Free Water Steps by A. LaFaye Page B

steal all of your leaves.”
    He stopped. “Just try getting past my brother.”
    â€œI’ll send a fairy after him. She’ll cart him off to a fairy hill and you’ll never see him again.”
    There was a pause, then Tylo’s voice came back, “Sounds good to me!”
    I laughed. “Good night, Tylo.”
    â€œGood night.”
    Heading back to my room, I realized Tylo had
been right, I was a Worry Genes. I worried that Tylo would get lost and he didn’t have the walkie-talkie to call for help. Worried that he’d fall into a hole in the dark and be trapped there all night. Petting Kippers to keep calm, I still couldn’t stop spinning scary maybes until the staticky pop of the walkie-talkie made me jump out of my deck chair.
    â€œBack safe, Worry Genes.”
    â€œGood night, Lint Boy.”
    â€œGood night.”

WORRY
    S itting on the deck in the dark, I started thinking about the lint Tylo collected from his mom. He did it so she’d worry less. That’s breakfast-in-bed nice. Not me. I made my mem worry more with all of my fears and freak-outs.
    I could take another water step to change that. Face that water down. And wash her worries away.
    With Rosien giving her grief, Mem deserved a little worry lift. So I forced myself to do more than walk down those steps onto that beach. This time I’d go into the water. Walk straight into my fear.
    Keeping my eyes on the trees, I marched right for the steps to the beach. One step. Two step. Three. Then
I heard a noise, an echo-off-the-water bark. Like a dog on a dock. Stopped me cold. Did I really hear that?
    Splash! Something hit the water. Did somebody pitch balls off their dock for a dog at night? Was that what Tylo had seen the night before?
    Mystery solved. And if I got a picture of the dog, Tylo could prove he’d seen something in the water after all. And a strange something at that. Not too many dogs went diving after dark.
    I had to test this theory.
    My little quest pulled me like an anchor to the rock line of the beach. Scanning the water, I searched for the dog that made the sound. But I saw nothing. No dog. Not even a ripple in the water.
    But Mem and Pep had to have gone swimming. They always did. Why couldn’t I see them? Why couldn’t I hear them? Seeing only the inky black water filled me with a slimy sense of dread. I tried to wash it down with a hope to myself that they must’ve come ashore. I scanned the beach, the rocks in the water, even the dock floating way out. No Mem. No Pep. Where could they be?

ROCKS
    â€œ M em! Pep!” I jumped onto a big rock to get a better view. Nothing. “Mem! Pep!” I jumped to the next rock, screaming for them. Running, I leapt from rock to rock, calling out. Did they go back up? No, they would’ve passed me on the stairs. Did they go farther down the beach to swim somewhere new?
    No one swam like Mem and Pep. No way could they’ve drowned.
    But my birth father sailed Tierra del Fuego and he drowned.
    â€œMem! Pep!” I screamed so hard my voice cracked and all I could do was whelp out a croak. Fear tumbled like rocks through my chest. Oh God, please keep them
safe. Mem called him the Good Giver because he gave everything life. Now I prayed he’d give them back to me.
    But what if he didn’t?
    I felt the panic coming on like a tidal wave. It’d wash me clean out of the here and now.
    What good would I be to Mem and Pep then?
    Hold it back, Kyna. Keep your wits.
    To calm down, I started to repeat all of the first aid I could remember from the lessons I took while other kids learned to swim. To give CPR, check for response, give rescue breaths, and pump. As I looked up I found myself on the other end of our beach. Still no sign of them.
    Seeing a neighbor’s steps, I ran for them. I had to call for help.
    â€œKyna!” Mem shouted from behind me.
    Spinning, I saw her waving from the rocky point to the south.