The Secrets of Tree Taylor by Dandi Daley Mackall Read Free Book Online

only once. Nothing had prepared me for the fact that water, a liquid, could hurt like a solid.
    Jack raised his arms exactly like Laura did before her exhibition dives. Then he shot into the air like he meant to dive.Only instead of flipping over, he came down feet first. But it wasn’t a jump, either. He grabbed one knee and hit the water with the force of a cannon.
    It had to hurt like hades. But, man, was it worth it! Jack’s cannonball shot up a spray of water that rained down on the unsuspecting Laura. She sputtered and screamed like she’d never been wet before.
    Jack climbed out and jogged off. Mike tried to blow his whistle, but he was laughing too hard.
    A smattering of applause accompanied Jack as he disappeared into the locker room.
    Around seven, the pool emptied. Not a swimmer in sight … except for the Cozad boys, wrapped up in towels. I didn’t know if they were protecting themselves from the evening breeze or from third-degree sunburn.
    I used the lull to catch up on D.J.’s copy of last week’s
Hamiltonian
. Two articles surprised me—one criticizing the school board and the other reporting on the rise in auto accidents in Caldwell County. Randy must have written both articles. Old Mr. Ridings would have thought they were too negative.
    “Can you believe this?” Sarah whispered. “Mrs. Cozad’s here. Maybe we can get off early after all.”
    “You’re kidding,” I whispered back. We still had ninety minutes till closing.
    But no sooner had the boys left than the stragglers arrived, a handful of people who actually liked to swim. I waited poolside and tried to interview a couple of them, but they were too serious about swimming laps.
    This was turning out to be the longest day in the history of history.
    “Time for a rain dance,” I whispered to Sarah.
    I didn’t need music for my rain dance. In fact, the song playing now—“Sherry” by the mellow Four Seasons—made my job harder. The only way to dance to that song was to “non-dance.” That’s what Jack and I called the way most kids faked slow dances at sock hops after ball games. They leaned on each other and swayed. Non-dancing.
    I did the best I could.
    About a half hour later, D.J. burst into the basket room. “Tree, did you do your rain dance?”
    “I did,” I admitted.
    “Freaks me out every time. I knew I felt a raindrop!”
    “No lie, D.J.?” To tell the truth, my rain dances only worked half the time. Plus, I only did them when there was a good possibility of rain … unless I was desperate, like tonight.
    Sarah and I left the basket room to stand with D.J. and watch the pool turn into a tiny ocean of dots as raindrops plunked the surface.
    The last of the swimmers hoisted themselves out of the pool.
    “Let’s split while the splittin’s good!” Sarah shouted.
    I lifted my face to the sky and let the rain splash me. We’d only be closing twenty minutes early, but it felt like a snow day.
    Then, as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped.
    “Dance again, Tree!” Sarah commanded.
    Before I could, D.J. muttered, “What a drag. Lifeguards! Get back here.”
    They’d both abandoned their lifeguard chairs. Laura was halfway to the locker room.
    “Why?” Michael whined. “Who’s going to come swimming with only fifteen minutes left to closing?”
    For once, I had to agree with Michael.
    D.J. was staring out toward the street.
    I looked where he was looking. Mrs. Cozad’s beater pickup cruised across the lot and up to the sidewalk. Her boys, their towels still wrapped around their shoulders, were piled into the back like bales of hay.
    “Out!” she shouted to the boys. Then she marched her ducklings up to the pool ticket window and flashed her family pass.
    We all followed D.J. through the basket room to the ticket counter.
    D.J. placed both palms on the counter. “Can I help you?”
    “My boys want to swim some more,” Mrs. Cozad said.
    D.J. glanced at the skinny boys staring at their feet and