Janey emptied the bucket she bailing water with into his lap. “Want some more?”
“What the—” Rusty noticed the amount of water in Janey’s canoe. “What’s wrong?”
She emptied another bucketful, this time on the other side. “Must have cracked a seam. Morty’ll probably take the repair cost out of my paycheck.”
Rusty wanted to assure her that he wouldn’t, but realized he’d at least try. “Look, want to get in my canoe. We can tie a rope to the nose.”
“Stern.”
“...and tow it back to camp.”
Janey emptied another bucket and looked at him. “Why’re you being nice to me?”
“Am I?”
“Well, yeah. You could’ve left. Or laughed. Or both. Instead, you’re acting like a person.”
“I guess.” He looked at her, noticed the green flecks in her blue eyes, the curl of hair behind her left ear, her dimpled chin. “Y’know how in third grade if a boy liked you he’d punch you and then run away? I...something about you makes me want to stop acting like a third grader.”
“You asking me out?”
“I’m asking you over to my canoe.”
Janey left the bucket floating in the bottom of her canoe and grabbed the gunwale of Rusty’s. “Is it safe?”
“I won’t hit you, if that’s what you mean. Can’t really run away from someone in a canoe.”
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