Twenty-One Mile Swim Read Free Page A

swimmer, yet he —”
    “Enough, Liza,” her brother cut in sharply. “I like to fish, and I like to fish from a boat. I won’t be swimming while I fish.”
    Joey, understanding the language better than he could speak it, sympathized with his aunt, although he could not agree entirely
     with her. What’s more, what was done was done, and trying to change his father’s mind now was like trying to change the course
     of the sun.
    Aunt Liza made some comment in Hungarian that Joey didn’t catch. But apparently his father did, for a grin suddenly laced
     his face as he said, “That’s not nice, Liza.”
    Both Liza and Joey’s mother laughed, easing the situation somewhat. Sometimes he wondered about some of the words that they
     deliberately said in such a way that they were difficult to hear. Perhaps they did it purposely so that certain ears couldn’t
     catch what they were.
    It wasn’t until noon on Monday that Joey saw Paula long enough to talk to. They sat in the school cafeteria, and they lingered
     over their lunch.
    “Thought any more about learning to swim better?” Paula asked.
    She was wearing a blue jumpsuit which, Joey thought, complemented her green eyes perfectly.
    “Oh, sure,” he said.
    “I’m sorry about the way Ross talked to you,” she went on. “He’s not the most modest guy in the world.”
    “He’s a good sailor,” said Joey.
    “And a better swimmer,” Paula said. “He knows it and shows it. He hasn’t lost a meet in the three years he’s been competing.
     But you know what I wish?”
    He looked into her large eyes. “What?”
    “That someone would come along and beat him. His head will never shrink back to its normal size until that happens.”
    Joey shrugged. “Something I can’t understand,” he said. “You talk like that about him, yet you go with him.”
    “Wrong. I don’t
go
with him. Riding with him in his sailboat now and then doesn’t mean I
go
with him.”
    “Sorry.”
    They ate in silence for a minute.
    “You know that Gatewood’s going to build a new school, don’t you?” she said.
    “Yes. In a year or so, isn’t it?”
    All he had heard about it was some talk among the kids in school.
    “Right. My parents are going to have a meeting at our house in a couple of weeks. I think your parents are going to be invited.
     At least I heard their names mentioned.”
    “Probably,” said Joey. “Since we live only a few doors away from you.”
    “Three,” she said, to make it definite. “And a new swimming pool is going to be an issue.”
    He frowned at her. “A new swimming pool?”
    She smiled. “Yes! Wouldn’t it be
great
to have a brand new school and a brand new swimming pool? I can hardly wait!”
    “I just hope that I can swim better by then,” said Joey calmly.

3
    JOEY, Yolanda, Mary, and Gabor — all wearing new swimsuits — went in the lake that following Saturday afternoon. The June
     sun was hot and bright, but it was still too early in the year for it to have warmed the water to a point where swimming was
     comfortable. It would take another two or three weeks yet before that would happen, providing the weather didn’t turn cold
     again.
    None of the four knew how to swim well. Their father had bought Mary and Gabor flotation vests, and of the four children,
     they were having the most fun. Yolanda was struggling to keep afloat by dog paddling and kicking her feet.Joey worked at the crawl, the freestyle method of swimming, a little of which he had learned before, and which he preferred
     over any other. The backstroke, breaststroke, and the other styles of swimming could come later.
    Most of Sunday, and then every day after school during the next week, he put on his trunks — a bright red pair with white
     trim — and went into the water. He found that each time he went in was easier than the time before. He was becoming acclimated
     to the temperature of the water, and, more important, he was determined that he’d become an