years of sports
training before that.
His arms reached farther back than he ever thought they would stretch. His legs kept up a perfectly synchronized kick from
the thighs down. His speed increased until — at last — he touched the edge of the pool. The race was over.
Usually, when he'd finished doing the backstroke, Jerry felt a great sense of relief. But now it was a lot like the end of
a sprint. He was exhausted and excited all at the same time.
But how did he do? Where had he placed? flashed through his mind.
“Good work, Lars,” said the coach. “You, too, Jerry. You almost overtook him in that last lap. Wayne, you got off to a slow
start, but you made up for it and came in third. Tony, you were close at fourth. Sammy, you were fifth. And Paul, you were
right on his heels. You all did fine. Now, let me see the next group of boys.”
Second! That was the best he'd ever done in the backstroke. And he'd gone up against such veteran swimmers as Wayne — and
Tony.
What if the coach put him in for the hundred backstroke instead of Tony? After all, Tony'd placed fourth. Why couldn't Wayne
have swum a really bad race? Or even Lars? This was exactly what he didn't want to happen.
While these thoughts were running through his mind, Tony came over to him and clapped him on the back.
“Way to go, champ!” he said. “They're going to have to refill the pool when you get through!”
“What do you mean?” asked Jerry.
“You're drying up the water with all that heat you're pouring on,” said Tony. “I'd be jealous if I wasn't so proud of you.
With all the work you've put in, you deserve it.”
Here was Tony, possibly eliminated from the one event he wanted to do well in, congratulating him. It was as if Jerry had
beaten him out for a slot in the batting order, but Tony didn't mind. After all, it was for the good of the swimming team.
For the first time, Jerry had a sense of what that really meant.
14
The first thing Jerry remembered about that Saturday morning was the sound of the “heat bug” outside his open window. Mom
always said that meant it was going to be a real scorcher.
“Can we go swimming today?” asked Lucie, sloshing her soggy cereal back and forth with her spoon.
“Don't be a dummy,” said David. “We're all going to the pool, but we're not going swimming. We're going to watch Jerry in
the swimming meet.”
“Are you going to be in that long, long race again, Jerry?” Lucie asked.
“I don't know,” he said. “I'll have to see what the coach decides when I get there.”
He couldn't tell her how much he wanted to swim in more than just one event. Placing in one of the top three positions in
a number of races was how hecould really help the team. After all, it was the final score that counted, wasn't it?
“You kids finish up,” said Mr. Grayson. “Jerry, I'll run you over to the bus when it's time. Why don't you straighten out
your room meanwhile?”
“I thought I'd brush Yogi,” Jerry said.
“That's what I was afraid of,” said Mr. Grayson, smiling at him. “That dog is going to be down to bare skin if you brush her
any more!”
“A bald Yogi!” cried Lucie through a mouthful of cereal.
Jerry could hear her giggling as he went up to his room.
It wasn't that much of a mess, but it would help pass the time to clean it up.
First he picked up all his clothes that were draped over everything — his dresser knobs, desk, chair, reading lamp, bedposts,
and bookcase. He stashed some of them in drawers, put some in his laundry bag, and shoved most of the remaining pile in his
closet.
Curled up on her dog pillow in the corner, Yogi watched all this activity with a curious eye.
“A place for everything and everything in itsplace,” said Jerry. “That's what Mom always says. Well, it's all out of sight, anyhow”
He was about to close the closet door when he noticed his baseball glove on the top shelf. He reached up and ran a finger
training before that.
His arms reached farther back than he ever thought they would stretch. His legs kept up a perfectly synchronized kick from
the thighs down. His speed increased until — at last — he touched the edge of the pool. The race was over.
Usually, when he'd finished doing the backstroke, Jerry felt a great sense of relief. But now it was a lot like the end of
a sprint. He was exhausted and excited all at the same time.
But how did he do? Where had he placed? flashed through his mind.
“Good work, Lars,” said the coach. “You, too, Jerry. You almost overtook him in that last lap. Wayne, you got off to a slow
start, but you made up for it and came in third. Tony, you were close at fourth. Sammy, you were fifth. And Paul, you were
right on his heels. You all did fine. Now, let me see the next group of boys.”
Second! That was the best he'd ever done in the backstroke. And he'd gone up against such veteran swimmers as Wayne — and
Tony.
What if the coach put him in for the hundred backstroke instead of Tony? After all, Tony'd placed fourth. Why couldn't Wayne
have swum a really bad race? Or even Lars? This was exactly what he didn't want to happen.
While these thoughts were running through his mind, Tony came over to him and clapped him on the back.
“Way to go, champ!” he said. “They're going to have to refill the pool when you get through!”
“What do you mean?” asked Jerry.
“You're drying up the water with all that heat you're pouring on,” said Tony. “I'd be jealous if I wasn't so proud of you.
With all the work you've put in, you deserve it.”
Here was Tony, possibly eliminated from the one event he wanted to do well in, congratulating him. It was as if Jerry had
beaten him out for a slot in the batting order, but Tony didn't mind. After all, it was for the good of the swimming team.
For the first time, Jerry had a sense of what that really meant.
14
The first thing Jerry remembered about that Saturday morning was the sound of the “heat bug” outside his open window. Mom
always said that meant it was going to be a real scorcher.
“Can we go swimming today?” asked Lucie, sloshing her soggy cereal back and forth with her spoon.
“Don't be a dummy,” said David. “We're all going to the pool, but we're not going swimming. We're going to watch Jerry in
the swimming meet.”
“Are you going to be in that long, long race again, Jerry?” Lucie asked.
“I don't know,” he said. “I'll have to see what the coach decides when I get there.”
He couldn't tell her how much he wanted to swim in more than just one event. Placing in one of the top three positions in
a number of races was how hecould really help the team. After all, it was the final score that counted, wasn't it?
“You kids finish up,” said Mr. Grayson. “Jerry, I'll run you over to the bus when it's time. Why don't you straighten out
your room meanwhile?”
“I thought I'd brush Yogi,” Jerry said.
“That's what I was afraid of,” said Mr. Grayson, smiling at him. “That dog is going to be down to bare skin if you brush her
any more!”
“A bald Yogi!” cried Lucie through a mouthful of cereal.
Jerry could hear her giggling as he went up to his room.
It wasn't that much of a mess, but it would help pass the time to clean it up.
First he picked up all his clothes that were draped over everything — his dresser knobs, desk, chair, reading lamp, bedposts,
and bookcase. He stashed some of them in drawers, put some in his laundry bag, and shoved most of the remaining pile in his
closet.
Curled up on her dog pillow in the corner, Yogi watched all this activity with a curious eye.
“A place for everything and everything in itsplace,” said Jerry. “That's what Mom always says. Well, it's all out of sight, anyhow”
He was about to close the closet door when he noticed his baseball glove on the top shelf. He reached up and ran a finger
Similar Books
