Car horns kept warning me off the road back to the sandy shoulder. The road shimmered and heaved in the heat. Twice I stopped to throw up, but nothing came out. I saw the sign, Marino’s Beach Club and Snack Bar, and staggered right up to the serving counter. “Wa’er? Pleath?” Connie said, “You got to be kidding. You want water, go jump in the lake.” “Hey, wait a minute.” A big bronze chest with a St. Christopher medal hanging between huge muscles loomed up. “You Michelle’s brother?” “Yek.” “Connie, get him some water.” Big hard arms grabbed me around the chest and dragged me to a picnic table under the shade of a beach umbrella. “Your sister’s been looking for you, she drove past here twice. Connie!” “I only got two hands, Peter.” “Since when? C’mon, this boy needs water.” “M’okay,” I said. “You’ll be all right, just a little heatstroke. You’ve been running or something? Heavy fella like you shouldn’t run in this weather.” He held a cup to my mouth while I drank.
