The Thing I Didn't Know I Didn't Know (Russel Middlebrook: The Futon Years Book 1) by Brent Hartinger Read Free Book Online
Authors: Brent Hartinger
Earth-mother-type played with her toddler at the edge of the lake.
A ten-year-old girl stood waist-deep in the water while eating an ice cream bar.
Four teenage boys played a loud game of King of the Floating Dock.
A woman in a pink bathing cap did the crawl stroke out beyond the dock.
The aforementioned DILF with the hairy chest struggled to put water-wings on his four-year-old son.
The lifeguard zone isn't a conscious thing exactly. Yes, you "see" all the people in the lake in front of you, but they don't really register (unless they're hot, like the DILF). It's more of a "big picture" thing. You somehow keep the mental image of everyone together in your head. Then if something goes wrong, you notice it—intuitively or whatever .
(That said, I was totally aware that the little girl in pigtails was currently peeing in the lake. People who think they can pee and no one will know? The lifeguard knows. You can tell by the person's expression. We lifeguards just don't say anything, because, well, what exactly are we going to say? But for the record: ewwwww.)
I scanned the swimming area, back and forth, over and over again, trying to stay in the lifeguard zone. But after a while, my mind began to wander.
The label said that this sunblock wouldn't run and sting my eyes, but it totally does.
Man, that carp made a big splash. I'd like to kick the idiot who first released non-native species into Green Lake.
I wonder if I'll ever run into Kevin again.
I kept staring out at the lake even as ragtime kept playing on that piano.
Something is wrong , I thought.
It didn't know exactly what it was, just that it was something. That was the thing about the lifeguard zone, or maybe about the human brain in general. Even when you're not looking at each individual person, even when your mind is wandering, you still notice when something's not right. And right then, my Spidey-sense was tingling something fierce.
I scanned the lake again, concentrating, trying to figure out exactly what was different.
The Earth-mother was still playing with her toddler.
The ten-year-old girl had finished her ice cream bar (and left the wooden stick floating in the water).
The boys were still playing King of the Dock.
The DILF was watching his son.
Even the little girl in pigtails, finally done peeing, looked a-okay.
The woman in the pink swimming cap. Where is she?
I looked to where she'd been before, and to where she'd be now if she'd kept on her swimming trajectory.
There were bubbles in the water.
Down below the bubbles was a dark form, not moving. There were no logs or rocks that big anywhere in the swimming area—I knew that for sure. And the dark form was way too big to be a giant carp or a turtle.
It's the woman .
I stood up and blew my whistle as loud as I could. I didn't turn to the other lifeguards positioned around the swimming area, or the ones back in the office, but if they did their jobs right, they'd step forward, seeing if I needed help, but also making sure to watch everyone else in the swimming area. Believe it or not, it's times like these, when the entire swimming area is focused on one lifeguard helping someone who's gone under, that some other kid could slip or be pushed under the water, and no one would notice. Back in the office, the lifeguards should already have been calling 911. (We lifeguards all hate our job, but we also know how important it is, and we take it pretty seriously.)
I climbed down from the lifeguard chair, keeping my eyes locked on those bubbles out in the lake. I kicked off my flip-flops, and ran for the water.
The lake is shallow right offshore—perfect for little kids futzing around in a swimming area, but too shallow for a lifeguard like me to make a running dive.
So I kept running, the water splashing up from my ankles, until I could finally make the dive.
Then I swam, keeping my head up, face forward, my eyes locked on the spot where the bubbles had
A ten-year-old girl stood waist-deep in the water while eating an ice cream bar.
Four teenage boys played a loud game of King of the Floating Dock.
A woman in a pink bathing cap did the crawl stroke out beyond the dock.
The aforementioned DILF with the hairy chest struggled to put water-wings on his four-year-old son.
The lifeguard zone isn't a conscious thing exactly. Yes, you "see" all the people in the lake in front of you, but they don't really register (unless they're hot, like the DILF). It's more of a "big picture" thing. You somehow keep the mental image of everyone together in your head. Then if something goes wrong, you notice it—intuitively or whatever .
(That said, I was totally aware that the little girl in pigtails was currently peeing in the lake. People who think they can pee and no one will know? The lifeguard knows. You can tell by the person's expression. We lifeguards just don't say anything, because, well, what exactly are we going to say? But for the record: ewwwww.)
I scanned the swimming area, back and forth, over and over again, trying to stay in the lifeguard zone. But after a while, my mind began to wander.
The label said that this sunblock wouldn't run and sting my eyes, but it totally does.
Man, that carp made a big splash. I'd like to kick the idiot who first released non-native species into Green Lake.
I wonder if I'll ever run into Kevin again.
I kept staring out at the lake even as ragtime kept playing on that piano.
Something is wrong , I thought.
It didn't know exactly what it was, just that it was something. That was the thing about the lifeguard zone, or maybe about the human brain in general. Even when you're not looking at each individual person, even when your mind is wandering, you still notice when something's not right. And right then, my Spidey-sense was tingling something fierce.
I scanned the lake again, concentrating, trying to figure out exactly what was different.
The Earth-mother was still playing with her toddler.
The ten-year-old girl had finished her ice cream bar (and left the wooden stick floating in the water).
The boys were still playing King of the Dock.
The DILF was watching his son.
Even the little girl in pigtails, finally done peeing, looked a-okay.
The woman in the pink swimming cap. Where is she?
I looked to where she'd been before, and to where she'd be now if she'd kept on her swimming trajectory.
There were bubbles in the water.
Down below the bubbles was a dark form, not moving. There were no logs or rocks that big anywhere in the swimming area—I knew that for sure. And the dark form was way too big to be a giant carp or a turtle.
It's the woman .
I stood up and blew my whistle as loud as I could. I didn't turn to the other lifeguards positioned around the swimming area, or the ones back in the office, but if they did their jobs right, they'd step forward, seeing if I needed help, but also making sure to watch everyone else in the swimming area. Believe it or not, it's times like these, when the entire swimming area is focused on one lifeguard helping someone who's gone under, that some other kid could slip or be pushed under the water, and no one would notice. Back in the office, the lifeguards should already have been calling 911. (We lifeguards all hate our job, but we also know how important it is, and we take it pretty seriously.)
I climbed down from the lifeguard chair, keeping my eyes locked on those bubbles out in the lake. I kicked off my flip-flops, and ran for the water.
The lake is shallow right offshore—perfect for little kids futzing around in a swimming area, but too shallow for a lifeguard like me to make a running dive.
So I kept running, the water splashing up from my ankles, until I could finally make the dive.
Then I swam, keeping my head up, face forward, my eyes locked on the spot where the bubbles had
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