Free Navigating Early by Clare Vanderpool Page B

of another person in my boat, no one expected me to win.
    Early was probably in the workshop. The night before, he’d said he was going to get up early and polish the brass nameplate. The one engraved with the words Sweetie Pie; the one that we’d taken off the boat before we rebuilt her. He wanted to screw it back on the boat before the race. Anyway, we would have plenty of time to get the Sweetie Pie from the Nook, nameplate and all, and get her intostarting position by race time. Dad would be there for the sunrise breakfast and could get settled to watch with the other parents.
    I put down the first message and picked up the other. It was from the telegraph office in town. I tore open the envelope.
    The note was typewritten and read:
Jack,
Inclement weather STOP Shore leave postponed STOP Unable to join you for scheduled meeting STOP Will contact you when next possible STOP
    Capt. Baker
    I couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t be here for the regatta. He wouldn’t be here at all. Unable to join you for scheduled meeting . Was that the way he thought of it? A meeting? An obligation? For some reason the image of me punching Melvin Trumboldt in the face came to mind. Only this time there was no one to hit.
    I looked down at the note once more, then tore it into little pieces and threw it in the trash can. So what if he wasn’t coming? I didn’t need him to be there.
    What happened next might not have been what happened next if I hadn’t run into Preston Townsend as I opened my door to go find Early.
    “Hey, Baker. You know they upped the race time to eight o’clock, right?”
    “Yeah, I heard.”
    “Good, because I’d hate for you to miss me winning.” That wasn’t it. That was just the usual banter that goes on before any race. It was what he said next.
    “And don’t forget your babysitter,” he called over his shoulder as he went on his way.
    My jaw clenched. My babysitter . My coxswain. Early. I didn’t need him—I could win that race on my own. My arms were strong and ready. My legs felt like they could outpump anyone. And the last few times I’d been on the water, I’d rowed straight as an arrow. I could do this by myself.
    All by myself. It was at that moment that I decided to do something worse than hit someone in the face. I crumpled the note with the earlier start time in my sweaty fist. Then I ran to the Nook and removed the coxswain seat from its place on my boat.
    Seven boats were lined up in the starting position. Dark clouds lurked in the distance, but for the time being, the bay water was smooth as glass. Proud parents lined the shore, waving blue-and-white pennants, and all were treated to cups of hot chocolate in anticipation of the opening race. The eighth-grade competition would start the regatta, followed by the races of the freshmen, sophomores, juniors, then seniors. The regatta would end with awards and a big lunch in the cafeteria, with sandwiches, clam chowder, biscuits, coleslaw, and blueberry pie.
    As I lowered myself onto the rowing seat, I felt a twinge of guilt at having ditched Early. But I didn’t imagine my father felt too guilty about having ditched me, so I strappedon the leather clogs and took hold of the oars. I knew that Preston Townsend was to my right, and that Sam Feeney and Robbie Dean were in the two boats to my left, but I stared straight ahead, trying to get my bearings.
    Mr. Blane yelled for the opening ceremony of the regatta to begin. Headmaster Conrady led the opening prayer over the crackling loudspeaker. I wasn’t paying too much attention at first, but heard his closing scripture reading.
    “ ‘Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off every weight that slows us down and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.’ ”
    Mostly what I heard was the part about throwing off every weight that slows us down . See, there was even a Bible verse to justify what