“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
I was wearing my favorite bathing suit – a pink and orange bikini – and holding a pink towel with white stripes. I had been anxiously pacing around the cabin, which smelled like a hybrid of the lake and Honolulu Sun air freshener. I glanced at my watch again.
“Let’s go,” I pleaded with Caroline and Sydney, who were taking much longer to put on their swimsuits than I would have liked.
“Chill out, Darby!” Sydney laughed.
Finally, they were ready to go.
We hadn’t heard the twilight bell yet, but we could never be sure if it had gone off or not. G-17 was one of the most remote cabins, with what seemed like miles of trees separating us from the bell that announced meals and activities. We made our way through the girls’ side, tripping over rocks and branches in our flip-flops.
As we stepped onto the beach, the bell rang.
“I’m so nervous!” I exclaimed.
We threw our towels over the fence and walked to the dock. I gave the lifeguard my name and buddy number.
“We’re swimming our sharks!” Caroline proudly told the guard.
The butterflies that had begun to wake in my stomach that morning got so intense I thought I might explode. I slipped my toe into the lake. The water was cold, sending a chill up my body. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. Swim 40 lengths. At least, I was going to try.
Sydney, who had already passed the 40-length test known as the shark, was already in the water. Caroline was on her way down the ladder.
“Get in, Darby! It’s not that cold.”
I inched into the lake, drawing in my breath each time my foot hit a rung on the rusty ladder and my body was submerged further into the cold. Finally, I was all the way in.
I pushed off and began to swim. I looked to my left to take a breath; the sun was shining on the lake and straight into my eyes. By the time I had gotten to the other side, the water didn’t feel so frigid anymore. I can do this, I thought. One down, 39 to go.
After three more lengths, I didn’t feel so confident. I clung to the ladder, breathing hard, my heart pounding throughout my body. My arms already ached and my ears hurt from the cold water. I wasn’t a very good swimmer. I had chosen to do this on a whim. Actually, on my sister’s whim. She is two years younger, and yesterday she randomly decided to swim her shark.
If you successfully swim your shark, you don’t have to take the 12-length swim test the following year. I couldn’t stand the thought of my sister getting to skip the dreaded swim test while I slaved away in the crowded water. I thought sibling rivalry was a good enough reason to swim 40 lengths, but now I wasn’t so sure. Only four done, and I already wanted to give up. I almost got out.
“Caroline, I might stop,” I called to my friend, who was at the other dock.
“Okay. I think I’ll keep going.”
She disappeared under the water and then popped up next to me a few seconds later. “Oh! If you stay, I have a tip. Push off the dock so you glide and don’t have to work as hard.”
“Thanks.” I smiled but felt the ache I always did when talking to Caroline. She lives in London, and the three weeks I get with her every summer aren’t even close to enough.
I decided to do six more lengths. I’d get to 10 and then reconsider getting out. I readjusted my pink goggles and pushed off again.
After six more lengths of looking at seaweed and feeling my arms slap the calm water, I decided I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t going to slave through 10 lengths with no reward. So I continued, and persevered through 30 more. The feeling when my hand hit the dock after 40 lengths was indescribable.
“We did it!” I cried, and Sydney, Caroline, and I gave each other huge hugs.
My ears hurt and my limbs ached, but as I looked around at the beautiful trees, the sunset, and my incredible friends, I was amazed at yet another accomplishment I could remember throughout my six years of camp.