Jack hauled the boy up into a sitting position, leaning his head on his shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on his back while Gina caught her breath on all fours nearby. Tommy and Christa nervously shooed the gathering crowd away.

"Gi, can you get his inhaler?" She nodded and quickly searched through all of the boy's pockets. 

"It's not in any of his pockets," she said, turning back to the water. "I'll go look for it." She stood and went back to the edge of the dock and looked into the water. A half-eaten sandwich lay on the gravelly bottom, and something glinted in the mid-afternoon sun. Gina expertly dove, and in a minute she was gently wrapping the boy's fingers around the inhaler and guiding it to his mouth.

"I hope it still works," she muttered, watching the frail figure anxiously. She knew him from school, of course, it was a small private school where everyone knew everyone, and she always looked out for the small and the weak, but Christa had been the one to actually invite him. He looked even smaller and sicker than usual, especially compared to Jack's burly hockey arms. Without realizing it, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder the way a mother would to her sick child.