Read The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder for Free Online

of the boys really knew how to swim. They’d flail those arms up and over, splashing and making a mess. They could kick hard, I’ll give them that much. But the whole time I could keep up with them because I knew how to breathe, and to match it to my strokes as I cut my hands into the water. Papa’s the one who taught us how to swim. And because I’m the one who stuck with it, he taught me how to turn my head from side to side when I breathed and to kick hard, using my leg muscles and keeping my ankles low as I kicked, but hardly splashing at all. Papa had to learn to swim real good when he was in the war. He was lucky. M’Dear says the Moon Lady was with him to get him home safe.
    I was known for being able to hold my breath the longest underwater. Just as Sonny Boy was the king of cannonballs, I was the queen of holding my breath. And I was the queen of cannonballs, even if no one would admit it. Papa always said, “If you’re good at something, don’t be afraid to say it.” “I’m the cannonball queen!” I’d call out. But they would only grant me queen of breath-holding, and I guess that was good enough.
    I’d dive in and swim till I was out a ways. Then I’d take a deep breath. Just as I began to exhale, I would put my head down under so that no one could see me. I’d let my breath out in little bursts, very, very slowly. And at the same time I’d be kicking as hard as I could, so that by the time anyone would look for me, I’d already be a far ways off, underneath. No one could see me. And when I’d finally raise my head, everyone would clap and cheer. “Oh, God, Calla! You had us really stumped that time!” everybody would say.
    Besides doing cannonballs off the pier, there were also three rope swings on trees that you could climb to swing out over the river. First, there was the little kid’s rope swing. Then there was the intermediate rope swing, which I was just starting to use. And then there was the high, high rope swing farther down the riverbank that only the adult men used. Papa was always warning that he better not catch any of us down there, because there were snakes down around the overgrown bushes and logs. That was all I needed to hear to stay clear! We called that area “The Scary Swamp.”
     
    So all of us were just sitting around on our beach, a wonderful little beach that the La Luna River gave us. Renée, Sukey, and I laid out our towels and rubbed Coppertone on each other. Eddie had brought his father’s cooler, the one he used on his fishing trips, and that’s where we stored our bottles of Coke and 7-Up and ham and cheese sandwiches. And there we spent our afternoons, just playing and swimming—especially me, because I wanted to become a very strong swimmer. I swam all over every single area that we were allowed to go.
    While I was straightening my towel, I looked up and saw that boy who got off the bus. “Hey!” I said. “Hey, I’m the one that tried to be nice to you this morning.”
    He just ignored me, standing there in front of us. I said, “I’d introduce you, but I don’t really know your name.”
    “Well, you don’t really have to know my name,” he said. “I’m here to swim.” Boy, talk about snooty!
    “Do your grandparents know you’re down here at the river?” I asked him.
    The new boy answered, “Nobody needs to know what I do. I do what I want.”
    I decided to be polite anyway. That is just the way I was raised. “Let me introduce you to my brothers and our friends.”
    “I don’t want to meet anybody related to you or who you know.”
    Well, I was ready to hit him with a fishing pole when Sonny Boy walked up and put out his hand and didn’t drop it. Just looked him in the eye until the new boy couldn’t help but shake hands. He said, “My name is Tucker LeBlanc.” And I thought, Way to go, Sonny Boy . And then Sonny Boy began to explain where you could swim and where you couldn’t. He said, “All those are good places. But don’t