The Night of the Moonbow (21 page)

While everyone awaited the judges’ decision, and those entered in the swim competitions went off to change into trunks, Leo, having performed his part in the proceedings, headed toward the council ring, making his way through the boisterous throng now jamming the docks - campers of all sizes clad in swimming trunks, skinny young boys with bat ears and xylophone ribs, older boys exhibiting burgeoning musculature. As they pranced around, snapping towels and giving Indian rubs, waiting for the first event of the meet to start, their collective eye was fixed on Hap Holliday, who, as master of ceremonies, was huddled with Rex Kenniston over the list of contestants on his clipboard.

“Where’s your bathing suit, Leo?” Miss Meekum asked as he joined her and Mr Poe and the rest of the Jeremiah “family.” “Why aren’t you with the other boys?” Leo flushed and ducked his head; the moment he had feared must come, had come. Unable to think up a good story, he was stuck with the truth, and he explained to them how he had come in a loser in the preliminary heats.

“Well, that’s all right,” Miss Meekum said, patting his knee. “It means we’ll have you here with us, all to ourselves.” She leaned her spare form toward her neighbor, Mrs Abernathy, who smiled and nodded as if to affirm that to have Leo among them was to enjoy a special treat.

Leo was relieved when Hap, taking up the megaphone again, announced the start of the first race, the “Tadpole Relay,” in which Peewee Oliphant was a top contender. As everyone sat up attentively, Rex’s whistle shredded the air, and a dozen small, brown, leggy bodies sprang like so many frogs into the water inside the crib rope.

The first lap of the race was swum amid great thrashings and splashings, and cheered enthusiastically by the whole crowd. Peewee, who was his team’s anchorman, would be among the last to swim, and he stood, chewing on a thumb and hopping impatiently from one foot to the other, waiting his turn to enter the water. When it came he seized the baton and plunged headlong into his lane; he was in the lead as the last batch of boys surfaced, the baton clamped between his teeth and swimming hell-for-leather.

“’Ray, Peewee! Come on, Peewee!”

The Oliphants, seated down front with the Starbucks and their invited guests, rose cheering to their feet, and a burst of enthusiasm washed across the waterfront.

“Come on, Peewee - kick it! Swim!”

As first Peewee, then the others touched the canoe dock, flipped over, and headed down the home stretch, most of the crowd was on its feet. Peewee was flagging now, with Bouncer Williams, an older, bigger cadet, gaining on him. But at the finish it was Peewee who touched home first, and Reece Hartsig was there to lift him from the water and sling him onto his shoulders, parading him around to accept the acclaim of the crowd, then swing him down and turn him over to his own counselor.

“Isn’t it exciting!” Miss Meekum gasped, pressing a palm to her breast. “And he’s such a little sprout, isn’t he?” Leo agreed that Peewee was indeed a “sprout.” He was feeling better about Miss Meekum and Supervisor Poe being there. Mr Poe was obviously enjoying himself, and Miss Meekum was acting gay as spring.

One after another, the tadpole races were run, each succeeding heat exciting the audience’s collective blood and bringing them to their feet with louder, more encouraging shouts. Leo could hear Big Rolfe’s booming voice avowing that this was what Camp Friend-Indeed was all about, striving and winning, and as he looked down upon the array of campers on the dock, popping the bubbles from their ears and bulling around with each other while they awaited the next event, he racked his brain, trying to think of something he could do to shine: something that, after Major Bowes, might redeem him in the eyes of the camp (standing on the Cleopatra’s barge pretending to be Ptolemy certainly hadn’t done it). But nothing came to mind, and so he sat there like a bump on a log, a face in the crowd, while the tadpole events came to an end and the Harmonyites marched out onto the dock.

As the fans of Jeremiah (Leo included) rose up to cheer, the Bomber did a Joe Louis handclasp over his head, jumped into Number 12, flung himself upon his oars, and proceeded to win the rowboat race hands down. Monkey Twitchell, who more aptly might have been nicknamed Fish, for that was how he swam, copped the 220-freestyle medley, while Tiger took the crawl. Watkins of Obadiah and the Smith brothers all won firsts in other events, but Phil Dodge won top honors in the breaststroke -husky arms and shoulders and a strong frog-kick made him a winner here. Eddie Fiske came in second in the hundred-meter, losing by a hair to Dusty Rhoades of Ezekial, and the Bomber took a first in the underwater race. Like some subaqueous leviathan, he remained submerged for two minutes and fifty seconds, traversing the crib four times, a new camp record. Wally, poor fellow, came in third in each of his events; still, Leo thought, it was better than nothing, and he watched enviously as Reece strode about the dock, beaming, congratulating his winners.

“Isn’t this fun?” Miss Meekum said to him, hugging her knees and smiling. She leaned over to speak to Mrs

Abernathy. “We were so happy that Leo was able to come to camp - and to be in Cabin Seven.”

Mrs Abernathy agreed loyally that Jeremiah was the best cabin to be in.

“Leo tells us your son is his friend,” Miss Meekum went on. “Everyone seems to think very highly of Tiger.”

Mrs Abernathy was both modest and friendly. “Pat and I are glad Leo likes Tiger. We’re very proud of our Brewster, but of course we’re prejudiced. And don’t tell him I called him Brewster, he’ll kill me.” She turned to include Leo and Mr Poe in her next remark. “Perhaps when camp is over Leo might like to come and spend the weekend with us. We’ve plenty of room, haven’t we, Pat?”

Pat Abernathy nodded amiably. “Yes, indeed, Tiger’s got the whole attic for a room, bunks and all. Leo would be most welcome.”

The conversation was interrupted as, down at the lifeguard stand, Rex reached for his megaphone and addressed the crowd with mock solemnity.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. My colleague - I refer to the estimable Hap Holliday - has instructed me to announce that the scheduled proceedings will be delayed some fifteen minutes to allow the presentation of an extra added attraction to mark the final year of Friend-Indeed camping on the part of Reece Hartsig.

“Yes, folks,” Rex went on, “the counselor of Jeremiah cabin has agreed to provide us with an exhibition of authentic athletic prowess by executing several spectacular dives from the high springboard.”

Ardent sounds of approval rippled through the crowd; cheers, whistles, and applause rang out, as, with an unaccustomed display of modesty, Reece emerged from the crow'd and doffed his cap, then proffered it with exaggerated formality to Rex and dived off the dock. When he reached the float he once more saluted his enthusiastic fans, then mounted the ladder and trotted to the tip of the diving board, testing it with a controlled spring that flexed his heavy thigh muscles. Moving back, he meticulously aligned his feet, palms flat at his sides, rolled his shoulders, and then took a neat three-step approach and jump-struck the board, which catapulted him into the air. His sharp jackknife seemed to be over before it had begun as legs and feet slipped into the circle of water that his head, hands, and shoulders had already made.

“’Ray, Big Chief!” the Bomber shouted, his voice carry- ' ing above the applause. “Yay - Heartless!” Other boys took up the cry, while their elders laughed indulgently at the epithet.

More applause greeted the counselor as he surfaced, cleaved a neat, economic path through the water, and ran nimbly up the ladder for a second demonstration, this time an elegant swan dive, which was succeeded by a one-and-a-half-gainer, the dive he was best known for, then the more difficult double-gainer with a half-twist. When he came out of the water the last time, his tanned body glistening in the sun as if dripping with diamonds, it was on the dock, and the cheers of the crowd, which thought the display must be over, rose mightily. But Reece made no bow. Instead, he bounced on each foot to pop his ears, then marched over to Rex and spoke to him. The pair were subsequently joined by Hap, who attended with a grave expression. Was something wrong? As a murmur compounded of curiosity and excitement swept the crowd, the talk among the staffers went back and forth for a few moments more; then, while Hap went off in one direction and Reece dived once more into the water and headed toward the raft, Rex again resorted to his megaphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please! Will Tiger Abernathy please come forward!”

At this, the Bomber, who had been leaning against the lifeguard tower, dove into a knot of boys, from which he emerged in a moment, shoving Tiger into lull view.

“’Ray, Tiger! ’Ray, Tiger!” The eager shout was taken up all across the waterfront as Tiger trotted out onto the dock for a quick conference with Rex, which was followed by a second announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Brewster Abernathy - ’scuse me, folks, Mr Tiger Abernathy - has consented to perform for us today, in tandem with Mr Hartsig, a piggyback swan dive.”

Yet another rumble of excitement sounded among the spectators, and the enthusiastic cheers and applause of his pals sent Tiger pelting off the dock into the water for a quick sprint out to the raft. On the high platform Reece hoisted him onto his shoulders, then, supporting him by his hands, with perfect ease and coordination he stepped onto the board and moved to the end where he paused, adjusted his hands to clasp Tiger’s ankles, and, breaking his knees slightly, straightening them with a snap, he sent a forceful jolt into the board, whose limber spring propelled the pair into space. The two melded forms soared forward, each with arms outflung; they remained in tandem for another beat, then gracefully parted, the single figure dividing as their heads went down and they dropped headfirst into the water, four feet apart, with hardly a splash. The crowd went wild.

Returning to the tower, the two divers encored with a half-gainer, followed by a standing back dive; then, graciously abstaining, Reece dispatched Tiger up the ladder for a trio of beautifully executed solo dives before joining him in the swim to shore.

From the edge of his seat atop the council ring, Leo observed it all, awed by Tiger’s performance, admiring his agile, compact body and envying his natural athleticism, his grace of movement; envying, too, the adulation from the crowd, and the modest way Tiger accepted it. He caught the glow of pleasure in Mrs Abernathy’s eyes, the quiet pride in her husband’s, and he itched to jump up and show himself off to advantage as well, to make people look that way because of some feat he had performed. But how? What could he do? How could he ever hope to rival Tiger’s stellar performance?

He sat back as the two divers came dripping onto the swim dock and disappeared among the huddle of contestants. The applause died down, but the scheduled proceedings were further delayed when, instead of the Endeavorites, the white-clad figure of Pa Starbuck appeared suddenly upon the dock. Waving his hands about his head, he gestured for Rex’s megaphone.

“I wish to pause a moment more in this afternoon’s program,” he declared through the varnished mouthpiece, “to say before this gathering how privileged we of Camp Friend-Indeed have been to have known Reece Hartsig, a young man of rare qualities, who began here at Moonbow Lake at an age not much more advanced than our Peewee Oliphant is today” - appreciative laughter and applause greeted this sally — “and I know my own good wife and helpmeet, my Mary” - he pronounced it “May-ree” -“concurs in these sentiments, for she has been ‘Ma’ to Reece as she has been to all the others boys. I say to you that no camper, staffer, or counselor who has passed up the line-path has brought more honor to our blessed camp. This is his last summer of Moonbowing, and I say that when he departs our shores, a Glad Man made from a Happy Boy, he shall be sorely missed.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll he back,” Big Rolfe called out through cupped hands. “You haven’t seen the last of our boy, Gar. He’ll plunk that plane of his down on the playing field, he’ll give the fellows a spin.”

“Hear! Hear!” Louder cheers and more enthusiastic shouts among the adults greeted these sentiments, while the boys went crazy.

“’Ray, Big Chief!” they shouted, after which Pa gave Reece a warm handshake and returned to his chair. Left alone, Reece spoke a few words of thanks, then, modest lo a fault, retired into the crowd of congratulating admirers as the senior events got under way.

Watching his counselor, who stood beside Tiger now, taking in the senior freestyle race, Leo brooded on the image of the pair flying off the tower, hearing again the tumultuous applause and cheering, his heart pounding with excitement at the memory. No matter how many races Jeremiah won, or how many happy points they earned today, in Leo’s mind nothing would match the sight of those glorious dives. And over and over again the burning thought: What could he do to shine? Then, suddenly, he knew! He jumped up and pushed his way along the row to race up the aisle, leaving a perplexed Miss Meekum staring at his sudden departure.

He was still absent when the contests among the High Endeavorites came to an end, with Malachi the leader in unit points. Since Jeremiah had come out ahead in Harmony’s swim events, as well as taken first prize in the Parade of ships, the two cabins were running neck and neck in overall camp point score as the popular and dramatic canoe-tilting contest began, and the excitement was intense when, after several elimination rounds, the two finalists paddled to “center stage” - Tiger and the Bomber up for Jeremiah, Blackjack Ratner and Moon Mullens for Malachi: the winning team stood to put its cabin in the lead for the Hartsig Trophy. Given that Tiger was an expert canoer, while the Bomber was noted for his balance and deadly aim, the contest was expected to be an easy win for Jeremiah. Still, the audience was tense as they watched the Jeremian, spraddle-legged and precariously balanced in the bow of the canoe, the tip of his long bamboo lance inserted into the neck of a rubber toilet plunger, face his challengers, Ratner in the bow, Mullens paddling. Like two knights in a medieval tourney, the rivals began jousting with each other, each warrior trying to knock the other into the water.