The Water Fight Professional

  * * *

  The Avalanche.

  My heart pummeled my ribcage as Chance and I sat facing each other in the raft.

  The lifeguard pushed us over the side of the ride shaped like a half pipe.

  We slid straight down.

  It was impossible not to scream. It was like floating over the side of a waterfall, but at the last moment, instead of drowning, we slid back up the other side of the huge wall.

  I laughed for a moment then tried to talk over the sound of my pulse. “Let’s go ride that new slide—the one where the trap door opens under your feet.”

  “Yeah.”

  Chance and I knocked knuckles.

  We ran past Double Trouble, the waterslide that drops you in midair, and crossed the bridge over The Endless River. We were almost to The Corkscrew when we ran into the Clairmonts. I still owed them one for dumping me in the trout pond.

  “Hi, Austin. Hi, Grant.” Chance didn’t say anything to Baby Clairmont. Apparently neither of us knew the kid’s name.

  “Hey, Zabransky.” Austin looked over at me. “You ready for another swim, Joey?”

  “Very funny.” I kept walking. “We’re headed to The Corkscrew. See you later.”

  Chance followed me and the Clairmonts followed Chance. Figured. We started up the massive winding stairway and made ourselves comfortable in line.

  Baby Clairmont looked out over the parking lot. “I see our car.”

  The other boys turned to look. Big whoop.

  We moved a couple of steps as the line shifted forward.

  Grant pointed out over the water park. “Hey, there’s Isabelle Lancaster and her friends. They’re playing volleyball.”

  Austin twisted to get a better look. “Let’s go challenge them to a game after this.”

  “Okay,” said Chance. The traitor.

  “No way.” I shook my head. “I took out a loan to come today. There’s no way I’m going to spend my time playing in the sand.”

  Austin gave me a weird look. “It’s Isabelle.”

  “I know.” I talked to him like he was Baby Clairmont. “She’s my annoying neighbor.”

  Grant laughed at me. “It won’t be long before you’re trying to kiss her.”

  Chance’s eyes got big.

  I gave him the I’ll-punch-you-if-you-say-one-word-about-our-bet look.

  Chance turned away. “Joey only likes circus girls,” he said.

  Whew. That was a close one.

  Austin still laughed at me. “Circus girls are old. Come on. Just one game of volleyball.”

  Baby Clairmont piped up. “I’ll go to the wave pool with you, Joey, if you don’t want to play volleyball.”

  The wave pool did sound inviting, but I didn’t want to spend my day with a baby. “That’s okay.”

  The Corkscrew wasn’t as fun as I expected it to be. But that was probably because I dreaded what I had to do when the ride was over.

  I guess I could forgive the Clairmonts. They didn’t have any sisters and neither did Chance. Only I knew how prissy girls could be. Hmm … maybe I could show them. I told the guys I would meet them at the volleyball court and took off for my backpack.

  When I got to the sand pit, all the boys were surrounding Isabelle. The other girls giggled and pointed from the side.

  I rolled my eyes and unzipped my bag. “Hey, guys.”

  Chance looked over first. “No, Joey. Not today.”

  Austin glanced up—then did a double take. “You really want to start that again?”

  I juggled two water balloons from hand to hand with a huge grin on my face.

  The girls screamed and ducked for cover.

  Except for Isabelle. She put one hand onto her hip.

  Grant took two giant steps toward me and I thought about ducking for cover. “We’re not here for a water fight,” he growled.

  “I know.” Though a water fight would be fun. “Haven’t you ever played water balloon volleyball?”

  Grant stopped. “No.”

  I instructed everyone to buddy up and grab opposite sides of beach towels. I made the girls get on one side of the net. We boys stood across from them. Chance had the other end of my towel. Baby Clairmont became the referee since numbers were uneven and he didn’t have a buddy.

  “If you get wet, you’re out,” I called. Now my friends would see how prissy girls really were. I plunked the first water balloon in the center of the towel I was holding. “Ready?”

  Chance’s gaze met mine and he gave a slight nod.

  We bounced the balloon a couple times. One, two, three, fling.

  The red balloon sailed over the net and headed for the sand on the other side.

  I hoped it would burst all over Prissy Izzy.

  Isabelle tugged hard on her towel, her partner, Mattea, stumbling after her. She dove to the ground and caught the balloon just in time.

  “Yay,” all the girls hollered.

  I didn’t even get a chance to boo.

  Isabelle jumped to her feet and flung the balloon back our way.

  Chance and I ran together as if we were in a three-legged race.

  The balloon landed in the center of our towel.

  Without a second thought, we pulled the towel tight and sent the balloon back across the net.

  Isabelle could have caught the balloon, but Mattea didn’t move fast enough. She tripped and landed in the sand and the balloon splattered all over her head.

  “I’m the gazpacho,” I yelled.

  “Shut up, Joey. You’re talking gibberish.” Chance always focused completely on the game.

  “Gazpacho is a bad word,” I informed him. “I heard my dad use it the other day. I think it means vomit.”

  Chance translated my gibberish. “You’re the vomit?”

  I grinned. “Didn’t you see the way I threw up that balloon?”

  From there, Isabelle had to hold both sides of her towel by herself. I had to admit she wasn’t bad. In fact, she was part of the remaining four. Chance and I still had our towel, and one other girl named Nicole was on Isabelle’s side. Isabelle and Nicole both had their own towels.

  It wasn’t really fair to have them competing against Chance and I, who shared only one. “You girls can downsize to one towel now.”

  Isabelle and Nicole stepped together.

  “Wait,” Baby Clairmont refereed. “One girl and one boy on each side.”

  “Aw …” I groaned. “Who put Baby Clairmont in charge?”

  “You,” Chance answered.

  “Joey,” Isabelle called my name. “You’re on my side.”

  I kicked at the sand on my way under the net. I wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Why didn’t you pick Chance?” I asked. “He’s the athlete.”

  “Yeah,” Isabelle said. “But you’re the water balloon lover.”

  I shot her a death glare. “I am not.”

  Isabelle’s cheek dimpled. “It’s a compliment.”

  Chance yelled from across the net. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Isabelle and I shouted in return.

  Then, with confidence from Isabelle’s belief in me, I contemplated the idea that Chance’s strength might also be his weakness. I leaned forward to whisper quickly before the game began. “Let’s pop it to Nicole’s side. Chance will trample her.”

  The balloon flew our direction.

  We scrambled backward to catch it. Perfect.

  Pop. We tossed it toward Nicole’s side.

  Chance rushed forward. He bumped directly into Nicole, who couldn’t move as fast. Down they went. Splat. They both got soaked.

  I won. I won! I beat Chance. That was a first. I celebrated the rest of the day by avoiding all girls—especially Isabelle.