Yours Till Niagara Falls, Abby

by Jane O'Connor

  “You’re okay. Just let yourself catch your breath,” Laurel said, kneeling beside her.

  “Geez, what a belly flop!” Bonnie said.

  “Wow, look at her face—how red it is,” said another voice.

  “See. I told you!” Abby finally gasped. “I knew that was going to happen.” She glared at Laurel who looked funny now without her sailor cap. Her wet blond hair was sticking out in all directions.

  “Abby, now calm down. You were positive you were going to hurt yourself. So you did.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Freud,” Abby snapped, sitting up and yanking off her cap. “You must think I’m some kind of masochist.”

  “What I think is that you should try another dive right away,” Laurel said evenly. “That’s what you do if you fall off a horse—get right back on again.”

  Abby managed to get up and find her sweatshirt. “I don’t ride and I have absolutely no intention of going near that diving board again.”

  “Oh no?” Laurel’s voice was stubborn. “Let’s get one thing straight. As long as you’re in my class, I mean to see that you dive.”

  But by the end of the week, Abby still hadn’t gone in head first.

  Come on, kid. You can do it—everyone else is, Abby would say to psych herself up. Then she’d stare down at the water. It looked so far below. Blood would begin to thrum in her head; her knees turned watery and—KERPLASH!—in she jumped.

  “Here she comes, ladies and gentlemen,” Bonnie would shout. “Abby Kimmel! About to try another death-defying jump!”

  Abby didn’t even give Bonnie a withering look. She felt too humiliated. She didn’t even blame Bonnie for making fun. If only Ma would write an excuse and get her out of this mess.

  August 4

  Dear Ma,

  Please! Write or call Aunt Tillie and get me out of diving. I can’t do it. I just can’t. Make up any excuse you want.

  Desperately yours,

  Abby

  August 5

  Dear Ma,

  This is the last time I’m asking. Please. I’ll never ask you for another favor again. I swear.

  Your devoted daughter,

  Abby

  Ma just had to come through for her. Abby was even having nightmares about diving. A couple of nights later she dreamt she was in the circus. “The amazing Abby,” the ringmaster shouted while she climbed up, up an incredibly high ladder to a long and narrow diving board. Far below was a pool of water that looked no bigger than a thimble. In the audience Ma, Daddy, Emily, Roberta, and Merle were all staring up at her expectantly.

  Abby tried shouting there was. some mistake, but someone was poking her in the back, pushing her forward....

  She jerked awake. Someone was poking her. It was Roberta.

  “You were talking in your sleep,” she whispered. “It sounded interesting.”

  “I was having a nightmare. ... a real whopper.” Abby sat up, her heart still thumping. “Thanks for waking me.”

  Roberta crept back to bed.

  “Listen,” Abby said. “Let’s go tonight!”

  “Sure. Only how about telling me where?”

  “The counselors’ shack, dummy. We keep talking about it, but if we don’t go soon, the summer will be over. ”

  “I can’t see,” Roberta whispered. “Is Marty here?”

  “No. Her bed’s empty. She’s probably still at the shack.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Roberta fumbled for her glasses; Abby remembered the flashlight. They grabbed their robes and opened the screen door ... very ... carefully.

  Abby shivered from a delicious sense of danger. “The coast is clear!” she said and then giggled. “You know, I’ve always wanted a chance to say that.”

  Soon they reached the lake; off to the right was the woods where they followed a path cleared by the thousands of counselor feet that had made the trip before them. The thick pine trees completely blocked out the moon and made the night seem doubly dark and spooky. Abby shivered again. She had the distinct feeling that any moment a counselor might creep up and grab them from behind. She clasped Roberta’s hand and carefully they picked their way over tree roots and rocks until finally the woods thinned and they could make out light from the windows of the counselors’ shack.

  Roberta started to run. Abby held her back. “We better crawl the rest of the way.”

  “Crawl! Are you for real?”

  “You don’t want us to get caught, do you? And this way it’ll be like in a war movie. You know. Crossing into enemy territory.”

  Roberta shrugged and dropped to the ground beside Abby. Finally they scrambled under a back window and peeked inside the cabin. Marty, Josie, and two other counselors were sitting around a rickety table playing cards; another counselor stood by a mirror curling her hair; and Laurel was sprawled in an old armchair reading a magazine.

  “This is it?” Abby whispered incredulously. “Gee, it’s not exactly Sin City. Maybe we came on a bad night.”

  “Nah, we should have known.” Roberta sounded disgusted. “The counselors are too dippy to have any place good—hey, look at that! They’re eating the brownies my housekeeper sent up! I recognize the tin.”

  “Dummy, what’d you think? That they throw out all the stuff that’s sent to us? Shhh now.” Abby could hear Marty.

  “Time to grab a little gusto, you guys?” she was saying.

  “That’s from a commercial,” Abby whispered. “It means they’re gonna drink beer.”

  Roberta twirled her finger. “Whoop-ee!”

  “At least they’re doing something that’s against the rules.”

  Abby watched Marty go over to the far corner of the room where she dramatically produced two six-packs from a plastic bag.

  “Frosty cold and dee-licious,” she said, tossing a can to each counselor.

  Laurel took a long sip. “That sure tastes good.”

  “You’re really incredible, Marty,” said another counselor. “Not just hiding the beer, but keeping it so cold. How do you do it?”

  “That’s my little secret.”

  “Oh, go on and tell them, Marty,” Josie said.

  “Weeelll ... all right. It’s simple. I hid them in the water cooler by Sunflower. There’s another six-pack there right now.”

  The counselors all had a good laugh over that.

  “Weird.” Abby ducked down, giggling. “They sound like they actually like Marty. Hey, we better go. We don’t want to press our luck, and anyway I just thought of a great idea.” She whispered it to Roberta.

  “Say, that’s not bad!”

  A few minutes later they emerged from the woods by the lake. They made one small stop, then sneaked back to the porch of Buttercup where, from their bathrobe pockets, they each produced a can of beer. “Frosty cold and dee-licious.” Abby giggled.

  “I still say we should have stolen the whole six-pack.”

  “That’s ’cause you’re a pig.”

  They popped off the tops and clinked cans.

  “L’chaim!” said Abby, which was what Grandma always said for a toast.

  “Barf city!” Roberta shuddered. “This stuff’s disgusting.”

  Abby took another sip and squinched her eyes. “Gross, but we should finish them just on principle.”

  “Yeah, and on principle I’ll probably puke all over you.”

  They poured out the rest and left the empty cans on the top porch step.

  “Marty’ll be sure to spot them there,” Roberta said with satisfaction before they crept into the bunk.

  “How dry I am,” Abby sang softly, tripping as she got into bed. She giggled. “I think maybe I am drunk.”

  “Not drunk, just spastic.”

  “Look who’s talking!”

  “Good night,” Roberta whispered.

  “Good night,” Abby snuggled under the covers. Maybe the counselors’ shack hadn’t been all it was cracked up to be. Still, she felt she’d grabbed quite a bit of gusto for one night.

  �
��She sure looks nervous,” Abby observed happily the next morning. During breakfast Marty turned to Josie at the table behind her and hissed, “If that’s your idea of a joke, I don’t think it’s very funny.”

  Roberta nudged Abby who choked on her milk so that it went up her nose and sprayed all over the table.

  “Brother! What a bunch of pigs,” snapped Marty. She shoved some napkins at Abby. “Quit that stupid giggling and mop up the mess.”

  “Why don’t you let us all in on what’s so funny,” Lisa said. “It’s not very nice to have private jokes.”

  “Oh, there’s no joke,” Abby said, breaking up again.

  “Will you cool it!” Roberta muttered. “Marty’s gonna get suspicious.”

  “Sorry. I’m just in such a good mood.”

  “Make that great mood,” Abby said when they got back to the bunk for cleanup, for there on her bed was a special delivery letter.

  Abby, Ma’s neat round writing said, I am sick to death of hearing about diving. I certainly won’t make up any crazy excuses for you, but I am mailing another special delivery letter to Aunt Tillie explaining the situation. I hope you are satisfied.

  Satisfied? thought Abby. Was she ever! “My worries are over,” she shouted, tossing the letter in the air.

  At lunch, the camp secretary came over to the Buttercup table and told Abby that Aunt Tillie wanted to see her in the office.

  Abby chewed her lip nervously. “She’s probably going to try to get me to change my mind,” she said to Roberta. “But fat chance!” Abby pulled out her chair and, steeling herself for the encounter, marched into the small office off the kitchen where she found Aunt Tillie sitting behind a large metal desk, checking over mimeographed schedules. She paid no attention to Abby who stood staring uncomfortably at a wall calendar from Herbert’s Butcher Shop. There was a picture of a smiling cow and below it said, “When it comes to meat, we can’t be beat.”

  Finally Aunt Tillie looked up. The look of disapproval—or was it disappointment?—on her face made Abby swallow hard.

  “Abby, I received your mother’s letter. I’ve explained everything to Laurel so she won’t be expecting you in her diving class from now on.”

  Abby shifted her weight nervously and murmured thank you.

  “There’s no reason to thank me—I can tell you that right now.” She tapped the schedules into a neat pile. “I’ve also told Karen that you will be helping her out with the guppies for the rest of the summer.”

  Abby’s mouth fell open. Wow! Spending every swim period with Roberta and Eileen! “You mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it. Laurel tells me you’re a fine swimmer and I have no intention of seeing that go to waste. And I also don’t mind telling you, Abby, it bothers me to see anybody give up on getting something they want.” Aunt Tillie’s sharp eyes took in Abby closely. “You did want to become a dolphin, didn’t you?”

  Abby felt her cheeks burn. Aunt Tillie was being unfair. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried. “You don’t understand—”

  “I think I do. Now run along,” Aunt Tillie said flatly.

  During swim period Abby swam back and forth across the Fish Bowl, demonstrating the crawl and trying to forget the look on Aunt Tillie’s face. She was just trying to make me feel guilty, Abby told herself. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Period.

  “Class, I hope you were watching closely,” Karen the guppy swim counselor said when Abby had finished two laps.

  “Yes, Karen,” the guppies answered in a chorus. They were spread out on the dock flat on their stomachs, kicking rhythmically and moving their arms.

  “Very good. Now we’ll try it for real.”

  There was a small tidal wave as all the guppies jumped in the water to swim. “Eileen,” Abby said patiently, “you have to use your arms and legs both at the same time. ”

  “I know, I know,” glubbed Eileen, slowly sinking.

  “I just don’t understand it,” Roberta spluttered next to her. “I swim so beautifully on land.”

  Abby spent all of that week’s swim periods holding onto the guppies while they flailed and kicked and struggled just to stay afloat. It was tiring work. And hazardous, too. Roberta kicked her in the mouth by accident and Eileen clung to her so tightly Abby was afraid they’d both drown.

  “You happen to be an excellent teacher,” Karen told her after a swim period. “Some of the girls are starting to make real progress.”

  Abby smiled. “I never taught anybody anything before—it’s fun.” Then without meaning to, she caught herself staring over at the diving area. Laurel’s probably really sore, Abby figured. Or maybe she’s glad to have me out of the class. She watched Bonnie finish a dive, the best one she’d ever done. Laurel was patting her on the back.

  At dinner that night Bonnie announced, “Laurel says I have a good chance of passing. What happens a lot, she says, is that you don’t seem to be getting anywhere and all of a sudden it just clicks.” Bonnie looked pointedly at Abby. “It looks like I’ll be the first—and only—dolphin in our group.”

  “Rooty toot toot,” Abby said, shoving in another forkful of mystery meat.

  The next day Roberta swam, all by herself, halfway across the Fish Bowl.

  “I knew you could do it!” Abby screamed from the dock, holding up her fingers in a victory sign.

  Roberta beamed and gasped. “I feel like I just swam the English Channel.”

  “Didn’t I keep telling you to keep the faith? I knew you could do it!” Suddenly her own words made Abby feel very uneasy.

  Later, as she was leaving the waterfront, Laurel stopped her. “Can I speak to you for a sec?” she said.

  “Sure, if you want,” Abby avoided Laurel’s eyes. “I was scared maybe you weren’t talking to me after—well, you know.”

  “Granted you were being a royal pain in the rear, but I’ve been thinking it over and I was being pretty stubborn too. I just thought if I got tough, you’d dive and ... well, I just hope you didn’t quit the class because of me.”

  “It wasn’t ’cause of you, Laurel. Honest.” Abby pulled on the strap of her cap. “I was just too chicken.”

  Laurel smiled warmly. “I wish you’d come back and give it one more try—it’d make me feel a lot better.”

  “I’ll think about it. Really I will.” But as Abby walked away she realized she had already made up her mind.

  Right before dinner she knocked faintly at the door of Aunt Tillie’s office.

  “Come in.”

  Do it and do it fast, Abby ordered herself. She fixed her eyes on the friendly cow from Herbert’s Butcher Shop. “Uh—I’ve thought it over, and if it’s okay, I’d like to go back in Laurel’s diving class tomorrow.”

  Aunt Tillie didn’t say anything. She had her hands folded together on the desk and she seemed to be thinking about something very hard.

  “That was all I came to ask,” Abby said meekly.

  “In that case, I’ll tell Laurel to be expecting you.” Aunt Tillie stood up and placed a firm hand on Abby’s shoulder. “Oh, and Abby. One more thing.”

  Abby looked at her questioningly.

  “Good luck!”

  “Today is your lucky day!” Roberta pranced around Abby as she and Eileen escorted her down to the lake. “I feel it in my bones.”

  Abby looked at them doubtfully. “I think eating those scrambled eggs at breakfast was a BIG mistake. I’m scared I’m going to puke.” Abby nervously rubbed one of the rabbits’ feet in her sweatshirt pocket. “It was really sweet of you guys to give me all this good luck stuff.”

  “I’m not sure about the shrunken head,” Eileen said in a worried voice, “whether it’s for good luck or not.”

  Abby managed to smile her appreciation and when they reached the waterfront, she squeezed their hands. “This is where we part company,” she gulped out, but instead of joining the other guppies by the Fish Bowl, Roberta continued toward the diving area. “Sur-prise!” she trilled. “I asked Karen and she said
it’s okay for me to come with you to diving.”

  Abby stopped dead on the dock. “Like fun you are!” That was all she needed. An audience!

  “Don’t be stupid.” A stubborn look came into Roberta’s eyes. “I’ll give you moral support.”

  “You’ll only make me more nervous,” Abby insisted. She wagged an accusatory finger. “I know you, Roberta. You won’t just sit. You’ll start winking and holding up crossed fingers and—”

  “I will do nothing of the kind.” Roberta sounded insulted. “And if I want to watch Laurel’s diving class, I have a perfect right.”

  Abby clamped her hands on her hips and shot daggers at Roberta. “Well, thanks a heap!” Then she stalked off to the diving area with Roberta tagging maddeningly behind.

  August 15

  Dear Ma and Daddy,

  Guess what? You’ll never guess!

  I dived (dove? who cares!) All I know is I did it!

  For almost the whole period I was jumping in, just like always. Then one time I was standing on the end of the board, trying really hard to get up the guts to dive. Roberta kept yelling good luck and telling me how I shouldn’t be scared. I turned around to tell her to shut up. That’s when I lost my balance. All I remember is crouching my head down cause I was afraid I was going to hurt myself.

  The next thing, Roberta is jumping up and down on the dock and Laurel is giving me the V for victory sign. It was all an accident! But once I did one dive, I could do it again and again. Now I could kill myself for all those days I missed. Keep your fingers crossed that I pass.

  Last night we had Dagwood Night. Three picnic tables full of salami and cheese and stuff were set up on the flagpole field. Everybody gets two pieces of bread and you make as big a sandwich as you want. A girl in Bluebell made one that was seven inches high-someone measured it. She ate it all but threw up and had to go to the infirmary.

  Roberta took this picture of me with my sandwich. I won’t tell you what’s in it because you might throw up too!

  Love,