Coralee and Bert swim up to me on either side. Coralee’s hair is so bright in the sun, it looks white, and Bert is a pale ghost in the muddy water.

“Okay, you can let go now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hutch, let go.”

After a second he does. And I let the water take me. My body floats weightless, each part as steady and strong as the rest.

I kick a little with my foot and practice moving one leg and then the other, until I am moving out farther from the shore.

I lift my head and see Mom standing with her hands on her hips.

I wave.

She waves back.

When I reach the buoys that separate the swimming area from the rest of the lake, I see they are orange and faded in the sun. I grab onto one, and Bert and Coralee each take another. A fish swims by and brushes up against my leg, and then it must reach Coralee, because she screams, and we’re all laughing, and the sun isn’t so hot now.

Mom and I are going over to Grandpa and Mema’s condo for supper. I’ve promised to bring dessert. They’re at Autumn Leaves now. There’s a fitness center and an indoor swimming pool and a community garden and poker night, and I think they might like it better than the trailer, which is okay because the trailer is ours now and they can still come visit all the time. And once Mom gets settled into her permanent teaching job at the high school, she promises a full renovation with a handicapped shower. The pie mailbox is already up.

After a few minutes I turn around and close my eyes and let go of the buoy and drift. Wherever you want to take me, I think as the waves pull me along.

I hear Coralee yelling, “Hey, wait for us!” but my ears are underwater and it comes to me gently.

I am floating.

Acknowledgments

To Reka Simonsen, my editor: Your enthusiasm for this project and your belief in Ellie’s voice proved it wasn’t all in my head—there really was magic here. You also managed to ferret out all the words I play on repeat. I will probably do it again, so this is both “Thank you” and “I’m sorry.”

And to my agent, Keely Boeving, who received the first emails and frantic texts about this project. Thank you for finding the giant potholes in the early drafts and helping me scoop some plot in there. You are my left brain. Also, thank you for being agent, editor, and friend. I am three times blessed.