I flailed through the air, barely catching my breath before splashing into the icy, murky pond.
A fish slipped past my neck.
I emerged to the sounds of laughter.
Baby Clairmont—I didn’t know his name—had caught up with his brothers and they all smirked down at me from the bridge. Mr. Clairmont’s tall frame doubled over in laughter in the distance. He was the reason I was floating in the muck. Was it worth it?
I thought of the soggy dollar bills stuffed into my jeans pocket. Oh yeah. It was worth it. I would do it again every day that summer if I got the chance.