Richard, still in the water, clung to the side of that dock and watched the desperate counselors in a daze.

Time was ticking. Two then three minutes is a long time to be expected to hold your breath. And survive…

Under again. Up.

The counselors were obviously exhausted. Richard could tell.

Three and a half minutes passed. Richard climbed out.

A counselor came up and turned to Richard, praying the whereabouts of the missing kid might be there somewhere in his buddy’s face.

Under again. Up.

“You…you…you can’t go this long,” the girl cried. “You can’t do it. A human being needs to—”

Under again Up.

“You’d die. You can’t…a person has to…”

Under again. Up.

“Dan?”

Four minutes had passed.

“Dan?”

“What?”

“People have to breathe, Dan. He—he’s dead.”

It was a long time before the counselors quit. One by one they gave in. One by one they lifted themselves onto the dock.

Nobody spoke. Lips trembled, but nobody said a word.

And then…

The sound of something emerging from water, and out from the left tip of that great H, Charles pulled himself onto the dock.

“Oh!” the girl shrieked. “Oh my God you’re okay!” She was smiling, hysterical, but most of the counselors remained on their knees. Stone-faced.

It was clear Charles had been hiding.

“Where were you?” one asked. He rose to his full height, dwarfing Charles beneath him.

Charles was as blank-faced as ever.

“Hey kid, where the fuck were you?”

And then it broke.

Noise. Yelling. Crying.

“I’m gonna break your fucking skull.”

The counselor raised a fist.

Another reached out and stopped him.

“The kid is a motherfucking psycho!”

“Then bring him to the office, man,” the second counselor said. “But don’t do this.”

Charles started to cry. He cried the same way Richard would see him cry nineteen years later, in Richard’s Dodge Dart, at the corner of Lily and Neptune in downtown Goblin.

“Get this piece of shit out of here,” the first counselor said. Then, to Charles, “You’re a piece of shit and we’re sending you home.”

The second counselor led him quietly through the other campers. Richard, dripping on the battered dock, watched Charles pass with confusion.

In that moment, watching Charles pass, understanding what Charles had done, Richard understood clearly every suspicion his mother held.

The campers were ushered solemnly back to shore. The day couldn’t go on. They took the path back to their cabins and were instructed to play games.

Later that night, just when Richard heard the first heavy breathing of his bunkmates falling asleep, Charles returned.

He knelt by Richard’s bed.

“It was fascinating,” he said. Like he knew Richard was awake. Despite the dark. Like he knew Richard was up, worrying about him.

“What was?” Richard asked, still so confused.

“Watching people try so hard to save your life.”

Richard was quiet.

“They’re making me leave, of course. Sending me home.”

Richard was quiet.

Then Charles was up and noiselessly shuffling to his own bed.