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side, starboard is right. These are the gunwales”—she pointed to the canoe’s side—“and the front is the bow and the back is the stern.” Then she demonstrated a few strokes before we got out on the water. Maggie and I had canoed some last summer, so we already knew the basics.
    â€œWhen’s the first river trip?” asked Maggie.
    â€œNext Monday. Interested in going?” Michelle asked with a grin.
    â€œDefinitely!” said Maggie.
    â€œNot,” added Devon.
    Then Michelle said we could get into canoes and try out what we’d learned. Typically, there would be two people to a canoe, but as usual, the three of us had to stick together.
    â€œI’m in the stern,” Maggie called, wading out into the lake a little ways and climbing into the back of a canoe. I got in and sat in front of her.
    Devon stood on the grassy edge of the lake and raised one eyebrow. “How am I supposed to get in?”
    â€œWhat do you mean, how are you supposed to get in? Wade out and climb in!” Maggie yelled impatiently.
    We were a foot or two away from the shore. Devon seemed to expect us to push the canoe all the way up on dry land and let her step right in.
    â€œWade in? I’m not going to
wade in
. These shoes are new.”
    I looked down and saw that Devon had on a new pair of canvas shoes with black laces that were so dazzlingly white I practically had to squint to look at them.
    â€œYou could take them off,” I pointed out. I’d changed into my new clear, waterproof high-tops, and Maggie had on Crocs, so we’d been able to wade in, no problem.
    â€œI refuse to take my shoes off. You scoot to the middle and let me climb in the front,” Devon suggested.
    â€œWhatever! Just so long as we do this sometime today,” I growled. Already Meredith Orr and a new girl named Patty Nguyen were in the water and halfway across the lake.
    Maggie swung the canoe around so the bow was pointed toward Devon, and I moved carefully to the middle, the canoe rocking slightly from the movement.
    Then Maggie paddled forward so that the bow wasright up against the lake edge. Now Devon could literally step right in without getting wet. Maggie stuck her paddle down into the muddy lake bottom and held it to keep us from drifting while Devon climbed into the bow.
    Once Devon had a seat, Maggie moved us away from the shore. I slid my paddle forward in the canoe so Devon could reach it.
    â€œIf you’re sitting in the bow, you’ll have to paddle,” I told her.
    Devon didn’t touch the paddle. Instead she sat perched on the canoe seat, thumbing through her magazine, while Maggie was busy paddling with all her strength in the stern.
    â€œDevon, you have to paddle!” I yelled. “Stop reading and help out!”
    â€œYeah, Ghosty Girl. I’m doing all the work here,” Maggie called from the stern. She swung her paddle forward and flicked the blade up so that droplets of water hit the back of Devon’s shirt. “Come on, let’s see some arm muscle.”
    Devon flinched a little when the water drops hit her, but she didn’t turn around. “If I feel another drop of water on me, you’ll be flossing your teeth with that paddle,” she said coolly.
    â€œOh, yeah?” Maggie yelled. “How about I feed your magazine to the fishies?”
    I clutched my head between my palms, and a low rumbling sound came out of my throat, kind of like the one my cat Gitana would make just before coughing up a hair ball. It was a warning sound that meant some bad eruption was about to happen.
    â€œ
¡Me vuelvo loca!
I mean it! You two are this close to driving me completely insane!”
    â€œHey, Chris—you know what we forgot to do? A dunk test!” Maggie yelled.
    She scooted beside me in the middle and was getting into position to flip the canoe over. Her hands gripped the gunwales of the starboard side while her feet pushed