The swimming pool at Hideaway Park Campground was empty except for a chubby girl in the shallow end, pushing a flutter board, and a gangly boy in the deep end, cannon-balling. They were no trouble to watch, and they knew how to swim. But then Sean and his taller buddy walked in through the chain-link gate and started pushing each other toward the edge of the pool.
I got up from my seat by the diving board and slowly walked toward them. I could feel my heart beating fast. I held the string of my silver whistle like a leash leading the way.
“No horsing around,” I said and pointed to the sign: Rules of the Pool. But with the chipped paint it read: Rules the Pool.
They stopped and pulled their arms away from each other as if opening a human lock. “No horsing around,” I said to fill the si
