“I see it.” My dad eased the rudder a bit to the right. To me he said, “Great, right? You can go up to the bowsprit if you want a better view.”
“No thanks,” I said.
“Keep the buoy on your right,” Tracy told him. “There’s a red one to port, about a hundred feet.”
As we passed it, though, the traffic of swimmers and other boats began to clear out, leaving us an open path ahead. The water was glittering, sun bouncing off it, andI let a hand dangle in as waves peeled off the sides. I had to admit it was nice, if you liked that sort of thing.
My dad pulled the mainsheet even tighter, leaning back as my side of the boat lifted up a bit. “Now we’re cooking with grease! Emma, pull up that centerboard.”
“What?” I asked.
“The centerboard.” He pointed. “Grab it with both hands and pull straight up.”
I scrambled over, grabbing for the centerboard handle. It didn’t budge. Meanwhile, we were now moving what felt like even faster, the wind whipping in my ears.
“Pull straight up,” he repeated.
“I am!” I replied, doing just that. Tracy got to her feet, coming over to join me. “It’s stuck!”
“She’s right,” Tracy reported, after trying herself. “Maybe if we wiggle it again...”
“Emma, take the rudder and this mainsheet,” he directed me. Which was even worse. Now I was steering?
“But—” I said.
“Take it.” He stood, holding it out to me, and I grabbed it, moving into the spot where he’d been sitting, the mainsheet clutched in one hand. “Just steer us toward the other side, keeping all buoys on your left.”
“Or right, if it’s red,” Tracy added.
“Is this thing broken?” my dad asked, his face flushed from his efforts to budge the centerboard. Tracy, trying to help him, pulled from the other side. Meanwhile, we wereflying across the water, the sails I was holding full to the point of straining. It was scary enough even before I saw the Sunfish.
It was small, with an orange sail that had a smiley face on it. A guy and a kid, both in life vests, were sitting on it, staring at us openmouthed as we raced toward them.
“Um, Dad?” I said.
“Just keep us pointed in the direction I told you.”
“But—”
Then, Tracy saw the Sunfish. “Emma! Come about!”
“What?” I said. On the Sunfish, the kid’s eyes were wide, his dad now scrambling to get out of the way.
“Wait, what?” my dad said quizzically. Then he looked up. “COME ABOUT!”
But I didn’t know how to do that. I didn’t even really know what the centerboard was. And now we were almost at the Sunfish.
“Move!” my dad yelled. I did, jumping out of the way as he grabbed the rudder, pushing it away from us, hard. There was a jerk and the boom came swinging around: this time, I ducked. The mainsheet, caught on a knob between my dad and the mast, was pulled so tight I could see it straining. As I watched, helpless, as my dad tried to loosen it, we dipped even farther to the side, then farther still.
We’re capsizing, I thought, panicked, but it was all happening so slowly it was surreal: the boat tilting, scooping up water, the sails all flapping, their lines thwacking.
“MAYDAY!” screamed the kid on the Sunfish, whichdidn’t really help anything.
“Hold on!” my dad yelled. “I’m getting her upright. Find life jackets!”
Tracy dove into the cargo hold, returning seconds later with three orange life preservers. As she handed me one, my dad cursing behind her, she said evenly, “Everything’s fine.”
Fine, I repeated to myself as I pulled it over my head, tightening the straps. We were upright again, although water was inside the boat now, rushing over my feet. That couldn’t be good.
