Feels Like Summertime (Lake Fisher 1)

I shoved his shoulder. “Not that worm.”

He chuckled. “If you want to fish, you have to touch the bait. Now, whatever kind of bait you use is up to you. If you want to use a worm, you have to put it on the hook.”

I looked dubiously at the container full of dirt that had worms slithering around in it.

“Or you could use different bait.” He pointed to another container of what looked like rolled up dough-balls.

“I’ll try that.”

“If you say so.”

Jake steadied the canoe as I stepped into it. Then he set the poles and the tackle box inside.

“I’m surprised your dads let you go out with me again.”

“You mean after we fell asleep and scared the pants off them? They thought we’d tipped the canoe over and drowned.”

Jake winced. “Sorry I got you in trouble.”

I shrugged. “I was there too, Jake. I fell asleep just like you did.”

“It felt really good having you lie there on my chest.” His cheeks turned ruddy and he coughed into his closed fist. “I liked having you close to me,” he said, his voice gravelly.

“I liked being close to you.” I looked at the sun. It was high in the sky. “I didn’t think much of having to clean the bathroom with a toothbrush, though, so let’s avoid that this time, shall we?”

He laughed. “Definitely. Were your parents really mad?”

“Dad was furious. But I heard him talking to Adam later about it. The walls are like paper. I can hear all sorts of things in that cabin.” I rolled my eyes and he laughed again. “But they got over it. Adam reminded him that I’m sixteen and that they knew I’d meet a boy one day who’d steal all my wits. His words, not mine.”

“I stole your wits?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“My parents used to cuddle like that,” Jake said sheepishly. He stopped paddling the canoe and dropped an anchor.

I snorted. “I can’t imagine Mr. Jacobson snuggling.”

“They did it all the time. We watched movies at night, and Pop would put his head in my mom’s lap, and she’d rub her fingers through his hair. Or she would just fall asleep on his chest. He’d hold her close, and he looked like he was so peaceful. They fell asleep like that all the time. I’d cover them with a blanket and leave them there.”

“Your parents were really happy, weren’t they?”

“My dad was devastated when she died.” He picked up a fishing pole and held it out to me. “You might want to practice casting a few times with no bait.”

I didn’t take his advice, and I ended up flinging my bait into the trees a few times. Jake laughed and shook his head. Then his bobber suddenly went under and he started to reel furiously.

“You got one?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he grunted and kept reeling. Then he pulled a fish out of the lake. “One to nothing,” he gloated, keeping score. He took a stringer out of his tackle box and ran it through the fish’s gills, then he dropped it gently into the lake, one end tied to a cleat on the boat.

He put a fresh worm on his hook and tossed it out.

We sat in silence. Then his bobber dipped again, while mine was doing nothing. “Why are you catching all the fish?” I complained.

“Because I’m not afraid to touch a worm.”

He collected his fish, baited his hook again, and tossed his line back in the water.

I reeled my hook in. “Fine,” I said. “Give me a worm.”