Last summer when they were on-again, Meg told me snippets about him, how his father was Jewish and his mother was Hindu, and how he was still figuring out if religion was athinghe was into, especially since they split up a few years back. Every week, his mother sent him care packages full of fennel candies from the Indian markets she frequented in New Jersey, and he’d share them with Meg under the stars. He spoke of bringing her to Chennai to meet his cousins and aunties, and his dreams of becoming a principal at the private school in Westchester where he teaches during the school year. He loves the job because it means he can keep coming back to camp. He’s one of the only lifers who keeps doing so, shrugging off prospects of med school and Wall Street internships. Levin cares about this place as much as Stu and Mellie do. As much as I do.
“Imogen. Ava. Get after the dock with Goldie,” Levin calls.
They groan, but we each grab a side of the massive white platform that’s sitting on the sand.
“Use that core, bitches,” Ava says, bending over.
Imogen grunts. “I hate this shit.” Her voice carries over the water.
“But you love it!” a handful of the lifeguards yell back to us. Another classic Alpine Lake call-and-response. I look toward the deep end, and there are four guards hanging off the right dock, which they’ve just set up. They cheer us on from their post. One of them, Aaron Jacobson, is clearly looking right at Ava.
“Aaron’s checking you out,” I say through stilted breath as we shuffle the dock toward the water.
“Oh yeah?” Ava asks.
Imogen nods. “Please don’t make me speak while we’re carrying a million pounds.” We’re at the edge of the water and it’s now or never.
“Ready?” I say with a huff. “Two-six-hut!” Our muscles tense as we push the dock into the lake. Then we climb in, the cold a sudden shock, and start swimming, pushing the dock farther into the deep end.
“I mean, I guess I could go for Aaron this summer,” Ava says. The three of us are shoulder to shoulder now, our arms braced against the dock as we flutter our legs behind us. “Eh, he’s a nice guy though, right?”
“Pre-med at Cornell,” Imogen says.
Ava rolls her eyes. “Pass.”
Levin blows his whistle long and loud from the head lifeguard chair at the base of the waterfront. A signal the dock is finally in place. We pause and tread water, grasping on to the sides. “Rock paper scissors for anchor duty?” Imogen suggests.
“Loser gets winners’ canteen?” Ava asks.
Imogen and I nod, and I’m comforted by another ritual, anotherpiece of shorthand only we understand. It’s a tradition we’ve had since we were kids, when you could only get three pieces of candy at weekly canteen. Counselors take five, and lifeguards get as much as we want, but that never stopped us from gambling with it.
I lose. “Charleston Chew or bust, baby.”
“When are you gonna realize that shitruinsyour teeth?” Imogen says, splashing me with water.
She and Ava get into position to hold the dock still as I duck under it, looking for the metal chain that will connect to the anchor down below. My head bobs in the pocket of air between the dock and the surface of the water as I ready myself for the dive. All you have to do is swim down to the floor of the lake and hook the metal chain to the anchor below. Should be easy, if you’ve been keeping up your lifeguarding training all year. But I started slacking after New Year’s.
I take a deep breath and go under, using the chain to guide me to the floor. When I finally get there, my head feels like it’s about to explode and I know I need to find the anchor fast.
I grope around with my hands and find the metal circle.Quick, I think.Hurry. I grab the end of the chain and fumble a few times. I’m lightheaded now, wondering what Ava and Imogen are joking about up at the surface.
I fumble again, not able to thread the metal links. I try once more. One final time.
Click. Relief passes through me.
I let go of the chain and kick my legs harder than I ever have, pushing, pumping, rushing to the top. For air. For light.
I gasp when I reach the surface, sputtering.
A hand extends to me from on top of the dock and I look up tofind Imogen leaning over the edge. “Iconic performance,” she says, smiling wide. “Come on. Enjoy the fruits of your labor.”
I take her hand and let her pull me up onto the dock, where I flop over onto my back like a dead fish. I turn my face to the sun and my chest heaves as I catch my breath.
“I did it.”
“Yeah, you did.” Imogen lies down next to me and we both enjoy the quiet laughter around us until I realize Ava’s not there.
“Where’d she go?” I ask.
