“Last night they showed they have no respect for us. What we think doesn’t count.” She’s talking about the movie. Pollyanna. That seems so long ago.

“The Soviet tried to play their game, within their rules. But then they repealed the rules. So, I decided, definitively, out in front of the lodge last night, that we’d do the reverse telethon. Everyone’s for it. It’ll be tremendous. The Jaycees and the Honorable State Senator McNeill—all the Philistine elite—will be gathered here to gawk at us with no idea what’s about to hit them.”

Sue comes to check on us. “How’s it going out here?”

“Fine,” we say in unison.

As Sue stands by, we attend to the badminton game. Peggy Jo and Denise come over for coaching. My energy rises; Sara’s scheme has me a little keyed up. I’m hungry now.

Sue stays until the game ends. “It’s great to see you all working so well together.”

*   *   *

Peggy Jo leans down, ostensibly to hit my brakes. She barely moves her lips. “I hear you’re in!” Carole comes with life vests, and Peggy Jo drops her things on the sand and dashes to the water. Now that I know, I can see Sara passing messages all day. The reverse telethon is on. Jean’s in.

Carole, so cute in her demure two-piece swimsuit, holds my shoulders. We walk into the water, and I try to remember. Did I ever say “I’m in”? No. No one asked. Am I in? I’m not sure. I’m still tired.

I feel my steel-awl heels puncture the sand. In my mind I can see Carole’s feet alongside mine, leaving gentle impressions with each step as they lead our two bodies forward. The water reaches my chest, and I lie back.

I try to let the water carry me, but I’m too off-center. If I don’t get moving, I might sink. I kick and propel myself headfirst all the way to the floating barrels. Here I stop. I have left everyone behind. The nagging stress is giving way to wild thoughts, doubts are rising to despair. Do I have a place, anywhere, in the world?

I have to stop it. I can’t relax, so I hold back my wild impulses with countertension. I force myself to worry about the reverse telethon.

I don’t really understand Sara’s plan. Whatever it is, it’ll probably fail. But when it fails, I don’t want it to be my fault. I’ll be cool. For the rest of the day I’ll go through the motions; when the time comes, I’ll fall in line. Whatever that means.

I push off against a barrel and start kicking again. I’ll go with the script. Sara’s script. The script no one else knows anything about.

It might be a terrible thing.