When a new wave of rain hammered the tent above her head, Kate rolled her eyes. “There goes the race,” she said, thinking that the judges would postpone the White Water Championships tomorrow, too. She watched her friend Jeff, who sat cross-legged on his rolled sleeping bag, frown as he studied the cards fanned in his left hand. She searched her hand and threw a six at the discard pile, which spilled from the upside-down camp pan they were using for a card table.

“Give me all your queens,” he said, “and I’ll make the rain stop.”

Past laughing, Kate said, “Go fish!”

He wrinkled his freckled nose and feigned a whine. When he drew his card, he shouted, “Queen, Queen!” and threw his last cards in the air. “I win!” he taunted.

“Let’s not play anymore,” Kate said. She never liked playing fish: too boring.

“You’re just a sore loser!” he said.

Kate knew he was joking, but she defended herself anyway. “Not! I’m bored. I wish we could go home. Maybe they’ll cancel the race.”

“No way!” Jeff said. “I’ve waited a long time to try out my kayak.”

Kate acknowledged his eagerness. “If I had a kayak, I’d feel different.”

“Yeah,” he sympathized. “It’s too bad your dad didn’t come through for your birthday. I don’t get it.”

After Jeff got a kayak for his eleventh birthday, she begged her dad for one. But her eleventh passed with some wet gear and a paddle. Now Jeff was going to paddle solo kayak and she was stuck paddling tandem with her dad in a tubby old canoe. “He told me I couldn’t learn in time for the race,” Kate said. “He needed me to paddle the tandem class.”

“Does he like kayaks? I mean, he never takes one out on the river like my dad and me. He always goes in canoes.”

“Maybe,” she said. “He says he’s like Noah. He’s got to bring the ark. Here’s what I think. He’d like a kayak, but then he can’t take me.”

“You think?” Jeff said. “He needs to buy two kayaks, then.”

Kate pulled a paddle from the tent vestibule, rubbing the smooth varnish and admiring the twisted ends. “You were working on rolling your kayak with your dad. Can you now?” The sound of dripping trees popped loudly on the tent fly.

“The rain’s stopped!” he said. “Common. I’ll show you.”

****

In the last light, the river was eerie. Instead of white water, it rolled in brown standing waves, powerful as a Loch Ness Monster. Twigs, trees and shrubs bent over the rapids, level with the boiling water. The gate-poles, hung from cables above the river, bounced crazily where they trailed on waves.

"Dad, Jeff’s going to paddle his kayak this year," Kate shouted above the river’s roar. "Why couldn’t I?" She felt that she knew a lot about racing, at least as much as Jeff did. Her dad always said she was a strong paddler. She was embarrassed, because even if the river weren’t flooded, she’d have to paddle tandem as though she was nine or ten!

"Katy, we’ve discussed this before," he said. "I won’t go there."

Kate slumped, knowing better, but pressed the issue anyway. "But Dad, he’s racing. His dad says it’s okay."

"Jeff’s dad is Jeff’s dad. I’m yours. You’re going to have all you can do to get down this river tomorrow."

"It’ll be too high. They’ll just cancel the race again," she said, kicking a stone down the riverbank.

He pointed across the river to change the subject. "Lessons!" he said. "If we miss Gate Two, we can’t go back to pick it up. The current’s too strong. See Gate Three? The shrubs growing in the river? How do you read it?"

"They’re growing on rocks." She kicked another stone.

"And?"

"We go right."

"Why on the right?" he asked.

"Because the current’s faster there. We’ll save time."  She yawned rudely.

"You’ve got it. What’s beyond the rocks?" He continued to ignore her behavior.

Without willing it, her answers sped up. "An eddy."

She followed him down the river, still paying more attention to the stones she picked up and pocketed. He pointed across the river where the gate-poles for Ten bounced on the waves. "How do we get through Ten?"

"Paddle the current straight ahead."

Gate Ten was green, the entry pointing downstream in the direction of the current. Everyone knew that. Red gates were entered going upstream.

"No," he said. "We’re going to change it."

Kate was puzzled. If they didn’t enter a gate properly, or if they went through a gate out of sequence, they would be disqualified. He knelt beside her, smoothed the sand and painted in the currents and gates with a stick. Gate Ten straddled the fastest current in the middle, going straight downstream. Gate Eleven, right beside Gate Ten, straddled the eddy next to the riverbank, which flowed in the opposite direction.

"If we aim downstream," he said, "we overshoot the eddy. The current’s too fast to get the canoe’s nose into the eddy to make Gate Eleven. We’ll lose time if we have to turn and paddle back to Eleven against the current.”

Kate was still in the dark. “So?” she said.

“Here, watch this." He dropped an oval stone into the sand drawing and maneuvered it with a stick. "We’re going to turn the canoe before, back it through Gate Ten and drop into this slot on the bank. Then we’ll be facing forward to shoot the eddy upstream through Gate Eleven."

Kate’s eyes widened when she caught his vision.

"Now, what stroke?" he asked.

"Backward sweep!" she chimed in, her memory standing at attention.

"Why?"

"It keeps the boat moving when you’re turning!"

"And then?"

"Straight ahead!"

They passed eight more gates, and it was nearly dark when their path reached Big Drop Rapids. The sound alone made her stomach queasy. Gate Twenty was just above the drop where water boiled over the falls into the pool below and Twenty-one and Twenty-two straddled the eddies below it. This required a dangerous figure eight maneuver below the falls.

Her father was relentless. "How do we turn the boat?"

"A draw stroke into the eddy and then paddle forward!"

"Why?"

"The current flows upstream in the eddy. Nose the canoe in and it’ll follow the current.”

"Good!" He squeezed her shoulder, which meant A-okay in their private language. "You’re ready," he pronounced. "I think it’s time to get some sleep."

Wind blew spray from the high waves, but the sun was bright, the sky blue and the race was on. Kate heard the announcer’s mike booming.

"Now this wind is messing a lot of boaters up. This wind is . . . very . . . very . . .windy."

She laughed, despite her stomach, which was sour from guzzling water to steady her nerves. Jeff and his father waded into the rapids and boarded their kayaks. On signal, Jeff’s kayak leapt into the current, his father paddling at a distance, to coach and back him up. She loved the look of the kayak, which skimmed the water like a bird in the rapids, turning at the least touch of the paddle. Jeff shot through Gate One without touching either of the gate poles. Full points, she thought. Gate Two was just as effortless, but she could scarcely believe her eyes at what followed.

Jeff’s dad was signaling him from the sidelines, but when he should have pulled to the right of the rock ledge as he headed for gate Three, he stared blankly ahead. In a second, his kayak rolled against it, then rounded the obstruction, entering the current upside down. Once past the rock, he should have rolled his kayak upright. Instead, he slid out of his harness. She could just see the top of his head bobbing above the waves. What’s he doing? she thought. He’s disqualified! Just yesterday she’d seen him roll his kayak. Now, she saw the river sweep him past three gates before his dad was able to reach him and tow him to shore.

Kate started down the riverbank to see if Jeff was all right, but felt her dad’s hands on her shoulders, halting her in her tracks. He turned her around and steered her toward the canoe saying, “We’re up next. There’s no time.” At the canoe, he lowered the number bib over her shoulders and tied the sides. The number thirteen in bold black reached past her hips, so it sagged, almost unreadable. Oh great, she thought, a bad luck number, too.

"The bib’s bigger than you are!" he said.  "The judges won’t be able to see our number!" He handed her the new paddle, which was wide and bent to make each stroke more powerful. When she knelt in the bow, he shoved the canoe into the river and leaped into the stern.

Kate tried to focus on the gate ahead, but the speed of the current shocked her. She was engulfed in the sound. She could barely hear her father yelling, "Pull, pull!" When she put her paddle into the river, the boat was traveling too fast. For the first two passes, her paddle dug uselessly into the stream. Then she connected with a hard stroke, and then another. The first gate was already behind them.

A gust of wind yanked at the wide paddle as she lifted it from the water. She struggled to bring it down. Paddle close to the stream, in wind. She sang her dad’s words to herself, in wind…in wind.

"Pry!" he yelled.

Then Gate Two was behind them. Kate knew now why Jeff capsized. The sun stung her eyes and even squinting, she couldn’t see the rock or the next gate. As they rounded the rocks and rode the eddy upstream to Gate Three, the wind slammed the gate poles against the canoe. Points gone!

"Don’t stop," she heard her father yell. "It’s just two points! Go! Sweep! Draw!"

The commands from the back came faster than she could think as they passed through six more gates. Speeding toward Gate Ten, she plied a sweep stroke to turn the canoe 180 degrees as planned, but the current was too fast. They were still broadside to the gate, too close to complete the turn. Her dad yelled, “No! Use a draw! Fast!”

She understood she needed to slow the canoe, but turn it. She dug the paddle deep again and again, pulling it straight towards the canoe, coaxing the nose around. Still at a dangerous angle, they entered Gate Ten dragging both gate poles with them, but miraculously spun into the slot by the riverbank facing upstream. The canoe stalled for a moment while she paddled furiously into the eddies’ current, and then it gave in to their efforts and slid through Gate Eleven. It worked, she thought, peeling back into the current. They passed through six more gates, Kate following her dad’s instructions. "Go right. Eddy. Paddle hard! Peel out!"

Then, as Kate neared the falls, the noise drowned out her father’s voice. Panic struck. She could see the curve of the drop off coming too fast, but she couldn’t register a word he said. Then, she simply acted, hoping that if she was wrong, he could recover.

She rose on her knees, shoved the paddle deep in the river and pulled until her arms shook with effort. Dangerously broadside to the stream, the canoe sliced left across the current that sped toward the abrupt drop-off. She willed the canoe to reach Gate Twenty, lugging the paddle with her whole body. With the last sweep stroke, they scraped by the right pole. By now, she no longer worried about points lost. She looked down the falls to the frothing maw below.

Kate braced herself, paddle across the gunnel, as they careened down the boiling chute. The canoe took water, in danger of swamping in the whirlpool. Not knowing what else to do, she jammed the paddle in to pull the nose into the eddy. As she had rehearsed it, she turned the canoe and paddled through the gate.

Then she peeled into the white froth at the mouth of the dragon to cross to the other side, sliding downstream to the second eddy gate and up through the slot like a salmon. Exhilarated, she heard herself screaming as they passed through the last three gates.

She was still high, but Kate’s legs trembled as she stepped out of the canoe.

“You saved the day!” her dad said. “There’s no way I could get down that river without you. Do you know that?”

“Really?” she said. “You mean it?”

“Mean it!” he said. “You tell me how I’d cross that river above the falls without you? You’re the best!”

Remembering that stretch, how she had given it her all, she glowed because she really had made a difference. She helped her dad haul the canoe up the bluff trail. At the top, she was relieved to see Jeff waiting with his dad at the car to help them load the canoe. He looked okay.

"I’ll help," Jeff said, and he took the gunnel from her. She started to ask him about the sun glare at Gate Two when the public announcement system clicked on.

"We have returns for the tandem open-canoe class," the announcer said. "In third place, number five . . . second place, number twenty . . . and in first place, folks . . . that bad luck number . . . thirteen!"

They won the open tandem canoe class. Kate yelped, running to her dad and threw her arms around him. "We did it," she said. He swung her around a turn, her feet flying, whooping with her.

When Kate came back to earth, suddenly, she noticed Jeff. With a wry look at Kate, he turned away, bending to retie the bow rope. The look was not lost on Jeff’s father, who joined him to put the canoe on the roof rack. "That any way to treat a friend?" he asked Jeff.

Jeff shuffled over, looking at his feet. "Congratulations, Kate," he said. She didn’t know how to answer him, woodenly taking in his disappointment. Is he disappointed because I won, or because he didn’t?

Kate’s father broke the silence. He shook Jeff’s hand.  "Jeff, it took a lot of courage to go out on that river on your own! I congratulate you. You learned enough to win next year."

"That’s what Dad says," Jeff said. "Experience is the best teacher."

"I agree!" he answered.

Kate nodded and shook Jeff’s hand. "That’s right," she said. "I guess I learned some stuff too." Did she ever, she thought. Like racing a tandem canoe was easy. Not! And winning isn’t just a score. It’s doing her best and finding out it’s good enough.

On their way to the judges stand to collect their prize, Kate was buzzing with memories of the race.

"You know, you’ve earned a . . . kayak," her father said, his eyes twinkling.

“Thanks,” she said, willing herself back from memories of the maneuver to Gate Ten and their near miss. When she registered what he’d said, that her kayak was on the way, she grinned. “Fantastic! And Dad, could we work some more on turning canoes in fast currents too?”