CHAPTER ONE SWIM TEAM "Movies don't count," Cooper says. "The Internet -doesn't count. Magazines don't count. A real, live naked girl. That's the deal. That's our goal for this summer." "Been there, done that," Sean says. "Taking baths with your sister -doesn't count, either, Sean." Cooper snorts. "Screw you, meat stain. I haven't done that since I was, like, two, okay. And that's not what I was talking about," Sean says. We're walking up to the pool. Cooper, Sean, and me. Bare feet tucked into untied sneakers, ragged towels draped around our necks. It's our first day of swim practice, which means that summer's really started. We've been friends since kindergarten. We've been on swim team since third grade. The Rockville Swimming Association. Six years as Lower Rockville Razorbacks. "He's talking about Tina Everstone's left boob," I say as we turn onto Maple Drive and walk along the curb. "Oh, please. Not that again." Cooper rolls his eyes. "It's true. I saw the whole thing when she was taking off her sweatshirt during gym. Her T-shirt came up just enough" "And she wasn't wearing a bra and her left one popped out and you saw the entire thing, nipple and all, and even if I didn't think you were lying to us, it still wouldn't count," Cooper says. "I'm talking totally naked. Not a quick flash, okay?" "Whatever." Sean shrugs and looks off at the rundown ranch houses like he doesn't care what we think. "How are we supposed to see a live naked girl?" I say. "Maybe we better set a more realistic goal for the summer. Like finding Atlantis." "Matt, Matt, Matt." Cooper puts his arm around me like he's my wise uncle. "That kind of attitude will get you nowhere in life. Don't you get it? You have to follow the natural way of things. It's like that picture in our bio textbook. First there's the monkey. Then there's the caveman. Then there's the human. It's the same with sex. First there's Internet porn, then there's seeing your first real naked girl, and finally it's the dirty deed. You do want to have sex someday, don't you, Matt?" Every summer there is a goal. It's tradition. I don't remember when it started or why. But as long as I can remember, we've always come up with something we had to accomplish before the start of the new school year. When we were ten, it was riding our bikes fifteen miles away to Perry Lake and skinny-dipping. When we were twelve, it was going to the Fern Creek Golf Course every day until we collected a thousand golf balls. Over the past few years, the goals have become more centered around girls and sex. Two years ago, each of us had to get our hands on a Playboy and show it to the others. Last year the ante was upped to finding an illegal password for a porn site. And now, Cooper's challenge for this summer. Which I can't see ever happening. Maybe if we were even a little bit cool, or had any chance of getting girlfriends. But that's just not the case. By the time you're fifteen, you've either had a girlfriend -- maybe even had sex -- or, like Coop, Sean, and me, you haven't even mustered the courage to ask a girl out. There's also a third group, I guess. Guys who say they've had girlfriends but who nobody really believes. Which just means they're liars who fit into the second category. We make it to Rockville Avenue Pool just in time to hear Ms. Luntz, our swim coach, calling the team over for a meeting. Ms. Luntz is a gourd-shaped woman who wears her blue-and-white Speedo str Excerpted from Swim the Fly by Don Calame All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
