Gravity Bend

Book Seven: The Shape of Chlorine

I

July 10

In the week after Prospector's Day, the forest fire smoke from the north fought its way into a break in the Pacific Chinooks. The hottest stretch of the summer came to lie heavy and grey on Gravity Bend. The cedars withdrew in the muggy air, leaving the hazed sun to blast the open spaces and scorch the forest floor. Even the night lows rarely dipped much below thirty, and daytime highs hovered even near forty. Stan had hung up his Mr. Mystery jacket and was giving tours in a sweat-through shirt. The trickle of tourists that had also seemed to evaporate in the heat was too sluggish too care. They were seeking air conditioning, not quaint supernaturalism.

On the second day of this smoggy assault, Wendy didn't come into work. The other Mystery Shackers barely noticed, being slumped on the floor of the museum, the only space with air conditioning. They'd elected not to move until a busload of customers came, at which point Stan would force the twins outside and Soos into Wendy's till. Or maybe they'd all just melt first.

"Where is Wendy, anyways?" said Lyra.

"Oh!" Stan remembered suddenly, "She told me yesterday. She got a new job. At the aquatic centre."

"Doesn't the pool sound nice today," Max mused.

"Yeah," said Lyra, thinking, especially if Wendy's there. "You wanna go?"

"Yeah! Gruncle Stan, can we go to the pool?"

And so, the Mystery Shack was closed to all ten or so potential visitors that afternoon, and they drove to the aquatic centre. Built more for après-ski hot tub soaks than summer dips, it was technically an indoor facility, under a low gable across the tracks from downtown. But in the summer months, the vast picture windows rolled up and it became a shaded outdoor oasis, more gazebo than building, open to the rare breeze but cooled by the mist of splashing bathers. Predictably, there were many.

"There's nothing like sitting in a moist hole with a hundred strangers," said Stan as Lyra met him, Max, and Soos coming out of the change rooms, "It's like a bus, but wet." Stan gazed regretfully at the yawning windows, likely pondering why he'd paid ten dollars for two children's and a senior's admission when they opened right onto the lawn. This after he'd told the twins to "look like you're twelve" to avoid paying the single extra dollar of the youth rate.

The twins walked the perimeter of the not-quite-a-building, checking the place out. Max scanned the crowd, spying a girl relaxing in the deep end with her legs under an air mattress, and nudged Lyra.

"Dibs on the brunette over by the snack bar," he said.

"Go nuts," said Lyra, "She's probably straight anyways."

"If not, I'll let you know. Is it hot in here or is it just her!"

Lyra stopped him from leaping into the pool after his newfound attractor. Admittedly, she was a stunner. Heavy eyes, cascading dark hair, an exotic allure that was hard to place. Wearing an old-looking bikini top. She stretched her shapely arms up from the side of the pool, and Lyra's heart skipped. She pushed the feeling away. That'd be unfair to Wendy.

"Yes, Max, it's thirty-seven degrees out. It's hot everywhere. And can't you go one week without a new crush?"

"No," said Max, and fell in the water.

Soos, who'd been watching this from the wayside, said "Ah, the power of young love. Classic."

"He thinks," said Lyra, "But he's all talk. He's taking it from, like, those sappy indie movies that he's set for this grand romance before the summer's over. Truth is, he's never even kissed a girl. He always messes up somehow and runs away."