Fish Kid and the Mega Manta Ray

by Kylie Howarth

  WHOOSH! A long stretchy arm shot out from the reef. It lassoed a shell right out of my hand and sucked it out of sight.

  “Whoa! What was that?” I put my head under the water and spotted suckers. “Aha!”

  I dropped another shell on the sandy floor, this time lying down in the knee-deep water so I could watch through my mask.

  Come on out, little fella, I thought encouragingly.

  Nothing happened. I flicked the shell a little closer.

  “What is it?” called Emely from the shore.

  I kept my eye on the hole. A stretchy purple arm crept out. Little by little, it edged closer to the shell.

  FWHAP!

  The octopus cast itself like a ninja star, past the shell and right at me! Its skin flashed from purple to white, then it gripped my head with what felt like a hundred arms.

  “OCTOPUS!” I squealed as it tightened its hold. I shook my head wildly, like a hooked shark trying to escape.

  “Get it off!”

  I leaped up. Surely it would have to let go once it was out of water.

  Emely was laughing.

  “NOT FUNNY!” I yelled, thinking back to all the times she’d pranked me in the Galapagos Islands. Although Emely is my friend, she sure likes laughing at me.

  I stumbled ashore, tugging at the cranky sea creature. But the more I pulled, the harder it squeezed. A slimy arm slipped under my mask, then jabbed up my nostril. Another arm gripped the corner of my mouth, then tightened around my neck like a boa constrictor.

  “Help,” I tried to yell around a mouthful of cephalopod.

  “Bite it!” called Emely.

  But what if it bit me back? I guess I should have thought of that before I stuck my head in the octopus’s hole.

  Emely tried to grab one of its arms, then squealed.

  I wished Guapo was with me. What would that crazy ninja lizard do? Probably headbutt it, I thought. But how do you headbutt something that’s stuck to your own head?

  Aha! Finally, my squished brain had an idea. I flung myself onto the beach, driving my head through the sand like a bobcat . . .

  My sand-encrusted octopus helmet still wouldn’t budge. Emely was too busy laughing to help.

  “It’s not funny!” I yelled.

  I wobbled up the track and across the road, skidded down the gravel drive and burst through the front door. Pops looked up from his burnt toast.

  “Bit hot for a beanie, isn’t it?” he said, continuing to spread fish paste on his toast.

  “HELP ME, POPS!” I panted.

  Pops put down his knife.

  “No need to carry on like a pork chop,” he said examining the octopus attached to my head. Sea Biscuit circled my feet. Emely came in through the door behind me, laughing and puffing.

  “Pick’er up,” said Pops as he pulled a pot from the drawer.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “The cat, pick er up.” I reached down and tried to scoop Sea Biscuit into my arms. She leaped onto my shoulder, her claws smacking at my head.

  “OUCH!” I cried. The octopus flung itself into the air.

  CLANG!

  “Gotcha,” said Pops slamming the lid on the pot. He’d caught the octopus in mid-air. Sea Biscuit jumped down and followed the pot over to the table.

  “Phew!” I sighed, rubbing my neck.

  “Mmmm, octopus for lunch!” said Emely as blood finally flooded back to my head.

  An arm slid down the side of the pot. Sea Biscuit jumped on the table and the arm shot back in. I leaned over and held the lid down tightly.

  “We are not having him for lunch,” I said.

  “What?” said Emely. “Octopus is delicious. I’ll cook it.”

  “No way,” I said. “The last time I ate one of your seafood concoctions, we both ended up lost on a deserted island!”

  “And you got superpow –”

  “Ahem!” I coughed, staring at her with wide eyes.

  “Superrr . . . sick,” she said quickly.

  Dad said we couldn’t tell anyone about my Fish Kid superpowers. Not even Pops. Which REALLY sucked. Hearing about my powers would totally cheer him up.

  “I’ll take the octopus back down to the beach,” I said.

  “You are your nan’s grandson, no doubt about it,” said Pops.

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “Saving sea creatures.” he replied, scruffing up my wet, sandy hair.

  I carefully picked up the pot. “You coming?” I asked Emely.

  We put the pot in the water right near the octopus’s hole. I quickly took off the lid and bolted back to shore.

  “Go on, get out,” I yelled. “Before I change my mind!”

  Emely and I waited for the octopus to make its escape.

  “So what really happened to your nan?” asked Emely.

  “She disappeared last year,” I said. “It was awful, we have no idea what happened to her. She just went out for a swim one day and didn’t come back. The search and rescue team looked for her for weeks, but eventually the search was called off. Pops kept searching every day, but he never found any trace of Nan.”

  “You never told me she went missing at sea,” said Emely.

  “Well, no one actually knows exactly what happened.”

  “Have you asked your pops about it?” asked Emely.

  “No way. I don’t want to make him even sadder.”

  Mum and Dad had sent us here to cheer him up. They were still in the Galapagos Islands, working on their climate change project. But Dad was worried about Pops getting lonely, so they said I could visit and bring Emely as well. This was her first trip to Australia.

  “Well, if your octopus attack didn’t make him laugh, I don’t think anything will,” said Emely. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  We kept watching the pot.

  I loved showing Emely around Ningaloo. She went nuts when she saw her first kangaroo. She must have taken fifty photos.

  Yesterday Pops drove us through the national park to Shark Tooth Ridge. We walked up the red dirt track to see the ancient megalodon tooth fossil. Then, when we got back to Pops’ house there were three emus blocking the driveway. Pops beeped the horn to get them moving, while Emely took at least a hundred photos.

  But the place wasn’t the same without Nan. She spent most of her life here. She used to work on a marine research boat and Pops was the boat’s skipper. That’s how they met.

  I missed Nan’s big smile and squishy hugs. The house used to smell of freshly baked pumpkin scones, instead of burnt toast. And she always made the best iced chocolates, with more ice-cream than milk.

  When Nan wasn’t cooking she’d be in her art room, painting sea creatures. She loved sea creatures, probably even more than Dad does.

  “There he goes!” said Emely, pointing. She waded in to grab the empty pot.

  “He would have been delicious,” she sighed. “I’m getting sick of toast.”

  She was right about that. Pops had made us toast for breakfast, toast for lunch and toasted sandwiches for dinner.

  Emely looked at my face and giggled again.

  “You should see your face,” said Emely, smirking.

  I held up the silver pot lid to check my reflection.

  “Ahh! What a freak.” My face was now covered in sucker spots.

  “You’ve got the octo-pox!” laughed Emely.

  Sea spray misted my face and the saltiness reminded me of Guapo and his salt boogers. I missed my crazy lizard sidekick – I hadn’t felt very super since leaving him in the Galapagos Islands. What good are fish powers if I can’t even defeat a bad-tempered octopus?

  Pops slowed the boat engine.

  “H
ere it is,” he said, nodding. “Best fishing spot around.”

  Once the anchor was set, Pops baited rods for me and Emely.

  “Shame you let that octopus go,” he said, washing his hands over the side. “Occy bait is the duck’s guts.”

  “Pardon?” said Emely.

  “The bee’s knees,” explained Pops, casting his line. He plonked the rod in a holder, folded his arms and put up his feet. Sea Biscuit jumped straight up and balanced herself on his lap.

  “I thought cats hated the water,” said Emely.

  “She’ll stay high and dry,” said Pops. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, as if planning to have a nap.

  Before casting my line, I stared down into the glassy turquoise water. Lines rippled, hypnotising me, and little shadows zig-zagged back and forth. I wondered what sea creatures were down there.

  “What does ‘duck’s guts’ mean?” whispered Emely. She didn’t seem to understand most of Pops’ sayings.

  “It’s Australian for really good,” I said.

  “Sounds disgusting,” said Emely, screwing up her face.

  As I turned back, a huge dark shadow swept beneath the boat. I stood up, alarmed. Another glided by.

  “What IS that?” I said. Pops lifted his hat, and Sea Biscuit fell off his lap as he wound in his line.

  “Manta rays,” said Pops. “Quick, jump in!”

  Pops grabbed Emely’s rod and handed her some flippers. I scrambled to find my mask and snorkel.

  “Bodhi, do you want flippers?” asked Pops.

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “In you go then,” said Pops. “They don’t bite.”

  Emely jumped in first, then I followed. We blew the water from our snorkels and looked down.

  Whoosh – whoosh – whoosh.

  The train of manta rays flew past, deep below us. There were heaps of them! I’d never seen one in the ocean before, only in Nan’s paintings and Mum’s photos.

  Beneath their black diamond-shaped backs were bright white bellies. Again they spiralled by like fighter jets, rolling and diving, one after the other.

  “Woohoo!” squealed Emely.

  One manta ray flapped its wings into a backwards somersault. Over and over it went. I wished I could dive down for a closer look, but I knew Pops was watching. Not being allowed to use my fish powers was killing me, but Dad said Pops didn’t need the extra worry.

  The manta rays soon swam out of sight, so we snorkelled back to the boat.

  “Specky, huh?” said Pops, taking Emely’s flippers.

  “Amazing,” she agreed as Pops pulled her in.

  Emely and I were buzzing. While we talked excitedly about the manta rays, I noticed Pops staring out to sea.

  “Well, I guess we should go,” he said, finally blinking out of his trance.

  As we cruised home we passed a yellow marker. Pops said it was the marine sanctuary boundary.

  “The world can thank your nan for that,” he said. “My Betty and the town’s folk fought mighty hard to save Ningaloo Reef.”

  Suddenly, Pops slowed the engine.

  “What is it, Pops?”

  “A ghost!” he replied.

  I could see something white floating in the water.

  Pops pulled the boat alongside the floating white blob.

  “This one’s for you, Betty,” he murmured, hauling the tangled mess aboard.

  “Why did you call it a ghost, Pops?”

  “Ghost fishing,” he replied. “Old discarded nets like this drift for miles haunting the ocean. Fish, turtles, dolphins and even whales get tangled in them and then they’re cactus.”

  He didn’t say any more after that. We headed for the boat ramp.

  Emely helped Pops drag the old fishing net up the beach to the bin, while I carried Sea Biscuit to the car.

  When we got home I helped Pops guide the boat as he backed it up the drive. This was always Nan’s job, I thought sadly. Then Pops and Emely washed down the boat while I went inside for a shower. Halfway down the hall I stopped, inhaling the familiar whiff of paint and turps. I stood outside the door to Nan’s art room, then gently turned the handle. The room looked exactly like it always had, only dustier.

  Rows of canvases were stacked against the wall. Tins of brushes and tubes of paint were scattered over the bench. Model sea creatures and books about the ocean filled the shelves.

  I looked over at Nan’s pin-up board. It was covered with photos. There were photos of Pops with Dad when he was a kid, one of Great Grandpa and a family shot of all of us. The rest were all of me.

  I walked over to my favourite thing – the floor-to-ceiling mural Nan had painted on the back wall. There were turtles, dugongs and whale sharks in the background and coral, fish and manta rays in the foreground.

  Somehow, the manta rays in the mural looked different to me now. I hadn’t realised how big they were. One had spots all over its belly, like a handful of olives thrown on raw pizza dough. The biggest had an injured eye. I stared at the mural, lost in the underwater scene until I heard the front door close.

  Emely ran down the hall. I pulled her into Nan’s studio.

  “Wow!” she said, stepping closer to the mural. “Those manta rays look just like the ones we saw today,” said Emely.

  “They do! I so badly wanted to zoom after them for a closer look,” I said.

  “What are you two doing in here?” asked Pops, startling us. We spun around.

  “Ah, nothing. We were just looking at Nan’s painting.”

  Pops ran his fingers over the spotty manta ray.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he said. After a long silence, Pops spoke again. “Come have a cuppa after your shower. There’s something else I want to show you.” He walked back down the hall. I hoped we hadn’t upset him. Emely looked at me and shrugged.

  “I’ll make the hot chocolates,” she said.

  I raced through my shower then threw on a T-shirt, pulling it down as I walked to the kitchen.

  Pops was sitting at the table, waiting for me. He held something in his cupped hands, and a loop of rope hung between his fingers.

  I sat down opposite Pops and he took a deep breath.

  “Bodhi, ever since you were born, your nan thought you were the cat’s pyjamas. She loved you very much. Which is why I reckon you should have this.” Pops handed me an old, dark glass bottle. It hung from a loop of turquoise rope.

  “What’s inside?” I asked, gently pulling at the cork stopper.

  “Your great grandpa found this bottle in a shipwreck. He left it to Nan when he died, along with a note saying it contains an ancient relic. She treasured it and wore it every time she swam with the manta rays. I found it washed up on the beach, three weeks after she went missing.”

  “She swam with manta rays?” asked Emely, placing the hot chocolates on the table.

  “Sure did. The ones in the mural were her favourites. The big spotty female is Freckles and the giant one with the injured eye is Ray. A few years back, he got a gang of fishing hooks caught in his eye. Nan was the only person he’d let close enough to pull them out.”

  “Wow,” I replied. I wondered if Freckles or Ray had been there today.

  “Does the bottle open?” I asked.

  “Nope, the cork’s been stuck for years.” Pops stood up quickly and changed the subject. “Righto, time for some tucker. Who wants toast?” As he got up, he turned and said, “Look after that bottle.”

  Pops dropped three pieces of bread into the toaster.

  I ran my fingers over the bottle. What was it for? What was inside, I wondered. I held the bottle up to the light, but it was too difficult to see through the foggy dark glass. The salt-crusted cork was stuck tight and something rattled inside.

  “A shark tooth?” I said.

  “An old bone,” guessed Emely.

  “Or maybe something else from the shipwreck?” I said.

  “A key! To a secret underwater cave,” said Emely.

  When it
was time for bed, I took the bottle with me. I lay awake for a long time, trying to loosen the cork. Eventually I gave up and placed the bottle on the window sill next to my bed.

  The next day, Tom and Sally, Pops’ neighbours, dropped in. Tom handed me a warm bundle of chocolate muffins, wrapped in a tea towel. Sally put a tray of lasagne in the fridge.

  “You didn’t have to,” said Pops.

  “I made too much,” said Sally, winking at me.

  Emely and I got stuck straight into the muffins. Sea Biscuit jumped onto my lap. I knew what she was after.

  “Kids, have you seen the whales breaching out front? I spotted some early this morning,” said Sally. “I bet they’re still there.”

  “The humpbacks have really made a comeback,” said Tom. “Hundreds coming through this year.”

  Emely and I grabbed an extra muffin each.

  “Can we go down to the beach, Pops?”

  “Sure. Just don’t go starting any more blues with occies,” said Pops.

  After grabbing a towel, I took Nan’s bottle from my room. I hung it around my neck so it was hidden under my T-shirt. As the flyscreen door banged shut behind us, I heard Pops telling Tom and Sally about my octopus wrestle. I could hear Sally cackling as I pulled my wettie off the line.

  We crossed the road and climbed the dune, then stood at the top watching tiny dark shapes emerge on the horizon. They were followed by bigger, bright white splashes. Whales were breaching every few minutes. There were so many, we soon gave up counting them.

  “What will you do with that?” asked Emely, pointing to the bump under my T-shirt.

  “Don’t know yet,” I said.

  “Can we go find the manta rays?” asked Emely.

  “Yeah, I’m sure Pops will take the boat out later,” I said.

  “Hellooo! Aren’t you Fish Kid?” teased Emely. “Swim us out there!”

  “I’m not supposed to!” I said.

  “Come ooonnnn. There’s no use having fish powers if you won’t use them. Just a quick zoom, for fun. Pleeeeease?”