It was a summer when I was fourteen that I met some who I loved more than a largemouth bass. Her family had stayed over a small house next to our and they also always had parties or little softball games, and that creature was, Sheila Mant. My mother decided that they were too noisy.

Sheila was seventeen, she would sunbath on a float my uncle had anchored in their bay. Since I was on the swim team at school I would try to impress her by doing laps around my house and the Vermont shore. I would also get up on my dock and look over towards her; but she never noticed,but one day she did.I had done my best tuck and a half and dived. I didn’t stop until she had left and the sun went down.

Once it was August I had finally had the nerve to ask her out. I walked over to her house feeling mortified. I forgot all the details. The only thing I remember is coming from the woods while they were all playing softball on their lawn, feeling as petrified as a dog. I noticed Sheila was stationed between first and second. Outside of the infield. She didn’t seem to surprised to see me, in fact, she didn’t even seem to notice me at all.

I told her “Hey, could I help play second base”

She told me she didn’t like having the responsibility of having a second base, so she accepted my offer.
We played for about 15-20 more minutes then I had told her there was a band in Dixford lake tomorrow at nine and asked her if she wanted to go. She responded “You have a car?” without looking up. I said “ we’ll go by canoe.”

The next day all I was doing was polishing the canoe,or a lightweight rubbing it with Brillo, wiping it with Chamois, or a soft leather cloth. Anyways, I got to the canoe early to go pickup Sheila. I was waiting for Sheila for ten minutes before she came out. She looked beautiful in her red shirt and her skirt, but it was her face that had bothered me, she had a very dubious, or doubting look on her face. She told me she was scared that I could flip the canoe, but I lied and told her it was safer to go by canoe. Once we were in the canoe, she asked what kind of music that the band played. “They play rock music, I think you’ll like it.” I said. She responded “I heard Eric Caswell’s going to be there.” Even though I have no idea who that was I responded “Really? I think he’s a great artist”

She had asked what the splashing sound was. I responded “Yeah, bass. They come into the shallows at night to chase frogs and moths and things. Big largemouths. Micropterus salmonides,” I added, trying to showoff. “ I think fishing is dumb” she said, making a face. “ I mean it’s boring and all. Definitely dumb.”

Luckily, she didn’t notice my equipment yet, so I pushed my rod back closer through my legs toward the stern. But what I should have done is hide it in a few branches and come back in the morning to get my stuff back, but i didn’t.

And just my luck I had hooked the biggest bass i’ve ever hooked and I would have to make sure Sheila would not know. I was so afraid that if I released the bass I would never see or catch one like that ever again in my life. And if I keep it Sheila would think less of me. I actually spent a lot of years thinking and wondering why Sheila really didn’t like fishing.

She asked why we were taking so long. I suspected that she had a suspicion, or impression, that I had done something for the boat to suddenly start rocking and move slowly. But it was true I wasn’t able to decide and whether or not to keep the fish, I am glad I didn’t let go because I felt overwhelmed by having to chose but I eventually had to decide before sheila would notice and I couldn’t choose what I wanted no longer.

I decided on keeping the fish and not caring about what Sheila had thought about me. I love fishing and she seems a bit too old for me. She seemed to feel neglected by the fact that I caught the bass instead of entertaining her. But I didn’t care; I was too surprised by what I am just about to catch. A beautiful green largemouth bass, and it was huge! I never felt so much pride in catching a fish. I forgot all about Sheila until she asked “Can we go now. Fishing is for losers anyway.” I realized that we still needed to go to the fair, so I paddled my way other there after releasing the fish, but once we got to the fair all I could think of is about the big bass I just caught. She then later told me she would be going home in Eric Caswell’s Corvette. I didn’t mind, maybe I might catch some bass on my way home anyways.