Free Fast Slide by Melanie Jackson Page B

lady holding her hand over her mouth.
    I grabbed a barf bag from beside the towels and held it out to the lady. Warnings posted at the Boa included cautions against older people taking the ride. It took five seconds to stop and read the warnings. Why didn’t people bother?
    Instead of taking the barf bag, the old woman leaned over and heaved right into the pool.
    Now I had to close the Boa to scoop out her barf.
    I waved my arms at Judd to signal that he shouldn’t let another raft go.
    I also wanted to ask Judd why Aggie was afraid of him. But that would have to wait.
    I helped the old lady and the other passengers out of the raft. I managed— just barely—to give them a cheerful Safari-Splash smile.
    Then I started scooping out the old lady’s barf.
    â€œHi, Clay. How’s it going?”
    Bradley Costello, the owner’s son, was standing on the platform, watching me through his black-framed glasses. Wiping a Kleenex over his sweaty forehead, Brad managed to knock the glasses crooked. Before he could catch them, they tumbled to the platform.
    It was a classic dorky Bradley moment. I felt like pointing out that Brad wouldn’t sweat so much if he didn’t wear a suit. A silk suit, yet.
    Brad had a job in the office. Helping out . Right. He surfed the Net while the rest of us, stuck in moronic camouflage-style uniforms, had to do actual work.
    Since Brad and I were toddlers, my parents had tried to get me to hang out with him. Mom, especially. She was always saying it wasn’t his fault he was bookish.
    Bookish? Try encyclopedic. Our families’ get-togethers were painful. At dinner Brad would fidget and blurt out factoids with a high-pitched laugh, trying to impress everyone. One day it would be weather patterns. The next visit it was economics or mountains in Peru. We learned every useless detail about whatever he happened to be into.
    The irony was, I did make friends with a Costello—just not Brad. I liked talking to his dad. Mr. Costello had been a swim champion at college. His trophies lined the hallway of his house, shining like the Milky Way. Mr. Costello had inspired me to take swimming seriously. The Costellos had a pool out back, and he’d noticed me plowing up and down in power laps.
    You’ve got a gift , Clay, he told me. You’re a natural. But being a natural isn’t enough. When you’ve got a gift, you’ve gotta work at it. It’s like a duty.
    I’d told him that I loved swimming. I loved the clean way you felt when you moved through the water. It was like flying.
    That conversation meant a lot to me, even though Brad almost ruined it by spouting out some factoid about the history of swimming pools.
    My approach was to avoid Brad or suffer death by boredom. Luckily, like the other kids working at Safari Splash, he lived around here. I didn’t have to endure him at my own school.
    â€œHow’s it going?” he repeated.
    â€œHow do you think it’s going?” I snapped. “I’m cleaning up some old lady’s barf. Wanna help?”
    I was being sarcastic, but Brad dropped to his knees beside me.
    â€œOkay,” he said. He picked up a spare scooper.
    I felt bad. I’d been rude to him, and he was being decent.
    Brad flailed the scooper at the water. The guy was as clumsy as a blind baboon.
    â€œHey,” I said uneasily. “You’re leaning kind of far—”
    SPLASH!
    Bradley Costello didn’t have a clue how to swim. He was afraid of the water.
    Kicking off my sneakers, I got ready to dive in. My day was getting better and better.
    I looked up to the top of the slide to see if Judd knew Brad was in the water. Judd was talking to Aggie. She pointed down at me and shook her head. I could tell she was upset.
    I didn’t have time to wonder about it.
    Bradley needed rescuing.
    â€œGee, thanks, Clay.” Brad was trying to squeeze water out of his jacket sleeve without taking off the