From the Depths – Novella Three - 2. Chapter 2: A Couple Weeks Later

Chapter 2: A Couple Weeks Later

Sister Jodie held religion class in the large activities room in the wing with the library, gym and cafeteria. She was reviewing what we had leaned last time, and my attention drifted over to the upright piano. Sister Jodie also taught us music here, and I always liked that.

Dustin lightly knocked his elbow with mine. I glanced over, and then down, as he was jiggling something in his fingers under the desk. His peepers were straight ahead, and that's where I placed mine too as I took the little piece of folded paper. I slowly brought it to the surface – watching Sister Jodie walk the space before the chalkboard back and forth – and opened it up.

On it was a smiley face. Below it was written: 'Simon.'

I picked up my pencil as non-suspiciously as possible, and leaned elbows on the desk. I reworked that smiley face; added a pair of devil horns, a thin mustache, and pointy goatee. I crossed out 'Simon,' and wrote: 'Dustin.'

I casually folded it, leaned back and repeated the passing process.

Dustin looked at it. I heard a barely concealed twitter, and glanced to see him get a fresh scrap of paper.

In a minute, I had the new note in my hand. I saw another smiley face, but there was something round over the back of his head. It was a halo. 'Simon' was written below.

I wanted to look at him so bad, but I couldn't. My confidence was shaken, for did this kid really think I was some kind of angel?

I opened my book and pressed this note in it. I pulled out a fresh scrap, and wrote on it: 'D+S = Friends Forever.' I passed it to him.

"So." Sister Jodie changed gears, "Today's lesson is on sin. Who can tell me the types of sins?"

Nobody volunteered. She folded her hands at her waist and her glasses glinted to the ceiling for a second.

"Gina, you?"

"Umm…" The girl cocked her pigtails. "Mortal sin..?"

"Yes! That's one. There are others. Anyone?"

Again, no volunteers.

"Simon?"

"Um – you mean bad ones and not so bad ones?"

She almost laughed: "In a way Simon, that is exactly what I mean. There are sins we do because know we are trying to cheat; either cheat each other for advantage, or think we can cheat because God is busy and not watching us."

The class laughed and relaxed a little. Sister Jodie went on.

"These are called sins of commission. We do them with a full heart of malice, and they are very bad indeed. That's like stealing, or lying, or cheating on a test. You must tell Father Strathmore all about sins of commission because you have hurt your soul badly, and you must beg for God's grace to heal you."

Dustin hit my elbow. I inchingly reached for his note.

"See..." Sister Jodie went on, "There are other types of sin. These are called the sins of the heart…"

I looked at Dustin's note. It was a daisy with one fallen petal.

"…Sins of the heart are dark ones, and dangerous in a different way…"

I didn't know what Dustin's flower meant.

"…For these are deep and sometimes very hidden from the light of how we think and act; think and pray in our conscience world…"

I picked up my pencil.

"…These are sinful thoughts. Maybe ones we will not act upon, but that we have them at all is a sin against God's grace…"

I drew a caterpillar waking over the top of the flower. I folded it and slowly passed it to him.

"Simon?" Sister Jodie asked mildly.

"Yes?"

Dustin took the note under our table.

"Are you listening?" she wanted to know.

"Um. You said some sins are actions; some are just thoughts."

Sister Jodie swallowed, and I have to say, looked grudgingly satisfied.

When I glanced to Dustin, he had looked at my note, but seemed sad.

"So…" Our teacher renewed her pacing. "You must keep a catalog of your bad intentions and bad thoughts – your sins of the heart – so that you may confess them freely to Father Strathmore. Do that so he may provide you with guidance. It is critical that you open your heart to forgiveness – to your priest and holy confessor – so that he may counsel you and put an end to your wicked ideas."

˚˚˚˚˚

I had just gotten through the lunch line. As I walked to get my milk, I frowned down to the top of a smelly and soaked hamburger bun – sloppy joes – Yuk!

I went over and sat with Nino and Dustin. The older brother was dabbing with a napkin at the corner of his brother's mouth. Nino was like a mini version of Dustin – same skin, hair and eyes – and yet, in his eyes was a little dullness. They definitely did not sparkle like my friend's.

Dustin was excited talking to me. "I can't wait for later! We'll spend a great afternoon down by the river." He stopped dabbing and looked really serious. "Did you wear trunks today?"

"No. I forgot."

He laughed. "Me too."

I picked up my fork. I flipped the doughy sponge topping aside and speared some drowned-rat meat. I held it up to my nose. It stank like sour ketchup and rancid BBQ sauce. I let loose; it plopped on my tray, and I picked up my box of raisins.

"Hey," I asked Dustin. "What did your flower mean?"

Dustin pretended to be interested in his sandwich, which he picked up, bit into, and shrugged at me from behind.

"I liked your caterpillar," he said with a mouthful of sloppy crap.

I shivered; he laughed at me. In my head, some kind of nursery rhyme seemed to fit his flower sketch, but I couldn't think which one.

Gina and Jodie came up to us in mid-conversation. Gina sat next to Nino, and Jodie sat next to me on my side of the table. They talked loud enough to make clear that the Day boys and me were supposed to hear their story. They looked kinda shifty, to be truthful.

"So, then there they are," Jodie relayed suggestively. "Naked, and doing their daily exercises – all sweaty and close…"

"What are you talking about?!" I had to know.

Gina hushed me.

Jodie chirped quickly: "Movie. Midnight Express." Then she steadied and lowered her tone, like she was leaning back on her seat to make us come closer to her. "So, there they are, wet – because they are in a Turkish bath – and they get closer and closer, and there is beautiful music and steam everywhere, and then one guy's hand goes to the side of the other's face, and they lean in…"

"…And kiss..?" Gina finished, glowing.

"And kissed!" Jodie confirmed. "It was beautiful."

"Is this a Gay kiss?" I asked.

Jodie looked incensed. "It was about the most romantic and, and, beautiful thing I've ever seen. It was just so beautiful – two guys in love."

I could feel my lips kinda pursing. I glanced at Dustin and he looked all uncomfortable. He spoke to his brother, "You're done. Let's clean you up," and then to me, "See you outside."

He stood, began to collect Nino's tray, picked up the box of raisins from his own tray, and set it by my hand. I guess he knew I was still hungry.

As he walked away, the girls exchanged an annoying twitter. I picked up my windfall box and dug in. "What!" I asked them.

As I expected, they chimed in harmony: "Nothing."

"That was nice of him, wasn’t it..?" Gina added slowly.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Dustin is really nice."

"Almost, sweet – to you." Jodie and Gina laughed.

I shrugged.

Then Gina leaned in, and was serious. "The other boys don’t like him."

"Yeah." Jodie leaned in too. "They say he's weird; likes to sing to himself."

I was amazed. "As if there's anything wrong with that. Anyone should be allowed to be happy without the police saying he's 'weird' because of it."

"They don’t want to be friends with him." Now Jodie was really serious too. "You are a good guy to be a friend to him."

I told her as plain as I could, "But I like him. He and I have a lot in common."

I watched the girls exchange a wicked glance. Their mutually kindled twinkle erupted into laughter and excited hand-grabbing.

Girls. I don’t get them.

˚˚˚˚˚

It was three o'clock. The final school bell had rung for the day.

Dustin and I were swimming side-by-side through the noise and congestion of the upper-class hallway.

He told me, "Go to the parking lot and wait. I have to help Nino get set; make sure he's got his homework, and talk to his teacher."

"Ok," I said.

He popped in the 4^th grade room. I kept going. Now the crowd thinned, and the closer and closer I got – past the library to the right, the passage to the gym to the left, the door to the activities room, and straight ahead to the cafeteria – the noise departed until I was all alone in silence. I opened the glass doors and stepped out into the freedom of a glorious late summer's day. I took a deep breath and stood there a second.

The parking lot was not full – maybe 4 or 5 cars, and at the end was Paxton's.

I shielded my eyes a second and saw the teenager was in it; sitting behind the wheel. In another moment, he leaned over and opened the passenger side door.

As I got closer, I could hear loud rock music, and saw him jostling a lit cigarette out the driver's window.

"Get in," he told me, and turned down his music some.

I liked his car. The outside was a sort of pencil-lead color with a metallic sparkle. There was a fat piece of black rubber trim that seamlessly married front and back bumpers with a piece on the door panels. It was a 'T top,' and except for a central link, open to the afternoon air.

I had to smile as I slid into the bucket seat, for the sober restraint of the exterior was not matched by the luxury of the interior. Here, white leather swathed every inch of the seats, doors, dash and ceiling. It smelled rich and buttery in the summer's heat.

Paxton was squinting on his cigarette – inhaling – and tapping on the steering wheel in time to his music. He appeared a lot different out his gunmetal jumpsuit, and I got a good look as he settled back in is seat. His sandy-auburn hair was parted to the side and swept back by his ears. Now the cigarette hinged on his lips as he mouthed some lyrics. He wore a black AC/DC t-shirt on his thin torso, and a faded, thin-worn pair of jeans.

He turned the music down just a little bit more.

"Nice car," I said.

"Darn right it is." He smiled, exhaling like a dragon: "Zero to sixty in nine seconds!"

"Whoa – "

"Yeah. She's my baby." He stroked 'her' dash tenderly with long fingers as flat as a piece of paper.

"So, you and my cousin are buddies? You don’t mind that he was kept back?"

"Yeah we are, and no – why would I mind that?"

"Don’t know; many do. What kind of music do you like?"

"Pop, I guess."

Paxton immediately clinched onto his lit butt, and ejected his tape. He reached down to the foot well by my feet. "Find that tape…this one!"

He straightened up, and pushed it in.

"Better?"

In a moment – after a brief screech – Hotel California by the Eagles streamed out.

I could feel myself crack a big smile. "Yeah, I love this song!"

"Yeah, I thought you would." He flashed eyebrows at me. "Know Dustin's favorite band?"

"No."

"Well – you should, if you're his friend."

I changed the subject. "I didn't know a Nissan Z-ee was so comfy inside."

"Do me a favor." He tapped ashes out the window.

"Ok."

"Say it right. Over in Japan they call it a 'Zed.'"

"Why?"

"Beats me, but once you know what's right, you can't go back and pretend it's ok to act all dumb."

I guessed he was right about that.

"How old are you, Paxton?"

He chuckled, drew one last puff from his butt and tossed it with a bemused finger-flick.

"You wanna hear my life's story?"

I didn't know what to say – kind of.

He sighed and laughed at the same time. "I'm eighteen. I dropped out of high school at sixteen, 'cause of trouble with too much weed and a bad attitude. But I'm ok now. I've got a good job, I've got my music to write and perform, and I've got my girl."

Then he smiled full bore, and I suddenly saw the Day family resemblance to Dustin.

"Hey," I asked him in the quiet as the song changed. "Can you let me use the floor buffer one day..?"

He blinked: "Hell no!" What are you? – a scrawny little twelve-year old brat?! You'd send that buffer right through a wall. Hell. I can barely control it sometimes! So you tell me how you're gonna be able to handle it?"

I thought about it some. "Well, I may be kinda scrawny, but I have pretty strong willpower."

He started to scoff, but then I caught him saying under his breath: "I bet you do."

He tapped out another Marlboro and teetered it on his lower lip. As he stiffened his legs to pull out a pink Bic lighter, his eyes gleamed like cold diamonds towards me.

"He likes you, you know." His cigarette danced around his smile and words. "He won't shut up about 'Simon this,' 'Simon that.'"

He lit the end, and inhaled.

"What have you done to him?" He cracked a smoky grin. "I haven't seen my cousin so happy and relaxed since his mom left them three years ago."

"I don't know…I just like him."

"He's never had any good friends before, so – well, sounds weird to say: 'Be careful,' but I mean, he's very trusting, so respect that. Okay?"

"I do."

That seemed to satisfy him, for he tapped his butt on the window glass and turned back to me with devilish aplomb.

"Want a cigarette?" He held and jostled the open end of his pack to me.

Was he serious? "OK!"

He shook one out – but as I reached to grab it, he tilted it towards the ceiling, and jerked his shoulders.

He hissed at me in total delight: "Psych!"

˚˚˚˚˚

Paxton's 'Zed' went speeding east on the open road. Farm fields rushed past Dustin sitting in the front seat. Over his shoulder I could watch them whizzing by though the fully opened passenger seat window.

In the back, Nino and I were pelted with air. I scanned the clouds and blue sky getting sliced by the 'T' section of the ceiling, and all else seemed open and living air.

Nino and I had made quite the picture getting into the back, for this is a two-seater with a hatchback. Paxton stood and grinned as he opened the rear flap and gestured to us, the two smallest members of the pack. "Get in," he chuckled. "How?" I asked. "Lay on your tummies facing forward."

We did, and it was great. There was plenty of room for our feet, and near the back of the front seats, we had room to prop our heads on elbows and hands. It was wicked good fun.

The teenage janitor had America blaring from his tape deck. It was that 'Don't Give Up' hit of theirs.

He adjusted the rearview mirror till he found me in it.

"Hold the wheel," he told Dustin, who twitched to his side to grab it because Paxton suddenly let it go.

In the mirror, his eyes twinkled mercurially, and his hands went up to slick the sides of his hair ruffling in the wind. He said, "You guys, just starting at your age, look in the mirror and develop a crush on your own looks. Well, have at it boys, 'cause now when all the girls look at me, they can't help falling in love!"

He twisted around to fully face me. "Dustin has good looks, don’t you think, Simon!"

I shrugged: "He's fine. I never looked at him like that."

Paxton laughed like a banshee, turned and retook the wheel. Then he winced, because as soon as his hands were free, Dustin punched him hard in the shoulder. "Shut up! Pax."

Even from the backseat I could see Dustin's Nordic skin blush hot pink.

"Change the music." Paxton laughed, and Dustin fished out a cassette he had in the ready.

In another moment, Queen blared out, and Dustin cranked the volume.

As fields rushing past us became a blur on the road's nearby margin, 'We Are the Champions' was belted out from the front seat at top volume from cousin lungs.

Dustin was so happy. He punched the air in front of him and turned back to invite his brother and me to join the chorus.

His joyous and deep voice competed with the rushing sound of air and friction pelting us in the back. I had never seen Dustin look so alive, and even Nino seemed a bit happy for once.

˚˚˚˚˚

About seven miles east of Judas Tree rolled the beautiful and tranquil Kaskaskia. The river was about 300 feet wide here, and all along its gently flowing banks, trees stepped down to meet it. Near the bridge was a marina, and a few pontoon houseboats were moored by it, but otherwise, the river was pretty much as the first settlers found it.

Paxton's car slowed and rolled over the bride. I pulled myself up on the back of Dustin's seat, for I always liked crossing and seeing this view. The river was about 100 feet below us; mild, and some heron waded on one foot to pick up a crawfish snack here and there. The sunshine prismed off the living water, and glinted hard on the aluminum trim of pontoons bobbing in idle splendor on one of the last full days of summer.

Across the bridge, Paxton downshifted again, and put on his blinker. The painted sign said: 'Boat Launch – This Way!' and had an arrow.

He pulled onto this road, and immediately we were tilting forward as the pavement narrowed into the shadow of trees, and bent down to the level of the water. At the bottom, the road flattened out into a turnabout. Paxton stopped the car.

Dustin leaped out and let the seat up so I could crawl out. Nino followed me.

Paxton barked out orders, "I'll take Nino home, and let you kids explore. I'll be back by 5:30 – that gives you 90 minutes to goof off – but be waiting right here when I get back!"

His brother got in the front seat, and Dustin closed the door. He leaned in a moment, and sang out: "Smell ya later, boys."

Paxton floored it, and both Dustin and me had to hold up hands to deflect flying gravel. His car began moving up the slope, and as we choked down the bit of chalky dust, Paxton's wicked laugh drifted back to us the moment before it was swallowed by his music.

Dustin said, "Come on," and started jogging towards the water. I followed in my own trot, but I was distracted by the end of the road. It looked exactly like a person's driveway, but it went straight into the river. Dustin must have read my thoughts, because he yelled back to me: "Boat launch."

'Oh!' I thought to myself.

Dustin ran off the pavement and followed the riverbank about 150 feet. Here the trees came pretty close to the water, leaving about 20 or so feet of grassy margin. As I caught up to him, Dustin had ripped off his shirt and T-shirt, and looked like the Cheshire Cat; his skin was all glowing.

He stepped out of his sneakers. He unclipped his belt, and as his fingers worked his fly, he told me, "Strip!"

I hurried to catch up.

Down to his white briefs, he neatly piled up his clothes and set his shoes on top. I followed suit, and watched him peel off socks and stuff them in his Converse.

He took off running, pinched his nose, and leaped into the water with legs pulled up to his chest.

I laughed, just tossed my socks down, and ran after him. He had started to swim – the sun glinting like firecrackers off his golden hair – so I dove into the same patch of water he had.

All around my ears was numbness; a reeling loss of sensibility and not knowing up from down. Then, a bursting of champagne bubbles and me rising to the light. I shook my head like a dog, and felt great. The water was warm and sweet and cupped every inch of my body in comforting support.

Dustin was swimming across the river's channel. "Come on!" he called out, but before I started to follow, I just looked up at sky and the tops of trees. The roadway of the bridge was at my back, and from the surface of the Kaskaskia I finally got summer's most perfect view.

˚˚˚˚˚

After our swim, Dustin led us to a wooden pier.

We lay out on top of it in total serenity: our hands behind our heads, our legs kicked out and crossed before us.

The water dew-dropped itself on Dustin's skin like little jewels, and everywhere was a translucent sheen, because the super fine hair on his legs and arms – his chest and tummy too – was as blond as that on top of his head. Also, I noticed something a little bit shocking. With Dustin's arms raised as they were, I could see he had tufts of fair hair sprouting from the pit of his arms. In my mind I thought, 'He's the first kid I've ever seen with armpit hair.'

He sat up to be on one elbow and leaned to me. He looked kinda funny. "What ya thinkin' about?"

I lied. "How perfect the day is."

"Yeah, it don’t get no better than this."

I was too curious about Dustin's body, so I thought I'd ease into my line of questions.

"You ever watch that show, Welcome Back, Kotter?" I sat up and folded my legs Indian-style.

"Sure."

I laughed: "That Horshak is a riot, huh?"

"He's ok. I like Vinnie Barbarino."

"Yeah, he's funny too, but Horshak is always talking about 'the change.'"

Dustin kept his hands behind his head and glared at me kinda funny.

"Puberty? You mean."

"Yeah. He's always talking about that, and 'hormones,' and stuff."

He sat up and kicked his arms out behind him. He kept his legs straight out and overlapped at the ankles.

"So..?"

"So…come on dude, tell me about it!"

"What?" His whole body began to blush. It appeared to start at his upper chest and throat.

"We're friends, right? There's only one year difference between us."

"Well, sometimes a year makes all the difference."

I knew I shouldn't tease, but I couldn't help it. "You mean, 'the change?'"

He swallowed hard, and seemed like he wanted to find his clothes. I picked at the rough wood of the pier by my feet.

"It's Ok. Tell me. I'm not gonna blab, because, well – because you and me are buddies – I like you…" I looked him in the eye, his crystal-blue eye "You can trust me, always."

He stammered: "Ummm…what do you want to know..?"

"I wanna know – like, does it hurt?" I leaned in closer for the answer.

"Hurt?!" He let out a burst of air; I guess he was dumbfounded.

"Man! What do I know – I can see you've got hair under your arms, and I don’t, so did it hurt coming in?"

Dustin laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "No, Simon – you don’t feel your hair growing, do you?"

I lay back down on the deck, hands behind my head. The sky above was just as blue and heartless as Dustin's mirthful eyes. I guessed he didn't want to talk about it.

I changed the subject. "Paxton's a weird guy, huh?"

"Think so?"

"Not 'weird,' just different. Real lively."

"Yeah, when he's not in school, he's a lot different. You like him, don’t you?"

"He's nice."

Dustin got up and sat Indian-style near my chest. I rolled on my side. His leg was maybe 6-inches away from my hand.

"He told me about your mom. I hope you don’t mind that I know."

He shrugged hurt shoulders. "She left about 3 years ago." He started picking at the wood too. "My dad is really busy, and stressed, basically trusting Nino in my hands to raise."

"That's a lot of responsibility, for a kid."

"I don’t mind. In many ways Nino is the most important person in my life. And I have to help my dad out. Farming is getting harder and harder. It seems every summer is hotter and dryer than last. Money is tight."

"He sends you guys to Catholic school."

"He thinks it's important to get a good, moral grounding for kids. He went there. He sacrifices a lot for himself to send us to Saint Lazarus." He looked pretty serious now. "I don’t know if it can go on much longer. I hope he can make it work, 'cause Nino does better there than if he were in Judas Tree Public School. I know it."

He stopped playing with the wood, and I had the urge to take his hand, because he looked like he needed it. He went on, "I take care of my brother because I love him."

"I don’t have any brothers or sisters. But, I'm sorry about your mom."

"Well, ok; I don’t know if I am – maybe that's my point. If she couldn't love Nino enough to stick around, then maybe it's best she went."

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"She left you too, you know."

"Same thing – I don’t resent her, but." He stopped short.

"But, you miss her."

He looked at his legs; slowly nodded to them.

I suddenly got it. I said real slow, comforting like: "Don’t beat yourself up over repeating the 6^th grade. Things will work out, and I know your dad is real proud of the way you stepped up for your brother. Besides!" I playfully punched him in the knee "Besides, how else would we have become friends?!"

He smiled, one side higher than the other. "Yeah, that's true."

I sighed and looked up at the sky, the trees, and listened to the rippling water. I inhaled deeply. The smell was like sunshine on Nordic skin. Now I meant it: "Sure is a perfect day."

"Yeah, it is." Dustin affirmed it like he wasn't talking about the weather anymore.

"Where's your farm at?"

"Just outside of Baldwin, in the shadow of the power plant."

"Cool."

"Yeah, I grew up with the farm as my sandbox. We had few 'indoor' toys. I've always loved to be outdoors and in Nature. Why so for you, Simon? You grew up in town."

"Dunno. Just always want to be exploring during breaks. Games like basketball are boring compared to times like these, or walking the fields, or being down by the creek."

"Yeah, I know. Me too! I don’t think there's anything I enjoy more – and don’t laugh! – "

I crossed my heart with a serious headshake.

" – Than walking over a freshly harrowed field in my bare feet. Breaking the clods with my arches, my heels, and forcing the sandy earth up between my toes. You ever do that?"

"Uh-uh"

"Well, sometime you'll have to come over and we'll do it, together. Then you can feel it too. It's like silk tickling your toes. I love it!"

"Ok!"

"That's why the first day of school, I was pretty surprised to see you down by the school's creek. That was the first moment I thought me and you were gonna be good friends."

"Yeah. I felt that too." I tapped on his knee again. "Hey, what’s your favorite band?"

"Guess."

"The Eagles."

"Too soft."

"AC/DC?"

"Too hard."

"Won't you tell me?"

"Uh-uh. You'll figure it out. So stop asking."

I twisted around and sat like him. Our knees touched, although his were a couple inches higher than mine. His flesh was hot against my kneecap.

"Humph. What kinda friend are you," I teased.

He laughed: "The best one you'll ever have!"

As his belly contracted away from his waistband in laughter, I first noticed there was a line of fair hair here too. It ran indistinct from the bottom of his bellybutton like an arrow straight into his drawers, front and center. I scanned up the line of his thigh. There was mystery in the crescent-shaped gap between his leg and leg band of his white briefs. His 'covering' was bigger than mine – it needed to be.

I could feel myself biting my lower lip as my gaze drifted up his chest and shoulders, past the open expression on my Nordic farm-boy's face, and up to the glinting glow from his pure blond hair. It was still wet and slicked back.

"I wish you'd tell me about 'it.'"

"Simon – "

I cut him off. "Friends share stuff. I just wanna know what it's like to stop being a boy, and you've done it."

"I don’t know what to tell you."

"Something; anything. How do you feel now?"

He was getting pissed. He attempted to mask it in a half-hearted laugh: "Simon. Stop it. You don’t get it."

"Get what?!"

"That I don’t want to talk about it."

"Ok, but why..?" Suddenly inspired, I tried a new tactic. "Ok, but will you let me see it?"

Dustin stopped all effort at laughter on a dime. "No."

"How come? You wanna see mine? You can, if you want."

Dustin inhaled, and with one smooth and powerful flex of his leg muscles, he stood up from his sitting position. My eyes had to follow his rising form. He said plainly, "Next year; you'll understand better next year."

He suddenly jerked up his elbows. In a half-second, he was running for the edge of the pier with a singing shout on his lips: "Cannonball!"

He jumped in, and a wall of water smashed down on my head.

I stood up shaking my dripping hands, and spitting out bits of River Kaskaskia.

"You…" I pounced in mock ire, and landed in the water a few feet from him.

He started punching the surface with an open palm, and inundating me. I got disoriented, and had to use my fingers to squeegee my eyes.

Before I knew it, Dustin was right in front of me. He bear-hugged me, and I helplessly used my hands to press against his upper arms; I struggled, and the warmth of his chest against my own was a huge contrast to the river water.

Suddenly, I stopped struggling, and he changed too. At last I could see. He held me, and in Dustin's blue gaze was something I did not expect; something that looked like fear.

"What?" I asked as gently as I could muster.

He just slowly shook his head; that golden hair against the double blue of sky and water.

Dustin released me – left me confused – and without a word started swimming to shore, and to the spot where our clothes waited together for our return.