Daylight Saving Read Free

curved white building, with big windows that stretched all the way around, giving customers a good view of the lake. It stood on the fake beach, and I could feel the sand seeping into my sneakers as we walked the bikes over.
    The sight of the lake was calming. I felt my temperature drop as I looked out across the water, and my heartbeat slowed. One. And. Two. And. Three. And.
    There were only a few boats still out, and most of them were making their way into the little wooden harbor. I could almost feel the plummeting depths of the water in my stomach. The lake was surrounded by trees, and you could hardly see the other side, just a few lights coming on in the cabins out there. There was a sign on the beach: STRICTLY NO SWIMMING . Sounded like a TV program.
    “Come on, then, if you’re coming,” Dad said, opening the door.
    The Beach Boys were playing on the Pancake House stereo. “Everybody’s going surfing, eh, Daniel?” Dad said. “Everyone but us.” He gave me a little punch on the arm, which made a slapping noise. It was a little bit too hard to be playful.
    I ordered a cheese and mushroom crepe, and a cherry and ice-cream pancake to follow. Dad asked for a burger and a maple-syrup pancake for dessert. “Do you serve beer?” he said to the waiter.
    “We’ve got a fully licensed bar, sir,” the waiter said, gesturing to the spirits on the back shelf.
    “Wow. It’s great in here. Those lezzers were right,” Dad said.
    “Pardon, sir?” said the waiter.
    “Nothing. I’ll have a bottle of your finest lager, if you please.”
    I had mixed feelings about the bar. It meant that Dad might not force me to go to the Tropical Dome, but it also meant I might be carrying him back to the cabin at the end of the evening.
Maybe he won’t drink so much on holiday,
I thought.
    Five beers later, he started going on about Mum again. “I’m not blaming anyone,” he said. “Least of all . . .” He pointed to me. “Not anyone.”
    I looked at the leftover pancake on his plate. It was like a blotchy roll of fat. I picked it up and ate it in one go, just so I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. Thankfully, Dad stopped talking for a second.
    “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” he said.
    “Don’t you?” I said, looking at his empty beer glass.
    He followed my gaze. “Oh. I appear to be without a drink. Waiter! Another of your finest, if you please.”
    He always used this ridiculous posh voice when he was on the ale. I could see why people might punch him in the nose.
    It was getting dark now. I looked out the big windows at the lake, which held a little of the moonlight on its surface. The water was lapping over the sand. I followed the ripples out into the middle of the lake and thought I saw a disturbance there, a figure cutting the surface of the water, gliding toward the bank in the distance.
    I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I’d had hallucinations at school, just before I’d lost it. They’d given me a “little break” then. But now I was on holiday. Where did they send you when you flipped out on
holiday
?
    Out on the lake, I was pleased to see that the water had stopped rippling, and there were no figures on the horizon.
Thank God
,
I thought.
    The Pancake House was converting itself into a winter beach café. People were sitting outside at tables under big outdoor heaters, trying to pretend it was summer but smoking to keep warm. Inside, a group of men and women mingled at the bar. Dad looked over at them, nodding his head to the music, not quite getting the rhythm.
    “Dad, I’ve got a headache,” I said.
    “Oh, yeah?” He looked pleased. “Well, you should go home, Daniel. I mean, to the cabin. You don’t want to be hanging around here with your old man. Not if you’ve got a headache.”
    “Are you staying, then?” I asked.
    “Yeah, I’ll just stay for another of their finest. A little nightcap. You’ve got to, um, you know . . .”
    “Cut loose?”
    “Aye,