Twenty-One Mile Swim Read Free Page B

expert swimmer as soon as he could.
    He had been thinking about why he was so anxious to do so, but wanted to keep the reason to himself for a while. One thing
     he was able to admit, though, and that was that he owed this new ambition of his to the person he couldn’t care less if he
     ever saw again. Ross Cato. Ross had done nothing
against
him. On the contrary, Ross had done something
for
him; he had given Joey a ride on his sailboat. But Ross had also humiliated him by implying that just because he was shorter
     than most other boys his age, he would be a born loser when it came to swimming competition.
    “
You might do all right against those seventh and eighth graders
” Ross had said condescendingly. “
Most of them are about your size
.”
    Well, even though the conversation had taken place weeks ago, those words had been etched into his mind. A lot of nights he
     had gone to bed thinking about them.
    What can I do to make that wise guy eat his words? Joey had asked himself several times since then. He’ll have graduated from
     high school by the time I’ve really become a good swimmer. But even
good
won’t mean that I’d be fast enough to beat him. Ross’s long arms and legs are to his advantage. There must be something else
     that I can learn to do well and beat him at.
    Just last night it had come to him what that could be.
    “How about tomorrow morning, Joey?” his father asked him at the supper table Friday evening. “You want to wake up at six o’clock
     and go fishing with me? Maybe we can give each other luck.”
    His father had gone fishing every evening for an hour or so since Monday, and all he had caught were eight perch, three smallmouth
     bass,and one lake trout. Two of the perch were too small to bother with, and one of the bass was under legal size, so he had thrown
     them back into the water, leaving him with a total of nine fish. All were cleaned and put in the freezer, left for more to
     accumulate to make a fish cookout for the family of six worthwhile.
    “Okay,” said Joey. “We’re not going to be gone all day, are we?”
    “Noon at the latest,” assured his father.
    He had planned on spending most of Saturday in the water. But it was the first time his father had invited him to go fishing
     with him, and he had thought about trying his luck at it sometime, anyway.
    They finished supper, one of Joey’s favorite meals —
majorannás tokány
— beef stew with marjoram. For dessert there was still
almásrétes
— apple strudel —left from yesterday. His mother always called the foods she prepared by their Hungarian name, and probably
     would for the rest of her life.
    Half an hour after suppertime, he and his brother and sisters went swimming until sundown. The next morning his father awakened
     him at six. What a short night, he thought. But, uncomplaining, he dressed, had a breakfast oftwo scrambled eggs, toast, and milk, and went fishing with his father. They trolled a few miles northward on the east side
     of the lake, and Joey’s father caught two smallmouth bass. Then they crossed the lake and went in the opposite direction for
     a few miles. This time Joey landed a sixteen-inch northern pike, which, while he was reeling it in, fought hard and bitterly
     trying to throw the hook that had nabbed it.
    “Good boy!” exclaimed his father proudly. “I said you would bring us luck!”
    They caught a few small perch, which they threw back, and then returned home. It was close to eleven o’clock, and the sun,
     almost over their heads now, was getting unbearably hot.
    They showed their prize catches to the family — Joey proudly describing the struggle he had pulling in his while they all
     listened with awe. Then his father cleaned the fish at the dock, tossing the fins, innards, and heads back into the water
     for scavengers to devour.
    “Tonight, my dear Margaret,” he said to his wife who stood by watching with the children, “we will have fish.”
    She smiled.