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stuck to the bottom of the river! Although there was no impact, I’d stopped moving. I was pasted against the bedrock like a leaf on a stone, held motionless while the river was flowing up my back and over my head, forcing me forward against the deck of my boat. When I resisted, pushing myself upright again, I could see through the spray flying over me, and I could breathe. I could see Melissa on the bank across from me. But it was a big effort to push myself back against the current. When I leaned forward again, to rest my back, my head went completely underwater.
    This was bad.
    I threw my weight back and forth, trying to dislodge the boat. Nothing.
    I tried to plant my paddle on the rock, to push myself free. No way.
    Okay. I’d tried Plan A, I’d tried Plan B—now what should I do?
    It came to me in a flash: PANIC! Now I was going to panic, that’s what I was going to do! I reached forward, tore off my sprayskirt, and wrenched myself out of the kayak, bruising myself in my hurry. I was out of there.
    Now that I was loose, the water swept me away. I bumped down over the rest of the ledge, and then I was swimming.
    Gasping and spluttering, I headed toward shore. Something was tangled in my feet, making it hard to swim. I could see Justin and Jodie, downstream. Melissa was running down to the water’s edge. I got to where the water was calm; I started to stand up—and then I sat down again, as low as I could get.
    My shorts! Where were my darned shorts?
    I threw my paddle onto shore, ducked underwater, and reached down with both hands. I found that my shorts had been pulled all the way down to where they’d been stopped by my sandals. By one sandal, really. And so, while Melissa asked, over and over, “Are you okay? Are you okay?” I thrashed around in the shallows, trying to untangle my shorts and get my other foot through and pull them up again. I was sure glad the water was muddy.
    Finally I got my shorts on again. And the boat floated loose; Justin and Jodie retrieved it, undamaged. And I still had my paddle. And I had my shorts back on. I was all right, apart from a couple of minor scrapes and bruises. No harm done.
    At least, no physical harm.
    “What were you doing, there, in the pool?” asked Justin. He’d just dragged my boat through the bushes back up to where I was standing, shaking the water out of my ears.
    “Nothing,” I said.
    “No, really, what were you doing? It looked like you were fighting with something underwater.”
    “Nothing,” repeated Melissa. I glanced at her. She wasn’t smiling. Not even a little bit.
    Justin gave both of us a funny look, but he didn’t ask again. He turned away and walked back to his kayak.
    Now Melissa allowed herself to smile. And laugh. I looked down at my feet. I could feel my face turning red.
    “Hey, Ted,” said Melissa. “Like you promised— I wasn’t bored!”
    That made me laugh, too. “Neither was I,” I confessed.
    End of story.
    Oh—I gave the shorts back to my dad.
    I make sure I wear shorts with a drawstring, now, when I go kayaking.
    And I don’t forget to tie them on.

Max Elliot Anderson

    Max Elliot Anderson grew up as a reluctant reader. After surveying the market, he sensed the need for action-adventures and mysteries for readers ages eight to thirteen, especially boys.
    Anderson has produced, directed, or shot over five hundred national television commercials for True Value Hardware Stores. He also won a best cinematographer award for the film
Pilgrim’s Progress
.
    Using his extensive experience in the production of motion pictures, videos, and television commercials, Anderson brings visual excitement and heart-pounding action to his stories. His unique characters, setting, and plot have led some young readers to compare reading one of Mr. Anderson’s seven published books to being inside an exciting or scary movie.

Big Foot
    by
    Max Elliot Anderson

    Nearly every town where Jeff Spencer had lived before came complete with a