Pool Buddies

The water always had a special place in the heart of Jack Merrylow. It called to him in an eerie way from the time he first gazed upon it. Jack was a natural swimmer from the moment he could walk. In his heart, Jack hated the water, and he loved it above all else. The special place he held for it was only because swimming was what defined him, and what he defined himself with. Swimming was both a burden and a release for him. Freedom, one might say, is what Jack found when he joined the water. And yet his freedom was a battle, a constant struggle to beat the clock, impress the world, and beat everyone.

Water, and swimming gave Jack a strong and lean body, one worthy of envy from any eye. At age 13, and at the time of our story, he stood 5′ 4″. He had short blonde hair, that when wet, glimmered as if diamond’s dust had been sprinkled over it. His build was lean; he had sinewy, tanned arms that were covered by a thin layer of boyhood hair. His torso was that of a swimmer’s; long, agile, and abs sculpted from marble. Jack’s legs were thin, but very strong. His hip and calf muscles bulged- and his light boy hair perfectly caught drops of water that gave his fine muscles a brilliant glisten when he was just out of the pool. Even his feet were worthy of envy; surely a swimmer such as Jack must’ve had some sort of magic between his toes to give him his speed.

Jack’s love of water naturally guided him to the local swim club, and to the modern pool. He started swimming with the club when he was only 5. And gosh, everyone knew from an early age that Jack Merrylow was a natural in the water. Jack shredded through records like a shark- soon, the youth record board in the local pool began to look like a shrine to Jack Merrylow. His talent naturally earned him admiration, as well as a whole lot of attention.

At school and in his social life, Jack was unusual for a boy of such great build and achievement. His ego was smaller than most every other boy in his grade. And needless to say, he deserved to have by far the highest ego of any boy his age. Girls took a liking to Jack very easily, but Jack wasn’t as enamored by the ladies as most of his male cohorts were. Sure, he liked their attention, but he really didn’t find them all that attractive or spectacular.

Rose Avenue was a quiet little street, and the place where Jack had lived his whole life. He had a nice house; his father and mother had good jobs, and he was an only child. Jack was a tad bit lonely. He had always wanted a big brother, and he’d always wanted someone to show him how to do things, back him up, and give him the safe and secure feeling that little brothers treasure.

On a cool spring day, an orange van appeared on Rose Ave., and Jack realized that the vacant house at the end of the street was going to have new occupants. The van’s doors opened, and a man, with a boy only a few years older than Jack stepped out. The boy waved at him in the friendliest of ways. Jack had a good feeling about this. Jack hopped on his bike, and rode down to greet his new neighbors.

“Hi… I’m… I’m Jack Merrylow,” he shyly said.

“Hey buddy, I’m Simon, Simon Krusman,” the older boy replied.

“Welcome to our neighborhood,” Jack offered.

“Thanks, you look like you’re just a little younger than me, it’s good to know I’ll have some company here, “
Simon said.