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Counselor Billings said, “Freddie’s manning the rope at the edge of the swimming hole.”
Freddie. That was the name of the aide.
Coach snorted, and Delta agreed with him. Freddie might as well save his energy for all the good that would do anyone if the guys like Woody and Penske and McCrae decided to float down the river. The rapids would be tough, though, and there was that undertow where the river dumped into Grimm’s Pond, the swimming hole near the highway that was feared by parents and beloved by daredevils.
Counselor Billings started heading down the cliff side.
Delta decided she wasn’t going to stay on the headland if everyone else was scaling down the cliff side, so she followed after Amanda and Counselor Billings. She’d worn black capri pants, a red short-sleeved top, and flip-flops and had some difficulty negotiating the narrow steps down; once there, she wished she’d brought her swimsuit after all. Tanner, McCrae, Carmen, and others, including Bailey and Amanda, were already in the river splashing each other, while Counselor Billings stood on the beach along with about ten other kids and watched them. The water had to be icy cold, but they obviously didn’t care. The river moved slowly alongside the scrawny beach before hurrying down a narrowing canyon. There was a shelf cut into the near side, a walking trail of sorts that was almost an echo of the jogging trail above. The shelf gradually rose as the river headed around a bend and then, with increasing speed, over a series of rapids on its way to Grimm’s Pond. Delta had once traveled those rapids with Amanda when they were much younger, both of them huddled in a rubber boat that was oared by Amanda’s father. It had been a scary and thrilling ride . . . and she’d never wanted to do it again. Neither had Amanda, and her father had teased her mercilessly until she was fighting tears.
Now Delta gazed down the canyon, seeing the rush of white water far down as the river made its left-hand turn at the beginning of the rapids. Later in the year, it would be rated “easy” by river rafters; not so in the spring.
Miss Billings was warning them all to be careful. Freddie had stretched the “barrier,” a plastic rope threaded with several red and white floats, running it from one shore to the other. He was wearing a life vest and holding another one up high, silently asking them to do the same. No one paid him any attention.
“Come on up!” Coach Sutton bellowed down, barely heard by the crowd below. “Pig’s roasted! Corn on the cob’s done!”
Delta stepped her flip-flops into the water, which was cold but bearable. Amanda was up to her knees, trying to gain Tanner’s attention and failing miserably. He was actually splashing around with Carmen, who was good in the water, her height and strength putting her on par with the boys.
“Time for barbeque!” Counselor Billings yelled, waving them all out of the swimming hole.
Reluctantly, in twos and threes, they all staggered out of the water, shivering. Woody got near Delta and shook his head like a wild dog.
“Woody!” she sputtered. Wet drops were flung all over her red shirt.
“Sorry,” he said with a huge grin, then whooped and hollered and clambered up the bank. It was like a challenge to the other guys, who damn near stepped on each other’s heads as they followed him up, water dripping on the steps and rungs, making everything ten times slipperier than it had been on the way down.
Carmen followed after them like a galloping dog. Bailey, who’d descended with Delta and Amanda, looked somewhat pained as she grabbed a rung and headed back up.
Amanda looked at Delta. Delta looked at Amanda. “Go ahead,” Amanda said.
“No, go on. I’m going to stick down here for a little while.”
Amanda looked as if she were going to argue but stopped herself and gave a shrug. Then she followed after the others.
Chris McCrae was seated on a nearby log, eyeing Delta. His cutoff jeans were wet, and his torso was too, but it was drying in the slanting sunlight. He squinted at her. “Aren’t you going up?”
“No.”
He stood and ran a hand through his hair, pulling out some of the water. “Gonna stay down here for the rest of your life?”
“I just might,” Delta said. She heard her belligerent tone, a far cry from the happy, enthusiastic Delta they all knew.
“He doesn’t give a shit about her, you know.”
“Who?” Delta asked automatically.
He gave her the “Are we really going to play this game?” look.
“If you’re talking about Tanner, I’d rather not.”
He snorted. “Who are you—Ellie?”
“What do you mean?”
“You gotta watch yourself. You sound about as judgmental as she is.”
She turned her back on him. She didn’t want to talk about Ellie, or Tanner, or anyone.
“He doesn’t give a shit about anybody,” McCrae went on. “Not trying to dis Tanner. Just the truth.”
