August 11, 2018

Another week went by after the protest, but all we heard was more bad news. The Kauflins left Keep Clearwater Clear, Pigglyville continued to dump chemicals into the lake, and Mr. Stafford defended his statements about Keep Clearwater Clear, making it clear that he wasn't planning to apologize. My personal problems seemed insignificant in comparison to what was going on with Keep Clearwater Clear, and I tried not to dwell on them, but I couldn't help but think about Grandpa and Véro sometimes. I hoped that he would accept her someday, but in the meantime, I spent most of my free time with her, watching French reality TV in her arms and splitting our sundaes at Culver's.

That Saturday, after the regular and Junior League races, there was another yacht club party. I won the Junior League race, along with Véro, and as usual, Mom, Dad, and Véro's parents were there to congratulate us when we finished. Dad, Mr. Reinhart, and Mr. Arkoun were all in the middle of a conversation when we arrived at the pier, but Mom immediately went up to the boat and said, "Congratulations, you two. You both sailed very well."

"Thanks, Mom," I said as I climbed out of the boat. "Are we going to the yacht club party after this?"

"There's a yacht club party today?" Véro said.

"Yes, there's a yacht club party, and we'll leave as soon as you're ready," Mom said.

"I'll meet you there, Véro," I said as I headed into the house.

"See you soon, Sylvie," Véro said.

I got ready to leave, and Mom, Dad, Everett, and I all drove to the Holloways' house for the party. It was a short drive, and I spent most of it daydreaming about Véro. When we arrived at the Holloways' house, Grandma and Grandpa were already there. "Why don't you sit with us?" Grandma said, and all four of us did so.

"Are you sure I can't sit with Louis?" Everett complained.

"Don't be rude," Dad said.

I got up to get a can of soda, and when I got back, everyone was in the middle of a conversation about the Arkouns. "Did you really let them join the yacht club, Phil?" Grandpa asked Dad.

"We can always use more members," Dad said. "Besides, I already let Véro join, so it would only make sense to let her parents join as well."

Grandpa lowered his voice and said, "Sometimes the people in this yacht club disgust me. First, it was Greg Stafford and Pigglyville, and now it's those foreigners and their lesbian daughter."

"Edward, be nice," Grandma said. "The Arkouns just arrived."

I looked toward the front of the house and noticed the Arkouns' car parked on the street. Véro and her parents were heading toward the backyard, and Véro walked toward our table and sat next to me. "Hi Sylvie," she said.

"Véro, you might want to sit somewhere else," Grandpa said.

"Why?" Véro asked.

"A few other people are going to sit here," Grandpa said, but everyone else at the table gave him strange looks. If someone else other than Véro was planning to sit at our table, this was the first that we had heard of it.

Véro nodded and said, "I'll move to another table." She got up and moved to the next table over, where her parents were sitting.

Grandpa smiled and said, "Thank goodness that girl is gone."

"You didn't have to chase her off like that," Grandma said.

"She's a bad influence," Grandpa said.

"Véro is not a bad influence!" I exclaimed. Grandpa glared at me, but he did stop spewing bigoted nonsense, so I considered it a success.

After Véro left, the Sterling-Staffords and the Dawsons sat down at our table, and from the look on everyone's faces, I could tell that having Mr. Stafford there was even worse for them than having Véro there. I, on the other hand, was more worried about Quentin. He sat next to me and immediately said, "Dad, I was right all along."

"About what?" Mr. Stafford asked, disinterested.

"Sylvie," Quentin said. "I told you that she was gay, and I was right."

"How do you know that I'm gay?" I asked him.

"I've seen you and Véro together," Quentin said. "You know, if you had just told me that you liked her, I might not have gotten my hopes up after prom."

"Véro didn't even live here when we went to prom together," I said.

"You could have at least told me that you were gay," Quentin said.

"How could I have trusted you with that information?" I asked. "As it was, you went and told your dad."

"You two need to stop dwelling on the past," Mr. Stafford interrupted before I could get a good answer out of Quentin.

I looked toward Dad, but he was clearly unwilling to bring up the elephant in the room in front of Mr. Stafford. There were a few minutes of awkward silence before Mr. Stafford finally said, "Phil, Audrey, I think that we may have had a bit of a misunderstanding last week."

"I think that I understand perfectly well what's going on, but go on," Dad said.

"Pigglyville is not polluting Clearwater Lake," Mr. Stafford insisted. "We've always been environmentally conscious, and we don't appreciate the negative press that your organization has been giving us."

"I've seen the data," Dad said. "The Wisconsin EPA has noted numerous violations for your company."

"They're wrong," Mr. Stafford said. "Pigglyville would never dump chemicals into our lake, but Phil, I'll be commodore soon enough, and the yacht club won't have to listen to your lies anymore."

"Phil isn't lying," Grandma interjected, but Mr. Stafford ignored her.

"I have big plans for next year," Mr. Stafford said. "I won't waste time preaching to the yacht club about the environment, and while we're at it, I'll hire a professional designer to fix up the yacht club's website."

"We already have a professional designer," Dad said. "Theo's doing a great job making our website look great."

"We can do better," Mr. Stafford said. "You see, Phil, you and Theo are thinking too small. You insist that the yacht club and Keep Clearwater Clear have to be a certain way because it's the way that it's always been, but that's not true. I'm going to create some real change in the yacht club, and I'll start by hiring someone to make a new website and delete the link to Keep Clearwater Clear from the home page. Clearwater Lake Yacht Club needs to disassociate itself from that horrendous organization."

Even Everett shook his head at that one, but Mr. Stafford went on. "I think that we could make some revisions to the yacht club directory too," he said. "We could add a few new sections - maybe a list of Clearwater Lake pets?"

"How are you going to pay for all of this?" Dad asked.

"I'll raise dues," Mr. Stafford said. "Even a ten dollar increase in dues would do a lot for the yacht club."

"You're going to raise our dues by ten dollars to pay for a section on Clearwater Lake pets in the directory," Dad said. "Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Of course I am, and this is only the beginning," Mr. Stafford said. "As I said, Phil, you have to think bigger. Some change would be good for this yacht club."

"There's a difference between actually changing things and just wasting the yacht club members' money," Dad said.

"I'm not wasting the members' money," Mr. Stafford insisted. "These are all essential improvements for the yacht club."

"It won't matter how many essential improvements you make if the lake is polluted," Dad said.

"I'm not polluting the lake," Mr. Stafford said.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I like the sound of Greg's ideas," Mrs. Dawson said. "I just got a new cat, and I'd love to let the rest of the yacht club see her. What if we add in an end of the year banquet instead of just a party?"

"That would be extremely expensive," Dad said, but nobody listened to him.

"Angela, I like how you're thinking," Mr. Stafford said. "Maybe I should make you our next secretary."

"Isn't that supposed to be an elected position?" Mom interjected, but nobody listened to her either. It was as if Mr. Stafford refused to listen to anyone who disagreed with him.

"That would be an honor, Greg," Mrs. Dawson said.

At that moment, I got up from the table to get some food, and when I came back. I moved to the table where Eden and Véro were sitting. I was sick of listening to the adults at the table argue, but I knew that things would be better if I sat with my best friend and my girlfriend. "Hey Sylvie," Eden said as I sat down between her and Véro. "What's up?"

"My dad and Mr. Stafford are in the middle of an argument," I said.

"What's the argument about?" Véro asked.

"Mr. Stafford's going to be commodore next year, and he wants to raise dues so that he can do basically whatever he wants," I said. "Also, he wants to disassociate Keep Clearwater Clear from the yacht club."

"Why would he do that?" Véro asked. "Is anyone really for pollution?"

"Apparently Mr. Stafford is," I said. "He's in charge of Pigglyville, and he's refusing to change anything."

"It will get better, right?" Eden said, attempting to be optimistic. "Mr. Stafford will only be commodore for one year."

"I hope so," I said. "Next season's going to be rough though."

"Let's focus on this season," Véro said. "The summer's not over yet."

"You're right, Véro," I said. "We still have a few more weeks left in the season."

At that moment, I realized that school would start soon, and sailing season would end on Labor Day. We still had a few more weeks left, but the summer would be over before too long, and once the summer was over, I wouldn't see Véro as much, unless we ended up with similar schedules for our junior year, which seemed unlikely. I was sure that we could make our relationship last into the school year, but it wouldn't be quite the same as it was under the summer sun.

As the three of us finished our lunch, Dad made his speech. He didn't change much from his usual spiel, going from race results to general announcements, but he seemed a bit disenchanted. He spoke in a dull voice, clearly uninterested in what he was saying, as if it was just a routine to him. I had never heard my dad speak like that before, but it was clear that his argument with Mr. Stafford had taken a toll on him.

After Dad finished his speech, he immediately found me sitting between Eden and Véro and told me that we were leaving. "Are you sure I can't stay a little longer?" I asked.

"I'm sure," Dad said. "Let's go."

I sighed and got into the car with Mom, Dad, and Everett, and all three of us went home. Almost as soon as we got there, Dad crashed on the couch and said, "If Greg Stafford's going to be commodore next year, then I'm leaving the yacht club."

"Phil, you're overreacting," Mom said. "I'm sure that he won't do any of the things that he said that he would."

"I've put so much work into both Keep Clearwater Clear and the Clearwater Lake Yacht Club, and it was all for nothing," Dad said. "If I stay in the yacht club next year, I'm going to be wasting all of my time fighting with Greg. It's not worth it."

"I have to admit, I don't like that he's planning on raising dues," Mom said. "I would be all for it if there was something that we truly needed to spend money on, but there's not."

"That's what I was thinking," Dad said.

"If you're talking about leaving the yacht club, I'm fine with that," Everett said. "I'm not sailing anyways, so I don't care if you guys leave."

"Everett, this isn't about you," I said, unable to believe that Mom and Dad were even thinking about leaving Clearwater Lake Yacht Club. The yacht club was a second home to me - the thought of leaving had never once occurred to me, and I had assumed that it was the same for everyone else in the family. How could they even consider leaving the organization that had always been there for us? I briefly protested, but just as the Sterling-Staffords hadn't listened to Mom and Dad, they wouldn't listen to me.

Eventually, I gave up and stormed back to my room. I didn't know what I would do if Mom and Dad decided to leave the yacht club. We had a family membership, so if they decided to leave, I would have to leave too, and I couldn't stomach that thought. Clearwater Lake Yacht Club was my home, and one of the few things in life that I truly, unconditionally loved, and I could never bring myself to leave it.