Page 8 of Make Out With A Merman

“Alright, my splash demons!” she yells, voice carrying over the lake like it was made to. “This round is reverse noodle joustwinner gets an extra juice box and my undying admiration!”

A roar erupts from the kids.

I squeeze the whistle between my teeth, hard.

My hands are clenched so tight around the clipboard that the plastic creaks. I march to the shoreline and signal to my junior lifeguard, who gives me a half-hearted shrug and points toward the madness like,what do you want me to do about it?

I want to say.

I wantherstopped.

Instead, I log the violation. That’s the fourth one today. And it’s only 11:15.

She’s a walking incident report in a sunburn and freckles.

By the time I manage to wrangle my zone back into something resembling functional, she’s leading a floating conga line set to music I’m pretty sure is coming from a waterproof speaker duct-taped to her unicorn floatie.

I don’t speak. I just turn on my heel and walk straight to Julie’s office.

“Another complaint?” Julie doesn’t even look up when I step inside. She’s balancing a tray of muffins on one hip and typing with the other.

“She’s endangering the kids,” I snap. “Again.”

Julie sighs. “What now?”

“She had campers jumping from the diving dock to the flamingo float. No spotters. No safety checks. No flotation limits. There was a kid trying to joust usingtwonoodles taped together like a medieval weapon.”

Julie blinks, then laughs under her breath. “Okay, that one’s at least creative.”

“This isn’t funny.” I drop the clipboard onto her desk like it’s Exhibit A in a murder trial. “She’s breaking protocol every fifteen minutes and treating it like a damn sitcom. If someone gets hurt”

“No one has,” Julie cuts in, meeting my eyes. “Not yet. Not once. You’ve logged twenty-three minor infractions, and every single one of them has been paired with higher camper morale, faster swim assessments, and zero safety incidents.”

“She’s lucky.”

Julie shakes her head. “She’s talented. In a way you don’t like because it isn’t yours.”

I grit my teeth. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” she asks, soft but firm.

I don’t answer. Because maybe it is. Maybe it’s a little about the way she throws the whole place off its axis. How she doesn’t flinch at rules. How she looks at me like I’m the uptight weirdo in a cartoon musical.

And I hate how often she’s right.

I run a hand through my hair, exhale slow. “I’m not asking you to fire her. I’m asking for boundaries.”

Julie finally sets the muffin tray down and gives me her full attention.

“You want her reined in. Fine. I’ll assign her the Advanced Water Skills week with you. Co-leads.”

I blink. “That’s not”

“You want boundaries? Teach her your rules. She wants freedom? Show you can bend. If you two survive it, the campers will be better for it.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“I think it’s the best one I’ve had all morning,” she says with a smile that makes me want to throw something into the lake.

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