Thomas Tryon - The Night of the Moonbow

Reaching it, he hauled himself aboard, ran for the tower ladder, and clambered upward. At the top, he threw his head back and beat on his chest while uttering a savage Tarzan yell, then, without missing a beat, rushed to the platform edge, launched his body into space, and went plummeting downward; his victorious cry seemed to hang in the air for a moment after he had struck the water and sunk from sight.

The crowd sat now in a hush, waiting for the diver to surface. Where was he? Who was he? they whispered. Having righted his canoe, Tiger paddled toward shore, peering into the water; but there was no sign of the daredevil until, moments later, came the cry “There he is!” and a pale, frog-like form appeared at the foot of the dock, where it slowly surfaced, and a rousing cheer went up as Wacko Wackeem climbed onto the dock and stood in full view, bowing to his audience, flexing his “muscles” and tipping an imaginary hat.

As all good things must, the Water Carnival reached its end, and the overall winners were formally announced, with Malachi beating out Jeremiah at the last. When the individual campers had been awarded their ribbons – each one stamped “Honorary Presentation of the Bible Society of the Friends of Joshua” – little by little the waterfront quieted, while in the grove the guests stood about, getting the good of the breeze coming off the water and asking one another if it wasn’t time to think about leaving. Those consulting timepieces discovered to their surprise that it was nearly four o’clock; Sunday traffic would be heavy. Already automobiles were being loaded up with families and belongings, while some of the second allotment of two-week campers were bidding reluctant goodbyes to new friends before going back to city sidewalks.

Equally sad to be leaving camp were Leo’s guests, and in a strange way he was now sorry to see them go. With traces of his clown makeup still visible around his ears, he lingered as Miss Meekum and Supervisor Poe prepared to be on their way.

“What an extraordinary afternoon!” Miss Meekum exclaimed in a tremulous voice, her eyes dewy behind her spectacles, as she smiled her sweet, sad smile all around. “We’re certainly proud of you, Leo. Aren’t we, Mr Poe?” “Yes. I believe we may say that. Most proud.”

Leo felt a vivifying sense of relief. He’d got through the day with flying colors. He was nuts to have thought Miss Meekum and Supervisor Poe had come there to cause him trouble. Everything was jake again.

“Take care of Leo, won’t you, young man?” Miss Meekum entreated Reece. “And when he comes back to you next summer, maybe you won’t recognize him. Oh, but you won’t be here, will you? You’ll be off piloting your aeroplane. ” Again the supervisor reminded her that the hour was late. Reece insisted on escorting them to the car, offering Miss Meekum his arm and again complimenting her on her hat. “Just remember,” she said to Leo as she got into Mr Poe’s tin lizzy, “if you need me, I’m only a penny postcard away,” and her wafting hanky could be seen waving wistfully out the window long after her face disappeared from view.

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Leo was surprised to find Reece still standing nearby, watching the departing car.

“On what?”

“On what your lady friend just said – about coming back next year. That doesn’t seem a very likely thing to me under the circumstances. Suppose you tell me what you thought you were doing. Showing off, grandstanding in front of the whole place, losing us the canoe tilt. Bad enough people laughing at you, you had them laughing at me, too, tipping your cap like that.”

Leo was speechless. Reece had it all wrong. Tipping your cap was just something you did after a performance. It was only a joke. But even as he stammered a feeble explanation he realized the futility – if it was a joke, as far as Reece was concerned the joke was on him, and he didn’t like it.

“And what was the idea of that nutty outfit?” he demanded. “Where’d you get it, anyway?”

Leo faltered. How could he explain that he couldn’t just get up in front of all those people and do his stunt as, well, as just Leo Joaquim; that he had to pretend he was someone else, like Dr Mackinschleisser, or Donald Duck, or Superman, otherwise he could never have done what he had? So he’d borrowed Phil’s Marc Antony cape from the boat parade, and used some of Fritz’s stage paint.

“I just wanted to prove I could do it,” he managed weakly.

“You wanted to show off, you mean. But we don’t like show-offs here. Now hop to it, camper. It’s time for powwow.” And, hiking his shoulders, he marched across the playing field to where Hap was once again driving. 1 bucket of golf balls into the baseball backstop.

In the cabin, the Jeremians were all in their bunks, and Leo had the impression they’d been waiting for him: as soon as he stepped across the threshold Wally gave him the fisheye, Phil an angry scowl; Dump’s stare was indifferent, while Monkey averted his gaze altogether, and Eddie offered an inoffensive little shrug, marking his desire to remain neutral. Only the Bomber’s and Tiger’s expressions said they were still in Leo’s corner.

“Well, well,” Phil began. “Our hero, home from the wars. I hope you’re satisfied, Wacko.”

Leo was about to make a retort, but, catching Tiger’s look, he turned away and went to his bunk, where he sat on the rail and retied the laces of his sneakers.

Furiously Phil sprang to the floor, his weight causing Reece’s footlocker to leap. “Don’t you sit down like that when I’m talking to you, kiddo. Stand up! Stand at attention!”

“Easy there,” Tiger cautioned him. “Nobody’s robbed a bank or committed murder.”

“He may as well have.” Phil turned back to Leo. “I guess you know what your smart-alecking cost us this afternoon. We would have come out first except for your screwing around. I guess you’re really proud of yourself. Well, speak up! Are you proud of yourself?”

“No…” He looked from face to face. “I guess I just didn’t think-”

“Yes, we know, you never think. Jeez, don’t you get it, Wacko? We want to win around here – that’s what it’s all about. Reece wants that cup. It’s his last year at Moonbow, we have to get it for him. If we don’t – well, whoever screws up, that’s his lookout. And if you don’t stop acting like a weisenheimer, you know what’s going to happen to you?” Leo remained silent. Wally, leaning over the edge of his upper bunk, smiled grimly. “If you want to know, just try asking Stanley Wagner,” he said.

“Okay, fellows, let’s cut it out, huh?” Tiger jumped down and stood eyeing Phil sternly. “That’s enough. Leo doesn’t have to ask anybody anything. He didn’t mean to make us lose, it was an accident. It could happen to anyone.” “Yeah? He didn’t have to do it. He was just showing off, being a wiseguy. Aren’t I right, fellows?”

Phil looked around for support. Wally was the first to respond. “Yes, you’re right,” he said; Dump and Monkey nodded agreement.

“We didn’t ask for him to be in here,” Phil went on. “We could get along fine without him.”

“Well, he is here,” Tiger declared, “so quit your bellyaching for cripes’ sake.”

Phil’s scowl deepened. “Say, Abernathy, whose side are you on, anyway?”

“I’m not on anybody’s side. We’re all friends here. If Jeremiah lost a couple of points, it’s not the first time. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Forget it.” “Yeah, let’s can it,” said the Bomber. “I’m hungry.”

“I won’t forget it. If you ask me, it’s about time somebody did something.” With that Phil turned and marched out the door. “Wally – you coming?” he called from the line-path. Ever quick to respond to Phil’s orders, Wally hopped to, and Leo watched the pair cross the playing field, walking side by side. In his mind the two campers had fused into a single entity, like the partners in a law office or a haberdashery, Phil amp; Wally, Inc. After a moment, Dump ducked out the side and went chasing after Phil, and seconds later, without a word or look, Monkey sidled away; he too caught up with the group, which left Eddie reluctant to make a move.