"Remember when you tried to teach me that?" I ask as she swims towards me.

She puts her elbows on the dock, holding herself up. We both smile at the memory. I was awful at it. I could barely bend far enough to where my hands were halfway to the ground.

"I could have done it," I say, even though I know there's no way in hell. Kiersten laughs. She knows it, too.

"Yeah right. And I can play football."

I laugh and get up. I can't resist a challenge. It's my only weakness. Well, one of my only weaknesses.

"I can do it now, I bet."

I do everything Kiersten did. Turn around, look behind me, take those few little baby steps, and finally, stretch behind me.

"Matty," Kiersten says, holding back her laughter.

"Shh," I say, feigning seriousness. "I need to concentrate."

Kiersten breaks into continuous giggles and repeatedly says stop in between laughs. My back starts hurting, so I do.

"Seriously," Kiersten says as her giggling subsides. "You can't be messing around like that. If I got you hurt right before football season? Your dad would kill me."

I turn back around and sit on the dock laughing all the while.

"Yeah, right. He'd kill me."

Kiersten joins in on my laughter.

"No no," she says and shakes her head. "He would stare at you in disapproval until you guilt-trip yourself into spending the rest of forever alone in your room thinking about what you've done."

Sounds about right to me. My dad is a calculated master when it comes to punishment. He knows exactly what gets to me and uses it to his advantage. No one can strike a chord with me quite like my dad.

"My dad's nuts," I say, mostly to myself.

"He just cares about you," Kiersten says and pulls herself out of the water and onto the dock next to me.

"He cares too much," I say.

Kiersten smiles sympathetically and stands up. I stand up, too, taking this as her hint that she wants to leave. Kiersten throws on her t-shirt and shorts and begins to walk away. I follow, discreetly picking up my stuff from this morning. I don't want her to know I was here once already.

"There's no such thing as caring too much."

"I think you're wrong."

We walk in comfortable silence for a while, then Kiersten breaks it about the time we pass Nick and Lily Chelsea's diner, Chellie's.

"I'm always wrong aren't I?"

"It's not that you're always wrong," I say. "It's just that-"

"You're always right?" Kiersten finishes for me.

We both laugh. Kiersten nudges me and then steps on the back of my sneakers. My heel pulls out of the back just enough to make me stumble. I glare at her, but she gives me the most innocent look in the world. It actually makes me kind of believe she didn't do it. But I know her better than that. I let it go and look away just to have her do it again. This time she laughs, giving herself up and I push her back playfully.

As we turn that last corner, our houses come into view, standing side by side the way they always have. My crisp, clean white house stands tall with its light yellow shutters. The garage door is wide open, showcasing all our toys and sports equipment, all of which are stacked neatly of course. My little brother, Drew, and his three closest friends, Toby, Cole, and Sam run around our front lawn chucking water balloons at each other. My younger sister Carrie watches, wishing she could join in. My dad sits on the swing, holding my baby sister, Marcie, in his arms.

"Geronimo!" Toby yells and climbs onto the porch railing.

He jumps off into the grass and tosses a water balloon into the air, which of course hits me right in the arm. Toby laughs his maniacal laugh, inviting Drew and the rest of his buddies to join in. I can't just let him get away with that, so I chase him down. He laughs one last hysterical laugh and runs around the back of my house. I follow him, and as soon as I catch up with him, his older brother and my friend, Sal, ambushes me with a water gun. I turn away from the spray and am immediately hit in the face with a water balloon. I whip my head around to find the source, only to see my other friend Teddy and his little brother Sam laughing it up.

I hear Kiersten roll her eyes, and yes, I know exactly what that sounds like. A gentle swish of her hair over her shoulders, her heavier steps as she makes her way to the porch swing to converse with my dad about how immature I am. Kiersten will make some wise comment, a serious look on her face, and my dad will agree with a nod of his head, mocking that same serious expression. But then they'll just end up smiling like idiots because, in reality, they both love me.

So I just go about my business, ignoring Kiersten and my dad's judging stares and smirks. After all, Sal and Teddy got me completely soaked and I'll have to change my clothes for the second time today. They must pay.

We fight it out until we run out of water balloons, out of laughs, and out of energy. We survey the damage. All of us are dripping wet. The yard is covered with rainbow shriveled, latex sprinkles. Toby got a bruised knee and Teddy got hit in the face with a splash ball. But all up, we had a pretty awesome time. And now we sat on the front porch- my dad wouldn't let us inside because we would get everything all wet- drying and laughing. My dad brought us lemonade and then disappeared into the house, bringing Marcie and Carrie with him.

"Well, that was fun," Sal says, smacks his knees, and stands up.

Toby does the same thing. They look exactly the same. They're those types of brothers. Seeing Toby is like I'm eight years old again and so is Sal. People say it's that way with me and my dad, but not with me and Drew. Drew looks like his mom with that crazy mop of curly brown hair. Me, I got my dad's weird dirty strawberry blonde hair. Kiersten says it looks as if someone was eating strawberry ice cream, mixed a ton of caramel sauce into it, and then dumped it on my head. Whatever the hell that means.

"Yep," Toby agrees.

"But we best get going," Sal says and Toby nods.

"Yeah us too," Teddy and Sam get up, and pretty soon everyone's gone except me, Drew, and Kiersten.

We sit in silence, sipping our lemonade for a while, then my dad pops his head through the front door.

"Kiersten you staying for lunch?"

"Uh," Kiersten says "I wish I could. I told my dad I'd be home by 12:00. Actually," Kiersten checks her watch. "I have to go." 

"Okay," My dad says. She leaves. I watch her all the way into her house. Pathetic, I know, but I can't help it. It's a habit. "Matt help me make lunch."

Yeah, what a joke that is. My dad and I trying to make a meal. It's a real show, let me tell you. Before my mom left neither of us could hardly make toast. But we're learning. My dad can make pretty good cheeseburgers on the grill. I can make spaghetti. If we work together we just might be able to pull together something from the Food Network, but it never comes out the way it looks on T.V. But we try.

"Sure," I say, and jump inside.

"We're not having cheeseburgers or spaghetti again are we?" Drew whines as he follows me into the house. My dad laughs and shakes Drew's moppy hair.

"No, not today, bud," he says. "But if you keep complaining, you'll get nothing but cheeseburgers and spaghetti for the rest of your life."

"And you'll be eating it through a tube," I add, my dad shoots me a warning look but doesn't say anything. He wouldn't be stupid enough to make me mad, not when he needs me to help him cook.

So we make lunch - peanut butter and jelly with celery sticks- and eat it. The rest of the day goes by pretty slowly as usual. After dinner, Drew heads over to Toby's house for some sort of camping-in-the-backyard thing. Carrie and Marcie make themselves comfortable on my dad's lap in the living room.

"Matty watch with us," Marcie squeaks.

I glance at the TV to see what they're watching. As much as I love a heartfelt story of an unlikely friendship, I don't think I can sit through an entire Disney movie tonight. The opening credits of Finding Nemo play across the screen.

"Nah," I say. "I think I'm just gonna get some sleep."

"Good idea. You're gonna need it," my dad says with a smirk and I disappear into my room.

I lay back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Tomorrow, I see if all my work this summer will pay off. I'll see if I can outrun everyone, if the heat defeats me, or if I can survive hit after hit, sprint after sprint, push up after push up. Tomorrow, football tryouts start.