Shark Man

By W. Nikola-Lisa

Fleeing a mean stepfather in south Texas, Billy-Boy arrives in Florida with his mother and two sisters at the beginning of summer. Billy-Boy quickly befriends a local boy, Tim, and all is well until it becomes clear they both like the same girl, Mae Beth, the daughter of the local surf shop owner. Billy-Boy has to learn how to navigate new terra

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gyroscope Books
• Release date: Sep 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9780991218370

W. Nikola-Lisa

W. Nikola-Lisa is professor emeritus at National-Louis University in Chicago, Illinois where he taught in the Graduate School of Education. He is the author of numerous books for a variety of age levels. His books include the award-winning How We Are Smart, an exploration of Howard Gardner's theory of multiple intelligences, Magic in the Margins, a story about bookmaking in the Middle Ages, and The Men Who Made the Yankees, an homage to one of the greatest baseball franchises in history.

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Published By Gyroscope Books

gyroscopebooks.com

Copyright 2015 by W. Nikola-Lisa

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

Published in the United States by Gyroscope Books, a Chicago-based publisher of high quality hardcover, paperback, and digital books for readers young and old.

Designed by Deb Tremper, Six Penny Graphics

Author: Nikola-Lisa, W. [American, b. 1951]

Summary: Billy-Boy arrives in South Florida with his mother and two sisters after spending several years in Texas at the hands of a mean stepfather. He’s got a lot to learn—and unlearn—about his new life on the Florida beaches.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015946163

Gyroscope Books, Chicago, Illinois

ISBN-13: 978-0-9912183-7-0

To Mark, who never quit living the dream...

Contents

Home of the Astronauts

Making Waves

Sigh of Relief

Fish Out of Water

Unfazed

360

Dinger

Surfin’ U.S.A.

Nothing

Lover Boy

Grounded

Work to Do

Guinea Pig

Here Doggie, Doggie

Bad Habit

Bonus Points

Practice Round

Just How It Is

Everything You Need

Home of the Astronauts

We crossed the state line around noon. It was raining cats and dogs, which made the welcome sign seem a bit foolish—

Welcome to Florida

The Sunshine State

It was our third day on the road. I was no longer commanding the front passenger seat. Diane kicked me out when we passed through the small gulf town of Moss Point. She had every right to. She was the oldest.

I rode in the backseat with my other sister. Sue was older than me by a couple of years, which made me the youngest—the baby.

Baby! At twelve-years-old.

We played checkers on a small magnetic checkerboard while Mom’s car slogged through the downpour.

When is it going to stop raining? Sue asked.

Downpours like this don’t last long, Mom replied, her eyes glued to the road.

Yeah, Diane smirked, God takes a whizzer over Florida about this time every day.

Quiet, young woman! Mom said sharply.

Diane was no woman, but at sixteen she was real close.

We had just made the big turn south out of Florida’s panhandle when the rain stopped. We sped down the interstate, passing the towns of Traxler, High Springs, McIntosh, and Reddick. At Wildwood, we exited the interstate and headed east on the state road.

Why’d we get off the interstate? Sue asked, looking around at the changing landscape. Wouldn’t it be faster if we stayed on it?

We’ve got to cut over to the East Coast, Mom replied, not taking her eyes off the highway signs flashing by.

The further we drove, the stranger the town names sounded: Apopka, Okahumpka, Minneola, Kissimmee...

Kissimmee?

I’d never heard of a name like that before. For the last seven years I’d been holed up with my family in a small cattle town in Texas. Believe me, there wasn’t a whole lot of kissing going on there.

I guess that’s why we left. One day, after my stepfather chased Mom through the house waving a pistol, Mom loaded us into the car and off we sped, headed to my grandmother’s beach house in South Florida.

King me! Sue squealed as her checker made it to the edge of the board. That’s three kings to none, she gloated.

Yeah, you just wait. This game’s far from over.

But before I could make a move, the brakes squealed, the tires hissed, and Diane screamed.

Corvairs are made backwards. Instead of the engine in the front of the car and the trunk in back, the engine’s in the back and the trunk’s in front. It’s a big mistake, because when you jam on the brakes the front of the car wants to stop, but not the back. That’s because all of the weight is in back.

And that’s exactly what happened to us. When Mom jammed on the brakes trying to avoid a deer crossing the highway, the front of the car tried to stop, but not the back. So not only did the car swerve, it spun completely around and skidded backwards down the road.

For a moment we were like astronauts sailing through space, defying every law of gravity, until we came to a jarring stop in the sand along the side of the road. Mom was pale as a ghost. Diane was sobbing. Sue and I clung to each other in the back seat like two giant magnetic checkers. After a minute or two, people started to run up to the car.

Are you all right, ma’am? a burly truck driver asked, opening Mom’s door. She trembled, unable to speak, as he helped her out of the car. Diane, Sue and I also scrambled out of the car, and into the arms of other people who had come to help.

The damage was minimal. Even our belongings on top of the car were still intact. As we stood on the shoulder of the road, I could hear people murmuring—

It’s a miracle.

I don’t’ believe it.

Man, were they lucky.

Soon afterwards a state trooper showed up and helped us back into the car and onto the road. Mom drove slowly, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

At the sight of the first motel, she turned off and pulled up to the front door. It was a small, ten-unit motel snuggled beneath a grove of pine trees. A large neon sign attached to the roof blinked steadily—

Only forty miles to Cape Canaveral

Home of the Astronauts

Making Waves

"Mom, can we go see the astronauts?" Sue asked at breakfast.

No, dear, we’re not really headed that way, Mom replied,