Free Three's a Crowd by Margaret Pearce Page B

remind Brat about his bath.
    â€œCan I come to the pool with you tomorrow?” he pestered.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI’ll pay my own way in.”
    I remembered the balloons and the bag of sweets. They would have added up to a good two dollars’ worth. An unreal suspicion grew in the back of my mind. I tried to keep my voice just casually interested. “Where did the extra money come from to pay your way into the pool?”
    â€œJeebie paid me another dollar to show you everything I bought with my two dollars,” Brat explained. “He reckoned Drew would like to see the colour of every single balloon and know how much I paid for each sweet.”
    I tried to practise controlled breathing. I was not going to lose my temper. That insufferable creep Jeebie had paid Brat to hang around. He had ruined my afternoon. He was a sleaze and a slime bag. By comparison, Murray the Murk was an innocent choir boy. Then and there I made a sacred vow to myself. I was going to get back at that guy if it was the last thing I ever did.
    â€œWhy are you looking so funny?” Brat demanded. “It’s all right to come to the pool with you tomorrow if I pay for myself, isn’t it?

 
Chapter Thirteen
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    The pool was almost deserted because it was past the early morning training time and too early for the dabblers, despite the promise of the hot clear morning. I dropped my towel on the bench and checked the place out. Only three girls were using the pool, Wendy, Helen and Allie. I waved a greeting. Helen hung around with Sandy, and Wendy and Allie were into snorkelling with the guys.
    One of the swimmers was Geordie; I recognized his powerful strokes as he churned up and down between the guide ropes. Murray the Murk was in the next lane, flashing along with his effortless, splashless crawl. I glimpsed Sandy chugging along and Paul’s bright orange bathing cap half hidden by the water thrown up by his backstroke. There was no sign of Drew
    â€œHi Jeebie,” Brat yelled in my ear. He nudged me. “He’s a pretty good swimmer, isn’t he?”
    â€œBig deal,” I snarled. Mum had backed Brat up that he could come to the pool with me this morning. “Why don’t you get lost?”
    The thought of Jeebie actually having the incredible nerve to use our pool was the last straw. Brat had made a mistake this time though – there was no sign of my tormentor anywhere around the pool. I tossed my plait back and sat on the bench. Where was Drew? Had I missed him? Had he come and gone with the early morning training squad?
    Brat grinned, adjusted his goggles and dove in, arms and legs flailing. I watched him bob across the pool with his tadpole breaststroke until he reached the last lane. Despite my annoyance, I admired my little brother’s swimming style. He was so gutsy and determined about his swimming. He trod water and waited for Paul’s orange-covered head, moving in a whirl of churned up water, to reach him.
    The orange covered head and flailing arms backed into him. Brat vanished. I couldn’t see whether he had been rammed or had had the sense to dive. He bobbed up again, the orange cap turned and I recognized Jeebie’s distinctive profile. He said something to Brat. Brat pointed.
    Jeebie grinned and waved to me. I looked across the pool and pretended not to see him. For a few rash seconds I was almost tempted to swim over and hold him under until he went blue, but Jeebie was likely to take that as encouragement. Brat’s loud squeal of delight echoed around the pool as Jeebie flipped him bodily out of the swimming lane and across to the general swimming area. Jeebie soon followed him and started showing him the overarm stroke.
    I put on my goggles and dove into a vacant lane. I certainly wasn’t going to sit on the bench alone and look as if I was waiting around for Drew, wherever he might be. I had done about five laps when I swam straight into Jeebie.