“She’s back!” I hear Tara exclaim from behind me. I turn to see her walking toward the lagoon, small rubber basketball tucked under one arm, tin bucket overflowing with ice and frozen fish in the other.
“Miss me?” I joke.
“You bet.” Tara comes over to give me a hug. “Annie tells me your dad is the genius who’s going to fix our backup generator.”
I nod. “Are you training Sammy again today?”
“Not right now. Cola and I are going to do some bonding,” she explains, and I realize that’s what I was hoping she’d say. “Nothing crazy. He’s still getting used to it here, and we’re still getting used to each other. I wrote a behavior chain last night that I’m excited to try out.”
I nod like I understand everything. Then realize I don’t, so I ask, “What’s a behavior chain?”
“Oh, a behavior chain is essentially just written steps to teach a dolphin a new behavior. Today we’re working on station training—getting him to face me when I bridge—and target training. Eventually, once he has that down, I’ll use the target to teach him how to leap!”
“I think he might know that already,” I say, remembering when he was showing off the other day.
Tara laughs. “True. But I want him to associate it with the bridge, so the move isn’t only at random. Anyway, I’m excited. I love me some Cola.”
Tara walks down the path toward the dock. Without other guests, Dolphina feels quiet and private, just like the morning of my first visit. Jolie and a trainer I didn’t meet the other day are on fish-cleaning duty, and they wave from the area outside the trainers’ office, where they’re soaping down and hosing off buckets and hydration tubes. From a distance, I watch Tara begin her session. She sits cross-legged on the edge of the dock and then slowly dangles her feet in the water, moving them back and forth. Cola arrives, and she plays with him like this for a minute, bridging and feeding him a fish every time he bobs to the surface.
Oh, yeah, this is much better than after-school.
I take out my math homework, but it’s hard to focus. I can’t understand every word, but I hear Tara talking to Cola and can see his head when he surfaces by the dock. I wish I were closer. Not too close; dangling a limb over the edge of the dock is just a slip or push away from floating in the water. But observing from afar is where it’s at. Truly, dolphins are so much more interesting than basically any subject in middle school.
Math, science, and history prove hopeless, so I open my notebook to a blank page to begin brainstorming ideas for my “Day in the Life Of” article.
When I pitched the column, my immediate idea was to write about an aspect of Iowa City life. Obvious choice (or, on brand, as I like to think of it), but still effective. A situation in which I’m an expert, and probably somewhere Fernbank kids know little to nothing about. I make a list of potential days and aspects of life to consider:
1. Winter. First snowstorm. Being snowed in. Snow day!
2. Growing up on a college campus.
3. Tornado drills.
I put down my pencil. Very weather-heavy. I glance down at the lagoon. The mid-afternoon light approaches golden hour. Other than Tara’s voice, the occasional bridge, and Cola’s splashing, the air is thick and quiet. Calm.
I pull out my phone and try to video chat Cady. No answer. I try Kaytee. Same. I imagine all the places they could be. In Iowa City, the air is probably starting to get ever so slightly crisp. This time in the afternoon, there’s usually a long line outside Jake’s Freeze. The gallery wall is full of drawings. College students mingle in the outdoor mall.
Tara’s bridge breaks me out of my daydream.
“Cola, you are so cute, I love you so much!” she exclaims. I crane my neck to see what Cola is up to. It seems he’s swimming in circles around the lagoon, occasionally charging up to the surface. “Cola, you just have all the energy in the world, don’t you?”
I watch Tara hold out the basketball and wait for her bridge, but after what feels like a while, she slaps the surface of the water instead. The sound it makes surprises me like a finger prick. Finally, Cola arrives before her at the dock.
“You are so handsome! Very good, sweet Cola.” Tara throws him a fish. He doesn’t gobble it up right away. She reaches out to give him a rub on the back, and Cola smiles. Or at least I think he smiles. I mean, dolphins always smile. A moment later, before Tara seems to be done with her rub, Cola submerges himself underwater, concealed once again within the cold, murky lagoon.
Twenty minutes later, Tara’s session is over. She returns with the basketball and an empty pail. Her leggings and T-shirt are soaking wet.
“How did it go?” I ask.
Still cheery, but clearly more exhausted than she was just forty-five minutes ago when the session began, Tara says, “We’re getting there. Cola’s still stuck on a lot of his old habits.” She sets the bucket on the ground and stretches an arm overhead.
“Like what?”
“Hunting for fish. I get the impression he was Mr. Popular in his old pod. He’s feeling out the new social scene. I think that’s why he jumps so much. Dolphins sometimes do that to check out their surroundings. I guess he isn’t quite used to it here yet. Luna typically runs the show, so they’re working it out. Push and pull,” she explains. “I’m going to try adjusting his reinforcement, not always starting with fish. He’s still catching a lot of his own in the lagoon anyway. They need to expect the unexpected, I have to remember.” She pauses. “Sorry, this is probably more than you ever wanted to know. I’m just running my mouth over here.”
I think of Socks. After a few days with her, my standard of what qualifies as “running your mouth” is much higher. “No way. I love hearing all this secret dolphin info!” I exclaim, maybe a little too excitedly. Suddenly, the memory of floating in the lagoon, waiting for Sammy to appear from the depths below, the bridging, the crowd of guests gathered on the dock, the chill of the water hits me … Despite the humidity, I shiver. Then, to myself as much as Tara, I say, “I love dolphins so much. I really do.”
Tara smiles and sets down her pail. She glances over her shoulder at the lagoon. The dolphins are quiet beneath the surface of the water. When she turns to me again, her face is soft. “It wasn’t until I’d already started my first internship at a dolphin sanctuary in Texas that I realized it’s possible to both fear and love something at the same time.”
I gulp. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Little-known fact: Fear isn’t always a bad thing. It can be a sign of respect.”
I think about that for a moment.
“Cola’s probably a little afraid right now, too. A lot has changed for him recently,” Tara adds.
“Makes sense,” I whisper. We’re silent for a moment, both gazing at the lagoon. The late-afternoon sun speckles the surface of the calm water. “Were you afraid that you’d always be afraid? When you were in Texas, I mean. Does that make sense?”
“Makes total sense. Maybe a little, yes. But I think that’s what also helped encourage me to learn.”
I nod.
Tara smiles and picks up her pail. “Anyway, Cola’s a sweetie. Sometimes it just takes a while to get used to new surroundings and that’s that. Can’t rush it. Nothing for sweet Cola to be ashamed of.”
I take yet another balloon breath because what Tara said hits a little too close to home. Maybe Cola and I have more in common than I thought.
Lucy stomps into my bedroom without any actual greeting and declares, “You’re coming with me.”
“Sister Secret?” I ask, putting down the article on sea spiders I was reading.
“Nope. But it’s Friday night and it’s time to be in public. We’re going to La Bello’s.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’ve said goodbye to Mom and Dad, promised to wear our seat belts, and are out the door.
This is an interesting turn of events. Back in Iowa City, I was usually the one with plans Friday nights. Maybe that’s because on Fridays I always went to Jake’s with C
ady and Kaytee and then we slept over at one of our houses. As they say, consistency is key. Lucy spent a lot of the weekend at home playing online video games against people in different states, or sometimes going to whatever college game was in season if Mom or Dad convinced her. Which was rare.
“What’s the deal with La Bello’s?” The place sounds familiar. I think I remember Jas mentioning it in relation to Ayden the other day at lunch, but I was only half listening. Jas tells a lot of stories about Ayden or sixth grade that are anticlimactic or repetitive.
“Just meeting some girls from volleyball there to talk shop.”
“Shop, huh?”
“You hush,” Lucy teases.
La Bello’s is in a strip mall. Before she successfully whisked me away, I didn’t think to ask Lucy any more info about the spot. I assumed ice cream or gelato. Wishful thinking. As we approach, I see small print under the main sign that reads “Confectioners of Caffeine.” Who on earth needs coffee at seven p.m.?
I called ahead to make sure there are no ambush stairs I’d have to worry about. As it turns out, there are two leading to the front door. The woman I spoke to on the phone promised they had a portable ramp they could assist with for the front door. Or we could park in the spillover lot behind the building and use the back entrance.
Back entrance it is.
Once we enter the café, I get it. It’s not about the coffee. Well, not all about the coffee. There is a serious vibe going on. It might as well be a school dance. I’m surprised there’s not a DJ and a disco ball. The place is jam-packed, mostly with kids. Some younger than me and some older. Definitely some my age who I don’t recognize. They must be from one of the private schools or something.
“This is …”
“Intense,” Lucy finishes my sentence. She waves at some girls crowded around a small table across the café.
I follow Lucy toward her friends, and that’s when I see them. More like run into them. They take up a long table smack in the middle of the café: Socks. Jas. Kisa. Ayden. EJ. Lilly. Two girls I don’t know. And, as an extra surprise, Juan Carlos!
My stomach clenches. Is it too late to turn around and pretend I was never here? They haven’t seen me yet.
Oh … never mind.
“OMG, KT!” Socks exclaims. “Hi!”
I wave. Lucy turns around, quickly putting two and two together. She slows, so I slow. There’s no avoiding it. Socks, and now the rest of the table, have seen me, so I can’t turn around. And I can’t blink three times and vanish in a puff of smoke (the ideal option). And we have to pass them to get to Lucy’s friends, so I can’t just wave and keep my distance.
This is the perfect storm. The perfect Friday night Florida thunderstorm.
“You’re here!” Socks babbles.
“Yeah, just coming to hang with my sister and her friends.” I gesture toward Lucy.
“I was totally going to text you that we were hanging out, but I realized I didn’t get your number yet, but I was going to! Come sit with us!” Socks invites me, quickly shuffling her chair to make room between her and Kisa. I don’t think Juan Carlos sees me yet. In fact, I’m sure of it. Unless he has eyes in the back of his head. He looks at something on his lap. I blush at the sight of his floppy hair anyway.
“Okay.” I’m not sure if I want to, but I also don’t not want to.
Lucy looks back at me as if to ask, “You good?”
I nod.
“Join us if things get weird,” she whispers. “Or text. That works, too.”
Lucy knows me so well.
“Hey, everyone,” I greet them, almost loud enough for the whole table to hear. Jas says “Hi,” but only once Ayden gives me a “Sup?” I’ve never really talked to him or EJ before, but they’ve dropped by our table at lunch a few times, so I get their vibe. I don’t take their lack of enthusiasm personally.
I pull into the space Socks has made for me. The table’s not an ideal height—Sprinkle’s arms don’t quite fit underneath—so there’s an awkward gap between my lap and the table. Lilly and the two mystery girls sit across from me, and Juan Carlos is all the way at the end.
It’s a squad, for sure.
Conversation around me resumes and a waitress appears.
“Can I get you anything, honey?” she asks.
I haven’t had time to look at a menu. I don’t even see a menu. I’m the worst at ordering. Cady and Kaytee hate going to eat with me because I can never make decisions, even at the cafeteria. I quickly survey the table. Everyone else has these extreme-looking concoctions before them, except for Juan Carlos, who stirs a tiny espresso cup with an equally tiny spoon. I have a feeling that if I don’t order now, I won’t get another chance. It won’t be a good look to sit here without a drink.
The waitress is getting impatient.
“Um, I’ll have whatever she has,” I mumble, pointing at Socks’s cathedral of a beverage. “What exactly is that?” I ask Socks after the waitress has left.
“Oh, it’s the best. An angel food mocha frappé with an extra pump and a half of caramel. It’s their specialty. Well, the extra caramel is my specialty. Socks specialty!” she cheers.
My stomach churns thinking about all the sugar.
“So, you guys, get this,” Lilly announces to the entire table, breaking up the mini-flirtation between Jas and Ayden. Jas does not look pleased. “I think Morgan was totally faking it when she said she lost her shoes. My brother’s girlfriend says she saw her put them behind the DJ booth.”
“D-R-A-M-A!” Kisa mumbles, eyes still buried in her phone.
“It’s, like, too much,” Lilly continues.
It doesn’t take me long to figure out she’s talking about events from her bat mitzvah. I listen and make sure to laugh and nod when everyone else laughs and nods, but I can’t think of anything to add. My eyes ping-pong around the table in an attempt to keep up with whoever speaks. I play with the end of my ponytail, twisting the tip into a thin rope. My drink arrives, finally. I’m glad to have something to focus on. Before I know it my glass is half empty.
“What are bat mitzvahs like in— Where are you from, again?” Lilly asks.
“Iowa City,” I say, wiping my mouth with a sticky napkin.
“Right. The capital.”
Wrong. The capital is Des Moines. I decide not to correct her. I don’t want her to forget she’s finally included me in the conversation and move on to something else.
“So do people do stupid things at the bat mitzvahs there like fake losing their shoes and not dancing with girls until, like, halfway through the first DJ set?” Lilly glares at the boys. Ayden and EJ throw their hands up. Juan Carlos is in another world.
“Um. Not sure. Never been to one in IC. Nobody had one in sixth grade.”
“Riiiiight. Of course.” Lilly draws out the word. She likes to be in control of the conversation, I notice. “So have you done anything hashtag chill since living in Fernbank?” Lilly asks. I wish that Lilly would ask me more about Iowa City and what kind of parties we did have there. I actually do have a lot to say on that subject. Though, on second thought, if she doesn’t want to know, I don’t want to share something so precious. “It’s, like, so boring here,” she complains. She doesn’t really mean that. It’s obvious.
“Well, I actually went to Dolphina Cove right before school started,” I say, loud enough for the whole table to hear. Too loud, really.
“Yo, is that where they keep dolphins in cages?” Ayden asks, then cracks up as if he invented comedy. Jas immediately giggles as well.
“Hashtag animal cruelty,” Kisa grunts into her phone.
“Actually, it’s not like that at all.” By the looks on their faces, I don’t think any of the present company expected me to speak up. I wasn’t planning on it, but the words slipped out. I can’t let anyone talk smack about my pals. My pals being Cola, Sammy, Luna, Ginger, and any dolphin I come to meet in the future. “It’s really like a research center slash sanctuary.”
“
But, like, what do you do there? Watch them do tricks?”
Behaviors, not tricks, I think, but don’t say.
“You can learn about how they’re trained, or pet them or rub their bellies,” I explain.
EJ shouts, “Hey, I heard that dolphin fur—”
“Dolphins don’t have fur!” Lilly teases. I never thought correcting a seventh-grade boy’s understanding of marine mammals could be flirtatious, but Lilly manages that.
“Whatever, skin, scales. I heard that it’s mad rubbery, like a wet suit,” EJ says.
“Actually,” I butt in, “it feels kind of like a wet suit and a windbreaker and a rubber band had a baby.” I notice Juan Carlos crack a smile. I hold my breath in an effort to suppress a blush.
“Hashtag specific,” Lilly says.
Should I be embarrassed that I know so much about dolphins?
“I’ve always wanted to go to Dolphina Cove,” Socks admits. She gets quieter when EJ is around. This is the first time I’ve heard her voice in two hundred seconds, at least. “Did you swim with them?”
My breath catches. I don’t want to lie. But I also don’t want to tell the truth.
“Wait,” Ayden interjects. “Can you swim?”
“OMG, rude!” Socks hisses, but it’s too late. The entire conversation has come to a halt, the energy at the table changed. Jas stares at the floor. Kisa’s eyes remain on her screen, but I can see her back tense. Lilly’s mouth is frozen mid-smile, her anonymous friends whisper very quietly to each other, and even Juan Carlos appears uncomfortable. He taps a stirrer against his empty espresso cup. They all feel awkward. I can tell. I’ve witnessed conversations hit a wall like this a gazillion times.
“What? I just wanted to know!” Ayden responds. Then, “Is that a crime?”
Only—and I mean only—because Ayden looks directly at me when he asks this do I have the courage to answer.
“So not arrest-worthy.” My joke breaks the ice, and I continue, “Yes, I can swim. I swim with my arms. See?” I move my arms like I’m doing breaststroke, then freestyle, then backstroke. I’m about to do butterfly when I decide to drop it and throw up a peace sign.
Swimming With Dolphins Page 8