someone else to annoy on the other side of the wall!”
“If we’re lucky, they’ll…”
I held my hand up to stop Max from another insult. We weren’t just laughing; we were howling and calling attention to ourselves. I caught my breath.
“But we need to give him a break, especially while Mom’s gone.”
They responded to my statement with sneers. Neither of my brothers bought into my act of compassion.
“Allllll-righty?” I asked, imitating Jon. We all broke down into hysterics again. “But really, we need to try not to do anything to make him annoy us any worse.” They both smiled and nodded in agreement. Then they didn’t waste any more time and cut to the water.
Now, finally, I could spend time with my friends. The only friends I had. Their lives were exciting, filled with love, adventure and danger. My friends were loyal, beautiful and smart. They were strong and fierce and courageous. They lived in caves and castles, jungles, space and the sea. I read all kinds of books, but my favorites were ones with vampires, witches and other fantasy creatures. Their adventures took me away from the boring world I lived in.
Today I lay on the blanket facing the crashing waves and pulled out Daughters of the Forgotten Sea. It seemed appropriate to read a book about mermaids while at the beach.
My mind drifted for awhile. What would it be like to be a mermaid? I closed my eyes envisioning myself in the story; saving the humans from certain death. In my life, friends and adventure only existed in the books I read and in my imagination. Pathetic.
I wanted to be Hannah, the youngest mermaid. She was beautiful with fiery, auburn hair that flowed down to her waist. Hannah was careless and heroic, things I wished I was. Instead, I was responsible and organized.
I closed my eyes again and imagined – would I have the courage Hannah had to brave the storm and the danger of being seen by the humans? I could feel the adrenaline rush. I imagined in the distance a young boy calling for help, my help.
“Help, Help!” I heard in my mind.
I’m coming!
“Hurry, hurry!” my imagination said, playing along.
“I’m hurrying,” I whispered back, fiercely.
“Tess, are you deaf? Now! Hurry!”
My eyes snapped open when my book was kicked out of my hand.
“Tess!” It was Gabe with a panicked look on his face. He pointed out to the water where Max was on his raft being pulled out further and further by the tide. My head whipped left and right to see if there was a lifeguard nearby; no guard stands. It didn’t matter; I didn’t need help. I may not be a mermaid, but I swam like one.
As I pulled my shorts off, I was passed on either side by two teenage guys who ran like high school track stars. They both entered the water in full stride and swam in Max’s direction. I didn’t stop. I ran toward the water throwing off my tank top. I should have left it on. Two-piece bathing suits weren’t made for running or lifesaving.
I hit the water and swam hard. The thinner guy ran fast and swam fast, unbelievably fast. The tide continued to tow Max further out, but the thinner guy finally reached him. Max remained on the raft holding on for his life while his rescuer swam back one-handed. The other hand gripped Max’s raft. The bigger guy treaded water halfway between them and the shore. I could have caught up to Max, but didn’t see the need to wrestle my brother away from the local show-offs. Instead, I swam back to where I could stand and waited.
The thin guy battled the current. His swim back was visibly more difficult than his swim out, but he made steady progress. In the last few yards before reaching his swimming partner, his speed picked up. Max didn’t look any more at ease even though he was halfway to shore. His hands still dug into the raft, and his eyes were glued to me.
I watched as my brother was passed from one guy to another like the baton in a relay race. The second guy was bigger, like a high school football star. He had wide shoulders and big arms. He didn’t swim as quickly, likely weighed down by his big muscles and probably even bigger ego.
When Max was close enough, he sprang off the raft toward me. I nodded at the guys as a thank you; although, I’m sure they expected a parade. Then I carried Max to shore and resisted the urge to yell at him.
“What were you thinking swimming out that far?” I said and shifted him on my hip so I could bend to pick up my discarded tank top.
“I didn’t. I was trying to swim back, but I kept movin’ away. I thought I was going to drown, Tessie. Why did it take you so long to get me?” Gifted how my little brother turned this around so quickly to make it my fault. Then I saw the tears in his eyes. His bottom lip was quivering. Guilt. How could I have taken my eyes off him?
“I’m sorry. You had a raft, so I wasn’t watching you as closely…”
“You’re s’pose to be watching me – I’m only seven,” Max tucked his head under my chin. He always acts so indestructible that I forget his age at times. I sat on the blanket with him cradled in my lap like a toddler; surprised when he drifted off to sleep. I laid him down next to me and watched him peacefully sleep. The only time my little brother was peaceful was when he slept. Normally, he was in constant wild motion.
Less than ten minutes later, he woke up talking.
“Tessie, where are the guys who saved me? Do they still have my raft?”
Max’s raft was probably held ransom until I gushed all over myself thanking his saviors for pulling him out of the ocean. No thanks. Max was on his own. He looked around to see where his new heroes were sitting. Once he spotted them, he jumped up and pointed.
“There they are. Come with me,” he insisted, leveraging his 60-pound body to yank me to my feet. “You should thank them, too. If I died, Mom would be really mad at you.”
“Yes, she would be mad at me,” I laughed, “but don’t you want to thank them by yourself? If you’re scared to go without me, I’ll go.” Child psychology; worked like a charm. Max went alone, but this time I watched him closely.
One of the swimmers, the thin one, sat with three other guys. They all looked like surfers: longer hair, tan, athletic bodies. None of them had surfboards, but they had an edgy look as if they sought trouble more than trouble sought them. They spoke to each other with their eyes. It was a closed circle of friends. Max was oblivious that he was breaking into anything and jumped right into conversation. I sat a comfortable distance away and listened.
When my dad was alive, he called me his shadow. He took me everywhere and taught me so much, like how to shoot a sling shot, how to throw a boomerang, and how to run really fast. The best thing he taught me, though, was how to see and how to listen. Dad said I could train my eyes and ears to see and hear things at a distance most people couldn’t. So he trained me. I still practiced all the time, especially when Jon and my Mom went to have a private conversation. I didn’t always know what they were talking about, but I could almost always hear them.
Today I listened to Max. He gave the guys a nod as though he was Mr. Cool now. “Where’s the big dude?” The four of them looked around and shrugged in unison. The thinner guy who helped in the rescue walked to Max smiling. My gregarious, younger brother reached out and executed some sort of multi-step handshake that the teenager seemed to know, or follow; must be a guy thing.
Max said, “Thanks, dude. My sister was s’pose to be watchin’ me. Good thing someone was watchin’ me.”
Nice shot, Max. You’ll pay for that later.
“No problem, little dude. You have to watch the current. It can pull you out pretty quickly. I’m Cole. What’s your name?”
“Max,” he stated confidently, now with his hands on his hips like a superhero. That’s my sister, Tessie,” he added and pointed over his head back towards me.
“Max,”