Fireside Books: Fireside Books in Parksville and BookWyrm in Port Alberni offer used books at just $5 or less. Both locations make growing your personal library easier than ever. New and used books, and so much more. Order online at firesidebooks.ca and pick up at either location. Details available online. Ask about returning books for a book credit. Two locations, one amazing adventure in browsing.
The Ballad of Peter & Gracie: Peter and his dog Gracie ran through fields so wide, with dreams in their pockets and stars as their guide. Every day's an adventure under the open sky, in their world of stories, time just flies by.
Peter McCully: It was a bright Saturday morning on Vancouver Island, and the smell of pancakes drifted through the kitchen window. Seven-year-old Peter sat at the table, poking his fork at his breakfast without eating a single bite. Beside his chair, curled up into a fluffy white circle, was Gracie, his miniature American Eskimo Dog.
Gracie was small, only twenty pounds, but her tail was enormous, and right now it was thumping against the floor like a drum. Thump, thump, thump. "Gracie can tell something exciting is happening," said Peter's mother, setting a glass of orange juice next to Peter's plate. "Can you?" Peter poked at his pancake again.
"Today's my first swim lesson," he said quietly, "at Ravensong." Gracie's ears perked straight up at the word swim, and she gave a little woof, as if she already knew exactly where Ravensong Aquatic Centre was and couldn't wait to go herself. "That's right," said Mom. "Big day." Peter's stomach did a funny flip-flop, the kind that felt a bit like the time he rode the ferry to Vancouver in choppy water.
He'd never really been swimming before. Not proper swimming, not the kind where your feet come off the bottom of the pool and the water is suddenly everywhere, in your ears, up your nose, and all around you like a great big hug that maybe you didn't ask for. "What if I sink?" Peter asked. "You won't sink," said Mom.
"You'll float. Everybody floats a little, even you." "What if the water goes up my nose?" "Then you'll sneeze," said Mom, smiling, "and it will be very funny." Peter didn't think it sounded very funny at all. "What if I forget how to breathe?" "You won't forget," said Mom. "Breathing is one thing nobody ever forgets how to do, not even for a second."
Peter wasn't entirely convinced, but he ate one small bite of pancake anyway, just to be polite. Then he slid down from his chair, and Gracie immediately hopped up, spinning in a circle the way she always did when she thought a walk, a car ride, or an adventure of any kind might be getting underway. "Not you, Gracie," Peter said.
"Dogs aren't allowed in the pool." Gracie tilted her head, one ear flopping sideways, as though this was the most ridiculous rule she had ever heard of in her whole fluffy little life. Up in his room, Peter pulled on his swim trunks and his favourite blue rash guard, the one with the picture of an orca on the front.
He packed his towel into his backpack, and then he packed it again because Gracie had unpacked it the first time, tugging the towel out with her teeth and dragging it down the hallway like she had caught a very large, very fluffy fish. "Gracie!" Peter laughed despite himself, chasing her down the hall. She skidded around the corner into the bathroom, towel flapping behind her like a cape, and disappeared under the sink before popping back out again with her tail wagging so hard her whole back end wiggled with it.
By the time Peter had wrestled the towel away and stuffed it back into his bag, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous. Almost. They loaded into the car, Gracie hopping up onto the back seat beside Peter and immediately pressing her nose to the window, fogging up the glass with excited doggy breath. The drive from their neighbourhood in Coombs took them past the farm stands in French Creek, past fields where sheep grazed in the morning sun, and then into Qualicum Beach, where Ravensong Aquatic Centre sat with its big glass windows catching the light.
"There it is," said Dad, pulling into the parking lot. Peter's stomach did the flip-flop again, twice this time. Inside, the lobby smelled like chlorine and sounded like echoes, splashes, and children laughing somewhere beyond a big set of glass doors. A woman at the front desk had a clipboard and a warm smile.
"You must be Peter," she said. "I'm Miss Dana, your instructor. Are you ready for Swim One?" Peter looked down at his feet. "I don't know," he said. "That's all right," said Miss Dana. "Nobody knows how to swim until they learn. That's the whole point of lessons." Dad found a seat in the viewing gallery, a long room with a wall of windows looking down onto the pool deck, and Gracie hopped up onto the bench beside him, front paws on the glass, nose smudging little foggy circles onto the window as she watched Peter walk by the pool with the other kids.
Peter looked back once. Through the glass, he could see Gracie watching him, her tail going so fast it was practically a blur, and somehow that made him feel just a tiny bit braver. The pool deck was warm and slippery, and the water in the pool was a brilliant sparkling blue, moving gently even though nobody had jumped in yet.
Five other kids stood at the edge with Peter, all in bright swimsuits, some looking excited and some looking exactly as nervous as Peter felt. "All right, Swim Ones," Miss Dana said, clapping her hands. "First things first, everybody sit down on the edge and put your feet in the water." Peter sat. The water was cool against his toes, cooler than the bath at home, but not cold, not really.
It tickled a little. "Now kick," said Miss Dana. "Just your feet, like you're kicking a soccer ball very gently." Peter kicked. Splash, splash, splash. Little waves rippled out across the pool. Up in the gallery, he was sure he could hear a muffled bark, and when he glanced up, sure enough, Gracie was standing up on her back legs against the glass, front paws up, watching every splash like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen in her entire life.
"Good," said Miss Dana. "Now, this next part is the big one. We're going to blow bubbles. Take a deep breath, put just your mouth and nose in the water, and blow out like this." She demonstrated, dipping her face in and blowing a stream of bubbles that popped up to the surface. Peter's stomach flip-flopped one more time.
This was the part that he had been dreading, putting his face in the water. What if he couldn't breathe? What if the water rushed in? The boy next to him, a kid named Marcus with red swim goggles, went first and came up laughing, water dripping off his nose. "It's easy," he said. "It just tickles." A girl on Peter's other side, wearing a purple swim cap covered in cartoon starfish, nodded so hard her cap wobbled.
"I was scared too," she whispered to Peter. "Everybody's a little bit scared their first time. My big sister told me so." Peter thought that was a nice thing to hear, especially from someone still dripping and grinning right beside him. Peter took a deep breath. He thought about Gracie watching him through the glass with her whole fuzzy heart.
He thought about how she never seemed scared of anything, how she jumped into puddles and chased seagulls at Rathtrevor Beach without a moment's hesitation. Maybe he could borrow just a little bit of her courage. He leaned forward and dipped his mouth and nose into the water. Bubbles rushed up around his face, tickling his cheeks, and he blew out just like Miss Dana had shown him.
When he lifted his head back up, water streaming off his chin, he realized something surprising. It had just tickled, exactly like Marcus said. "There you go," said Miss Dana. "Beautiful bubbles, Peter." Up in the gallery, Dad gave a thumbs up, and Gracie let out a happy, muffled bark that Peter could hear even through the thick glass.
The lesson kept going. Peter learned how to hold onto a bright yellow floating noodle and kick his way across the shallow end, his legs churning up a wake behind him like a tiny motorboat. He learned to blow bubbles again and again and again until it felt as easy as blinking. He even learned a little bit about floating, lying back in the water with Miss Dana's hand gently under his back, staring up at the ceiling of the pool building while his ears filled with the soft, muffled sound of water.
"You're floating," Miss Dana said, "all on your own." Peter realized with a jolt of surprise that her hand wasn't under him anymore. He was floating, just him and the water, holding him up as if it had been waiting to do that all along. For one long moment, Peter forgot to be scared at all. The water rocked him gently, the ceiling lights blurred softly above him, and somewhere far away, he could hear the excited thumping of a tail against a window.
When Miss Dana finally helped him back onto his feet, Peter was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. "You did it," she said. "That's the hardest part, you know, floating on your own, and you nailed it on your very first try." "I did it," Peter repeated, mostly to himself, testing out how the words felt. They felt pretty good.
The rest of the lesson just flew by. Peter practiced kicking, practiced his bubbles, and even tried putting his whole face underwater for just a second, popping back up with a gasp and a huge smile. By the time Miss Dana blew her whistle to signal the end of the class, Peter didn't want to get out of the pool at all.
"Same time next week?" Miss Dana asked as Peter climbed the ladder, dripping and grinning. "Yes," said Peter, without even a flicker of hesitation. Miss Dana reached into a small bin by the pool gate and pulled out a shiny sticker shaped like a wave. "This is for everyone brave enough to try floating on their very first day," she said, pressing it onto the back of Peter's hand.
"Not everybody manages that on lesson one, you know." Peter looked down at the little silver wave, and it felt more important than any sticker had ever felt before. Up in the gallery, Gracie was practically vibrating with excitement, spinning in little circles on the bench beside Dad, who was laughing and trying to keep her from knocking his coffee onto the floor.
When Peter finally came out through the big glass doors, wrapped in his towel with his hair dripping and his rash guard soaked through, Gracie launched herself at him with such enthusiasm that Peter had to sit down on the lobby bench to keep from being knocked over. She licked his chin, his cheek, his ear, tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggled with it, as though she personally could not believe how brave he had been.
"I floated, Gracie," Peter told her, scratching behind her soft white ears. "All by myself. Nobody was holding me up." Gracie woofed, which Peter decided meant she was very proud of him. On the drive home, they stopped at the little shop in French Creek for hot chocolate, and Peter told Dad and Mom every single detail of the lesson twice, while Gracie sat in his lap in the back seat, her chin resting on his shoulder, listening to every word as though it were the most important story she'd ever heard.
That night after his bath, Peter climbed into bed with Gracie, curling up in her usual spot at his feet. He stared up at the ceiling, remembering the feeling of floating, of the water holding him up all on his own, and realizing the thing that he had been most afraid of that morning had turned out to be the best part of his whole day.
"Gracie," he whispered into the dark, "I was scared this morning, but I did it anyway." Gracie let out a small sleepy sigh and shifted a little closer, resting her chin on his ankle. "Maybe that's what being brave actually is," Peter said, mostly to himself now, his eyes getting heavy. "Not being scared, just doing it anyway."
Outside, the last of the evening light faded over the fields of Coombs, over the whole little corner of Vancouver Island that Peter called home. And somewhere in Ravensong Aquatic Centre, the pool was calm and blue, waiting patiently for a boy who could hardly wait for next Saturday to come back and float again.
The Ballad of Peter & Gracie: Peter and Gracie, the finest of friends, with tales of wonder that never end. In the pages of books, or stars up above, they find their magic in laughter and love.
Fireside Books: Fireside Books in Parksville and BookWyrm in Port Alberni offer used books at just $5 or less. Both locations make growing your personal library easier than ever. New and used books, and so much more. Order online at firesidebooks.ca and pick up at either location. Details available online. Ask about returning books for a book credit. Two locations, one amazing adventure in browsing.
