"Psst. Charlie you awake?" Jake asked from the top bunk.

Charlie pulled the covers over his head to hide his heavy breathing, but the sudden darkness scared him even more than talking to Jake about tomorrow. He threw the covers off like they were infected. "Yeah, Jake. I'm awake," Charlie said. His senses fully aroused, he now caught the nibbling, crunching, and slurping sounds coming from the next bunk.

"Well, I know Gus is awake. Gee whiz, Gus I could actually hear you getting fatter," Scott said from the top of Gus's bunk.

Charlie groaned. He wanted every ounce of sleep he could steal. He dreaded the rise of the sun. He looked at the clock: 3:00 a.m. -- four hours left before the camp counselor sounded the wake up alarm.

"I'm sure looking forward to tomorrow," Jake said stomping his foot on the bed. Charlie's body shook from below and he lied, "Yeah, me too."

"Me too," Gus said between mouthfuls of something chewy.

"You're just looking forward to breakfast," Scott said. Charlie felt a rush of cool air as Scott's pillow slammed into Gus's bunk. Candy wrappers flew through the air and one of those dreaded bed sounds -- the sound of water spilling -- forced a cringe in Charlie's stomach.

"Ow, Scott. Thanks a lot," Gus said.

Scott guffawed and continued stomping on the top bunk.

"Don't worry about those two, Charlie. Just think how much fun it's gonna be tomorrow," Jake said.

"Hey, Peanut Gang? Would you guys shut up and go to sleep!" a voice screamed from across the room.

However, Charlie remained awake, while one by one, his friends each found their way back to dreamland. Tomorrow was the day he had feared for the past two months at Camp Wichipaka.

Tomorrow was swimming day.

It probably wouldn't be a big deal except for one thing: Charlie didn't know how to swim. Why would a twelve year old from the big city need to know how to swim in a lake? He was going to be embarrassed in front of all of his friends.

***

Charlie's ears opened before his eyes as the camp theme song exploded through the speakers. He was not in the mood for a knock-off Disney theme song. Charlie grabbed his pillow and slammed it down on his face to smother the noise. All he wanted was to sleep but it only took about five seconds for him to realize what day it was and he lurched up slamming his head into the bottom of the top bunk.

How did he fall asleep knowing what he had to do today? His friends had already gone; only a few stragglers stayed behind: the outcasts (the ones Charlie would probably be joining at the end of the day). Here comes one now.

Edgar, aka PBF (Pimple-Brace-Face), approached his bunk.

"Hi, Charles," PBF said with a lisp. "Wanna go to breakfast together?"

Charlie rubbed his head, overly pretending he was in real pain. "Gee Pee, I mean Edgar, I just hit my head really hard and I think I'm gonna just rest a bit. Sorry, bud."

Edgar dropped his head and sniffled, but managed to say, "It's okay," before he walked to the shadows of his corner bed. For a moment, Charlie felt bad but what was he to do? He had to maintain his status.

Charlie took his time -- as much time as possible -- making his bed, showering, changing and brushing his teeth. When he walked back out into the sleeping area, only Edgar remained, trying to hide the film of acne cream on his face. Charlie pretended Harry Potter's Cloak of Invisibility covered his body as he snuck past Edgar.

"Charlie, phone call," a grown up said from outside.

Saved! Charlie thought as he ran out not giving Edgar a second thought. Sunlight blinded and burned him, but his desire to get away from Edgar pushed him on.

"Hey Charlie, can't wait for that swimming lesson, huh?" Scott asked running toward the lake.

Charlie ignored him and ran to the phone. "Hello," he said out of breath.

"Hey, big guy, how ya doin?"

Charlie's eyes widened and he screamed, "Dad!"

"How's Camp W treating you?"

Charlie twirled the phone cord with this forefinger. He looked around and cupped the speaker in his hand. "Dad, can I come home today?"

"What? Why? What's wrong, son? Did something happen?"

A phone cord beehive appeared around Charlie's hand as he continued twirling the long cord in nervousness. "Um, no, not really."

"Oh. Are you having fun?"

Charlie didn't want to lie to his father. "I've been having fun," he said. _Until today_.

"Then, what's wrong?" his father said now sounding very concerned.

"Nothing," Charlie said pouting. "I guess I miss you 'sall." Well, at least he still spoke the truth, sorta.

"Good, son. That's good to here. It's good for you to be there, be around your friends, learning new things. If I remember my camp days correctly, this week should be swim week?"

"Yeah, it starts today," Charlie said trembling.

"Well, I just wanted to wish you luck. I remember I was scared on my first day. Say, son, you're not scared, are you?" his father asked.

Charlie remained quiet. How many times had he heard the story of his father breaking Wichipaka's Cross Lake Race record by forty-five seconds.

"Look, Charlie. It's okay to be scared. The important thing is to face your fear. And I'll give you another piece of advice." His father's voice got whisper quiet. "It's a secret actually. If you start at the first step of the pier and walk fifteen and a half paces, not sixteen, not fourteen, fifteen and a half paces, you'll find . . . how can I put this?" his father paused at this moment. What the heck was he talking about? "You'll find something few people have seen." The last sentence came out in a rush.

"Uh, okay dad," Charlie said wondering what the punch line would be.

"Good luck, son. I'll be thinking of you."

"Thanks dad,"

"Attention, Attenc-e-o-n, all campers! First swim lesson of the summer will be in five minutes. Everyone should meet at the lake in five minutes," a camp counselor sang over the PA System.

"Dad -- "

"I heard son, you better get a move on! Just remember, fifteen and a half paces."

"Bye," Charlie said and hung up.

Conditioning took over as he reacted to the sound of the counselor's echoed voice over the speaker. He found himself running down the hill of the lodge. As his peers bottlenecked on the thin makeshift stone path to the pier, Charlie slowed his pace.

He spotted Gus, a bodyful of jelly, somehow bumbling along at the front of the line. Jake walked right behind him, perhaps acting as a shield from Scott who was behind both of them. Gus had made it into their inner circle by accepting who he was and not letting Scott or anyone else get to him. To Charlie, Gus was a hero.

Jake turned suddenly and waved at Charlie while tapping Gus on the shoulder. They both stopped, Gus with a Snicker's bar hanging from his mouth and Jake with a toothpick in his. Scott also stopped and squinted his eyes. He furrowed his brows and then covered his face with his hands like the creature from the "Black Lagoon" had been spotted behind Charlie. Charlie turned to see -- Edgar. A tear flowed down Edgar's eye and managed to miss the first pimple but brushed against the second; it quickly disappeared in the pink bacteria clump.

Charlie stopped as Edgar walked by and motioned to place his hand on Edgar's shoulder but Edgar, perhaps sensing Charlie's movement and mistaking it for something other, rushed away. A whistle caught the western wind and echoed in Charlie's ear. "Hey, Charlie, c'mon!" Jake yelled. Charlie lowered his head as well, in shame, and walked toward the pier. The chatter of the campers fought with the creaking of the pier as it tried to sustain twenty-one boisterous boys and overworked and underpaid camp counselors.

Mr. Larson, the camp counselor from HE-Double Hockey Sticks, stood at the front of the line -- of course -- making sure all the boys were accounted for. He made a grand display of checking off Charlie's name as Charlie walked by. "Nice of you to show up, Chuckie," he said. Charlie looked back to stick his tongue out but decided against it as Edgar approached.

"Well, well, well. Look who's here -- PBF," Mr. Larson said.

"My name's Edgar Reese," he said with his head still down.

"Oh, sorry, I was wondering why I couldn't find PBF on here," Mr. Larson said with a smirk.

Charlie clenched his fists tightly and began walking back to the path to intercede when Jake and Gus each took an arm and dragged him further onto the pier. "Hey guys, wait," Charlie said, turning his head left and right trying to see if Edgar made it by Mr. Larson okay. However, he lost Edgar as his friends thrust him into the adolescent crowd.

Jake and Gus released Charlie from their bondage as the crowd thickened. Charlie found himself in the middle of chaos as counselors bobbed up and down, treading water in the lake, and boys lined up on the pier, getting ready to take the plunge.

The "showoffs" started the lesson by jumping in the lake one by one, like a pre-teen synchronized swimming event. The counselors took a laid back attitude and watched the young swimmers display their skills.

Next came the intermediates: Jake, Scott, and Gus -- along with a few others -- stepped up to the edge of the pier, getting ready to jump in. Vertigo overtook Charlie as he gazed upon the thrashing water. He swayed left and right and his stomach bubbled and churned. He noticed no one was watching and began walking back towards the cabin. However as he reached the beginning of the pier, curiosity took over his fear and he found himself counting his paces back into the fray.

Fourteen. Fifteen. As he lifted his foot between fifteen and sixteen a shadow loomed larger from behind and he turned just in time to see Mr. Larson standing there with his arms crossed. Charlie wobbled on the slick pier with one foot in the air. His lack of breakfast and sleep, the sun beating down upon his exposed body, and Mr. Larson's intimidating presence, coalesced into one whopper of a dizzy spell and Charlie lost his footing and fell backwards into the lake.

His arms flapped left and right, and up and down as he tried to stay afloat. He opened his mouth to yell for help but cold, hard water rushed in. His desperate thrashing quickly tired him and he found himself slipping further below the water line. It felt like he was being flushed down a toilet as his body spun and spun and his feet pushed together. He was pulled, gently at first. The sun looked like it was melting as he disappeared under the water line. His ears plugged with water and the world turned to darkness as he continued falling.

Helplessness turned to fear then changed to awe as he realized he was actually breathing under water. He opened his eyes but still it remained black. Wait: there was a light -- a dim white beacon. The light pulsed, as if it were calling him. His hands stopped thrashing through the water. His legs parted and he slowly pushed himself toward the light. It beckoned him to come; it was asking him something and he had to find out the question.

Charlie tried walking and realized very quickly it would not work. He then tilted his body so that he lay horizontally. The light began to flash faster. Charlie spread his legs and hands and then brought them together. He moved, only a few inches, but he definitely moved. "Hey, I'm swimming," he said. "Hey, I'm talking under water."

He tried the same move again and he pushed himself closer to the light. He continued pushing forward until the light became clearer and began to take shape, and the question was answered. A great fish, with two huge antennae -- each resembling a stack of glowing and pulsing white eggs -- smiled back.

"Hi, Charlie," the fish said.

Without thinking, Charlie pivoted his body up and back in such a way that he ended up doing a back flip. "You could talk," Charlie said, upright once more.

"Well, sort of," the fish said, and then Charlie realized it wasn't talking from its mouth; its antennae were pulsing and creating sound waves to match the language it wanted to convey in Charlie's mind.

"Did you make this happen?" Charlie asked.

"Well, Charlie, you're learning to swim all by yourself, but I guess you just needed a little push," the fish said and winked at him.

"What's your name?" Charlie asked.

"Fish," the fish said and then smiled again.

Charlie flapped his arms gracefully on his side and scissored his legs like he was walking on water.

"Now try this," Fish said moving its body back and forth like a sidewinder.

Without hesitation, Charlie mimicked Fish and the two swam side by side. Charlie felt strange, but good. It was as if time had stopped here, or maybe he was having so much fun that he forgot his fear. Fish taught Charlie the dog paddle, backstroke, and butterfly stroke. Fish used its antennae the way Charlie used his arms and before long, Charlie found himself out stroking his new friend. Charlie took a moment for himself and hovered in the water. He smiled as he gazed upon this amazing creature and small bubbles escaped his own mouth and nose.

Suddenly, he felt the current taking him back to the surface and said, "Wait, I never even thanked you."

"You just did," Fish said. "Say 'Hi' to your father for me."

Charlie was sucked up into the vortex that had led him here and within a blink of an eye, his head spat out from underneath the lake's skin and bumped into something lumpy.

"Sorry, Charlie," Edgar said trying to swim away but having a hard time.

Charlie treaded the water and watched as Edgar swam alone, poorly.

He was back.

Charlie looked around and realized he could not have been gone that long as the lessons were only now finishing. Jake called out from somewhere further down the lake, "Charlie, c'mon, you've been dodging us all day."

Charlie didn't hesitate as he said, "Edgar, wait up." He pivoted his body horizontally and swam to Edgar. "Let me give you a few pointers," he said, once again treading water.

"You want to be seen with me?" Edgar asked looking Charlie in the eyes.

"Do you want to be seen with me?" Charlie countered. Before Edgar had a chance to answer Charlie placed his hand on Edgar's shoulder and showed him how if he remained in rhythm with the current and alternated his thrusts in a more consistent fashion, he could control his moves better.

"Charlie, aren't you afraid you're going to catch his Pimpilitis?" Scott asked treading water a good ten feet away.

Edgar began to swim away as Jake and Gus also approached but Charlie caught Edgar's leg and carefully brought him back. "Why, no Scott. I'm actually more worried about Buttholitis. I hear it quickly spreads through liquids." An "Ooh" and "Ah" escaped from Jake and Gus respectively and Scott's face, maybe his whole body, Charlie thought, turned beet red.

Scott lunged at Charlie and Charlie expertly dodged his lunge by backstroking away from him. Then Scott rushed toward Charlie again and Charlie disappeared from the surface for what seemed like an eternity and then resurfaced in back of Scott. Charlie tapped Scott's shoulder and when Scott turned, Charlie disappeared again. He missed the laughs as Jake, Gus, and even Edgar hooted and hollered.

Scott bashed the water with his fists and seemed about to explode. Suddenly, Gus said, "Scott, why are you so uptight? You should feel safe in the water; no one would know what you sometimes do late at night, when you have a bad -- "

"Don't say it, Gus," Edgar blurted.

Everyone looked at Edgar. "Edgar's right," Jake said. Charlie kept his eyes on Scott who slowly returned to his natural pasty white complexion and then lowered his head.

Charlie looked at Edgar and then at Scott. "Scott, there's nothing to be ashamed of. We all have our problems, but our problems shouldn't come between our friendships. Besides, we're just here to have fun. Right?" He circled to eye Jake, Gus, Scott and his newest friend, Edgar.

Scott sighed and looked at Charlie. He swam over to Gus and there was tension for a millisecond before Scott patted him on his shoulder. Then Scott swam to Edgar and said, "If anyone gives you a hard time about anything, they'll have to answer to me."

They remained that way -- the way preteens remain after tensions are quickly forgotten and their world has returned to normal -- for a while until Jake said, "Guys, I think it's time for lunch. All this swimming's made me hungry. Heard they got fries today."

"Mmm, fries," Gus said in his best Homer Simpson voice.

"No thanks!" Edgar said smiling. "That ain't good for my skin."

Scott put his hand on Edgar's shoulder and said, "It's not good for my bladder either, my friend."

"Suit yourselves, guys, race ya," Jake said, climbing onto the pier and taking off to the lunch hall. Scott and Edgar both sprinted after Jake, and Gus stayed behind for a moment and then, Gus being Gus, he bumbled off after them.

As his friends disappeared in the distance, Charlie hopped back into the water, trying out some new moves. Today was the best day of camp so far. He couldn't wait until what tomorrow would bring. Maybe he would try and break that record of his dad's.

The End

Gary's work has been featured in Alien Skin Magazine, The Harrow, and
Insidious Reflections. His misadventures on the streets of New York City are a great source of inspiration. When he's not writing or at that "other" job, he can be found volunteering, reading, or tinkering with computers. Visit him on the web at http://mysite.verizon.net/mallikai.

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