He gave a push and propelled himself once again to the surface. He’d saluted the four directions and the sun. His final salute was always to Dunk. He broke the surface, clapped one arm to attention at his side, threw the other straight up beside his ear. Palm out, he made a ninety-degree arc, bringing it back to the surface. The splashing behind him didn’t seem inordinately loud, so the arm circling his neck from behind caught him off guard. “What the he—” A wave filled his mouth with dirty lake water. He spewed it out. “Don’t...panic. I...have...you.” Summer Delaney’s voice. What in the hell was going on? He twisted his torso to see what she was up to. Her arm slid under his chin and diagonally across his chest, catching under his armpit. She dragged him backward, giving everything she had to a sidestroke. “Quit fighting me.” She spoke between strokes.
