Bram’s Backward Wave Dare — All morning, the motorboat made a buzzing sound like a giant summer bee, and Bram held the tow handle with both hands. Read the full story →
All morning, the motorboat made a buzzing sound like a giant summer bee, and Bram held the tow handle with both hands. He had given himself a private dare: carve one smooth S-turn big enough to send a backward wave all the way to his cousins in the boat. The rope hummed, lake spray tapped his shins, and pine-scented wind pushed his grin sideways.
He leaned left. The skis hissed. He leaned right. The wake rolled up behind him like whipped cream, and for one brave blink he stood taller instead of crouching. “Send it back!” he shouted, though his voice skipped over the water in pieces.
From the quiet reeds near the dock came three solemn hoots. A family of loons was watching, heads tilted like tiny judges. Bram wobbled so hard his wave made a lopsided question mark, and the smallest loon answered with a splashy foot-kick. So Bram tried again, not for a perfect S, but for a silly one. His next turn curled wide, the boat laughed with horn-toots, and the loons hooted as if they had ordered it. If you trace the foamy curve behind his skis, you might find the backward wave that began with a giant summer bee.