by Sarah Webb
Cal’s eyes spark. “Look, Miss New York Princess, it’s her job, OK? That and driving the ferry. She works hard; there’s not much employment on the island. Why are you being like this? One minute you’re acting all friendly and cool and the next you’re telling me that Mum’s sea safari is rubbish. Make up your mind. Do you want to hang out with us or not?”
“Good question,” I say. “If you have such Neanderthal attitudes to wildlife and conservation, I’m genuinely not sure. How can you not realize how much this stuff matters? The world is so fragile and we’re destroying it!” I grab a paddle and march over to the one-man kayak and start pushing it into the water.
“Where are you going?” Cal shouts after me.
“It’s OK, Rory,” Sunny says. “We can carry the kayak back up. You don’t have to paddle it.”
I ignore her, which isn’t very nice, I know, but I’m just too angry and frustrated to talk to any of them. When the kayak is in the water, I climb in.
“You may not get up those rapids on your own, Rory,” Cal says.
“Just as well I’m not going up the rapids then, isn’t it?” I say and paddle in the opposite direction, away from the seal colony, towards the open water.
“Rory!” Mollie shouts after me. “You can’t go that way – it’s the Atlantic. The waves are big out there. Cal’s sorry for calling you a princess, aren’t you, Cal? And I’m sorry too. And Landy is. We’re all sorry. We know you care about the environment and stuff. Come back!”
It’s too late. I’m overreacting, but I’m too embarrassed and furious with myself to stick around. I just want to get away from them all. I paddle furiously towards the open sea. It’s Ireland, for heaven’s sake, not Hawaii − how big can the waves be?
The answer is Irish waves can be huge. I almost turn back, but I can’t bear the thought of losing face in front of them all, especially Cal.
I’ll show them. I’ll get back to Dolphin Harbour, no problem. Little Bird is a tiny island − it won’t take me long at all. I concentrate on powering through the lumpy water, putting my whole body into each stroke. I lean forward, dig the edge of the paddle deep into the waves and then pull back, hard, bracing my legs against the footrest and forcing the kayak smoothly through the sea.
The cliffs rise up on my left, menacing and dark. The waves crashing against them are a bit intimidating, but as long as I keep well away, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m nice and toasty in Mattie’s wetsuit, although there is a sharp wind whipping against my cheeks now and I can feel it even through the neoprene. Pretend you’re at a swim race and you’re determined to win, I tell myself. Focus on every stroke.
I paddle on for what seems like hours, keeping my distance from the cliffs. The sky is heavy with grey clouds, and the waves are huge. They lift me up and then smash me down again, which makes the going difficult. My arms are tired and my shoulders are stiff. I stop for a moment and roll my shoulders back, but the wind tears into me and I start to shiver. I need to keep moving.
I take some deep breaths and then start paddling again. Within a few minutes my muscles are stinging from the strain of trying to pull the kayak through the waves. But I have to keep going. I’m a long way from the rapids now and there’s no turning back. I may not reach Dolphin Harbour, but I’ll keep following the coast until I can find a beach. Once I get ashore, I can leave the kayak and walk back to Mattie’s house if I have to.
There’s a small island ahead of me to the right, with an even smaller one beyond it, further out to sea, and opposite the islands is the headland at the end of Little Bird. I recognize it from the tall white lighthouse standing proudly at its tip. I love lighthouses and I spotted this one from the ferry on Friday. Friday – only two days ago, but it feels like a lifetime. Right now, I wish we’d never set foot on that darned ferry. I should be back in Stony Brook, enjoying the sun, not stuck in this kayak in the freezing Atlantic Ocean.
Concentrate, Rory, I tell myself. Don’t stop paddling. If I can just make it to the lighthouse, I’ll be OK. I may even reach Dolphin Harbour after all.
The gap between the small island and the cliffs is narrow, and the gap between the islands is also narrow, so I decide I’d better go around the outside of both the islands, just in case, even if that means going into open water. I don’t want to end up dashed against a cliff-face.
The sky gets even darker and then it starts to rain, the large drops bouncing off the deck of the kayak like a drum roll. Paddling is agony now. I count out my strokes, willing myself to keep going. “One, two, three, four…”
As soon as I reach the far side of the smaller island, I realize I’ve made a mistake. I should have stuck closer to the land. The waves are even bigger out here and the wind is howling in my ears. I’m wet through and my teeth are chattering.
What was I thinking? The sea is dangerous and you never go out alone – Dad’s drilled that into me since I was tiny, and even Mom, the most fearless person in the world, would never go ocean kayaking solo. I know I had to get away from Cal and the others, but did I have to be so dramatic about it? If I hadn’t gotten so angry, I could have told them how important seals are to the marine ecosystem. That’s what Mom would have done. She would have told them that if we don’t do something about the pollution of our seas and oceans, between 25 and 50 per cent of dolphin species will be extinct by 2100. But, no, I chose to run away.
Maybe Cal will tell Mattie where I am, maybe not. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, not after what I said about his mom’s sea-safari business. And if he had told someone, surely they’d be here by now? No, I’m on my own, and I’ve no one to blame but myself. What happens if I don’t make it around this island?
My arms are in so much pain. If I stop, though, the waves will smash the kayak against the rocks. But I don’t know how long I can keep going.
I’m about to lose all hope when I spot something in the water. A familiar dark, curved shape.
A dolphin!
It jumps out of the sea, just ahead of me. Could it be Click? It’s certainly the same size. The dolphin swims under the waves and pops up just beside me. It’s definitely Click – I can see his white-crescent marking clearly now.
“Hi, Click,” I say, my voice broken and shivery. “I’m not doing so good and I sure am glad to see you.”
He tilts his head as if he understands, and then he starts to swim beside my kayak, keeping me company.
His presence gives me the strength to go on. Painful stroke after painful stroke, Click never leaves my side. I finally pass the small island and then start to head back towards the headland of Little Bird.
“Nearly there,” I tell myself out loud. “Keep going, Rory. You have to keep going.” Click’s eyes are gentle and kind. He whistles at me and then dives back under the water.
“Don’t go, Click!” I shout over the wind, but it’s no use – he’s swimming away from me. And it’s worse than before he was here. I’m exhausted. My arms are so painful I can’t take one more stroke. I have to rest. I put the paddle across the middle of the kayak and massage my biceps. As I do, a wave crashes over me and then another and another, soaking my already cold and wet body.
Every wave sweeps me further out to sea. I have to start paddling again, I just have to. And then another huge breaker hits the kayak, and before I know what’s happened, it’s whipped away the paddle.
“No!” I watch in horror as the waves drag the paddle further and further away. I think about jumping out and swimming after it, but that would be stupid. “Stay with the boat,” Mom and Dad taught me when I was little. “Whatever happens, always stay with the boat.”
“Mom, if you’re up there, looking out for me,” I cry, “please bring Click back. I’m scared and I don’t want to be on my own. Please, Mom, I’m begging you.”
Another huge wave crashes over me, and I’m so scared that for a second I don’t hear the splash of something surfacing beside the boat. Then there’s a whistle, and when I look down, I see that Click is b
ack. I’ve never been so pleased to see anyone in my whole life. “Thanks, Mom,” I whisper. Then I hear another noise behind me, a faint chugging, like an engine. I turn to look. There’s an orange RIB powering through the waves towards me.
I feel a surge of adrenaline and relief. Someone’s come to look for me. I’m safe. I start waving frantically. “Over here!” I shout as loud as I can. My voice is shaky and weak, but I keep shouting and thumping the sides of the kayak with my freezing cold hands. “Here!”
As the boat draws closer, I spot Dad at the wheel in his yellow oilskins, with Mattie just behind him.
“Rory!” Dad hollers over the noise of the wind, as he pulls alongside the kayak. “Thank God you’re safe.” The kayak is smashing against the padded side of the RIB, but Dad and Mattie manage to pull me into their boat. Then Dad wraps me in a silver emergency blanket while Mattie secures the kayak to the back of the RIB with its painter.
“What the hell were you thinking, Rory?” Dad shouts. I’ve never seen him so angry. “I can’t believe you took off on your own. You know the rules. After everything that’s happened, Rory, how could you?”
I start to cry. I hate myself for putting Dad through this. He’s been terrified of accidents ever since Mom died. He was with her, you see, when it happened. I was at the pool and they were walking back from the store together. He was carrying a bag of groceries, so he wasn’t holding her hand. Mom slipped and banged her head on the icy sidewalk. She died before the ambulance could arrive. A stupid, lousy, senseless accident that wrecked both our lives for ever. Simple as that.
Mattie puts her hand on his arm. “We need to get her back to the house, Aidan. She could go into shock.”
“OK,” Dad says, his eyes still stormy. “I’ll drive. Make sure she’s all right, Mattie. I can’t look at her at the moment.”
Mattie strokes the side of my cold, wet face as the tears pour from my eyes. “Your dad was worried sick, Rory. Don’t mind him. He’s just upset. He was afraid he’d lost you.”
I give a small nod to show I understand. “I shouldn’t have gone off on my own,” I say. My teeth are chattering and I can barely get the words out. “It was stupid. Tell Cal I’m sorry.”
“You can tell him yourself soon,” she says. “The others, too. They’re all back at the cottage, waiting for news. They sent us out to rescue you, but we were starting to give up hope. We were looking for you on the wrong side of Bull Island. Luckily, we followed Click, or we might not have found you in time. He’s special, that dolphin. Margo was right.”
My eyes fill with tears again. All I can do is nod. Looks like I have my very own dolphin guardian angel.
As soon as we get back to Harbour Cottage, Mattie runs a warm bath for me and peels me out of the wetsuit. My hands are shaking so much I can’t even undo the zip.
Dad is the kitchen talking to Cal, Mollie, Landy and Sunny. I could hear their murmured voices as I staggered past the closed kitchen door. I was glad Dad and Mattie didn’t make me go in and talk to them.
“You gave your dad a right scare,” Mattie says, testing the temperature of the water with her hand while I stand there shivering in my swimsuit. “Cal too. He told me about the seals and your argument.”
“I’m sorry,” I stammer, wondering if he also told her what I said about her work. I can feel my cheeks burning at the thought of it.
She smiles and strokes my hair. “It’s OK, Rory, I’m not mad. Boats do pollute the sea, but I hope the sea safari does some good, too, by showing visitors to the island our wildlife. I do talk to them about ecology and protecting our animals’ natural habitats.”
I feel terrible. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was just … I don’t know…” I break off. I want to explain how I sometimes feel annoyed and frustrated and fed up with the world. Having to live without Mom is horrible. And, if I’m honest, I feel angry with Mom most of all, for leaving me alone like this. It’s hard to admit – I mean, hating my mom for dying, I must be some kind of monster, right? There’s no way I can say that out loud, not to Mattie, not to anyone.
“It won’t always be this hard, Rory, I promise. Give yourself time.” And I know she’s talking about Mom. “Now, have a good soak, and afterwards I’ll make you some hot chocolate and a sandwich – you must be hungry. I’ll send Cal and the gang down to Alanna’s, so you and your dad can have some privacy. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you about what happened.”
My stomach lurches. I’m in for a long lecture. But what I did was stupid and he has every right to be furious with me. I must have really scared him.
“Don’t worry about it too much,” Mattie says, reading my thoughts on my face. “He’s only angry because he was worried about you. It was Cal’s fault really for taking you to the rapids in the first place. I had no idea he would be so irresponsible. You’re only twelve and Mollie’s not much older.”
“I’m nearly thirteen! And please don’t blame Cal for me running off on my own like that.”
Mattie sighs. “I guess there’s no point going over and over it now. You’re back safe and sound, that’s what matters. But Cal can kiss goodbye to the rest of his summer. He’s going to be working with me every day from now on.”
“Please don’t do that. He’ll hate me.”
“No, he won’t, he’s not like that. And he has to learn to take responsibility for his actions. He lied to me and he put you and the others in real danger taking you to those rapids.” Mattie tests the bath water again and, satisfied, turns off the taps. “But don’t you worry about it. You’re cousins and that means you’re allowed to fight. It’s the rule. You should have heard the humdingers me and Margo used to have when we were kids. We tore strips off each other.”
I look at her, surprised. Mom never said anything about them fighting. “Seriously? What did you fight about?”
“When we were little, toys, and who was better at running and swimming − that kind of thing. Margo was very competitive and she brought out the worst in me. And when we were older, I hate to admit it, but we fought about boys. There were only two lads on the island around our age, and neither of them had any interest in us. Didn’t stop us trying to get their attention, of course.”
I smile. “Who won?”
Mattie grins. “Your mum, of course, every time. Apart from the swimming races. I was always better than her at swimming, and it drove her crazy. I’ll tell you more about it another day. Now, hop into the bath before it gets cold. Call me if you need anything.”
She’s walking out the door when I call her back. “Mattie? I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet up with Mom again.”
She nods, her eyes sad. “Me too, pet, me too. She was a wonderful person.”
When she’s gone, I bolt the door, peel off my swimsuit and lower myself into the bath. The hot water makes my skin sting at first and my butt feel prickly, but I quickly get used to it. I lie back and let the heat soak into my aching shoulder muscles and arms, slowly bringing my whole body back to life.
I close my eyes and think about Mom. She was super-competitive, all right. She’d argue with you, hard, until you backed down, so most of the time it was easier to give up and let her win. She and Dad had big fights sometimes, over silly things. She’d storm out of the house after a row and wouldn’t come back for hours. The next morning she’d be back to her old, smiling self, kissing Dad on the top of his head like she always did, as if nothing had happened.
One day I asked her where she went when she stomped out of the house.
“I just go for a stroll,” she said. “I walk out my bad mood. I’m sorry, Aurora, I know our arguments upset you. But they’re part of life, I’m afraid. Everyone has fights now and then.”
“But you still love Daddy, right?” I asked her. “You’re not getting a divorce?” My friend Wei’s parents are divorced and she only gets to see her dad at the weekends.
“Oh, sweetie, of course I do,” Mom said, stroking my hair. “With all my heart.”
Mom.
>
I picture her the last time we were all on vacation together – in Florida just before the holidays – pulling on her wetsuit before diving, her eyes bright and excited. She’d been teasing Dad, who was having trouble zipping up his wetsuit over his slightly round tummy.
There’s a knock on the door, and I jump a little, sloshing water over the side of the bath.
“Rory, everything all right?” It’s Dad. “You’re very quiet in there. Mattie says your hot chocolate is nearly ready.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” As soon as I hear him walk away, I sink back under the water. I’m in no rush to talk to him, no rush at all.
“So when does the lecture start?” Dad and I are sitting at the kitchen table. I’ve eaten a sandwich and now I’m sipping my hot chocolate. It’s delicious − the folks on this island sure know how to make hot chocolate.
“Rory,” he says, a sharp edge to his voice. “Don’t make light of this. What you did was incredibly stupid. The sea’s a dangerous place. You never go out alone in any boat, especially a small kayak. I’ve told you that so many times.”
“I know, but—”
“There are no buts. How could you go off on your own? It was reckless, insane. After Mom’s accident and everything, how could you take a risk like that? I was terrified something bad had happened to you.”
I shrivel a little inside. “I’m sorry, Dad. I should never have put you through that. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Clearly. And you certainly weren’t listening to me. Anyway, I’ve made a decision. No more hanging out with Cal and the others. Tomorrow you’re coming out on the water with me, where I can keep an eye on you. And you’ll come out with me every day after that until I feel I can trust you again.”
“I’m not a kid. I can look after myself.”
“You’ve made it very clear today that you can’t. It’s my mistake. I should never have let you go kayaking unsupervised. But I trusted you. And you let me down.” Dad rubs his hand over his face, and his eyes go all intense again. “I keep thinking about what might have happened if we hadn’t found you.”