Snapper

1. Title Page
   
2. Copyright
   
3. Dedication
   
4. Acknowledgement
   
5. Other Titles
   
6. About The Authors
   
7. Turtleback Lake Map
   
8. Chapter 1
   
9. Chapter 2
   
10. Chapter 3
    
11. Chapter 4
    
12. Chapter 5
    
13. Chapter 6
    
14. Chapter 7
    
15. Chapter 8
    
16. Chapter 9
    
17. Chapter 10
    
18. Chapter 11
    
19. Chapter 12
    
20. Chapter 13
    
21. Chapter 14
    
22. Chapter 15
    
23. Chapter 16
    
24. Chapter 17
    
25. Chapter 18
    
26. Chapter 19
    
27. Chapter 20
    
28. Chapter 21
    
29. Chapter 22
    
30. Chapter 23
    
31. Chapter 24
    
32. Chapter 25
    
33. Chapter 26
    

Published by Redbird House

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, companies, institutions, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover photograph copyright © 2011 by Peter Maloney

Copyright © 2012 by Peter Maloney & Felicia Zekauskas

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

For Christian and Ian

Thanks to Fran Bouchoux, Cheryl Best, Carolyn Kegel, Manette Begin-Loudon, Jane
Matich, Derek Reist and
extra special thanks to our friend and neighbor, David Lender, for his help and patience in shepherding this work into the real world.

Also by

Peter Maloney and Felicia Zekauskas

*

One Foot, Two Feet

The Magic Hockey Stick

Redbird at Rockefeller Center

Bronto Eats Meat

His Mother’s Nose

Belly Button Boy

PUBLISHED BY PENGUIN YOUNG READERS GROUP

*

The Red Sweater

The Halloween Class

Thanks for Nothing

Bump on the Head

Late for the Library

Where’s That Bird

Lose That Tooth

Here Comes Summer

The Big Apple Mystery

Saved by The Ball

PUBLISHED BY SCHOLASTIC

*

Snapper is their first novel for adults

Peter Maloney and Felicia Zekauskas live with their two sons in a century-old red brick house
in the suburbs of The Garden State. They have written and illustrated more than a dozen children’s picture books, including
One Foot, Two Feet, The Magic Hockey Stick,
and the popular
Just Schoolin’ Around Series
published by Scholastic.
Snapper
is their first ebook for adults. It was inspired by an incident that took place on the shores of Erskine Lake in the mountains of North Jersey.

Map of Turtleback Lake

Chapter 1

TURTLEBACK LAKE 1967

BILL SAT ON THE DECK and gazed out at the lake, eyeing the docks that bobbed forty to fifty yards offshore. Every summer for as long as he could remember, Bill and his best friend, Oscar, had been swimming out to them.

But another summer diving off the same old docks just wasn’t going to do it. This summer, Bill needed something new, something to test his mettle.

And there it was – right where it had always been – smack dab in the middle of the lake: the long low white rock that gave both the lake and the town their names.

Turtleback Rock.

For years, Turtleback Rock had seemed as remote and unattainable as the moon. But using a pair of binoculars he’d gotten for his birthday, Bill had been bringing the rock closer and closer – so close that he could practically look into the eyes of the snapping turtles that lazed in the hot sun on the rock’s bleached white surface.

There had always been something vaguely sinister about the rock. Rumors said that the rock was surrounded by a ring of whirlpools that would suck down anyone who dared to come close to it.

“What a load of crap!” Bill said to Oscar. “There’s nothing around that rock but water.”

Bill had just told Oscar his big plan. It had been on his mind for days.

“Forget it,” said Oscar. “I can’t swim that far. That rock’s gotta be a mile from shore. And what if what they say about the whirlpools is true?”

Bill expected this. Oscar was his closest friend, but he was definitely on the cautious side when it came to water. Out on the football field it was another story. There, Oscar was a totally different person: lightning fast and fearless. He was the star of the Snappers – the Turtleback Lake High School football team.

But summer vacation had just begun. Football practice was an eternity away. And Bill needed someone – namely Oscar – to share in his heroics.

“We’re not gonna swim to it,” said Bill. “We’re going to take a canoe.”

“And what if it tips over?” said Oscar. “We’ll be a mile from shore.”

“So wear a lifejacket,” said Bill.

Oscar was desperate for any excuse not to go.

“My parents will kill me,” he said. “And there’s no way my mother wouldn’t see us. She’s at the kitchen window all day long.”

Oscar hated disappointing Bill. Best friends weren’t that easy to come by. But the truth was, Bill’s idea of fun wasn’t always his. It was just hard to come right out and say it.

“Don’t worry about your mamma,” said Bill. “She won’t see us.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because we’re going at night.”

Night! Night was a thousand times worse than day. The lake at night gave Oscar the creeps. People said Turtleback Lake was as deep as the mountains around it. At night, things came up from the bottom. The last thing Oscar wanted to do was to go out on the lake in the dark. But he couldn’t tell Bill. He knew exactly what Bill would do. He’d flap his elbows against his side and strut about squawking, “
Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk!
Chicken!
”

*

It was past nine when Bill met Oscar down at the edge of the lake. Both boys had climbed out their bedroom windows and lowered themselves to the ground.

Now Oscar was sitting on the canoe’s forward thwart and Bill was standing knee-deep in the water a few feet from shore. Bill gave the canoe a strong shove, hopped in the back, and took a seat in the stern.

Oscar turned around to face him.

“Hey – it’s pitch black out here,” he said. “How are we even gonna find the rock?”

“Just wait,” said Bill.

And then, as if on cue, the moon began rising over the mountains that rimmed the lake’s eastern shore. Within minutes, the moon was high and bright, and full enough to make the rock in the middle of the lake glow a ghostly white.

Dragging his paddle in the water, Bill steered the canoe from the stern, while up near the bow Oscar plunged and pulled like a slave on a Roman galley. But when Oscar looked down at his feet, there were no chains around his ankles, nor was there any whip lashing his back. No one was forcing him to be here. If anything, he was here because of his own damned weakness. He could hear his mother’s voice chastising him: “So, if Bill Lupo jumps off the Brooklyn Bridge, you’re going to jump, too?”

But what did it matter now? The only way out was to dive into the cold black water and swim back to shore. It was too late for that. Oscar was now along for the ride. There was no getting out and no turning back.

Chapter 2

PATERSON 1927

“You what?” said Wilhelmina Andersen, glaring at her husband across the kitchen table.

“I bought the property,” said Owen.

Wilhelmina could’ve killed him on the spot. They had discussed the matter over and over, and every time, Wilhelmina had said the same thing: “No!”

The money they had saved was for the future.

Still, for weeks Owen had carried around a half-inch advertisement that he had cut out of the newspaper.
“Piece of Paradise,”
said the ad,
“wooded lakefront acre perfect for cabin, cottage, summer home.”
Every day during his breaks at the bottling plant, Owen sneaked a peak at the little softened piece of newsprint he kept in his pocket. Then one day, despite his wife’s repeated objections, the pull got too strong.

“So now what?” fumed Wilhelmina. “Now what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to build on it,” said Owen.

“With what?” asked Wilhelmina. “We haven’t got a penny left.”

“I don’t need money to build,” said Owen. “I’ve got tools. I’ve got two good hands. And I’ve got Isaac.”

Isaac was their son, their only child.

“So now you think about Isaac?” she scoffed. “You should have thought about him before you bought this, this, this piece of paradise!”

Wilhelmina spat out the words –
piece of paradise
– as if they were bits of grit that had gotten into her mouth.

“That money could’ve gone toward college!”

“And Isaac needs college for what?” asked Owen. “Did I go to college? Did you? Working with me, Isaac will learn something he can actually use. Like how to build something!”

For the next year, Isaac’s weekends were lost to him. Every Friday afternoon, as his classmates burst out of school, Isaac would trudge toward a black Model A Ford parked at the curb. His father sat in the driver’s seat waiting for him.