
I, Joey Michaels, am the Water Fight Professional. Basically this means that customers pay me to soak other people. But my super-competitive best friend is sucking all the fun out of summer. All because I made a secret bet with him. Winning the bet wouldn't be so hard if I didn't have the following three problems: 1) My dramatic mother who feels the need to schedule every moment of summer 2) A surfer-dude mailman who can't keep deliveries straight 3) The annoying neighbor girl who all my friends have a crush on If I lose ... ugh, I can't even tell you what I'd have to do. I'd rather lick a slug!
Excerpt
Chapter One:
Splish, Splash, Water Fight and a Bath
Crouching
behind a scratchy bush, I balanced a squishy water balloon in each hand.
Austin
Clairmont’s family slowly walked down the brick path of the nature trail. Very
slowly. Was his mom really reading all the little signs that describe each
plant? People only read those on field trips.
My right
foot tingled like it was starting to fall asleep.
The
family turned left to go over the footbridge. I awaited my victim on the wrong
path. This wasn’t part of the business plan.
The
Clairmonts strolled out of my line of vision—even Austin’s super tall dad who
hired me to soak Austin in the first place. He’d paid me to use two water
balloons and my Mega Drench 200, the water gun tucked in my belt behind my
back. It was my only sale on that cloudy, early summer day.
Lucky for
me, unlike my own dad, Mr. Clairmont liked to spend money. He’d come right up
to my booth in the park and arranged for my services. Of course, since Austin
was a whole year older than me and going into 8th grade at Cole Valley
Christian School, I would have to be sneaky in my attack or he would certainly
get me back.
Half
crawling, half running, I started after the family. My sneakers kept my bridge
crossing silent. I slowed down as I came to the bend and peeked around the
corner.
Perfect.
Austin had gone down the hill next to the fish-viewing windows.
I crept
backwards two steps to the railroad tie stairs. They led up to an overlook of
the pond, waterfall, and windows. I couldn’t have planned it better.
Mr.
Clairmont caught my eye through the tree branches and winked.
My pulse
picked up.
I angled
my body so there was a clear shot through the tree branches. Lifting the red
balloon in my right hand, I focused on my target and counted down in my head.
3…2…1…FIRE!
Splat.
Direct hit.
Austin’s
two brothers laughed and looked around, but they didn’t spot my second balloon
before it arrived. Yikes. I hit Austin’s little brother. That meant trouble,
but I had to finish the job.
I pulled
the Mega Drench out from under my belt and charged down the steps with a war
cry. My position had been perfect for launching water balloons, but if I stayed
there the brothers would find me for sure, and I would have no escape. “Wah!” I
yelled, gun pointed in front of me as I turned the corner.
One
run-by soaking, coming up.
Austin
saw me. “It’s Joey,” he yelled.
“Who’s
Joey?” asked the little brother.
I aimed
the nozzle slightly to the left of Austin—The Mega Drench never shot
straight—and pulled the trigger.
“He’s the
professional water fighter.” Austin
jumped behind his big brother Grant to avoid my attack.
I doused
the fifteen-year-old. Crud.
“Hey,”
yelled Grant. “You’re gonna regret this.”
I was
already starting to, but that was the hazard of my chosen career. Mr. Clairmont
high-fived me as I kept moving down the path, heart pounding in my ears.
He was
the only one still laughing.
I glanced
over my shoulder.
Austin
had his mom’s water bottle in hand and was in hot pursuit.
I faced
forward and ran faster.
Heavier
footsteps scuffed past Austin’s. Grant was gaining on me.
Extending
my gun behind my back, I shot as I ran, glancing back.
Water
dripped from Grant’s chin, but that didn’t stop him.
How was I
going to escape?
“Get
him,” shouted Austin. His voice faded behind me. I must have worn him out.
Sliding
on gravel, I leaped toward a second bridge, but Grant grabbed my shirt and my
collar held me back like a dog on a leash. I twisted side to side, whipping him
back and forth, and jerking him off balance.
Grant
tumbled to the ground but wrapped an arm around my ankle on the way down.
I lost my
footing and joined him on the hard wooden planks.
Austin
reappeared. I hadn’t worn him out. He’d just ducked down to the creek to fill
up the water bottle with slimy green stuff. Sick. That was so much worse than
the drinking fountain water I used in my balloons.
I kicked
at Grant and clawed at the bridge. No use.
Austin
stepped forward with a huge grin on his face.
I
shielded my head with my arms as algae and duck poop greased my body. My water
gun bumped against my shoulder.
Oh, yeah.
I was still armed.
Rolling
onto my back, I aimed the weapon to the side of my assailants and fired.
Woohoo!
“No way.”
Austin reached down for my right arm and Grant grabbed my left.
I tried
to pull the brothers together so they would hit heads, but that must only work
in kung fu movies.
Austin
hauled me toward the side of the bridge. He wouldn’t—
“Let me
go,” I hollered.
“I’d
rather lick a slug.” Austin didn’t even break stride.
Grant
paused, but didn’t relax his grip on my arm. “Didn’t you lick a slug on our
camping trip last year?” he asked Austin.
“Oh,
yeah.”
“Ready?”
asked Grant.
“Set,”
answered Austin.
“Go,”
they yelled together and tossed me over the railing.
I flailed
through the air, barely catching my breath before splashing into the icy, murky
pond.
A fish
slipped past my neck.
I emerged
to the sounds of laughter.
Baby
Clairmont had caught up with his brothers and they all smirked down at me from
the bridge and Mr. Clairmont’s tall frame doubled over in laughter in the
distance. He was the reason I was floating in the muck. Was it worth it?
I thought
of the soggy dollar bills stuffed into my jeans pocket. Oh, yeah. It was worth
it. I would do it again every day that summer if I got the chance.

About The Author
Angela
Ruth Strong didn’t run businesses as a kid, but in 7th grade she did start her
own neighborhood newspaper. This childhood interest led to studying journalism
at the University of Oregon and having one of her stories reach over half a million
readers. To help other aspiring authors, Angela founded IDAhope Writers in
Boise, Idaho, where she currently lives with her husband and three children
(who always love a good water fight). Find out more at
www.angelaruthstrong.com.
Purchase The Water Fight Professional at:
5 comments:
you are a new author to me. Looking forward to reading more!
mandn(at)wisper(dash)wireless(dot)com
You look so young. I have not heard your name mentioned previously. Great beginning hook! You had me from the first words. Joyce Guard
guardje13@hotmail.com
I just got your story Lighten Up. This book sounds like a good one for my boys.
sweetdarknectar at gmail dot com
That's great, Boos. Would love to hear what you think. And hopefully I look younger than I am at 36, Anonymous. :-)
Looking forward to more books like
this one.
Joyce Guard
guardje13@hotmail.com
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