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Show Fair Forever 4 "What grade will you be in?" he asks, but it's none of his business and I hesitate before I answer. "Ninth .. . sort of. I'll be repeating a few things." The man chuckles. "Did that myself." He looks up from his work, out toward the sea. I let my boat drift, careful to give the guy space. He carves on his wood without looking up. Then he asks, "Where's the girl?" My heart jumps again. "Are you asking about Amanda?" The fellow scratches his stubble, thinks over my question. "I suppose," he answers dryly, but I can hear interest in his voice. "I can't say as I remember ever getting her name. Pretty. Easy to talk to." He squints into the sun, revealing more gaps than teeth. "She rowed out in that skiff, she did. I haven't seen her since, but she sure could row." He nods as he speaks and his eyes lift to the horizon. "Her name was Amanda," I explain. "I taught her to row. Taught her last spring." He looks me over once, twice, big questions in his eyes. "You been rowing long yourself?" I turn up my palms and look at my hands. "Not long," I admit. Today is a test. A test for my arms and my lungs and my heart-and my will. A longer row waits: A much harder row. But I don't explain. I know that, soon, the wind will blow and the waves will roar and the current will grow strong. "When did you meet Amanda?" I ask, dipping an oar to correct my position. |
