Night Swimming Read Online Free PDF Page B

into as many blank-eyed faces before. Throughout the high school civics talk, he felt as if he were speaking to the kids in a foreign language, one they had no intention of learning. Scrambling for a way to reach his audience, he ad-libbed, tossing out anecdotes about his own years at Coral Beach High. He confessed that as a teenager his decision to run for student government had been little more than a wily excuse to approach the best-looking girls. But what ultimately hooked his interest in student government was the startling discovery that the kids at school, all so different— jocks, nerds, preppies, and brains—could unite behind a common cause.
    During his senior year, when he’d been president of the student council, Coral Beach High raised seven thousand dollars to aid Florida’s hurricane victims. Wouldn’t that be something to feel good about? Sean asked his teenage audience.
    The response he received was as rousing as a herd of cows chewing their cud. Except this group was blowing big pink bubbles with their gum.
    The question and answer period, too, turned out to be a joke. The teens’ main preoccupations: his salary and whether he got driven around town in a chauffeured limo. When they learned he was willing to work for peanuts and that he drove an eight-year-old convertible, he might as well have stamped a big fat L on his forehead. He was weak-kneed with relief when at last the principal mounted the auditorium steps and thanked Sean for his electrifying speech.
    While Sean was politically seasoned enough to put the morning’s snafus behind him, and not worry overmuch that the apathetic bunch he’d just talked to represented America’s future voters, it was the high school principal’s long-winded enthusiasm, telling Sean how much of an inspiration he was for these kids, that truly set Sean’s teeth on edge. And made him even later for the final meeting of the day, the coral reef advisory panel.
    Sean’s office suite was empty when he returned, Evelyn doubtless waiting in the conference room with the other committee members. The aqua blue folder that contained all the relevant information Evelyn had compiled was on the middle of his desk where he wouldn’t miss it. He grabbed it and strode down the hall, the folder open in his hands. His eyes skimmed the list, double-checking everyone’s name.
    The vibrant Day-Glo orange of the highlighter Evelyn had selected was as shocking as the name she’d used it on.
    Dr. Lily Banyon, Center for Marine Studies, Gloucester.
    So fitting, so ironic, it was just what Lily herself would have done: try her damnedest to knock him flat on his ass. The jolt caused by reading Lily’s name with George Hunt’s name neatly crossed out in thin, red marker, sent Sean tripping over the threshold, entering the conference room with the exaggerated clumsiness of a clown entertaining the spectators beneath the big tent.
    He recovered just before he careened into a chair. He stood, gripping the chair’s wooden frame for support. His mind reeled as he searched the faces in the conference room. The wave of relief that flooded him when he realized Lily wasn’t there would at any other moment have been laughable. Someone spoke, asking if he was okay, a reasonable question given his bizarre entrance. Sean managed to pull himself together and reply before turning away. He’d spotted Evelyn at the other end of the room.
    Thanks to Evelyn’s excellent shorthand, she’d been designated the committee’s secretary, responsible for recording the minutes. True to form, she was all set to go, the rectangular yellow legal pad tucked under her arm, her bony fingers wrapped around an assortment of pens, Day-Glo orange among them. Sean scowled.
    “Hi,” Evelyn said. “I just called in an order for cookies and coffee, a double espresso for you. You look like you’re in serious need of one,” she clucked. “It should be here any minute now. Almost everyone’s here,” she added,