Morgan Makes a Splash Read online

  Morgan Makes a Splash

  Ted Staunton

  Illustrated by Bill Slavin

  Formac Publishing Company Limited

  1

  In Too Deep

  “Ga-a-a-a-a-ngway - In-coming!”

  “ATOMIC BELLY-BUSTER!”

  Will, Simon, and Jordan jump into the pool. Will holds his nose. Simon holds his knees. Jordan doesn’t hold anything. WHUMMP. The splash splatters my toes, and I’m way over at the picnic table. I hope the chips don’t get wet.

  Nobody minds. Our class is having an end-of-school party at my best friend Charlie’s house, so we’ve got all summer to dry. Besides, everybody is in bathing suits.

  Well, I have my T-shirt over my suit, but it can get a little wet. Not a lot wet. Then it would stick to me and show how much I jiggle. I don’t want that.

  I went in the pool earlier, in the shallow end, and waded around on my knees. That way, most of me was underwater, where you can’t tell if I jiggle. I didn’t get too underwater though, because I can’t swim. Later, everybody wanted me to jump in, to see how big a splash I’d make. I said I was too hungry. I’ve been at the chips ever since. I like chips. Also, you can’t drown in them.

  My mom and Charlie’s mom come out of the house with the hot dogs. Our teacher, Mrs. Ross, has the pop. Good, the chips have made me thirsty. Charlie’s dog, Roxy, is running around barking like crazy. So is half our class. The rest are splashing.

  “Come and get it,” calls Charlie’s mom. I stand up and - bammo - there’s Aldeen Hummel, the Godzilla of Grade Three, elbows sticking out like her witchy hair, hogging the hot dogs. Where the heck did she come from?

  “Aldeen,” Mrs. Ross smiles, “Aren’t you going to swim? Where’s you suit?”

  Aldeen has on her shorts and T-shirt. She pushes up her glasses. “I forgot it.”

  What a liar. You can see her swimsuit sticking out the neck of her T-shirt. I take my food over by the pool. If you’re smart, you don’t say Godzilla is lying. You don’t stand too close, either.

  But I’m not smart enough. Everybody is jumping in the pool. Somebody gives me a push.

  AAAAAGH! It’s the deep end: I go under. Water rockets up my nose. I thrash around; I’m going to die. My feet hit bottom. I push for the sky and find my head is already in the air. I open my eyes. The deep end only comes up to my neck. Whew. I’m panting. I’m also starting to feel dumb. My T-shirt is swishing around me. Oh, man, it is going to stick like glue to every single jiggle I’ve got. Everybody will laugh.

  Except everyone is watching Aldeen. She’s been pushed in, too. Now she’s after Ian like a monster octopus. This is good, because I have just seen something else. When I hit the water, my bathing suit came off.

  2

  The Party’s Over

  My suit is down at my knees. I wiggle it back on fast, before anybody sees. Then I climb out and wrap my towel around my shoulders. Oh, man, that was close. Getting seen with no swimsuit on would be even worse than jiggling.

  After a while, parents show up for home time. I’m staying, because Charlie and I are having a sleepover tonight. Aldeen’s mom comes. It’s about time - after Aldeen got Ian she hooked Ashley’s swimsuit to the swings while Ashley was still in it. Then she hogged the last hot dog.

  “Aldeen!” her mom yells. Wow. I thought Aldeen’s voice was scary. Her mom looks like Aldeen, only taller and with sunglasses and a cigarette. She starts talking to my mom and Charlie’s.

  Aldeen doesn’t answer. “Your mom’s here,” I say to her.

  “Shut up,” says Aldeen. “And turn around.” She scrooches down to the ground, still wearing her soggy shorts and shirt. I guess she can’t take them off because then you’d see she has a swimsuit after all.

  “ALDEEN!” her mom yells again.

  “Maybe she’s in the house,” says Charlie’s mom.

  “She better not be, without permission,” Aldeen’s mom growls. Then Aldeen comes out the patio door. Except she’s … different. Aldeen has shrunk; her clothes are like circus tents. Then I see why: they’re my clothes, the dry ones I was saving for after. “Hey!” I say.

  Aldeen’s mom says, “What are you wearing? Those aren’t yours.”

  “Are too,” says Aldeen, the big fat liar. I mean, the little skinny liar. “Gramma bought them yesterday for me at the Goodwill.”

  “What’d she do, forget her glasses?”

  “She says I’ll grow into them.”

  Aldeen’s mom shakes her head. “Well, where’s your suit?”

  “In here.” Aldeen holds up a ratty old rolled-up towel.

  I can’t believe it. Aldeen steals my clothes and lies about it, then pretends she never lied about not having a swimsuit. And my own mom isn’t saying anything.

  “All right. Thanks, and see ya,” Aldeen’s mom says to Charlie’s mom. “Call me about it,” she says to my mom.

  They’re gone before I can get over there. “She stole my clothes!”

  “You’ve got others,” my mom says. Out front, the Hummels’ car rumbles off.

  “But she’s a liar!”

  My mom looks me in the eye. “Morgan, would you want to tell Aldeen’s mom that you got your clothes soaked when you weren’t supposed to if you were Aldeen?”

  “Yeah, but -”

  “Think about it,” my mom says cheerfully. “And here’s something else to think about: before we go camping this summer, you’re taking swimming lessons.”

  3

  Swimming with Godzilla

  And guess who else - surprise, surprise - is taking swimming? My mom drives us to the pool for our first lesson. Godzilla and I are not happy.

  The pool is outside, in a park. The change room smells like old socks and cleaner. It is full of benches and lockers and big kids who are already wet. They’re yelling and flicking towels and skidding around in the puddles. I sneak to a locker in the corner and try to hide behind the door while I change. I do it fast; I don’t like changing in front of people. The floor feels slimy under my toes. I leave my T-shirt on.

  Out in the sun it’s better. Aldeen is standing with a bunch of other kids in front of a teenager. He’s got a whistle and a red basketball shirt and a clipboard.

  “Morgan?” he calls. “I’m Don. C’mon over.”

  The first thing Don does is send us back for showers before we go in the pool. “And, Morgan,” he says, “take your shirt off. It’ll be too heavy in the water.”

  I look at the other kids. They’re skinny, and I don’t know them. This is not the time to jiggle. “But you’re wearing one,” I say weakly.

  “Yeah, but mine’s mesh and has no sleeves.”

  I take off my shirt and hug myself to hold everything together. Then I duck under the shower, zip into the pool, and sink down up to my neck in the shallow end.

  “Good hustle, Morgan,” Don says. “Hurry up, uh …” He looks at his clipboard. I could tell him, but I don’t. Aldeen is tiptoeing into the pool as if she’s scared it’s full of alligators. She stays near the edge. I turn the other way and stay low.

  Don gets us to wade around and swish the water. Then he shows us how to duck under and blow out bubbles.

  “Try it,” he says.

  I take a breath so big I swallow some of it. Then I close my eyes and lower my face. The water pushes against me. It feels weird. Some wanders into my ears. I start blubbing bubbles. It’s loud and muffly at the same time. Then up comes this mega-burp: BLUUUUUUUP! Oh, no. I shoot out of the water, then remember my jiggles. Oh, no. I shoot back down. My knees bonk the bo
ttom. “Ow!”

  Everybody laughs. I want to sink to the bottom, except I’ll drown. Then one of the kids says, “Cool.”

  Don says, “Can you do it again?”

  “Oh. Sure,” I say. I’m good at burping. I’m also starting to like Don.

  Everybody tries - except Aldeen. She won’t go under. She sinks down until her nose is just above the ripples. Her glasses look like the periscope on an enemy sub.

  “Okay,” Don says, “One jump in, then we’re done for today.”

  Oh-oh. We line up. I give myself a one-arm hug to keep from jiggling. With my other hand I grab my swimsuit, tight.

  “Hey,” says a kid, “I bet you can make a big splash.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” I say.

  Don stands in the pool to take your hand as you jump in. I give him my no-jiggling one; there’s no way I’m letting go of my suit. Then I jump and he pulls me under. I get water up my nose, but it’s okay: my suit stays. I laugh.

  Aldeen is next. “You better catch me,” she warns. Don nods. She jumps. Don pulls her under. Aldeen kicks him, below the water line.

  4

  Loaded Towel

  “Ho-lee!” says Charlie when I tell him about it. “What’d he do then?”

  “He folded up like a lawn chair,” I say. That’s what my mom said to my dad.

  Charlie and I are playing checkers up in my play fort. It’s after my second swimming lesson. It went okay. I made everyone laugh again with my underwater burp. This time I did it when I did a face-down float. Later I did an okay splash, but I hung on to my suit with both hands. I think the others noticed that.

  Charlie takes lessons too, except he is a million levels ahead of me. He says, “Last year when we were doing rescues, this one guy did a monster fart underwater. You should have seen it bubble up.”

  We giggle. I know Charlie is just talking, but it’s a little too much like me burping. I say, “Well, it’s better than peeing in there.”

  Charlie moves a checker. “Aw, man. Little kids pee in there all the time.”

  “They do?” Geez, maybe Aldeen has the right idea. She still won’t put her head in the water. She lifts it up even when she tries to float on her back, which she can’t do. A couple of kids snickered at her today. That was dumb: she stomped on their toes underwater. Boy, it’s easy to tell kids who don’t know Aldeen.

  Charlie says, “It’s okay, that’s why they put all that chlorine in the water.” He’s still talking about peeing.

  I move a checker and say “Yeah,” as if I knew that all the time. What I think is, Whew!

  But really, that’s not what is bugging me right now. If I can make kids laugh, the lesson is okay, even with pee. Don is okay. In the water I can hide my jiggles. What is bugging me is the change room: I hate it in there. It stinks. It’s noisy. The floor is slimy. And it is full of towel-flicking big kids. It is dangerous having a bare rear in that place, especially if you jiggle. I got zapped twice today. The second time my towel fell off right onto the slimy floor and I was hopping around bare-naked. And jiggling.

  I don’t tell all that to Charlie. It would sound wussy. I say the change room stinks and kids flick towels.

  Charlie says, “I know. That’s why I always wear my suit to the pool. Then I only have to change at home time. And if they towel flick - here, I’ll show you.”

  We slide down the fort slide. My wet towel is still on the clothesline. Charlie shows me how to do his never-fail killer towel flick. I get it on the third try. It makes a crack like fireworks. I try it again. Crack. And again. CRACK. Wear my suit to the pool, huh? And carry a loaded towel. Things are looking up. I promise myself not to show Aldeen how to do this.

  5

  Present Tense

  Next morning, I wear my suit under my shorts and carry my underpants in my towel. I’m feeling good. Aldeen is as grumpy as ever. On the way to the pool there’s something else new. My mom says, “From now on, I’ll drop you off and come back. I’ve got errands to do.”

  “Okay,” I say. Hummel the Bummel looks out the window.

  I get out of the change room in one second flat. I keep my rolled-up towel out of my one-second shower, then do a one-arm jiggle-stopper hug as I run over to my group on the deck and put my towel down by the fence. Perfect.

  In fact, as Don calls our names, it is too perfect. It is too quiet. And then I see why: Aldeen is not here. I look around. Something jabs my back through the fence.

  “Ow!” I whip around. Aldeen is hiding behind a bush. She’s got a stick in her hand. I open my mouth but she makes a sshhh sign. “Say ‘present’ for me,” she hisses.

  “How? He’s already called your name.” I rub my back where she poked me.

  “They’ll call my mom if I’m absent. Check me off when nobody’s looking.”

  “No,” I say. How can I do that? Anyway, I don’t want to. My back hurts; she poked me right where I jiggle.

  Aldeen’s eyes squinch up. “You better. Or you’ll be cat food.”

  Don is telling us to get in the pool. I jiggle over, grab my suit with both hands and jump in. It’s not much of a jump. “Aw,” says a kid, “You didn’t hardly splash.”

  “Later,” I promise. Really, I’m too scared to care. If I check Aldeen’s name and get caught, I’m in trouble. If I don’t, she’s going to turn me into cat food. I peek at the bushes. Is she there? I get so worried I don’t even do any giant burps.

  “You’re not doing anything funny today,” someone complains. That’s because I’m too busy remembering how Aldeen stuffed Kaely into the wastebasket last year.

  Finally, we line up on deck for our last jumps. Don’s clipboard is on the bench, right beside me. There’s Aldeen’s name and the spot to check. Don turns his back. I grab the pen and mark Aldeen present. Nobody sees. Then I grab my suit with both hands. I forget about my promise, though. I make hardly any splash at all.

  6

  Slow Change Artist

  “Okay,” Don says, “See you tomorrow, everybody.”

  I get out fast and grab my towel. I don’t want to be around if Don notices his papers are wet. I also want to get to the change room. I need to get my underwear out of my towel and on me to be ready if the flicking starts.

  I’m first in. I’ve got my locker open, my suit off, and my towel around me before anybody else even gets to the showers. All I have to do is grab my underpants and … and - wait a second, where are my underpants? I freeze. They’ve got to be here. I do hyper-speed looks to the floor, bench, locker - nothing. They’ve got to be here. What am I going to put on? I can’t lose my underpants; I can’t look that stupid.

  There are voices in the shower room. I look again. They’ve GOT to be here: they were rolled up in my towel. So why don’t I remember them coming out of my towel when I unrolled it? Oh, no. Don’t tell me they fell out. Don’t tell me they’re lying somewhere and I am going to have to pick them up in front of everybody.

  I pull on my shorts without even drying off and whip back out, looking. Nothing. Aargh. I feel bare-naked, even with shorts on.

  I go back in. Now everybody’s there. “Hey, Morgan wet his pants!”

  I look down; I knew I should have dried off first. At least no one knows I’m bare under there. I open my mouth and find myself saying “Nah, didn’t you see me go back through the shower? I’m too hot.”

  Then I pull on my T-shirt, walk into the shower again, get all wet, come out, and put my swimsuit on my head like a hat. “Aah,” I say, in a silly voice, “That’s better!”

  Everybody laughs and crowds back into the shower, with their clothes on, to get wet too. My big mouth has saved me - except I’ve lost my underpants and I look like a bozo. I wrap my towel over my shoulders to hide my jiggles and walk outside.

  Aldeen is waiting, still holding her stick. My under-pants
are hanging from it.

  “Hey!” I grab them. “You stole them!”

  Her nose wrinkles up. “Nice try, dumb one. They fell out of your towel by the fence. I got them back for you.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Uh, thanks.”

  “And you look stupid with your swimsuit on your head.”

  I pull it off. Then I see Aldeen’s hair is wet. Her swimsuit is dripping out the end of her towel. How did she …?

  “I used the drinking fountain,” she says. “That’s what I’m doing from now on. And you can mark me present.”

  7

  Not Again

  For the next two days I mark Aldeen present. It’s tricky - but she did help with my underwear, and I don’t want to be cat food. The only problem is, by the time I get done with burping, splashing, jiggle-stopping, silly voices, name checking-off, and towel flicking, I don’t have time to learn how to swim.

  Don says, “Morgan, if you don’t settle down you won’t earn your badge. Then you’ll have to do this all over again.”

  Aaaaaaaaaaaah, not again! But how can I not do all the other junk? If I don’t, everyone will laugh at me. Except, part of me says, they laugh at me now. Except, another part of me says, now I get to choose what they laugh at. I’m all mixed up.

  After class Aldeen is standing right outside the change-room doors, dripping, as if she just had her lesson, changed, and stepped out. My mom drives up. I’m still mixed up. Then I think of something else.

  As we walk over to the car I say to Aldeen, “If you don’t come to class, you can’t get your badge. Then your mom will find out and you’ll have to do it all over again.”

  Aldeen’s forehead lumps up as she thinks. She says, “Steal one for me.”

  “Oh come on, Aldeen,” I cry, “Get real. I might not even get my own badge.”