieved that they were wearing life vests.

  “Wait!” I yelled, trying to handle the rudder and the line for the sail. “I’ll tack and come back for you!”

  Gwen was sputtering and coughing, but laughing. Sonali yelled, “We’ll just swim back! It’s close.”

  Buoyed by their life vests, they swam toward shore. I brought the sailboat back around. By the time I changed directions, my friends were already past the swim raft. But because of the direction of the breeze, I had to angle my way back in, making several tacks back and forth to get closer.

  After what seemed like forever, I finally eased the sailboat toward the dock. Tyler and Joel stood ready to help catch the bow. As they did, I quickly released the mainsail and lowered it. Then I glanced around for Sonali and Gwen. “Where’d they go?” I asked.

  “They had to get home,” said Joel. “Gwen’s mom called and then came to pick her up for a dentist appointment. They said to tell you good-bye. ”

  “Oh.”

  After Tyler and Joel helped me pull the sailboat up on shore, they ran to the end of the dock and dove, swimming for the raft as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Boys, it seemed at times, got along easier than girls.

  I gazed out at Lake Chandler. My bare feet were planted in green grass, but I felt as if I were on a sailboat on a windless day. Stranded.

  On Thursday afternoon, I joined Nana for tea in the gazebo. I felt like a royal lady, sipping iced tea and reading while Tyler and Joel cannonballed each other from the swim raft. I skimmed the pages of one of Nana’s books, called Raising Llamas Right. The more I read about the birth process, the more I wondered if Cosmos might give birth at any second. “Nana, Cosmos looks like she’s ready to burst, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, she sure does.”

  “Well, it says here that the gestation period is from 335 to 365 days, with the average being 350 days. So that means our cria could come early or late. What if it’s early?”

  “We won’t know,” Nana said, “until the time comes. This humidity is hard on Cosmos, though, so she may indeed go early.”