Dark ivory clouds gather unnoticed over the far treeline as ski boats drag inflatable tubes back and forth across the crowded cove, and kids in bright-colored life-jackets hang on and shout over engine-noise at fathers behind the wheel. Sunlight floats on the pale green surface where the water is unbroken by wake. Countless unseen insects hum in the reeds along the shoreline, and the tide laps up against the pillars of the dock. The smell of charcoal wafts down from the porch. Wet feet slap against the dock-boards. Shepherd runs toward the water and jumps.
There is a moment of stillness and quiet as he hangs in the air, holding his legs to his chest, cannonballing. Then his splashing entrance. For one loud crashing second he breaks the surface and then he is under, everything suddenly slow and distant. Like listening to the world from behind a window. Like floating upside down in the space above the sky.
The water is warm at first, but grows cold as he sinks lower. Shepherd stretches out a foot to feel for the bottom but pulls it back when the deep chill reminds him of the giant sturgeon he saw in the “River Monsters” section of the Tennessee Aquarium. He kicks and thrusts his arms and pushes his head back up into the air.
On the surface, noise is everywhere again. The boats, the bugs, his brother Hampton and the Spinello girls splashing and laughing and shouting as they float nearby on pool noodles. Shepherd paddles over.
“What’s so funny?” he says when he reaches the trio.
Sarah Spinello smirks and gives Hampton a little splash before she responds. She is the oldest kid on their block, soon to be a sophomore. When she is around Shepherd gets nervous. When she leaves he wishes she would come back.
“We’re just laughing at how full of crap your brother is,” Sarah says. “Obviously.”
“I’m serious,” Hampton says, grinning and splashing Sarah back. “Shepherd, back me up.”
“On what?” Shepherd says, treading water beside them.
“Hampton says he sneaks your dad’s beers from the downstairs fridge every time you guys are at the lake house,” Stella, the younger sister, chimes in from where she floats on the other side of Hampton.
Stella is a year above Shepherd and a year below Hampton. Hampton always rolls his eyes at Stella when she’s not looking. Shepherd doesn’t think she’s that bad.
“He says he waits ‘till everybody goes to bed,” Stella continues. “And then he sneaks out to the roof from y’all’s window and drinks them there and then chucks the cans into the woods when he’s done. Is that true?”
Shepherd looks at Hampton. Hampton looks back, one eyebrow just the slightest bit raised, and Shepherd understands.
“Oh yeah,” Shepherd says, nodding. “Yeah, we do that sometimes.”
Hampton grins and splashes Sarah again.
“See?” He says. “I told you. Who’s full of it now?”
“Still you,” Sarah says. “I don’t buy it.”
She runs a casual hand through her long blonde hair—wet from the lake water, straw-colored—and lets it all fall on one shoulder, and Shepherd is only somewhat conscious of the fact that he would like to watch her do that a few hundred more times. She turns to him.
“You drink beer,” she says. “Really?”
Shepherd nods. He feels Hampton’s eyes on him and tries to sound casual.
“A little bit,” he says. “Sometimes.”
“What’s it taste like?” Sarah says.
Shepherd shrugs.
“It tastes good,” he says. “I like it.”
Sarah smiles and gives him a little splash.
“Yeah right,” she says. “I don’t buy it.”
Shepherd can’t help but smile too. He feels his face getting hot.
“I’ll get us some tonight,” Hampton chimes in. “For all of us. How about that?”
To Hampton’s left, Stella’s eyes get wide. She shakes her head.
“No way,” she says. “Not a chance. My dad would kill us.”
“He won’t know,” Hampton says. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys. My dad has no idea. Neither will y’all’s.”
“I don’t even want beer anyway,” Stella says. “Who cares about beer?”
“Okay,” Sarah says. “Do it.”
Stella looks at Sarah with her mouth open. Shepherd looks at Hampton, who looks almost as surprised as Stella.
“What?” Sarah says. “I thought you did it all the time.”
“I will,” Hampton says, gathering himself. “I do. How many do you want?”
Sarah just smiles and dips underwater. When she resurfaces, she is paddling toward the dock.
“Where are you going?” Stella calls, grabbing Sarah’s pool noodle along with her own and swimming after her.
“I’m cold,” Sarah says over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go lay out.”
“I’m coming too,” Stella says.
Shepherd and Hampton float there for a moment, not saying anything. They watch as the Spinello sisters swim up to the dock and climb up the ladder out of the water.
The passing of ski-boats in the cove has become less frequent, and the dark clouds on the horizon have stretched further out across sky, lowering the afternoon light. Shepherd doesn’t mention the beer. Neither does Hampton. If his brother has ever stolen their dad’s beer from the basement refrigerator and snuck out their bedroom window to drink it on the roof, this is the first time Shepherd has ever heard of it. He’s not that deep of a sleeper.
Hampton turns away from the dock and looks behind them, across the cove. Shepherd turns with him. A red buoy floats at the edge of the open water to keep boats in the cove from passing too close to the docks at full speed. No skiers or tubers pass by now, and the water is still. It is the color of grey rubber. The bugs on the shoreline are quiet. A low and distant rumble passes through the sky.
“Want to swim out to the buoy?” Hampton says.
Shepherd looks overhead at the gathering clouds.
“It’s about to storm,” he says. “Shouldn’t we go in?”
“Just out and back,” Hampton says. “Don’t be a wimp.”
Shepherd doesn’t say anything back, just goes under and kicks himself in the direction of the buoy. In a second he feels the splash and current of Hampton swimming up beside him. Hampton swims freestyle and soon pulls past Shepherd, who always swims the breaststroke. Shepherd doesn’t mind. He likes to stay under for as long as he can. He likes the quiet down there, the slowness, the feeling of being just a bit outside the world. When Shepherd reaches the buoy Hampton is already there, hanging on and floating, looking back toward the dock again, where the Spinello sisters, each wrapped in a towel, are making their way up the steps toward the house. The sky is all dark clouds. There is another roll of thunder, this time louder, and the air is cooler now than even a moment ago. Shepherd holds the buoy with one hand and treads water with the other.
“Are you really gonna steal dad’s beers?” he says without looking at Hampton.
Hampton is quiet for a moment. Another rumble.
“I don’t know,” he finally says.
Shepherd nods. He hears the screen-door of the lake house slap in the distance, sees their mother coming out onto the porch, waving her arms, shouting at them.
“We better go in,” he says.
Hampton nods. There is a sudden crack and pound of thunder like dynamite exploding in the quarry of the heavens that causes both boys to start.
“Shit,” Hampton says. “Let’s go.”
As they get closer to the dock the rain begins. Just little pinpricks on the surface of the water at first, then heavier drops, like someone is tossing pebbles at them from the shore. Shepherd comes up for air and sees Hampton reach the ladder. There is a flash of light like a giant camera, then another thunder crash. Hampton stands on the dock and shouts at Shepherd as the rain begins to come down hard and steady. Shepherd sticks his head back under and kicks with all his might until his hand hits the dock and he feels for the ladder.
The rain is coming down in sheets as Shepherd pulls himself up onto the dock. The sound of it falling on the lake is like a thousand of those giant fans they pull into the town hall rec center on the hottest days of the year. Shepherd wipes the water out of his eyes and sees that Hampton is grinning. Shepherd starts to laugh. There is another thunderclap. Hampton and Shepherd know their mother is calling them from the screened-porch but they cannot hear her, and they do not care. Hampton raises up his hands and lets out a war-whoop, barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain. He cannonballs back into the water. Shepherd jumps in after him. The moment of stillness and quiet as he hangs in the air, holding his legs to his chest, then his splashing entrance.