“Horsecock,” she blurted.
“Now, hush you, Willa-Sue, I told you, nice girls don’t talk like that, that’s boy talk. If you don’t want a cold plate, how’s about a nice sammich?”
WillarSue jammed a thumb in her mouth and stared. “What kind of sammich would my honeybunch like?” Ma prompted.
“Penis butter and jelly.”
That old joke; Ma shook her head despairingly, and called through the window for Leo to keep an eye on Willa-Sue while she went into the kitchen to make lunch; obligingly he carried his copper mug full of water over to the arbor and sat down beside her.
“Wacko Wacko, chews tobacco…” Willa-Sue stared at Leo, her bug-eyes slightly crossed, a giddy expression on her sallow face.
“Wacko, Wacko, chews tobacco,” she said again.
Leo spoke sternly. “I asked you not to call me that. My name’s Leo: L-e-o. Leo. For ‘Leopold.’ It’s the name of a king. Leopold, King of the Belgians.”
“Lee-pole.”
“Pold. With a d. Lee-oh-podub. Can you say it?”
“Leo-pol-dub.”
“Well, it’s better than Wacko,” he muttered.
“Wacko, Wacko.” She rolled her eyes and burred her lips at him.
He blew out his cheeks in exasperation. “What do you want, Willa-Sue?” It turned out she wanted him to do the Three Stooges imitation the Bomber had been coaching him in, so he obliged, making his stupid Curly face, doing “Nyuck nyuck nyuck,” and slapping his cheeks, squeaking, and rolling his eyes idiotically, while the girl clapped her hands in excitement.
“Moe, Moe!” she cried. “Now do Moe!”
He did Moe for her, combing his hair forward and slapping his face some more. Willa-Sue became more excited and began to laugh shrilly. She held out her doll to him.
“Wacko hold dolly,” she commanded, and Leo took the doll and held it on his lap.
Just then the jitney pulled into the drive; Hank Ives debarked, and began to ring the bell for Morning Swim.
Almost before the first peal died away, craftsmen by the dozen erupted from the barn.
“Woo-woo, look at Wacko,” one of them called.
“Playing with your dolly, Wacko?” said another.
Burning with embarrassment, Leo grabbed Willa-Sue’s hand and marched her across the lawn toward the office, where he delivered her up to Ma and the penis-butter sandwich. Then, before he could be detained further, he headed down the meadow path at a fast clip. He didn’t want to be late for Morning Swim.
As he came trotting along the line-path the rest of the Jeremians (except for Tiger and Dump, who were getting in some practice with Hatton, the new Red Sox first baseman) exploded through every cabin aperture and raced off toward the waterfront. By the time Leo had jumped into his trunks and joined them and scores of others on the swimming dock, everyone was already lined up according to cabins, and Rex Kenniston sat up on the lifeguard stand. His silver whistle blew, calling the large, boisterous group to order; he reminded them of the waterfront rules (threatening to expel anyone who disobeyed). Again the whistle sounded and at once the place erupted in watery riot, but no sooner was the crib full than Rex sounded his whistle a third time, calling for buddy check, waiting until all campers’ hands were paired in the air (Leo had drawn Monkey as this week’s swim buddy). A fourth whistle – double this time – was the signal for activity to continue, and the boys were off, the Bomber cannonballing through the water with Eddie (his buddy), and Monkey following with Leo, who was not a strong swimmer. When they reached the raft, instead of boarding it, the Bomber sucked in a breath and sank from sight; Eddie and Monkey, then Leo, followed suit, and when they surfaced they were in the hollow chamber beneath the raft, surrounded by eight metal drums harnessed together. A golden web of reflected sunlight darted about them, transforming the space into a glorious underwater cave, and their voices in medley reverberated crazily under the wooden floor.
Suddenly there was a loud clamor overhead. Dozens of feet were stamping and pounding on the floorboards, cries became shouts, focusing attention on those sequestered underneath. Then the raft began rocking back and forth, the metal drums sounding a hollow roll as the agitated water splashed against their sides.
“We better scram out of here,” Monkey said, seeking to avoid having Rex blow his whistle on them, and they all gulped a breath and flipped down into the watery depths.
By the time Leo came up outside the raft, Monkey was aboard her, and Leo clambered up after him. Eddie and the Bomber were going in, Monkey said – the Bomber wanted to get in some rowing practice. The Bomber was the intermediate unit’s star oarsman, and was expected to win the boat race – and ten happy points for Jeremiah – at the upcoming Water Carnival. Leo nodded. He watched as Bullnuts Moriarity, wearing a rubber bathing cap strapped under his double chin, his beefy body sausaged into trunks, clambered onto the raft, followed by his fellow Endeavorites Bud Talbot, the biggest boy in camp, and Jack “Blackjack” Ratner, whose name suited him, since he was of a thin, dark, and distinctly rodent-like character with a mole-spangled face. Presently they were joined by Phil and Wally, who exchanged a few words with them, after which they all sidled over to arrange themselves around Leo.
“Hey, Wacko,” Ratner began, affecting casualness, “us guys are all goin’ up the tower. Whyn’t you come on up too?”
So that was it. “No, thanks,” he said.
“Aw, heck, be a sport, Wacko,” said Talbot, dancing around on the balls of his feet.
Leo shook his head. “I’m heading in. Coming, Monkey?” he called, but his swim buddy remained where he was, stationed beside Phil and Wally. No help there, then. Suddenly Moriarity loomed in front of him.
“Come on, Wacko, don’t be a sis. It’s not as high as it looks.” He used his belly, nudging Leo along toward the ladder. “You never know if you like it till you’ve tried it, ain’t that right, boys?”
Leo glanced helplessly about. The water surrounding the raft was crowded with the curious faces of boys waiting to see what would happen next.
“You cornin’ or not?” demanded Moriarity.
“I said no.” Leo scowled. He mustn’t let them see he was scared of them.
“Ooh, he said noooo,” Bullnuts squealed, and gave a lewd shimmy of his midsection. “Then I guess we’ll just have to… ”
Their intention clearer now, the group pressed closer and, using his belly as a ram, Bullnuts forced Leo to the foot of the ladder, where they held him perpendicular and fixed his feet on the first rung.
“Go ahead, Wacko, climb,” Moriarity commanded, goosing him upward. Leo jerked, then climbed a rung or two higher.
“Higher!" Moriarity goosed him again. Leo looked around frantically, praying for a miracle. The top of the ladder seemed so far away; he would never make it. And if he did he would fall, he knew it. He was sick with fear and panic. Help, someone, help me; but there was no one to help. All across the waterfront, every eye was on him. Even the tadpoles in the swimming crib flailed their arms and passionately screamed; and the perfidious Peewee Oliphant – there he was, hanging on the crib rope and hollering, “Wacko! Wacko!” and “ ’Ray, ’ray, all the way!”
Looking across the water to the dock, Leo sought the help of Rex – surely Rex would do something, wouldn’t he? Only it wasn’t Rex on the lifeguard stand any longer, it was Reece, and he was calmly shading his eyes to observe more clearly the action on the float; so much for any help from that quarter – it would never occur to the counselor that a Jeremian would refuse to climb the tower; even Stanley Wagner had managed that.
In an attempt to escape his tormentors Leo climbed three or four more rungs: Moriarity pushed in right behind him, forcing him on. Up he went until his eyes were level with the diving platform, and there was nothing for it but to step onto it. Breathless and fearful, he watched as Moriarity, followed by Phil, then Wally, then Ratner and Talbot, then six or eight others with smirks and grins came off the ladder behind him. He inched his way closer to the edge of the platform, summoning up his courage, telling himself he could do it. He must do it! But when he dared to look down he blinked and froze, then backed away along the railing. A resounding boo! greeted this feckless action and again the air rang with taunts.