“It’s really hot, even for July.”

The two men sat on plastic beach chairs admiring the lake scenery ahead, with the quiet ccssh of an opening grape soda. It was about ten o’clock on a Saturday, the time where the neighbor boys would pack lunches of leftover ham and turkey and eat on the dock by the lake. “The Boy’s Lake,” as they called it. Lewis enjoyed watching as they flail their arms, jumping wildly off the home-made rope swing and into the water. He became the unofficial lifeguard; Occasionally he’d hear, “Lewis! Lewis!” and would run down the dock to see who wasn’t coming up for air from the daily “let’s see who can hold their breath the longest” tournament. Today there was no yelling, and a distinct lack of ham and turkey, which he would sometimes snack on. It was simply too hot to go out today, the mixture of pine straw and fallen leaves on the ground seemed to look like burnt ashes in the afternoon weather.

David had joined him today for the lifeguard duties and was somewhat disappointed when they had realized that no one was coming today. They hadn’t really been friends, just the occasional noticing of one another on trash days. Lewis had invited him out on a whim, wanting  to break the uncomfortable silence in one of these meetings. David took a sip of the soda, fresh from the green cooler laying in the clay. He was expecting beer, which Lewis had avoided bringing since he had begun watching the boys. There was a day where he’d left the cooler unguarded and had to explain the “incident” to a very angry mother.

Besides staring out onto the water and drinking cans of sugary soda, there wasn’t much to do, let alone lifeguarding. Lewis began to talk about the funny instances around this pond with the boys, such as when Gus from Pearl St. started hurling acorns into the water at his fellow swimmers. There were a few polite chuckles from David, who soon realized that this was going to be his day. So the two sat, emptying out the cooler and telling stories in a desperate attempt to avoid the silence of the lake, which was nearing. There’s a rule about their town in rural Georgia. You either keep talking or don’t talk at all. It was what they all grew up with, though in different phrases. Lewis had been taught young about commitment. You either stay here and talk, or you quietly go run off to the city with their subway stations and sidewalk paths. And Lewis, of course, was a talker. Despite this, he wasn’t sure what had gotten him so talkative that day, whether it was the overbearing heat or the overbearing boredom or just wanting someone to listen. He pointed out across the lake.

“See that boat out there?”

David peered out at the water, trying to find something that looked boat-like, and nodded.

“They call it the ‘Snakeboat,’ because it’s painted like one of those coral snakes,” Lewis added.

David could see it clearly now, the red, yellow and black colors in stripes across the side of a wooden rowboat. He recalled the rhyme in his head, the one everyone knew.

Red on Black, friend of Jack. Red on Yellow, kill a fellow.

The clouds seemed to move away from the little boat, floating off slowly in different directions, which neither of them looked carefully enough to notice. There were quite a few things strange about the snakeboat, such as the perfectly carved wood that hadn’t aged a day. Though he couldn’t see it, Lewis knew what was under it. There was a chain tied to the bottom of the boat extending to the bottom of the Boy’s Lake. He didn’t know how long it was; fifty feet one hundred feet, maybe a thousand feet deep and tied to the bottom by some hook. The chain had been there for as long as anyone could remember, anyone who knew about it. A snake doesn’t change its stripes, naturally the snakeboat wouldn’t either. It stuck out there in the middle, unchanged after how long it had been there. It would take you back in time if you had the guts swim out and climb into the wooden sides. The chain kept it there, as if it had never left for as many years as the lake was deep. Lewis didn’t normally tell about the boat at all, but they he sat with David and poured out the whole story. Maybe there was alcohol in the grape soda.              

                                                            ***

Millie Osman had moved into the house across the street from Lewis with her family of four, which he mentioned briefly to David. Her parents, gosh, they were wonderful. Invited him     inside for a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” party they’d thrown themselves, with Mrs. May, Gus’s mother, who lived somewhere nearby. A few others had come that Lewis didn’t really recognize, despite living in their town since he was born.

They all sat down at the dining table, Millie and her brother Adam Osman spread out little note cards once they’d learned everyone’s names. Lewis had sat across from their mother, Mrs. Osman, who talked to him like she’d known him all her life.

“We’d been stuck in that apartment for what seemed like ages, I thought I was going to  die,” she said, almost a little too excited to move out to their “rural” town.

In an attempt to chat with the newcomers to the neighborhood, Lewis mentioned the stories he always told, just like that he was telling to David. Mrs. May scoffed at the mention of her son at the pond. Lewis could remember his interactions with Mrs. May, with the whole “I’m going to get out of this darn town” get-up. Mr. Osman wanted to take a trip to the pond with Lewis. Maybe find some new friends in the regulars to the lake, maybe to push his kids to getting used to their life away from the city. It’d been about a week since they’d moved in, Mrs. Osman had discovered Adam awake at sometime early in the morning, trying to fall back asleep to the sound of the ticking fan on the highest setting to substitute for the cars outside his old bedroom window while humming to himself. She was ashamed of her son, seeing him humming quietly in  the freezing cold room. So she agreed, hoping to show him that it wasn’t going to be that bad.

                                                            ***

The Osmans and Lewis decided to meet up at the lake a couple days after. Lewis had gotten there at about three ‘o'clock, hoping to stay for a couple hours so maybe they’d enjoy the sunset. They arrived in a white car and pulled up in the little parking spaces, Millie quickly ran out of the car, slathered in sunscreen, and put her feet in the red clay. She got surprisingly giddy just standing near the edge. Lewis assumed it was because she’d never really been outside of the city before, not like they have much clay there. Her parents and Adam followed, setting up a towel on the dock. They all watched the boys that had been already swimming for a couple of hours, about to run home for dinner. Adam only went in the water for a little while, after discovering how “frightening” the lily pads are.

“So you’re just swimming,” he explained, “And then out of nowhere this plant is floating nearby you and brushes your arm! And it could’ve been anything!”

Millie especially laughed at her brother’s reaction. He was a year older than her ten year old self and she considered him to be braver, so she would sometimes sneak up behind with some plant in hand to make fun.

Lewis talked to their parents for most of it, while watching the boys and the Osman kids with his “lifeguard instincts.” He enjoyed their company, they seemed to really like moving to the neighborhood.

“We’d been living there for so long,” Mrs. Osman began.“It almost grew suffocating.”

She continued to explain how she hoped her kids made friends and such, like any parent would. Millie and Adam had come ashore to play in the red clay, Lewis had went to join them. Millie stared out onto the lake’s horizon, he responded by telling her about he’d heard about the boat out in the middle of the lake. Of course he didn’t believe it, not much happened where they lived. Occasionally they’d all meet up for holidays, and those would be the highlights of the year. So Lewis wanted to make the town seem exciting, maybe. He pointed out the colorful stripes on the side, and told her the “mystical tale” of how that boat was.

“If you go out right as the sun is rising,” he said, “it’ll glimmer right around the boat, and just like that,” he blew out, making a wind-like sound while doing some hand motion, “you’ll go back in time.”

He expected Millie to laugh or have some reaction, but she looked like she considered his  story to be every bit true as her church bible. Millie looked out to the snakeboat, wanting to swim  out to look at it. The sun was setting now, Mr. Osman called their kids up to the beach chairs to dry off and take a look at it.

“I heard you know a thing or two about lily pads, Adam.” he said jokingly. Adam was usually a pretty collected kid, his family took any chance to make fun of him. They didn’t mean  any harm; it was something fun they did together. Adam still had his freezing nights without the city noises outside. Sometimes Millie talked about going on a camping trip, where they’d all sit up in tents and eat pre-packaged meals “like animals.” Adam pretended to scrunch his nose, as if he’d smelled something unpleasant.

“There’s no way you can make me go camping,” he says, in a fake stuck-up voice.

                                                            ***

That night, he snuck outside into their backyard woods, bringing a blanket and a pillow to  make a little sleeping bag under the stars.

This’ll be great, he thought, imagining the look on his sister’s face after she sees he was outside for a night. He’d come back inside in the morning, looking for his family. Then he’d go outside to his little camp, sleeping bag and campfire and snacks placed nearby, and it’d be great. Adam leaned up against a tree with his pillow, hearing a few crickets or cicadas somewhere.

“I guess this isn’t so bad.”

He pulled a bag of barbecue chips out of his pillowcase, along with the little grey lighter  box from the back of the dresser in his parent’s room. At the very back was the small cigarette box, only for emergencies. He held the lighter in hand, gathered a small group of twigs and pine straw, and began making his own little campfire. Adam flicked off the cap and “turned it on,” a small flame stayed at the edge of the lighter. It was hot during the night, and he definitely didn’t need a campfire in July. All the sticks were gathered in a little pile, which he lit. He then laid down against the tree again, satisfied with his fire, and went to sleep.

It was about one in the morning when it spread right onto the nearby leaves, and to his  blanket.

                                                            ***

Lewis didn’t mention much about what happened with the lighter to David. He remembered when Adam stopped joining them on the weekly lake trips, his parents didn’t mention much about it. Millie didn’t swim much after that, the lily pads weren’t as much fun anymore. Eventually they stopped coming much at all, returning home for dinner while Adam ate in his room. He wasn’t much of a talker anymore, with a face covered in what could be only described as  “larger pimples.” Sometimes they invited Lewis over again, hoping maybe he could make a joke or two or tell a funny story to Adam when he watched TV in the mornings, which ended up kind of working. Millie was out in school, Mr. and Mrs. Osman had let Adam stay home for a little while. Lewis joined him on the couch, watching the early morning kids shows. Adam didn’t particularly enjoy getting older, he considered himself to be leaving the “kid phase” though he was only eleven. So in the mornings he’d watch the cartoons.

Adam tried to stay quiet as Lewis tried to make him laugh. Lewis didn’t know too much about him to make many good jokes, but he saw Adam holding back a smile from his dad-jokes. Mrs. Osman had watched from the kitchen.

And when Millie returned home, Adam did the same as the past week; Run upstairs as he heard the doorknob turn and her little footsteps. The first couple of times it had been unusual, but now, Millie doesn’t try to knock at his bedroom door or even look at the stairs, remembering the times where she’d run with him and they’d share the little snacks they’d stashed behind a pillow. Millie was much hungrier without the daily pantry raids. And on one faithful Tuesday, instead of heading inside to yet another disappointing afternoon, she went to the Snakeboat on the lake down the street.

She had reached the parking lot near the lake, stopping her bike in the red clay. Despite wearing her school clothes, Millie quickly ran into the cool water with the scattering fish. The boat wasn’t too far away, the colored stripes were surprisingly visible. She grabbed the edge of its smoothly carved wood, and sat in the center. Lewis hadn’t exactly been very descriptive, so she kneeled down and prayed like her mother had taught her until noticing the rising fog. Millie couldn’t see anything through it until she stood up and looked out at the water to see what she believed was the shadow of her brother.