Pi smothers his smile with his hand. “Okay, I’m in. Let’s do this. How many dares do we have each?”
I look at Logan. “How long do you want the game to last?”
“All day. Until bedtime,” he replies.
“So . . . ten dares each?”
“YEAH!”
“Remember the rules from last time, okay? Nothing dangerous and nothing involving nudity.”
“Fine . . .” Logan says with a sigh. “Dad, first dare, are you ready?”
I’m looking at Pi with a practiced, patient expression when I say, “Hit me.”
“I dare you to give all the pancakes to me.”
Pi tilts his head towards the window to hide his laughter from Logan.
“Veto.”
“I dare you to cannonball off the diving board,” Logan says.
“Who’s that dare for? Me or Aiden?” I ask, though it feels so weird to call Pi Aiden.
Logan shrugs. “Both? No, just you, Dad.”
We’re floating about in the middle of the holiday park’s pool. Because it’s August, it’s the weekend, and it’s still raining outside, the pool is heaving.
“There’s a sign on the wall that specifically says no cannonballing. We could get thrown out,” I reply. Though at this point my fingers have turned to prunes, so that might not be a bad thing.
“The sign also says no peeing in the pool and I already peed in it an infinity billion times,” Logan says, laughing.
“Urgh, that’s grotty!” Pi launches a tidal wave in Logan’s direction. Logan shrieks and splashes him back.
I only have one veto left since I used the other four to escape licking an old man’s ice cream outside the campsite’s shop, licking the old man himself, giving my child all the pancakes, and stealing someone’s Porsche. That last one was tempting, though, not gonna lie there, but we had to upgrade the rules to include nothing dangerousorillegal. Logan has two vetoes remaining, and Pi is still in possession of four vetoes. He used one to negate eating a whole jar of cockles. A wise decision considering all three of us are wearing open-toed shoes.
I heave myself up the little metal ladder and walk slappily to the deep end. There isn’t a diving board as such, it’s more where the edge of the pool bows inwards and flattens down, but we’ve witnessed more than a few kids jumping into the water from this vantage point, so the area itself is relatively clear of people. I wait until an older woman swimming breaststroke moves away from the immediate fallout zone.
“Dad!” Logan yells, giving me a thumbs-up.
I take one step back, and another, then I give a little run forward, fire myself into the air, tuck my knees up to my chestand my hands under my butt, and let gravity take care of the rest. I hit the surface sideways, like a meteor, sending a tsunami up in every direction.
A whistle blows. I shake the water from my face and find the source. A girl, no older than eighteen, wearing a yellow Sunnywell Bay LIFE GUARD polo shirt, is staring right at me. She shakes her head from side to side, but I can see the smile she’s desperately trying to hide.
Logan wants to ride the waterslides a few more times, so we all climb out of the pool, and Pi and I take turns to sit with him since he’s just under the height limit to go by himself. We stay until his lips turn blue, and then because he’s so reluctant to leave, Pi dares him. Logan ums and ahhs for ages before the cold finally gets to him and he relents to a towel being draped over his shoulders.
The changing rooms are manic, so we get dressed in one of the family cubicles together. Pi and I make a concerted effort not to glance at each other for too long. To distract ourselves, we discuss what we should have for tea. Logan dares me to make sundaes for everyone. I agree, but as a grown-up compromise, we decide that fish and chips would be a good after-swim snack to refuel our aching, chlorinated muscles.
“Uncle Aiden, I dare you to get your face painted,” Logan says once we get out of the pool changing rooms into the larger area of the clubhouse. There’s an old-fashioned market cart displaying an array of photos showing kids with their faces painted. A Spider-Man, an Iron Man, a pirate, a dragon, a butterfly, unicorn, et cetera. A woman stands beside a stool with a child perched atop, as she dabs their face with a sponge covered in orange paint.
“Aiden has four dares left and four vetoes left,” I say, and Logan counts them out on his fingers. “He can veto every single dare from now on. Also . . . eight pounds to get your facepainted? That’s criminal. It was like two pounds when I was your age.”
“Okay, grandpa,” Pi says, putting his arm around my shoulder. “I’ll have my face painted if you both get yours done too.”
“I’m gonna be Spider-Man!” Logan says without hesitation. “What are you getting, Dad?”
“Wolverine, duh,” I reply.
