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The Raft Race
Copyright 2008. All rights reserved worldwide.
Kyle usually slept late on Saturday mornings, but not
today. He had worked toward and waited for this Saturday for three months, ever
since Barry had invited him to join the raft race. Hastily, he rolled out of his
bunk and pulled on his jeans and T-shirt. They had to win!
As he washed and hurried through breakfast, Kyle reminded
himself again how important today’s win would be. It wasn’t just the thrill of
winning, or the prize, though that was great. If they won, he and his teammates
would go on an all-expense paid trip, right across Canada to Toronto. Fantastic!
However, Kyle’s motives went deeper. His Grandpa lived in
a little town just south of Toronto. Kyle remembered the last time he had gone
fishing with him, three years ago, when Grandpa and Grandma had come to visit
them on the West Coast. But now Grandpa was dying – of cancer, Mom said.
“We can’t afford to take a trip across Canada. The
cheapest way to go would be by bus and I can’t take off all the time. There
wouldn’t be money for the house payment when we came back – or anything else,”
his mom had explained calmly.
“Life isn’t fair! Even God isn’t fair!” The hot retort was
out before Kyle could stop himself. Trying to smooth matters over, he stuttered
lamely, “Well, the Bible says God is just and compassionate, even omnipotent.
You and Dad spend ten years in India for Him and how does God repay you? He lets
Dad die of a heart attack while you slave in that dumb office for minimum wages.
I mean, why doesn’t He do something for you?”
Seeing the hurt look on Mom’ face, Kyle stopped talking
but his thoughts raced on. Even though he was a Christian he could take care of
himself. The Bible plainly said the only way to heaven was through Jesus, and he
wanted to go to heaven when he died. But maybe God wasn’t as powerful in other
areas – the areas of life that he faced everyday. Or maybe God just didn’t care
about them.
Well, he was smart and strong. After he won the raft race
he’d see to it that Mom saw Grandpa. He could take a chaperon with him on that
weekend trip to Toronto and Mom wouldn’t have to miss any work.
“Beautiful day for a race, pal! Cloudy, cool, and no
wind,” Harry said as Kyle pulled himself up and joined his teammates in the box
of the grain truck. The raft, a homemade platform resting on two sawed-off
irrigation pipes, gleamed in the sunlight. “Greased Lightning” was etched on its
side.
“You better live up to your name,” Kyle said, running his
fingers over the letters. He helped steady the raft as the truck sped along the
highway.
“Look at the rafts! There must be a hundred of them,”
Harry said as the river came into view. Backing the truck as close to the bank
as he dared, Harry’s father helped the boys slide the craft to the ground. Kyle
pushed and pulled alongside his friends until they had it lined up at the river
edge. His stomach turned nervously and he hoped he wasn’t going to be sick.
Looking over the other rafts, Kyle realized that some
contestants had entered the race entirely for show. Something resembling Noah’s
ark rested a few feet to his left. A female Noah, wearing a curly white wig and
beard, manned it. A colorful array of stuffed toy animals, including a red
monkey and a purple hippopotamus, dangled from the railing. Further down the
line, Kyle noticed an artificial palm tree planted on the back of another one
with a pink flamingo balanced on one spindly leg in front.
Soon a motorboat roared down the center of the river. The
driver waved a revolver, signaling that it was time to start. Kyle and his
friends got into position. At the crack of the shot, the six boys simultaneously
dipped their paddles into the water and rowed alongside the fleet.
“Give it all you’ve got!” Harry’s voice boomed from the
rear, where he knelt across from Kyle. Of the other four, Greg was the most
optimistic about their chances, and Jerry the loudest. The other two – Andre and
Marty – were strong and determined and Kyle knew they’d do their share and some.
Kyle remembered how Harry had stressed that it was most
important to make headway in the beginning. If they were caught in the mass of
unorderly rafts, theirs could be blocked or even damaged as some rammed into
each other, and Kyle didn’t want that to happen.
Their well-planned move brought Greased Lightning smoothly
through the wildly thrashing group of rafters to the front. Shivers of
excitement ran up and down Kyle’s spine. They were ahead of the jam except for
one raft. It was designed like a paddle wheel and while a muscular red-haired
man pedaled in the rear, five youths rowed.
“Kyle, it’s your turn to rest. Have a juice and relax,”
Harry said, skillfully rowing in rhythm with the others.
As the cool liquid trickled down his throat, Kyle was glad
that the team had decided to take turns having ten-minute breaks down the
forty-kilometer stretch of river. Turning around, he realized that they were at
least a hundred meters ahead of six rafts floating close together. Their stiff
competitor, the paddle wheel, skimmed along beside them.
As he took his place again, Kyle’s mouth felt dry, despite
the juice he had just finished. He wanted that prize so badly! Crouching over
his orange pad, he rowed fiercely until sweat ran down his forehead and burned
his eyes. His arms ached and cramps set into his legs, but he paddled on. With
only the ten-minute breaks as relief, he and his teammates dipped their paddles
into the water, hour after hour, following the curves of the river and steering
to avoid the sandbanks.
Coming around the bend, Kyle could see the bridge up
ahead- the end of the race. Fifteen more minutes and they could be there. Seeing
that the paddle wheel was missing, Kyle looked back. The wheel had seized up and
although the muscular, red-haired man was now rowing, the craft was slowing
down.
“Come on guys! Row hard! Now’s our chance,” Harry
yelled, grinning widely.
The six rowed hard, not taking any more breaks. A weir was
coming up to their left, and as the swift water swirled around their raft they
steered to clear it. Kyle felt the current pull at his paddle and then swallow
it up. Suddenly they were on top of the cement embankment. He watched helplessly
as Harry pushed at it, struggling to free the raft, the others joining in. In a
couple of minutes they were free but Harry was minus a paddle too.
Kyle saw that the end of the pontoons were damaged,
dragging the rear of the raft into the water, and the paddle wheel was slowly
gaining on them. Even with four men rowing they could never make it in time.
They were beaten. Never had Kyle felt so helpless! He
thought of Mom’s disappointment, and feeling desperate, he prayed, “God, there’s
no way we can win. But You – all things are possible with You, if You only want
to help us. Show us, Lord, what to do?”
Harry broke into his reverie. “Want to swim for shore? It
looks like we’re out of the race.”
The word ‘swim’ stuck in Kyle’s mind. That was the answer.
“Harry, you won the medal for swimming last year. Let’s
swim and push this wreck in.”
While he was talking, Kyle slipped off his sneakers and
slid into the cold water. Harry followed suit. With the four rowing, Kyle and
Harry swam, pushing the raft from behind. The paddle wheel was only a couple of
meters behind them. Straining every muscle, Kyle knew that each second counted.
The bridge loomed ahead. Kyle heard the cheers, “C’mon,
Greased Lightning!” But the onlookers were only a blur as perspiration ran down
his face, stinging his eyes and leaving a salty taste in his mouth.
As Harry and Kyle swam and the rest of the team rowed,
Greased Lightning edged slowly ahead. Kyle felt cramps setting into his lower
legs but he didn’t dare stop now. As long as they kept going steadily onward
they could make it. They could! Then Kyle felt his legs give out and
disappointment surged through him.
Surprisingly, the crowd was cheering, “Yeh! Greased
Lightning!” He heard Harry’s voice – Greg’s as well - and as Kyle looked up he
saw the bridge behind them.
“We made it! We won the race!” he shouted. Pulling himself
on to the raft, Kyle was positive that Something more than brawn and brain
deserved the credit for them winning the raft race.
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