TITLE: The Last First Kiss
Madeline Carol was drowning again. Her chubby toddler arms splashed at the air above her head, too scared to pull down on the water to keep herself afloat like I’d been trying to teach her at swim lessons for the past two years. She was three, so her inability to grasp the concept of swimming was acceptable, unlike Harriet Carol’s inability to grasp the concept of babysitting.
I tweeted my whistle, launched a compact jump from the guard stand, and hit the water feet first. Madeline was my first save of the summer, but if this summer was anything like the past six summers I’d lifeguarded at Lakeside pool, she wouldn’t be my last. In the twenty-two years I’d lived with Grandma Margoe, my small hometown of Dansbury, Pennsylvania had taught me four undeniable, unforgettable things: evacuate up the mountain when the creek floods, boys who lived on the mountain were bad news even if their families were rich, my neighbors were nosy, and none of those things would ever change. This was my last summer in Dansbury. Maybe wherever I ended up would have different rules that I would have to learn, and learn the hard way like I’d learned Dansbury’s rules, but I was okay with that as long as I ended up far away from Dansbury.
I pencil-dove under the water, scooped Madeline around the waist, and dragged her kicking and flailing to the surface.