The boy startles, stopping his flailing. He’s red-faced and chin-deep in the blue and purple foam cubes. “I’m stuck! Are you here to help me?”
“Yeah. But you gotta help me too.”
He blinks. “What? Why?” A hand emerges from the foam, wiping across his dripping nose.
These foam blocks are absolutely disgusting. I’m showering twice after this.
“I’m stuck too. See that lady?” I tilt my head toward Dance Mom.
The boy nods.
“I don’t wanna talk to her anymore. But she wants to talk to me. So, we’re gonna have to escape to the other side of the pit.”
The boy frowns. “But I can’t escape.”
“Sure you can.”
Another shrill voice calls from the edge, “Are you done yet? Get out of the way!”
The boy seems on the verge of tears again.
“You can wait,” I call up at the impatient kid. Then to the boy, “And you can get out of here. It’s like swimming. Except a million times worse.”
The boy suddenly laughs past his welling tears. “It’s terrible!”
“Yeah, but at least you can breathe. You can’t drown. Take a breath and let’s go.”
The boy puts forth an awkward effort, and now that he’s not flailing, he actually makes some progress. But he quickly stops, panting. “I’m tired,” he whines.
“And you’re gonna be more tired by the time we escape.”
He huffs and clambers a bit more through the foam. “It’s hard!”
“It is. It sucks. And since you panicked, I have to suffer with you. You happy?”
The boy chokes out another surprised laugh at my wry grin, then resumes his efforts.
“I hate this fucking foam,” I grumble. “I’d rather land on my ass…”
“You’re not supposed to say those words, mister!”
“What, ‘fuck’? Or ‘ass’?”
He slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling his sheepish laugh.
“Hey, do me a favor. Tell me, is that lady still watching us?”
The boy turns, now totally distracted from his panic. “Uh, yeah, and she looks all swoony like the ladies in the movies my mom likes.”
“Fucking hell…”
He giggles, especially when he sees my grimace. Jumping into the pit may’ve been a temporary escape, but I’m in even deeper shit now.
“Uh, mister, she’s looking for a way to come to this side…”
“Goddammit. Okay, kid, hustle.”
I slog through the foam, and once I’m ahead of the boy, I reach back for his hand, then pull him to the top of the foam and across it. I clamber over the edge and hoist him out, plopping the kid onto his feet.
