Snapper (13 page)

What was she thinking? Ian Copeland wouldn’t be wearing
shoes
– he’d be wearing a
shoe
, singular. She cursed herself for not preparing something in advance. Extemporaneous speaking was a landmine. But what could she do now? She plowed ahead before any wiseacre could seize on her
faux pas.

“But Ian’s loss is no excuse for the actions of those who defiled Turtleback Rock last night. Some people might say that what they did was simply ‘acting out.’ But I disagree. I say acting out is no excuse! I say it is adding insult to injury.

“So I stand here today to ask you, in fact to deputize you, to help find the perpetrators of this shameful deed. If you know something, say something. If you are afraid of retaliation, if you think that telling on someone is “squealing,” I ask you to think again. Do not be cowed into silence by those who would have you be their mute accomplices. If it makes you feel better, report what you know anonymously. But do not remain silent. Do not allow yourself to be intimidated.”

Deena now had everyone’s undivided attention. She paused for dramatic effect then continued with her grand finale.

“And I’ll conclude by saying this: I believe whoever committed this shameful act sits among us today. Look to your right and look to your left, look at the person sitting in front of you and look at the person behind you.”

Deena paused again. As instructed, the students in the auditorium looked awkwardly about.

“One of you,” said Deena, her voice now rising like a courtroom lawyer’s, “has just looked into the eyes of the vandal who has shamed this community. Let him or her or them come forth on their own – or I assure you they will be brought forth by others.”

Dr. Goode dismissed the students back to their classrooms. She turned off the microphone and secretly congratulated herself for the “him, her or them” at the end of her speech. It had been spontaneous but spot on. By adding that “her,” no one could accuse her of being sexist, though she’d be willing to bet her life that the perpetrator wasn’t female.

* * * *

Oscar Hall was on his way back to the boiler room after replacing a bank of lights that had blown in the school’s faraway E-wing. As unobtrusively as possible, he tried to navigate through the congestion of young people that crowded the hallways between classes.

Oscar limped along like a maimed and aging member of an otherwise strong and healthy herd. It had been ages since he’d been as young and strong as the students around him. But having dragged his bum leg through these halls for decades, he knew their youth for what it was: Fleeting. The most precious thing they’d ever possess was even now slipping through their grasp. In a flash, their youth, their beauty, and even their dreams would be behind them. And they didn’t even know it.

Oscar tried to go about his business as invisibly as possible but there was always someone – invariably a boy – who would use his infirmity to get a laugh. How many times had Oscar walked down these tiled halls and heard laughter welling up behind him? And he knew what was happening without turning around. Someone was aping him. But of course, they were not content to simply mimic him. They had to exaggerate his limp for comic effect.

Oscar no longer turned around because once, years ago, he had.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. He had replayed the scene in his mind a million times, like it was roll of game film he was studying.

Oscar had turned suddenly and grabbed the boy by the collar. Then he had lifted the boy off the ground. It was funny how the kid had tried to run away even though his two feet were a foot above the floor. At that point, the laughter had stopped pretty quickly. Oscar had had an urge to slam the boy against the metal lockers that lined the corridor, but he had resisted the temptation. It was a good thing. Even back then, assaulting a student, regardless of the provocation, would get a man fired. And Oscar had needed the job. He needed it still. So Oscar had simply dropped the kid to the floor. He could still remember the sudden stink that told him the boy had crapped his pants.

So as he had done a thousand times, Oscar ignored the titters and giggles he heard behind him. Even as the laughter grew to hysteria, he ignored it.

Then suddenly the laughter stopped.

Ken Lubowsky couldn’t understand why. He was in the middle of getting the biggest laugh he’d ever gotten. What Ken couldn’t see, however – because his view was blocked by Oscar’s back – was that Coach Lupo had just rounded a corner and was walking straight down the hall toward them.

“Hello, Oscar,” he called.

“Hi, Bill.”

Hearing Coach Lupo’s voice, Ken turned sideways like someone trying to hide behind a tree.

Coach Lupo scanned the crowd of onlookers. Not one of them dared to meet his gaze. They all stared down at their feet. Lupo summarily dismissed them all in his mind: a ball-less bunch of cowards, followers and losers.

“Lubowsky,” he said, “I’d like to have a word with you – now – in my office.”

Then Lupo turned and walked back down the hallway with Oscar Hall limping at his side.

Chapter 21

TURTLEBACK LAKE 1965

Like all kids, August Andersen loved summers: almost three full months without school. But his summers were even better than most other kids’ because he spent his in paradise. From late June till early September, August spent every single day swimming, fishing and exploring Turtleback Lake.

Isaac Andersen tried not to give his son the fears that he himself harbored within. Why make the boy unnecessarily nervous? After all, it had been over thirty years since he and his father had sent the great snapper to its grave. To his knowledge, in all those years, there had never been another incident.

Still, Isaac felt a nagging uneasiness, especially when Grandpa Owen visited the cabin.

“I don’t know what it is, Isaac,” Grandpa Owen would say looking out toward the lake. “But whenever I’m here, I still get that feeling deep in my gut – like my bones are still moving around out there.”

“Well, for goodness sakes, dad, just don’t mention it to Augie,” said Isaac. “The last thing I want is for him to develop some kind of turtle complex.”

Augie had heard his grandfather tell the tale of the Great Snapping Turtle so many times it had lost all its terror. It was like
The Wizard of Oz
. The first time he’d seen the movie, he’d been terrified by the flying monkeys. By the tenth time, he was eagerly pointing out the fine wires that lifted the monkeys off the ground.

Still, when it came to the lake, Isaac had three hard-and-fast rules for his son.

“Number one: never swim out past the floating dock. Number two: never swim at night. And number three: never, ever go swimming when the moon is full.”

“Alright, Dad, I hear you,” said Augie. “You’ve told me that a million times.”

By age twelve, Augie swam like a fish. And though he’d never gone swimming after dark or when the moon was full, he had slowly and over time stretched the boundaries of how far out he swam. Often Isaac would look out from the cabin and see Augie and a friend splashing in the water far beyond the floating dock.

Then Isaac would take a deep breath and remind himself that there was nothing to worry about. His fears were baseless. He had to just let go and – how did his mother used to put it? – let God.

The ultimate test came the day he and Augie were sitting in the hot summer sun with their legs dangling over the side of the floating dock.

“You know what I’d really like to try?” said Augie.

“No,” said his father. “What?”

“I’d like to try skin diving.”

It was as if Isaac had just taken a harpoon through his heart. This was the last thing he wanted Augie to do. And he blamed it all on that damn TV show –
Sea Hunt
– with Lloyd Bridges. The show made skin diving look so adventurous. And every afternoon Augie was glued to the tube watching reruns of it.

“I don’t know, Augie,” said Isaac. “Skin diving is an expensive hobby. And it’s dangerous.”

“Ah, c’mon, Dad,” said Augie. “I’ll pay for the equipment. And I’ll learn how to dive properly. I’ll take lessons. And I’ll pay for them, too.”

“You’ll pay?” said his Dad. “Well, I suppose if you can pay, you can do it.”

Isaac thought he was buying himself time – years of it. Augie’s allowance was just fifty cents a week. It would take him forever to save enough money to pay for skin diving equipment and lessons.

But Isaac was wrong.

The next afternoon Augie burst into the cabin with an announcement.

“I got a job!” he said.

“Where?” asked Isaac. “Doing what?”

“At Bonds’,” said Augie. “Doing whatever – clearing tables, doing dishes, sweeping up. Mr. Bond says he’ll pay me a dollar fifty an hour – under the table.”

Isaac could hardly believe his ears. Then things got even worse.

“And look at this,” said Augie.

He handed his father a rolled up copy of The Turtleback Gazette. The paper was folded open to the classified page. A small ad had been enthusiastically circled.

Isaac read the ad.

Somebody was selling his kid’s old skin diving equipment cheap.

“I already called the guy,” said Augie. “And he said I could pay in installments. Isn’t that great, Dad?”

“Yeah,” said his father. “It’s great – really great.”

Chapter 22

TURTLEBACK LAKE JUNE 2006

Deena was checking the brie on the counter to see if it had begun to soften when she heard the sound of gravel crunching in the drive.

“Oh my god!” she said. “He’s here.”

Her heart began to race. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. Ever since they’d spoken on the phone, Deena had built up a vivid fantasy around August. All morning she’d been a wreck. Now it was Saturday afternoon, and he was here. She knew she should just calm down. He was probably going to turn out to be some pudgy bald-headed guy with bad teeth.

Still, before peeking out the window, Deena went to the mirror and fixed her hair one last time. Then she looked out.

“Oh my god!” she said.

Her fantasy had fallen short
–
way
short.

August was tall – at least six one or two; his hair was a shade of blonde that most people have to dye for; and his face, from his pale green eyes to the cleft in his chin, was movie-star handsome. Deena suddenly panicked. August was too good, too handsome. He was out of her league. But what could she do?

Deena opened the door and, affecting a nonchalance that she didn’t in the least feel, she leaned against the doorframe.

“Dr. Andersen, I presume?” she said.

“Just plain August will do,” he answered. “And you, I presume, are my tenant – Deena Goode?”

“In the flesh,” said Deena, reaching out to shake August’s hand.

“Have you been enjoying the cabin?” he asked.

“More than I can say,” said Deena. “It’s been wonderful.”

“I’m so glad,” said August. “As I said on the phone, there are just a couple of things I want to attend to as long as I’m in the area. I don’t think they should take very long.”

“Take all the time you need,” said Deena. “And please, since you’ve come all this way, I hope you’ll stay for a little bite before you leave.”

“A little bite sounds nice,” said August. “I’ll look forward to it. Thank you.”

As August set to work outdoors, Deena went inside and changed into her bathing suit. She wrapped herself in her white terry cloth robe but left it untied in front. August was down on his knees examining a line that led to the septic tank when ten bare toes with brightly painted nails entered his field of vision. August’s gaze scanned up Deena’s bare legs and over the gentle undulations of her tight black bathing suit before reaching her eyes.

“I’m just going for a little dip,” she said, smiling down at August. “If you need anything inside the cabin, help yourself. The door’s open.”

“Thanks,” said August. “I think I should be okay.”

When Deena reached the water, she let her robe slide slowly down from her shoulders. It seemed to fall to the ground in slow motion. Then, before plunging into the water, she reached up behind her head, arched back her shoulders, and slowly gathered her hair into a short ponytail. She hoped August was watching. It was the real reason she was going swimming.

After her swim, Deena toweled herself dry then changed into a pair of shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. She left the top two buttons undone.

Then she waited. It seemed hours before she heard a knock at the screen door.

“Come on in,” she called.

“I’m finally finished,” said August, entering the cabin. “I hope I didn’t overstay my welcome.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Deena. “Come in. I’ll put something out for us to eat.”

While August washed up, Deena set out bread, cheese and olives.

“Is it too early to offer you a glass of wine?” she asked when August returned from the bathroom.

“Not at all,” said August. “It sounds great.”