Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang

Greg's first response came in the form of high-pitched squealing and what sounded like brooding laughter. It all felt eerily reminiscent of the movie Deliverance, but in a much nicer part of the country and with yachts.

"Oh, my God! Is that him? Where are you? Are you okay?"

It was Greg, and he was laughing in a singsong kind of way. "Hello, girls"… and then more creepy laughing.

"Where are you?!" Sloane and I screamed in unison. There were echoes across the bay, so it was hard to decipher where his voice was coming from. The flashlight was useless, and our only sense of direction at this point came from Greg's maniacal laughing.

Between Mike and me, we somehow managed to get Sloane back into the boat, face-first. "My nose!" she yelled as she landed. Had I been less high, I would have remembered the time she capsized a kayak with only herself in it. "You are by far the most useless person in this family."

"You know what, Chelsea?" Mike chimed in. "We're all in this together. We need to focus on rescuing Greg. She's doing her best."

I liked that Mike was defending my sister. She clearly wasn't able to defend herself. Mike was a good egg, and I liked a guy who didn't speak often but meant it when he did. And further, like Riha

"You're right, Mike." Then I smacked Sloane on the back of the head when he turned around.

"Girls! Look out, look out wherever you are…," Greg sang.

"We're almost there," Mike yelled back. He was now using one arm to row while I was rowing with an oar.

We got close enough to hear Greg splashing in the water but were still unable to see him. "I'm right over here, dumbasses, on the dock." Greg was clearly enjoying this, and it dawned on me that I hadn't eaten in hours. I checked to see if my hip bone was protruding. Finally some good news. My thoughts drifted back to Large Luke, and I wondered if he had ever lived as a sea animal and felt his hip bone protrude. It seemed unlikely.

"I think I see him," Sloane a

I craned my neck to try to see what she saw, then jumped into the water to swim over to him. "I'm in the water, give me your hand."

Greg reached out to grab me out of the water and helped me up onto the dock. "Welcome, kids, how was your trip? Mike, how blown away are you by Sloane's maritime skills? She's a regular naval officer, don't you think?" Greg was his usual sarcastic, obnoxious self, and it was clear to all of us that this whole escapade had been a waste of everyone's time.

I got up from where I was sitting on the edge of the dock, intending to slap Greg across the back of the head. That's when I saw that he was completely naked. That's also when I jumped back into the water. "You are so gross, Greg. He's naked, Sloane. Close your eyes."

"Ew!"

Mike had finally had enough of this voyage and was clearly exhausted from his captaining, and I heard him utter his first curse word: "This is a fucking joke."

I grabbed Sloane, and we swam the short bit to the beach and stormed off into the dunes back to the house.

"Girls, we're on Chappy!" Greg called, chasing after us. "Where do you think you're going? We have to go back to the other side."

I had become so disoriented and tired that I didn't even know we had actually accomplished getting to the other side of the bay. Sloane slumped down in the sand and started to whimper. I looked down at her and told her to have some dignity. I took any anger I had left out on the culprit himself.

"You're an asshole for swimming in the middle of the night. We thought something had happened to you. We shoplifted a fucking boat, you dickfucker."

"Maybe you're the asshole, Chelsea, for swimming across a bay in Stage-Four Paranoia. I'm a big boy."

"No, you're naked is what you are, and you're not coming back in our boat, because you're creeping me out. I don't like you, and I don't like what you're proposing."

"I can't believe you're naked," Sloane said, covering her eyes and ears. "You are so disgusting."

Mike turned the boat around while Greg led us back to the beach.

"These are great mushrooms, Chelsea. This has probably been one of the best nights of my life."

"Well, it's been the worst of mine," Sloane told him. "I'm telling Mom and Dad."

"Telling them what, Sloane?" Mike asked, clearly a

"I'm not wrong," Sloane declared. "I was trying to help my sister save my brother's life."

"Oh, shut up, Sloane," I told her. "At least we're on mushrooms. What's your excuse?"

Everyone was wiped out except for Greg, who was humming the whole way back to our beach. I felt like I had competed in some sort of Ironman competition and came in after the last person. I hadn't experienced this kind of exhaustion since I'd auditioned for a Nike commercial where they asked me on the spot to choreograph my own workout routine, then promptly suggested that I take ballroom dancing classes at the Learning A

By the time we reached land, my pupils felt like they were going to pop out of my eyes and walk back home alone. We returned the dinghy to its original place, minus one oar, and we all trudged deliriously up to the house.

When we finally walked into the kitchen, the clock said 2:12 A.M. Ray was asleep on the couch we last saw him on, with the television still blaring and a fan about six inches from his face. He looked up when we shut the door, looked at his watch, and looked at us all standing there like rape victims. Then he rolled over and went back to sleep.

I woke up the next day around eleven and went downstairs. My father and Ray were both at the kitchen table discussing how embarrassing the Mets were and if in fact the two of them should change teams.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Oh, everyone left to go swim across to Chappy to see if Greg drowned again," Ray said, shaking his head. "You're worse than the Mets."

My father looked up from the paper. "Who's worse than the Mets?"

Greg walked in from outside and planted himself at the kitchen counter, where he began to prepare himself a turkey sandwich. Then he took out a tub of coleslaw from the fridge and set it down between his half-made sandwich and the blender. "Chelsea," he asked as his darted back and forth between the coleslaw and the blender, "can I interest you in a coleslaw smoothie?"

My father took off his glasses. "A coleslaw smoothie? I'll try one of those."

Greg flashed me a big smile while I frowned at him in disgust. "Is there something on your mind, Chelsea?" he asked.

"Yes," I told him, stuffing a half-eaten blueberry pancake into my mouth. "I'm thinking of a two-word phrase. It starts with an 'F' and ends with an 'F.' "

Ray looked up from the table. "Would you like to buy a vowel?"

My brother Greg