Chapter 6

I don’t stand a chance against the mega-grip of the mysterious metacarpus. I didn’t think anything could be stronger than the Huge Hairy Hisser. Now I’m actually scared! I’m also amazed that my brain remembers the scientific term for “hand.”

But now isn’t the time to celebrate a mental victory. I need to get away!

“Let go!” I shout, still flailing in the water. At least that’s what my brain is saying, but what those around me hear is “Flep galooop!” Once again I hope someone understands this advanced form of communication and figures out that I need help.

At last I hear help coming my way. Okay, what I actually hear is laughter echoing up and down the river. I turn to see my dad holding on to me while trying to keep from falling out of his inner tube. His laughing is making the tube shake more than my flailing.

Evidently, as soon as I entered the water—by my own choice I would like to remind you—my dad grabbed an inner tube and went after me. It took him a bit to catch up, though, because I think there’s some sort of rule that says every grown-up who climbs in an inner tube has to fall out a few times first. Dad obeyed this law very well, at least according to my mom’s account of the story that she later told at several church events.

Anyway, once Dad balanced on the tube, he started paddling toward the air bubbles that floated up to show him where I was. He had almost caught up to me when I surfaced and flipped over Tube Girl. (That’s not her real name. I changed it for this book.) That’s when Dad paused his rescue efforts until the girl got back on her tube and floated away. Moments later, Dad saved me!

I hang on to Dad’s inner tube as we float to a part of the river where we can both climb out. Mom and Brian are waiting for us with the car and drive us back to our room.

“I just took my first float in the Comal River!” I tell my brother. “And I met a girl.”

Brian doesn’t seem impressed.

“I could have had my first float too,” he says, “if it wasn’t for my good coordination and steady feet.”

He still thinks I fell in by accident. Brothers, right?

The rest of our vacation goes even better! My parents float on their inner tubes while my brother and I snorkel in the river looking for treasure. Lots of people evidently come to the Comal River to throw away their sunglasses, hats, and single socks that don’t have a match.

Our family brings a large trash bag with us so we can pick up empty cans resting on the river bottom. So we’re cleaning up and getting rewarded for it. In just a few days, we find eighty-seven pairs of sunglasses, sixteen hats, and a watch that’s evidently waterproof because it still works. But that’s not the greatest treasure of the trip.

On our second-to-last day, I spot a red bag stuck under a big rock at the bottom of the river. I steady my snorkeling mask, take a big gulp of air, and dive back down.

As soon as I grab the bag, I can tell it’s something cool. I burst out of the water and realize I’m holding a new iPhone in a red waterproof bag!

I can’t wait to show my dad, which happens sooner than I think since I surface right under his inner tube and knock him into the water. (I’ve really got to start looking up before I surface.)

He quickly climbs back on his tube. And by quickly, let’s call it a half hour. I show him my treasure and start singing:

I found an iPhone

under a big stone

I own an iPhone

Now I’m in the cool zone!

I’m really excited because the phone I have now is not the greatest. In fact, my parents like to say they got it for free when they bought a gallon of milk. Yet I’m pretty sure that my grandparents owned it first, followed by my dad, my mom, and maybe a couple of aunts and uncles. I’m fortunate that it still functions. But that’s okay, because I only use it with family and friends and to play River Shiver.

Dad takes the new phone out of the case and tries to turn it on.

“It works,” he says. “Well, it did for a second. It just ran out of battery.”

“This is the best vacation ever!” I shout.

Dad brings me back to reality. “Let’s get back to our room and see if we can return it to the person who lost it.”

What? I think. Return it? Hasn’t Dad read the part of the Constitution that says, “Finders keepers, losers weepers”?

I’m the keeper! I earned the phone by risking my life swimming through sharks and aluminum cans to find it. Okay, I know sharks don’t live in rivers, but what if someone dropped their pet shark in the river while tubing? It could happen. People seem to drop in everything else!

But that’s when it hits me. Dad’s right. We have an opportunity to do a really nice thing. I know if I lost my phone, I’d be crushed. I mean, who knows when we’ll be buying a gallon of milk again? Returning the phone to the person who lost it is the right thing to do.

We get back to the room and charge up the phone. When it turns on again, we hit a roadblock. The phone requires a four-digit passcode to unlock it.

“There’s no way to get in to see whose it is,” Dad says.

I become excited again. The person who lost it obviously didn’t want it returned, or else the passcode would have been removed before it was accidentally dropped into the river.

“I guess we could try different codes,” Mom suggests.

I stare at the phone for a moment. I have an important decision to make. Once again, God has put me in a situation where I can choose to do a selfish thing or put someone else’s needs before mine. I smile, because I know God always wants us to choose to help others. I also have an idea how to find the phone’s owner.

“Can I see it?” I ask.

“It’s not yours,” Dad reminds me, before reluctantly handing me the phone.

“Hey Siri,” I say to the phone. “Call Mom.”

The phone starts to ring.

“Hello,” a woman says.

“Hi,” I respond. “My name is Bob Smiley, but you can call me Average Boy. I found an iPhone in the Comal River today. Do you know how to get ahold of the person who owns it so we can return it?”

I look over at Dad. He’s shocked and smiling.

Turns out the girl who lost the phone is staying nearby with her family. We make a plan for them to come over and get the phone.

Once I hang up, I tell Dad that you can still have “Siri” call people even when an iPhone is locked.

“I chose ‘Mom’ because most people have their mother listed as ‘Mom’ in their contacts,” I explain.

I can tell that Dad is impressed.

“How come you don’t make better grades in school if you’re that smart?” he asks.

Like I said, he’s very impressed.

A few minutes later the family pulls up. When we meet them, the girl looks at me and shouts, “Auuughhh!”

I can’t believe it. It’s Tube Girl! (Name changed for this book.)

I hand her the phone. And I have to say the look on Tube Girl’s face is almost worth giving up a new iPhone. Heavy on the almost part.

Her mom tells my parents what a fine young man they’re raising.

“You must be talking about Brian,” my dad jokes. “But it was Bob who found it.”

The lady laughs and pulls out two twenty-dollar bills.

“Here’s a reward for your honesty,” she says.

I didn’t even think about getting a reward! I shoot a quick glance at my dad to see what he thinks. He smiles and nods toward me in a way that means, You know the right thing to do.

I turn back to the lady. “Thank you for the offer,” I say, “but God likes it when we help others without expecting anything in return. Making God happy is the only reward I need.”

Now it’s the lady’s turn to be impressed. She puts the money back in her purse, thanks us again, and they drive off.

I feel really good about what I’ve done . . . until my dad speaks up.

“That was an honorable thing you did,” he says. “It really surprised me because I was nodding to you that it was okay to take the money.”

“Auuughhh!”

Oh well, it’s been an above-average vacation—even without the forty-dollar reward. Plus, thanks to all the sunglasses I’ve found, I won’t have to buy Christmas presents for anyone for at least eight years!