Sink or Swim Read Online Free

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    â€œI didn’t,” I reply nervously. “I swear. I’m innocent. I don’t even like sourdough bread. I prefer seeded rye.”
    â€œAre you seriously going to stand there and tell me someone else in this town was able to scale a fifteen-foot brick wall and break down a steel door with his bare hands?” Principal Muchnick runs his pudgy fingers through his oily black hair.
    â€œYes, sir.” I shift nervously from one flipper to the other.
    Doc Craverly looks at me and shakes his head sadly. “Adolescents,” he murmurs. “One minute they’re helping little old ladies across the street. The next they’re pushing them into it.”
    â€œWhat in the Sam Hill is that supposed to mean, Craverly?” Principal Muchnick screams at the psychologist. “Nobody’s pushing any little old ladies into the street.”
    Doc Craverly starts to tremble. “Raging ha . . . ha . . . hormones . . . Willard,” he stammers. “They can turn the nicest ka . . . ka . . . kid into a frustrated and belligerent fugitive from ja . . . ja . . . justice just like that!” Doctor Craverly tries to snap his fingers for emphasis, but they’re so drenched with sweat they slide off each other silently.
    â€œYou’re the doctor in the house,” Muchnick roars. “What do you suggest we do about this?”
    â€œI suggest Charlie start participating in a team sport immediately,” Doctor Craverly says meekly. “It’ll do him a world of ga . . . ga . . . ga . . . good.”
    â€œThat’s the stupidest thing I ever heard in my life!” Principal Muchnick snorts.
    â€œI ba . . . ba . . . beg to da . . . da . . . differ,” Doc Craverly stammers. He is not much for confrontations.
    â€œWhy?” Principal Muchnick demands. “This better be good, Craverly.” Doc Craverly gulps air like a dying guppy while his mouth silently forms words. “Pull yourself together, man,” Principal Muchnick barks. “You are a trained professional in the field of mental health.”
    Doc Craverly takes a deep breath and steadies himself, and the words come tumbling out. “The rebellious adolescent often masks insecurity by acting out in a futile attempt to establish a stronger sense of his or her own identity. Joining a team has been known to engender the feeling of order and discipline so often lacking in the unruly youngster, encouraging self-esteem while bolstering the confidence necessary to become a productive member of one’s own community.” Doc Craverly wipes away perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.
    â€œI have no idea what you just said, but I like it, Craverly. Congratulations, Drinkwater, you’re joining a team,” Principal Muchnick says. “And you will stay on it until you stop acting out in this antisocial manner. Got it?”
    I have never been much of a team player. In third grade I signed up for intramural volleyball. The first day we played, all seventeen other members of the team signed a petition saying that if I remained on it, they were quitting. I missed the ball every time it came near me. The one time I hit it back, I smacked Amy Armstrong in the head so hard she had to be sent home.
    I manage to come out with a feeble, “What team am I joining, sir?”
    â€œI’m not sure.” Principal Muchnick shuts his eyes. He concentrates intensely. A moment later they snap open and he beams at me. “The swimming team. It’s perfect!”
    I am not joining the swimming team. Never. Ever. I don’t care if they throw me in jail and feed me stale bread crumbs for the rest of my life. I feel like screaming
Noooooo
at the top of my lungs.
    But what actually comes out is, “I’d rather not, sir.”
    â€œNonsense,” Principal