One Fat Summer by Robert Lipsyte

Get a cramp, or get bit by a moccasin. C’mon, hurry up.”
    He flashed his light on my clothes, neatly folded on the front seat of the canoe. “I found them by the old dock. Get dressed. Make it snappy.”
    Except for one sock, everything was there. Even my wallet. I dressed and climbed into the canoe. He shoved off” and jumped in. The canoe moved silently, swiftly, over the water. The sky began to glow with pink. We were halfway back to my side of the lake before I could see his face. He looked very serious.
    â€œWhy’d you come to get me?”
    â€œI don’t give a damn about you, kid, but Willie’s got enough problems.”
    The canoe glided alongside a dock near my hill. “Okay, fats, do yourself a favor. Just forget about tonight. Now get going.”
    I scrambled up on the dock. By the time I turned around he was paddling away, long, powerful strokes that sent the canoe shooting over the water. Jim Smith never looked back.
    I trudged up the hill. Except for the driver of a milk truck, no one saw me. The house was still.I peeked into Michelle’s room. Her bed was empty. I took a shower, and made myself breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon and toast with butter and jelly. I was still hungry. I found the other chicken sandwich from last night. I drank the rest of the chocolate milk, out of the pitcher.
    The phone rang. The sound of it scared me. I let it ring a few times before I got up the nerve to pick it up. What now?
    â€œHello?”
    â€œOh, Bobby, thank God. I was so worried. Where were you last night, I called and called.”
    â€œI didn’t hear the phone ring, Mom.” That was no lie.
    â€œIt must have been the storm. Is everything all right? Is Michelle there?”
    â€œShe’s not up yet.” That was no lie, either. “When are you coming back?”
    â€œThis afternoon. Anything new?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat’ve you been doing?”
    â€œNothing much.”
    â€œWere you scared during the storm?”
    â€œJust a little thunder and lightning, that’s all.”
    She laughed. “Well, I feel a lot better now, believe me. Give my love to Michelle. I’ll see you later.”
    I felt good, not at all tired. I cleaned up my dirty dishes, packed my lunch, and listened to the radio till eight. Might as well get an early start today, knock off the rest of that lawn.
    I met Michelle coming up the hill. She looked terrible, her hair all stringy, her clothes muddy and damp.
    â€œWhat a night,” she said. “Pete’s truck got stuck in the mud, and then he got a flat…Did Mom call?”
    â€œI told her you weren’t up yet. She’s coming back this afternoon.”
    â€œWere you home during the storm?” she asked.
    â€œNo, I was on make-out island.”
    â€œI don’t think that’s funny. I better hurry up or I’ll be late.” She took two steps up the hill, then turned. “Bob? Thanks a lot. I really appreciate this.”
    I sang, “Any Time…”
    She laughed. Made her look a lot better. She’s really pretty, if you like that type.
    I skipped down the hill, and I might have trotted all the way to Dr. Kahn’s if I hadn’t figured I might need my strength later on. You never know what’s going to happen on Rumson Lake.

13
    Tiredness hit me like a ton of bricks in the afternoon. My legs got wobbly, and twice I had to go back over a row to cut grass I had missed. The lawn began to rise and fall like the deck of an ocean liner in a storm. Or a rowboat on Rumson Lake. It was better when I closed my eyes, but then I’d start missing grass again. I kept plowing along, and I finished the lawn by three o’clock.
    The walk home seemed much farther than usual. The county road was undulating like the lawn. I had to step carefully because I couldn’t focus on the concrete; sometimes it seemed to rise up at me, sometimes it seemed to fall