Twenty-One Mile Swim Page 6

  “I guess you’re right,” he said.

  He looked back at Ross. Their eyes met, and a wide grin came over the tall boy’s tanned face.

  “Hey, man, Paula tells me you’re going to swim Oshawna Lake. The whole twenty-one miles of it. That right?”

  Joey nodded. “I’m going to try,” he said.

  “That takes a lot of guts, man.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe, hell. I know it does. I wouldn’t try it.”

  “You might do it.”

  “Not me. I’m a sprinter.”

  Joey shrugged.

  Ross’s eyes searched his curiously. “Why in hell do you want to swim the length of it for, anyway? Just for the fun of it, or is somebody going to pay you a chunk?”

  “Maybe the first part of that is the answer,” replied Joey.

  “You’re going to swim it just for the fun of it?” Ross stared at him long and hard.

  “Yes.”

  “You must be nuts. You won’t make it. You’ll never make it. Hell, man, you just learned to swim last year, didn’t you?”

  “I’ll make it,” said Joey calmly.

  Ross frowned. “We’ll see,” he said.

  Paula and Cindy returned from the house a few minutes later. Cindy seemed cheerful — but she always seemed to be that way, no matter what happened — so Joey couldn’t tell from her expression what had gone on up at the house.

  But Paula showed concern. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying.

  “How is she?” Ross asked.

  “Okay,” Cindy answered. “Mrs. Vass washed the cut, put some stuff on it, and covered it with a bandage. She’ll be okay.”

  Paula said nothing. She went past Joey to the boat, stepped into it, and sat down on one of the cushioned seats. She rested an elbow on the side, placed a curved forefinger against her mouth, and stared into space.

  “I know she will. I just feel it’s my fault she’s hurt, that’s all.”

  Ross grinned. “It’s that motherly instinct,” he said to Joey. “You know what I mean?”

  He kicked over the engine. It sprang to life. “See you!” he yelled. Putting the boat in reverse, he backed it around the dock and then shoved the throttle forward. The engine roared as the craft shot ahead. Joey waved to them, then turned and headed for the steps.

  The remainder of the spring passed quickly, and in June Joey took final exams and suffered through two days of anguish as he waited for a report on his mark in Chemistry I. He had passed the other subjects with better than average marks, but Chemistry I was the killer. He’d be hurt, but not surprised, if he got a failing mark in it.

  He didn’t. On the evening of the second day after the exam, he called Mrs. Berkoltz, his teacher. She told him that he had scored a seventy-six. His anguish over, he didn’t hesitate to ask her how Paula had done, since both of them were in the same class.

  “I don’t give out other students’ marks. Why don’t you call her yourself?” Mrs. Berkoltz suggested.

  “Did she call you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Berkoltz.”

  “You’re welcome, Joseph.”

  He hung up, realizing how excited he must have sounded to her. What’s the matter with me? he thought. I think of Paula, and I get all funny inside. Heck, she doesn’t care for me. She’s Ross’s girl.

  He waited until he calmed down a little and then dialed the number he had memorized quite some time ago. Again he felt a stirring in his body as he heard her phone ringing. Then the ringing stopped, and a familiar voice said, “Hello?”

  “Paula?”

  “Yes! Joey?”

  “Right. How’d you make out in Chem?”

  “I passed! I had eighty-one! Did you call Mrs. Berkoltz?”

  “Yeah. Just a little while ago. I got a seventy-six. And I feel lucky. I was afraid I had flunked it”

  She chuckled. “You? Phooey! She wouldn’t flunk you, Joey!”

  “Ha! Oh, no? That’s what you think.”

  “I don’t know about you,” said Paula. “You have so little faith in yourself. Well, except for that long swim you’re planning on. When will the spectacular event be, anyway? This year?”

  “No. Next year.”

  “It’s going to be a long winter.”

  “I know. Well, see you.”

  “Right.”

  He hung up and saw his mother in the kitchen, motioning him to her.

  “Yes, Mom?” he said.

  She pointed at a double-layered chocolate cake on the table.

  “Take this to the Kantellas,” she said warmly. “And tell Paula to come over sometime. We have missed her.”

  Joey realized that Paula hadn’t been over since Mary had the skiing accident. That really must’ve bothered her.

  He smiled “Its a pleasure, Mom,” he said.

  4

  THE FIRST TUESDAY of July was turning into a hot, humid day even before the sun had started its climb into the blue, almost cloudless sky.

  Joey’s first thought was of the lake, and he went outside before breakfast to get a close look at it. It was smooth as china as far as he could see, and dark blue as it reflected the sky. Seagulls flew above it in wide circles as if in time to a music heard only by their own ears. A quintet of ducks glided at a V-shaped angle low over the water, almost touching it. Far on the other side of the lake a boat was droning along like a bee.

  “Oh, wow!” Joey cried happily.

  He ran back to the house and gulped down his breakfast.

  “Did you see that lake?” he asked cheerily. “It’s like glass!”

  “Perfect for that swim,” remarked Yolanda, dishing up two of the jam-filled Hungarian pancakes on a plate for herself.

  “Yes, if I were ready. But I’m not,” said Joey. “I’ve got to put in some long swims first. Five miles. Ten. It’s a great day to try it.”

  “Not right away, though,” advised his mother. “Wait two or three hours.”

  Joey smiled. “An hour to an hour and a half is soon enough. Mom.”

  He excused himself and left the table. He began to mosey toward the kitchen, paused with his hand on the doorknob, and looked at his sister.

  “Got something on for today, sis?” he asked.

  She looked over her shoulder at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Yes. A big movie star is picking me up at nine.”

  “Yeah, sure. And he’s going to have you costar with him in his new movie.”

  Yolanda laughed. “Okay. Why do you want to know if I’ve got something on today?”

  “I’d like you to go alongside of me in the boat,” he said. “Will you?”

  “Sure. Why not? Dad say we can take the boat?”

  Joey nodded. “Yes. He said it’s okay.”

  At ten o’clock Joey made his first attempt at swimming across the lake, a distance of two and three-quarter miles. He began with a moderate, steady pace, swimming freestyle, left arm up and over, then down into the water to sweep him forward, repeating the procedure with his right arm, while he kicked slowly and steadily with his feet. His breathing was smooth, even.

  The yards flowed under him . . . twenty-five . . . fifty . . . seventy-five. Now and then he looked at the opposite shore. Was he really closing the gap? he wondered. It hardly seemed so.

  Eventually Yolanda, who was in the boat with Mary, said to him, “Joey, we’re about halfway across.”

  The news startled him, made him feel good. He swam on, the muscles in his shoulders, thighs, and legs beginning to give signs of pain. But light pain, hardly enough to complain about.

  At last he was within thirty feet of the opposite shore. He looked up and saw a gleam of pride in his sisters’ eyes.

  “You’ve swum two and three-quarter miles,” Yolanda informed him. “How about that? How do you feel?”

  “Great.”

  “Qkay. Let’s turn and go back.”

  He turned and headed back, maintaining the s
ame rhythm, and just a slower pace. On and on . . . stroke, stroke, breathe . . . stroke, stroke, breathe. Little by little the muscles in his body began to protest more, and he began to wonder if he’d be able to make it back. Two and three-quarter miles each way added up to five and a half miles. If he made it, it would be quite a feat.

  At the midway point he took a brief rest, then swam on. He was within a mile from his home shore when he began to feel a faint, nauseous sensation in his stomach. He tried to ignore it, as he tried to ignore the little stabs of pain in the various parts of his body.

  On and on he swam, his arms getting heavier with each stroke so that his elbows barely moved out of the water now. The smooth, steady rhythm was gone out of his kicks.

  “Keep going, Joey,” Yolanda said to him. “You’ve only got a little way yet.”

  The aches got worse. The nauseating sensation spread.

  “Just a little way more, Joey,” Yolanda’s voice encouraged him. “About another hundred feet.”

  On and on . . .

  Then cheers and applause went up from the small gallery of spectators as he came in close to shore. His head began to swim. The nausea was about to explode.

  He knew the territory now, so he stood and began to walk the remaining fifty feet or so to shore when he felt it coming up. He stopped and threw up on the water, washed the vomit away, and threw up again.

  Then he stood there, breathing tiredly, until he was sure nothing more was coming up, and walked weakly up on shore.

  The cheers and applause had stopped. His mother ran up to him, an anxious look on her face. “Joey!” she cried, grabbing him by an arm. “Do you still feel like vomiting?”

  “No. I feel better, Mom,” he said. “I just want to sit down.”

  He started for the deck near the shanty and saw Gabor and Paula, and a man who looked vaguely familiar, quickly coming toward him. Yolanda and Mary were docking the boat.

  The man put an arm around Joey’s waist and helped him to the deck.

  “Here. Rest yourself,” he said. “You’ll be okay.”

  Suddenly Joey remembered where he had seen the sun-bleached hair, the tanned face, and the rugged physique before. The man was Sam Harvey, Merton High’s swimming coach.

  Obviously Paula had told him about Joey’s wanting to swim the lake. Did he come to give me pointers? Joey wondered.

  “Good swim, Joey,” Paula said, beaming at him. “You did stop on the other side, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  She stared at him, surprised. “You didn’t?”

  “No,” Mary piped up. She and Yolanda had docked the boat and had come to join the small crowd. “He just turned around and swam back. And you know what? He swam almost as fast coming back as he did going across.”

  “Marvelous!”

  Joey tried to hide his embarrassment over Paula’s outcry. Anyone might think he had just done the impossible.

  “Joey, this is Coach Sam Harvey,” Paula said, after her initial excitement had died down. “He’s swimming coach at Merton High.”

  “Yes, I remember seeing him at the meet,” said Joey. “Hi, Coach. I’m glad to meet you.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, too, Joey,” said the coach as they shook hands. “Congratulations. That was a good swim. Especially since you didn’t stop for a rest on the other side.”

  ‘Thank you.”

  “What did you have to eat before you started, by the way?”

  Joey thought a minute.

  “I baked for you palacsinta” his mother reminded him, smiling. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “That’s something like pancakes, Coach Harvey. This is my mother.”

  They exchanged greetings and shook hands. “That might be why you got sick, Joey,” said the coach. “Those pancakes could be very tasty, but you’d better lay off them before a long swim.”

  “I thought it wouldn’t hurt if you got some pointers from a real professional,” Paula cut in, her eyes intently on his.

  Joey smiled. “I guess I can use all the pointers I can get,” he said.

  “From what you’ve just demonstrated, I think you’ve already learned a lot of them,” said Coach Harvey.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You exercise every day?”

  “Yes, I do. I use barbells, and do isometrics and isotonic exercises, too.”

  The coach grinned amiably. “Fine. Was this the first time you’ve swum across the lake and back?”

  “Yes.”

  “Start from the south end the next time. Swim about seven miles and increase that by about a couple of miles each day. Watch for cramps. Do you know what to do in case you’re caught with one in a calf, for example?”

  “Pull up on my toes and massage the calf at the same time,” replied Joey, remembering what he had read about half cramps and other cramps that afflicted the various muscles in the legs, ankles, and arches.

  “Sounds like you’ve done your homework, young fella,” observed Coach Harvey, smiling.

  “A lot of it, anyway,” said Joey.

  “You know about the rest periods? They’re most important on long swims. Take them, whether you think you need them or not. They’ll relax your muscles, keep them from getting cramps, and keep you from getting tired too quickly.”

  “He rested only once coming back,” said Mary.

  “I really wasn’t that tired,” confessed Joey.

  “There’s the point,” said Coach Harvey. “Don’t wait for the tiredness, or the fatigue, to hit you first. Rest, swim a distance, rest again. You don’t have to rest very long. Thirty seconds is enough.” He looked at Joey’s arms, shoulders, waist, thighs, and legs. “You’ve really built yourself up a strong, terrific body, son. Know what? I wish I had you on my swim team. I think you’ve got the makings of a champion.”

  Joey smiled modestly. That was the greatest compliment ever paid him. “Thanks, sir,” he said. “Thanks very much.”

  “Save it until you’ve finished that swim,” said the coach. “Taking any vitamins?”

  “No.”

  “Start taking vitamins C and B, about two tablets of each a day, after meals. Lake water tends to be cold most of the time, and one thing swimmers must guard against is colds. Vitamin C will help keep colds away. Vitamin B helps in various areas, especially against headaches and indigestion that can happen after spending a lot of time in the water.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Joey, deeply appreciative of the coach’s help. If he had come across anything about vitamins in the books he had read, he couldn’t remember it.

  “But, getting down to the nitty-gritty,” said the coach, “probably the two most important things to know about, and put into your daily routine, are exercise and diet. Include orange juice for breakfast, but lay off anything that’ll lay solid in your stomach, like pancakes. Save that palacsinta for the evening meal.” He smiled. “Cereal is good. Orange juice again for lunch, with meat, vegetables, and fruit. Meat again for the evening meal — for its protein, you know — with salad, peas, and beans.”

  He paused, and looked at Joey with an amused glint in his gray eyes. “You know, even the most famous swimmers got to the point when they hated to train. But it’s that self-discipline and drive that puts the men above the boys, Joey. You train right, and you’ll find that your goal will be easier to get to than you think.”

  “Thanks, Coach,” said Joey.

  5

  IT WASN’T until eight days later that he was able to try another long swim in the lake. Bad weather — it either rained hard or the water was too rough — had been against him.

  That morning, just before ten, he followed Coach Harvey’s suggestion and rode to the south end of the lake in the boat to begin his swim from there. Yolanda and Paula accompanied him. During the ride, Paula explained why she had brought Coach Harvey to meet him that day over a week ago. Neither one had seen each other since then.

  “I met him during the Sa
turday morning swim meets,” she said. “Ross introduced me to him.”

  “I figured that,” he said.

  She smiled. “Look, we’re just good friends, Ross and I. His parents and mine have known each other for years. His father and mine work at the same place. They’re both engineers. They come over to our place, my parents go to theirs.”

  “You go with them?”

  “Sometimes. While our parents play cards and have a few drinks, Ross and I listen to records.”

  “Must be fun.”

  “Oh — it’s okay.”

  “I bet,” he said.

  He stopped the boat about fifty feet from the farthest end of the lake, keeping away from the sea weeds that were choking up that area.

  “Okay, take over, Yo,” he said to his sister. A moment later, he dove into the water. It was cold, but it always felt worse when he first entered. After a few minutes, as he started to take long, powerful strokes through the water, his body became acclimated to the temperature, and soon he thought no more of it.

  He saw Yolanda pulling the boat up to his left side and slightly behind him, and there she maintained it at a slow, steady speed.

  Thoughts of the talk with Coach Sam Harvey went again through his mind. He had started to follow part of the coach’s recommendations the very next morning when he had added the vitamins to his breakfast and resisted the tempting rolls of palacsintas that had been left from the day before. Why did Mom always have to make so many that there had to be leftovers? Even they were delicious!

  Sometime later he took a brief rest — about thirty seconds — then went on.

  “We’ve just come opposite the red barn on the hill,” said Yolanda after a while.

  “Okay!” he acknowledged.

  The red barn. He and his father had drawn a map and clocked the distances between various landmarks a few days ago. The red barn was exactly three and a half miles from the south end of the lake.

  He swam on, still feeling no aches or pains, not even a tiredness creeping into his bones.

  “We’re opposite the gabled house,” advised Yolanda.

  Five and a half miles. Moving along — slowly, surely.

  After a half-hour more in the water, his legs and arms were getting to feel like lead. There were muscles in his shoulders that were beginning to cry out with pain — muscles he hadn’t known he had. His chest was beginning to tell him things, too. Put them altogether, and he got the all too inevitable answer: he was near the stopping point.