Free Sink or Swim by Bob Balaban Page B

urges.
    â€œThis late-breaking news just in, folks: the mysterious Decatur robber strikes again. This time the innocent victim is the proprietor of a successful chain of specialty food shops called Beautiful Bites. Tell us, Mr. Hollabird, in your own words, exactly what happened?”
    â€œWhat?!” Mom exclaims. “Mr. Hollabird? That’s awful.” She rushes back to the dining room, sets the roast beef on the table, and plants herself in front of the television set. “Can you believe this, Fred? I sure hope he’s okay.”
    â€œShh, Doris. I want to hear what he has to say.”
    Lucille and Sam and I get up from our seats and gather around the little set.
    â€œ. . . the thief was gone by the time we got there, Joe.” Mr. Hollabird wipes the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve. “He made a terrible mess of one of my kiosks. Ripped the counter right off the wall with his bare hands. Nearly tore down the door. On top of that, he stole three cases of my freshly baked sugar-free cherry pies and a box of my low-fat soy cheese croissants.”
    â€œLow-fat soy cheese croissants!” my mom exclaims. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
    â€œPlease, Doris!” My dad turns up the volume.
    â€œAny idea who did it, Mr. Hollabird?” Joe Jefferson asks.
    â€œBeats me. All I know is that it must have been one tall thief.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œThose cherry pies were stored on top of a twelve-foot cabinet, Joe. And whoever stole them didn’t use a ladder.”
    â€œMy, oh my.” Joe Jefferson shakes his head. “We’ll return with tomorrow’s weather after this important word from our . . .” My dad flicks off the set.
    One tall thief
. Great. At this point not only will I be on the dreaded swimming team for eternity, I will probably have to join the football team as well.
    â€œThey’d better catch that guy before he hurts somebody, that’s all I can say.” My dad gets up from the table and puts the TV back in the kitchen.
    â€œI didn’t do it,” I say quietly. “I know it looks like I did. But I didn’t.”
    â€œWe were with him all afternoon, Mrs. Drinkwater,” Lucille says earnestly. “He couldn’t have done it.”
    â€œEven if he had wanted to,” Sam adds.
    â€œWe know you didn’t, Charlie.” My mom takes my claw and holds it firmly and carefully in her hands. “Your father and I trust you completely.”
    My dad returns to the table and puts his napkin in his lap. “You may have transformed on the outside, but on the inside you’re still the same Charlie Drinkwater you always were. And Charlie Drinkwater doesn’t go around stealing and lying. Period. End of discussion.”
    It’s sure great to have parents who believe in you. Especially when almost no one else does.
    When the phone rings in the kitchen a moment later, we all ignore it. It’s a family rule: no texting, no reading e-mails, and no answering the phone at the dinner table. But after several annoying minutes it’s apparent that whoever’s calling just won’t give up.
    Finally Mom can’t take it any longer. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she complains as she gets up and goes into the kitchen.
    I strain my earflaps to hear what she is saying, but even with my powerful hearing all I can make out is some mumbling.
    After a minute my mom comes back to the table looking extremely confused. She slowly sits back down and puts her napkin in her lap.
    â€œWhat happened, Mom?” I ask.
    â€œThat was Mr. Hollabird,” she begins.
    â€œDoes he love your recipes?” I ask, excited.
    â€œAre you a hit, Mrs. D?” Sam asks.
    â€œI’m afraid not, kids.” My mom reaches over and puts her hand gently on the side of my gaping jaws. “Now Charlie, I don’t want you to be upset. Mr. Hollabird is