Finding Hannah by John R. Kess Read Free Book Online Page B

and she pulled me into the river. Soon we were in waist-deep water. I could feel the slight current and was about to protest going any farther when Molly stopped.
    “The first thing you need to know,” Molly said, still holding my hand, “is how to float. If you can’t float, you sink to the bottom and die, and I don’t want my first student dying on me.” She smiled. “We’ll start with floating on your back. Two things to remember: you must relax, and your butt is an anchor, so don’t let it drop.”
    She stood next to me as she lowered me backwards into the water, holding one hand behind my head and the other behind my lower back. The cold water rushed up my back and around my sides. I panicked and bent at the waist, dropping myself underwater, thrashing as I went down.
    Molly pulled me back onto my feet. “Relax.”
    I stood back up, and we tried again.
    “Trust me,” Molly said, as she lowered me into the water. Soon I was completely flat, my feet drifting up as Molly held me at the surface. One of her hands applied pressure to my back and the other to my head. Slowly she let go of my back as water flowed over my stomach, and for a few moments I thought I’d sink farther, but to my surprise I remained on the surface. Everything about this felt weird, like I was in midair while jumping on a trampoline. Molly moved around to the top of my head. I could feel the river current flow around me as Molly held me in place with both of her hands. I had never trusted anyone like this before, and it was wonderful.
    She looked down at me. “Look at you. You’re a natural. I’m going to let go and see if you can float all by yourself. Just relax.”
    The pressure behind my head lessened and then it was gone. The water played with my ears and briefly near my nose and mouth. I jerked my arms in and my torso went under.
    “Relax,” Molly said, catching me. “I’ve got you.” She held my head for a moment and then let go again, and this time I was able to float on my own. Next, she had me stand and then get myself to float without her help. After a few unsuccessful tries, I had it figured out.
    Molly watched me as I floated toward her. She disappeared under the water and then popped right back up.
    “You’re doing great. Hey, hold this for me.” She placed a rock the size of a softball on my stomach. Both of my hands went for it and water rushed over my face. I quickly stood, pushing the rock away.
    Molly giggled playfully. I trudged after her in waist-deep water. As soon as I got close she dove under and tried to swim by me.
    I reached out and grabbed her around the waist, lifted her up above the water, and dropped her gently back in.
    Molly laughed as she stood next to me. “Now you need to learn the dead man’s float. Then I’ll show you how to tread water.”
    “Why do they call it the dead man’s float?”
    “Because that’s what you’ll be if you don’t learn it.”
    * * *
    We returned to our campsite and ate a late supper of turkey jerky and dried apples. We took turns in the tent changing into our black clothes. Molly wore black jeans and turned her black sweatshirt inside out to hide the logo, and I wore dark green pants with a black hooded sweatshirt. She sat facing me on the crumbling rock wall surrounding our tent, holding face paint.
    “Close your eyes,” she said.
    She used her finger to rub the face paint under my eyes, forehead, chin, and nose.
    The sun was going down and, luckily, so was the temperature.
    “You look like a special-ops soldier,” she said.
    “Nice,” I said, keeping my eyes closed.
    When she was finished she handed me the container and closed her eyes. I started with her forehead.
    “It tickles,” she said.
    “Hold still.”
    “Okay.”
    She let me smear the black paint under her eyes, on her nose, and down around her chin.
    “You said this will wash off, right?” Molly asked.
    “After a few weeks.”
    “Ha, ha!” she laughed sarcastically.
    “Okay, open your