The Key With No Name

Aarav came to the pool early on Saturday. The building was quiet. The only sound was the soft hum of the pumps.

He was the new manager of the community pool. It was his third week. Every Saturday, forty children came for lessons. That day the first class started at nine.

The pool smelled of soap and wet stone. Blue light moved on the ceiling. Aarav liked it best at this hour, before the shouting began.

He took the ring of keys from his pocket. There were twelve keys on it. Each key had a small paper tag in a plastic window. The tags came from the woman who ran the pool before. She moved to the coast in the spring. Her letters were round and careful. OFFICE. SIDE DOOR. PUMP ROOM. SHOWERS.

But the tags were old. Six of the little windows showed only a grey smudge. Nobody could read them. They looked like tired eyes.

Aarav did not notice it until that morning. The lesson plan needed foam floats and kickboards. They lived in the long metal cupboard by the shallow end. The cupboard was locked.

He tried the first key. It did not fit. He tried the second. It turned halfway and stopped. He tried the third, the fourth and the fifth.

The clock on the wall said eight twenty.

Aarav tried the keys again, faster. His hands began to shake a little. The keys clinked together like small fish in a bucket. He could not remember which keys he tried.

At eight forty, the front door opened. A boy came in with a bag on his back. He was about eight years old and very thin. His name was Adel. He always came early. He sat on the bench by the wall. He read a book about sea animals. He never went into the water. He only watched the others.

"Good morning," Adel said.

"Good morning," Aarav said, without turning around.

Adel put his bag down. He watched Aarav push another key into the lock. "Is the cupboard stuck?" he asked.

"It is locked," Aarav said. "And half of my tags cannot be read."

"Show me," Adel said.

Aarav held up the ring. The grey smudges looked dull in the blue light.

Adel came a little closer. He looked at the keys for a long time. "You tried this one four times," he said. "And this one three times. I counted."

Aarav stopped. "You counted?"

"I always count," Adel said. "It helps when I feel nervous."

Aarav looked at the boy. Then he looked at his own hands. They were still shaking. "I am a bit nervous too," he said.

"I know," Adel said. "You keep trying the same keys."

He walked back to the bench and opened his bag. He took out a ball of blue thread. He used it for a school project about fishing nets. He cut a short piece with small scissors. Then he held it out.

"Tie this on every key you try," Adel said. "Then you will know which ones are finished."

Aarav almost laughed. It was such a small idea. It was also exactly the idea he needed.

He took the thread. He tied a piece on the first key, then the second. He went down the ring slowly. He tried each key once. Each failed key wore a little blue bow.

Adel stood next to him and counted out loud. "Six," he said. "Seven. Eight."

The clock said eight fifty. Outside, the first parents arrived. Aarav heard car doors and small voices. A child laughed near the entrance. Somebody knocked on the glass.

"Nine," Adel said.

The ninth key slid into the lock easily. Aarav felt it in his fingers before he turned it. It was one of the keys with a grey smudge. He turned it, and the lock opened with a soft click.

The cupboard was full of bright foam floats. They were blue and yellow and green. It smelled of rubber and old sunshine.

For a moment, Aarav only stood there. His shoulders felt lighter. The problem was not big. But it stopped him completely. The thread solved it in ten minutes.

"Thank you," he said.

"It was easy," Adel said. "You only needed to stop trying the same ones."

Aarav carried the floats to the edge of the pool. Then he let the children in. They came running. Their wet feet slapped on the stone. He said "Walk, please" twelve times. By nine, the water was full of kicking legs and loud laughter.

Adel sat on his bench with his sea book. But this time, he did not open it. He watched the water for a long time.

When the class finished, the pool was quiet again. Aarav came back to the cupboard. The key ring was in his hand. The blue bows were still tied to eight of the keys. The ninth key had no bow, because it opened the cupboard.

He took a small piece of paper from the office. He took a pen. He wrote one word in large letters on it. FLOATS.

Then, under it, he wrote a small A.

Adel looked over his arm. "Why the A?" he asked.

"Because the old tags are hers," Aarav said. "This one is mine."

He put the new tag into the window of the ninth key. It sat a little crooked. It did not look like the others. The letters were square and quick, not round and careful.

"I like it," Adel said. "Now it has a name. Now it cannot get lost."