Swim the Fly (27 page)

“DUDE, YOU SHOULD HAVE
totally let them take your appendix out,” Coop says. “That would have been awesome.”

“Yeah.” Sean laughs. “
Then
it would have been the greatest story ever.”

The three of us are hanging out on the roof of my house. We had planned to go to the movies tonight, but Mom says I have to take it easy just in case today’s stomach issue hasn’t been totally resolved. The doctor wasn’t completely convinced that my “gaseous release” solved the problem. If anything, she thinks it might be indicative of a more serious intestinal virus. We promised Dr. Kesler we would keep an eye on it, but really, Mom’s just happy I’m feeling better and eating my usual portions again.

“I wasn’t about to get sliced open just to have a good story to tell.”

“I would have,” Coop says. “And I’d have asked the doctor if I could bring it home in a jar so I could take it to school to gross out Mrs. Zuzzolo.”

Mrs. Zuzzolo is one of our cafeteria ladies and probably the most squeamish person you’ll ever meet. A real, gray, gelatinous appendix in a jar would definitely make her yak.

“That’s nasty, dude,” Sean says.

The night air is sticky, and the sweet smell of our neighbors’ jasmine and honeysuckle bushes drifts up to us. We’re passing around a two-liter Mountain Dew bottle that Coop brought over.

“The whole team totally sucked today,” Coop says, taking a swig from the bottle. “So don’t feel too bad about bailing, dawg. Even if you would have won the fly, it wouldn’t have helped. We came in, like, sixth place. I thought Ms. Luntz was going to have a kangaroo.”

“Yeah,” Sean says. “Halfway through the meet, she Frisbeed her clipboard across the lawn and nearly took off Nicky Bowmester’s zucchini.”

Coop laughs. “You should have seen him dodge that thing. It’d be nice if he was that fast in the pool.”

Coop hands the soda bottle over to Sean, who’s staring at the upstairs window on the Goldsteins’ house. “It’s too bad your neighbors are prehistoric, Matt; you can see right into their bedroom from here.” Sean lifts the bottle to his mouth and drinks.

“Just ’cause they’re old doesn’t mean they still don’t get busy,” Coop says. “I bet if we got some binoculars, we could watch them bang their walkers together.”

“Do
not
go there,” Sean groans.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” I say, egging Coop on.

Coop taps his temple. “Think about it, dude. The Goldsteins are the same people who were having wild orgies back in the sixties.”

“Ewww.” Sean plugs his ears. “I don’t want to think about it. Talk about something else. Immediately.”

“All right,” Coop says. “Let’s talk about how we’re more than halfway through the summer and we’re still screwed as far as our goal is concerned. And then we can discuss how it’s pretty much all your fault, Matt.”

“Excuse me?” I protest.

“Coop’s right,” Sean says. “I mean, between pooping your pants and sabotaging us at the bikini store, not to mention you’re always busy practicing your stupid butterfly —”

“Facts are facts, dude,” Coop adds. “But fear not. You are looking at the savior of the summer.” Coop pulls a folded-up piece of paper from his back pocket and waves it in the air. “What I’ve got right here is our ticket to heaven. And when I say heaven, I mean a place where countless girls run around without any clothes on.”

“What is it?” I try to grab the paper but Coop pulls it away.

“Ah-ha. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Not if you’re going to be a big dick about it,” Sean says.

“I’ll ignore that because I know you’re under the influence of Mountain Dew.” Coop unfolds the page and lays it out on the shingles of the roof. By the moonlight I can make out a topographic map of some woods near the ocean. “What would you say if I told you that this is a map to a nude beach?”

“Seriously?” Sean says.

Coop nods. “This map was e-mailed to me by a very reliable member of Naturists for Life dot com.”

Sean and I both give Coop a questioning look.

“Don’t ask. Anyway, the nude beach happens to be located at Jasper Cove. Which is in Greenhead.”

“Well, that does us no good. Greenhead’s, like, fifty miles away,” Sean says.

“Let me finish,” Coop insists. “As it turns out, my sister happens to be going to Greenhead tomorrow with a friend so they can shop at the outlet stores. And I’ve paid her in advance to give us a ride.” Coop holds up both hands. “It’s okay. There’s no need to bow down.”

Sean grabs the map and studies it. “Holy crap, Coop. You’re the man.”

Coop fakes a yawn and pats his mouth. “In other news, the sun is hot and math is boring.”

I take the map from Sean and have a closer look. “This could be anywhere,” I say. “How do we know this
guy wasn’t just screwing with you? Maybe he’s one of those weirdos who likes to lure young boys to his cabin in the woods.”

Coop snatches the page back. “Trust me. It’s legit. But if you don’t want to go, I’m sure Sean and I can handle seeing all that nude-age on our own.”

“I want to go,” I say. And I do. Because who
would
n’t want to go to a nude beach? “I just don’t want to be sent into the forests and wind up meeting Leatherface. That’s all.”

“Mattie, Matt, Mattington.” Coop sighs and slings his arm around me. “What are we going to do with you? Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘No risk, no reward’? This is an adventure, buddy. Sometimes you just have to strap in and go for the ride.”

I don’t mind going for a ride; it’s just that any ride with Coop generally turns into a runaway train.

“HER LAST NAME IS
NOT
BAGGINS,
okay?” Sean says, punching Coop in the shoulder. “It’s Beggs. Tianna Beggs.”

“Does she?” I ask.

Sean turns and looks out the backseat window of Angela’s hermitically sealed Toyota. “You know what? Talk to me when you actually
have
a girlfriend.”

“Oh, so she’s your
girlfriend
now?” Coop says.

“That’s right.” Sean grins. “We’ve been talking and texting almost every day since the party, and last night I finally asked her out and she said yes. So eat it.”

“But . . . What about poor Valerie? Isn’t she going to be destroyed by this?” Coop laughs.

“One day, when you actually grow up, Coop, you’ll realize that when you have something real, someone like Tianna, you understand the difference between what’s
really
real and what’s just pie-in-the-sky fantasy.”

Coop turns to me and laughs. “We’ve lost him, Mattie. He’s trapped in the tractor beam of the golden doughnut. We may have to do an intervention.”

“You’re a little pig, Cooper,” Angela says, looking in the rearview mirror. “Keep that filthy trap of yours shut or I’m throwing you out.”

We’re all crammed together in the backseat. It’s taking way longer than it should to get to the beach because Angela drives ten miles under the speed limit to save gas and cut down on the wind damage to her car’s paint job. Britney, Angela’s friend, has been doing her makeup in the sun visor mirror for the entire hour we’ve been driving.

We pass a fire station on the right and see a sign for Jasper Cove. Angela hangs a left and continues on for a bit before pulling into the beach parking lot.

We’re out of the car, our towels around our necks, our sneakers back on our feet, almost before Angela has a chance to shift into park.

“I’ll meet you back here at two,” Angela calls out her window. “On the dot. Or I’m leaving without you.”

“Two, okay, fine,” Coop says, giving a thumbs-up as we walk off.

When Angela’s car disappears, Coop stops. He pulls the map from the back pocket of his shorts and unfolds it. “Hold on a second.” He looks down and then points to what appears to be an entrance into the woods. “That’s it. The path to glory.”

We make our way over to the trail, checking to make sure no one spots us going in. As the three of us head into the woods, I get a jolt of excitement about what we might get to see.

“There’s the pond,” Coop says, pointing to a swampy bog up ahead. “We’re on the right track.”

Sean rubs his hands together. “This is going to be so sweet.”

“You do realize that we’re going to stand out like Shaquille O’Neal at a midgets convention?” I say.

“Nah, we’ll just shuck down and blend right in.” Sean hops over a small ditch. Coop and I follow.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “No one’ll notice the three naked, drooling high school kids.”

“Relax.” Coop holds up his towel. “Super Cooper’s got it covered. We won’t even have to set foot on the beach.” He unrolls his towel and removes a pair of binoculars. “We’ll just hide out at the edge of the woods and take in the show under the cover of trees.”

“Cool,” Sean says. “This is going to be the greatest day of our lives.”

We continue along the dirt trail. It’s an obstacle course of roots, plants, and downed trees. You can smell the ocean salt from here. A woodpecker does a drumroll on a tree somewhere nearby.

We’re about halfway to the beach when all of a sudden there’s a middle-aged couple in sweats coming from the other direction.

“Just act cazh,” Coop whispers.

When the couple reaches us, the guy with the sagging cheeks points at Coop’s hand. “This is no place for binoculars, young man.”

“It is if you’re bird-watching,” Coop says, waving the binoculars in the air. “We have to identify ten different species of birds for our summer school project before we can go home.”

The woman, whose hair is in a long dry ponytail, stretches her lips to the point where they drain of color. “Jasper Cove is an adults-only beach.”

“Why?” Sean asks innocently.

“It just is because it is,” the man says. “There are plenty of other places to bird-watch.”

Coop looks around. “I don’t know. We were told we’d be able to spot a masked booby around here. I don’t want to miss that opportunity.”

The middle-aged couple shake their heads and continue walking. We hear them mumble to each other as they go.

Coop cringes when they are out of earshot. “Glad we didn’t see
them
naked. She reminded me of my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Katin.”

“Yeah, and the guy looked like my uncle Doug,” Sean says, laughing.

“You think we’re gonna see any better at the beach?” I reach down and pick up a large stick and whack away some ferns.

“They can’t all be uggs,” Sean says.

Another five minutes down the trail and we can see light through the trees. We can hear the gentle lapping of the ocean.

“Keep ’em holstered, boys.” Coop starts to jog. “This may be more than your little minds can handle.”

We make it to the edge of the woods and crouch behind a large tree. In the distance, the beach is speckled with what looks like naked people. I can’t make out if they’re men or women or what. We might as well be standing at the top of the Empire State Building looking down at a group of tourists. This is not what I had in mind.

“Good thing I brought the specs,” Coop says. He lifts the binoculars to his eyes and scans the beach.

“What do you see?” Sean smacks Coop’s arm.

“Not a whole lot when you do that,” Coop says.

“Sorry.”

I squint hard, trying to force the vision of the nude people closer.

“It’s just a whole lot of big hairy dudes,” Coop says. “It’s like a Discovery Channel show on woolly mammoths.”

Sean scoots a little closer to Coop. “There have to be some babes. Give me the binoculars. Let me see.”

Coop ignores Sean and continues to pan the horizon. “Wait. Wait. Got one,” he says. “Come to Cooper, baby.” He rolls the focus wheel, smiling. “Oh yeah, there she —”
Coop’s smile evaporates. “Oh no.” His voice is laced with alarm. “Oh, God, no.”

“What? What?” Sean taps Coop’s arm again.

Coop pulls the binoculars away from his eyes and blinks hard. “You don’t want to know.”

Sean tilts his head and gives Coop a look.

“I’m serious,” Coop says, looking stunned.

“Try me.”

Coop closes his eyes. “It’s Ms. Luntz. Jesus, I think I’m gonna puke.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Sean says.

“I’m not kidding.”

I rip the binoculars from Coop’s hands and take a look for myself. “Where? Where is she? I don’t see —” But as soon as I say this, I
do
see. Ms. Luntz stands on a towel and slowly slathers suntan oil all over her marshmallow-white naked body. She bends over to reach for her feet and I throw the binoculars away like they just scorched my eyes. “Oh, Christ. It
is
her. It’s Ms. Luntz.” I start laughing because it’s disgusting and ridiculous and horrific all at once.

“Let me see.” Sean snatches up the binoculars.

“Don’t do it, Sean.” Coop tries to grab the binoculars back, but Sean shrugs him off.

“Seriously, Sean. You don’t want to see.” I shut my eyes tight. “I’m telling you. The image will burn into your brain.”

But Sean is having none of it. He presses the binoculars to his eyes and points them in the direction we were looking. He uses the wheel to focus the lens and then —

Sean drops the binoculars and retches. “You bastards. Why didn’t you tell me it was so horrible?”