Pretend play'

I intend to use this story for a chapter book directed towards age 10-11 years old.

After a long deep breath, Ben relaxes his body into a floating deadman. A scene of bullet holes, swirling blood, and viscous sharks play out in his mind.
It felt good to hang limp in the water, isolating himself from the water park noise. There was still plenty of chaos below, with all the crashing human cannonballs and churning appendages, it just became simplified without the sound.
Arms and legs moved slowly, with graceful momentum, much like sinking pennies move on their way to grant wishes.
Ben preferred underwater. He wished his lungs felt the same way.

As calm and still the position was, Ben knew he should either dive or surface, that a boy floating motionless, face down in a pool would sound an alarm and make adults nervous. "You should never pretend to be dead," his mother once told him, as if she was reading aloud from a list of rules, "especially in a crowded pool."

Off the top of his head Ben could think of three reasons where faking dead would be highly appropriate. He could also make a list of the way adults pretend: Pretend stories, holiday characters, smiles etc...

Earlier today, Mrs. North clawed desperately at the television with the same frantic attempt one would dial an emergency 911.
It was a silly cartoon playing, and Ben's lips stretched from ear to ear on his lightly freckled face. Mrs. North's heart-shaped rosy lips firmly refused, and held tight in their poker face position. Why didn't she laugh at this?
Ben thought about the dull, helmet haired men his parents watched on the ten-o-clock news. It puzzled him to imagine what adults consider funny.

"Your brains are going to turn to mush if you keep watching this stuff," she huffed at him in a factual manner . Ben imagined his brain literally turning into the peach oatmeal he had for breakfast and was both amused and relieved to know the outcome was impossible.
A lot of the things adults warn about never happen, he thought. Pretty soon kids just stop listening.
"Why don't you go outside and pretend to be an army man or something," she suggested. Ben felt a wave of embarrassment.

An eleven year old boy can still play pretend, but there are certain rules of conduct.
Number one: no one can see you in pretend mode.
Like most rules, however, they come with exceptions and loopholes. Ben's best friend Scotty is that exception. The two have been GI Joe buddies for six years now.
Scotty and Ben are each others safety zone in a world of combat and confusion. He would take a bullet for Ben. Not a real bullet, a high FPS air-soft bullet, cranked from a BB gun that could look deadly if it didn't have a bright orange tip.
Scotty's dad has real guns; he has a whole army's worth of guns, in all different shapes and sizes. He also has a real bullet lodged in his upper arm, right by his left armpit. The doctors thought it would be less dangerous to leave it in.

Rule number two involves pushing the limits of bedtime. Pretend play is always a better alternative to sleep.
Every night Ben retires to bed prepared. He's got his comic book, a flashlight, and some slices of bread. In a room full of glow in the dark stars and Spongebob sheets, a fierce battle takes place. Star wars lego guys line up courageously for an intensely violent conflict involving boundary regulations and marble size crustless bread balls.
Ammunition that can be eaten?...Brilliant! A boy his age is always hungry. Typically it takes twelve bread balls to cure the nightime munchies.
Mrs. North is top investigator in the case of the dwindling bread loafs.

The bottom line is this:

A sixth grade boy knows what's real and accepts it, but he's not ready to let go of the fake-so he doesn't. Instead, he takes whats pretend and readjusts it, like one would readjust the broken wing of a bird. Once mended, he re-releases a new reality that fits much better and soars quite handsomely.

It's a magical moment when a child jumps off a piece of furniture and wonders in that brief airborne moment whether or not he actually flew. Could it be possible that he has some hidden super power waiting to be discovered?

Ben North really can fly, just not the impossible superman way.
He flies, white knuckled down dirt hills on his bicycle. He flips his nimble body from the tree house to the trampoline. One time he even flew an unintentional one-eighty twist maneuver, over the springs, to the wet, unwelcoming lawn below. The other kids Gasped as Ben smoothly brushed his black hair away from his startled grey eyes that beamed with excitement. He liked people watching him.
Rene Madison pretends not to watch, but they both know she does.
There's always a reason to jump.

"Benny come get me" whimpers a two year old voice. Ben lifts his head from the water to see his sister's diaper sagging to her dimpled knees. Three different Snoopy bandaids decorate her perfectly healthy shins. Those three Snoopies have big plans to invade the water,then float towards the nearest germ fearing human.

The pool has very strict swim diaper rules, but Mrs. North's never been one to follow rules.
"Everything's fine" she would reassure nervously as the family Volvo drove over the curb, across the sidewalk, and on top of the newly manicured Taco Bell lawn. It was illegal and reckless, but in my mother's eyes, completely necessary. "What do they expect us to do when they take this long in a drive through!" she would ask in the form of a statement, not wanting an answer."People have places to be you know."
The Norths were heading to the library. It's conveniently opened from 9:00am to 9:00pm.

Ben dove to the bottom of the pool, his family could be so embarrassing.
He sunk into his own silent abyss. A quiet world so familiar. A world created by his own curious and ever wondering mind. He'd heard rumors of the lost city, Atlantis. A city of gold and magic that lay hidden in the depths of the ocean. It was a city that didn't want to be found. It didn't have a place in the realms of this world.

Ben was running out of breath. Right before he surfaced he turned his head to see the most beautiful thing. It was Rene Madison. Gracefully she glided through the water, feet together In perfect mermaid form.The sun glistened above, sending streams of light on her long, golden swirling hair. She kicked her pink toe nails up and down with a purpose. Like she too was heading towards Atlantis.

Ben's lungs sucked in the air they so desperately needed. They were grateful. They gave Ben another healthy, strong breath-one that would last the whole length of the pool.

Ben began to swim.