The last time they’d come, he’d seen a black snake slither its way up the slope, barely stirring the ferns.

Fox let out a shout, dumped his pack. In seconds he’d dragged off his shoes, his shirt, his jeans and was sailing over the water in a cannonball without a thought for snakes or ghosts or whatever else might be under that murky brown surface.

“Come on, you pussies!” After a slick surface dive, Fox bobbed around the pool like a seal.

Cal sat, untied his Converse All Stars, carefully tucked his socks inside them. While Fox continued to whoop and splash, he glanced over where Gage simply stood looking out over the water.

“You going in?”

“I dunno.”

Cal pulled off his shirt, folded it out of habit. “It’s on the agenda. We can’t cross it off unless we all do it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” But Gage only stood as Cal stripped down to his Fruit of the Looms.

“We have to all go in, dare the gods and stuff.”

With a shrug, Gage toed off his shoes. “Go on, what are you, a homo? Want to watch me take my clothes off?”

“Gross.” And slipping his glasses inside his left shoe, Cal sucked in breath, gave thanks his vision blurred, and jumped.

The water was a quick, cold shock.

Fox immediately spewed water in his face, fully blinding him, then stroked off toward the cattails before retaliation. Just when he’d managed to clear his myopic eyes, Gage jumped in and blinded him all over again.

“Sheesh, you guys!”

Gage’s choppy dog paddle worked up the water, so Cal swam clear of the storm. Of the three, he was the best swimmer. Fox was fast, but he ran out of steam. And Gage, well, Gage sort of attacked the water like he was in a fight with it.

Cal worried-even as part of him thrilled at the idea-that he’d one day have to use the lifesaving techniques his dad had taught him in their aboveground pool to save Gage from drowning.