Free Weeping Underwater Looks a Lot Like Laughter by Michael J. White Page A

with a normal IQ. This sentiment fizzled as soon as she began paging through a canine encyclopedia, giving what seemed a planned presentation on the pros and cons of half a dozen breeds.
    “ The bulldog suggests stability, vigor, and strength. His disposition is equable and kind, resolute and courageous, not vicious or aggressive. Of course I’m smarter than to ask for a bulldog for Christmas, despite the Yale connection, which would score big with my dad. Anyway, near the end of their lives, they drool a lot and breathe super heavy. Not gonna go over very well with Maureen.”
    “What about a retriever or a Weimaraner?”
    “Too big and too hairy. They’ll shed all over the carpet. Besides, I don’t want a dog whose name I can’t even pronounce. Weimaraiemer? That’s not going to work at all. Listen to this. The beagle is gregarious, outgoing, and playful. He is happiest around people, especially children, and makes a great family dog. ”
    “Sounds perfect for you.”
    “Perfect for everyone! Of course they shed a tiny bit, but that can be reduced by buying high-quality food, like Nutro. And don’t be fooled by their size—they make very good guard dogs. I’ll probably have to take it to college with me anyway, so I might as well have a dog that can give me some protection. Anyway, what are you asking for? A new Speedo for your spring break trip to Cancún?”
    (More than once I fell victim to an overwhelming suspicion that Katie Schell was reading my mind. While I would likely never have saved enough money for a spring break in Cancún or Lake Okoboji or anywhere else, the mere mention of the word alerted me to the details of my previous night’s dream, which was highlighted by a diving excursion where I scared off a barracuda on the verge of attacking a yellow-bikinied and scuba-uncertified Emily Schell. This confrontation involved a series of matador-like taunts with Emily’s bikini top, and ended with Emily throwing her mask off and wrapping her arms around my neck the moment I met her at the surface. Then she kissed me as though expecting this kiss to keep us afloat and motor us back to shore, which it did.)
    “The only thing I’ll be getting this year is a case of cauliflower ear.”
    Katie sighed and repeated my answer to Emily. “You’re making yourself sick. Even my mom said so. Coach Grady shouldn’t be able to just tell you what weight you’re going to wrestle.”
    “Your mom’s worried about me?”
    “Well, not exactly. She made it sound like it was your own damn fault for letting him push you around. If you don’t start eating right, there’s a good chance your hair will fall out and nobody will recognize you anymore, and one day when you show up to school the security guy will be like, Hurry it along, you old pedophile! You kiddie pornmonger! Scram! ”
    “Gimme that phone,” Emily shouted, laughing, but also attempting in all seriousness to pull rank. By the sudden giggling and rustling through the receiver I understood that Katie wasn’t ready to give the phone up, and they were now grappling over it. (I figured that Katie would eventually lose, likely surrendering in the midst of being tickle tortured. But I also assumed that as soon as she could take no more, she’d probably hang up.)
    “WE MISS YOU, GEORGE!” she shouted, then loosed a series of atomic yelps. By the sound of Katie’s and her sister’s spastic breaths, it seemed the match was livening up to more than a casual scrapple. I could only guess the following thumping, crashing, and screeching noises to be the natural sound effects of a chase sequence involving multiple flights of chairs, two slammed doors, and at least one kitchen chair (close-combat barrier?) knocked over onto a hardwood floor. While sitting idly on the other end of the line I could’ve confessed all sorts of truths about my desire to join the pursuit and furthermore direct the battle to what I imagined was a spacious master bedroom bed. I