“Next Tuesday will be my last day of work at Dolphina,” Dad casually mentions as he sets down a pot of spaghetti with tomato sauce in the middle of the table. Sunday night dinners are usually one-pot meals. His “specialty.” Lucy and I tease that they’re more an inevitability because pasta with jar sauce is really the only thing the dude can cook. Mom has a habit of waiting until Sunday to prep for that week’s classes, so it’s often just Lucy, Dad, and me at the dinner table. I’m fast approaching one-pot overload.
“That was quick,” I say. Lucy dishes some noodles into a bowl and places it in front of me. Her headphones are out of her ears and resting on the table, though music still plays like a tired sound track. She’s a little sweaty from volleyball practice, but I insisted I was too hungry to wait for her to shower to eat.
“Thanks for being such a trouper. You’re an excellent Dolphina wing-girl.”
“Hashtag no big deal,” I say, dumping a load of Parmesan into my bowl. The more cheese, the better. “It’s been really fun, actually.”
“Florida, fun?” Lucy teases. “Never thought that would come out of your mouth.”
“Um, rude,” I reply, playfully swatting at her arm. “By the way, did you know that dolphins make bubble rings in the ocean and when they live in a lagoon?”
“I didn’t,” Dad says, before taking an enormous forkful of pasta to his mouth.
“True story. Google it.” I go on to tell them about helping Tara work on Cola’s last behavior chain, though I leave out the details about the breaths we took together. I’m not ready to release that treasured memory yet. Instead, I conclude, “In lots of ways, dolphins aren’t all that different from people. You could probably write a poem about that, Dad.”
“Maybe I will,” Dad replies. “So what are you thinking for your birthday this year?” Dad asks. I take a bite. Somehow, the pasta is lukewarm. I do my best to not taste it as I chew.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“What about that girl who talks a lot? Shorts?” he presses.
“Socks,” I mutter.
“You could have her over, and any other people you’ve met. We’ll get out of your hair.”
“I don’t know,” I repeat. “I don’t really want to think about it. Since doing something with Cady and Kaytee is out of the question, I don’t care anymore.” That’s only partially true, but I can’t resist the jab.
Dad takes the hint. We finish the meal in near silence. The only sound is the faint notes of a pop song drifting from Lucy’s headphones.
On my final day as the president and founder of the After-School Dolphina Cove Program (official title), Tara immediately invites me to tag along for that afternoon’s session.
Hashtag amazing.
First stop is the trainers’ office to pick up some fish, where we meet up with Jolie. She juggles two buckets of fish, a basketball, a pool noodle, a hydration tube, and a clipboard. She looks like a cartoon.
“There has got to be a better way,” she complains, her clipboard landing on the ground with a smack.
“Why don’t you hook a bucket or two onto the handles of my chair?” I suggest. “Her name is Sprinkle, by the way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Sprinkle’s muscles are ripped.”
Jolie whispers, “This is so not child labor, if anyone asks,” as she hooks a handle onto Sprinkle.
I laugh. “Sprinkle and I are happy to help. Strongest duo Iowa City and Fernbank have to offer.”
Jolie gives me a high five, and the three of us head down to the lagoon.
Natalia joins us a few minutes later. She begins her session with Luna, Jolie bridges with Sammy, and Tara perches down on the end of the dock, rubbing Cola’s belly. Even though Sprinkle and I are a few feet from the water’s edge, I make eye contact with Cola and we take a balloon breath together.
“I think the breathing you did with Cola during your belly rub the other day really helped calm him down,” Tara mentions.
“Really?” I ask, though I’m not totally surprised.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been trying to get him to breathe with me for weeks, but never combining it with a belly rub like that. You sure have a magic touch with him.”
“Thanks!”
“I’ve been incorporating the belly rub breathing into sessions at different points, and it’s made a world of difference.”
“I call them balloon breaths,” I confide.
“Balloon breaths. I like that,” Tara says.
It’s fun to watch the three trainers in action up close again, like during my first day. That sure feels like ages ago, the more I think about it. A different world. Now I know so much more about what’s going on, like the reason that Tara bridges every time Cola touches a target is because it’s part of a carefully planned behavior chain. Or that when Natalia slaps the water, it’s not to scold Luna, but to offer her a different auditory cue. Sammy and Luna are no longer attached at the dolphin version of a hip.
As the session goes on, Tara lets me reinforce Cola with fish. He gobbles them up right away.
“That’s right, Cola, your BFF is here today,” Tara says. I give Cola a wave, and I swear he uses one of his pectoral fins to wave back before shooting out of the water in the most triumphant leap. “You just love to fly, don’t you, cutie?” Tara coos.
“Show-off!” I say affectionately. His leaps are still most impressive.
Eventually, Natalia jumps into the water to work on dorsal pulls. I can’t help but notice she doesn’t wear a life jacket. Hashtag dolphin trainer privileges.
“Sammy, you’re having yourself a little dance-off, aren’t you!” Natalia exclaims.
“You celebrating, Sammy?” Tara coos. She sits on the edge of the dock, feet dangling in the water. Both Cola and Sammy are away. I think I see Ginger taking a leisurely lap around the perimeter of the lagoon. A lazy afternoon swim. Tara asks, “What’s she doing over there, huh?”
“She’s making bubble rings!” Natalia exclaims. I’m impressed she can see from where she treads water. It’s still so dark, despite the bright overhead sun. “Where’d you learn to do that, cutie?”
Tara and I look at each other knowingly.
“Whoa, I think Ginger and Luna are doing it, too. Bubble ring party!” Natalia wiggles her shoulders and does a mini treading-water dance. “J, throw me that snorkel mask from the bucket.”
Jolie tosses it to her. Natalia puts it on and dives below the surface. A moment later she pops up.
“Y’all, this is amazing. I’ve never seen Sammy, Luna, or Ginger make bubble rings before, especially together!” Natalia cheers. “And now Cola, too!”
“Bubble ring central!” Jolie cheers.
Tara and I watch from the dock. Of course, I can’t see what’s happening underwater, but their playful energy radiates to the surface and into the air.
“Is that all Cola’s influence?” I whisper to Tara.
“I think so.” She grins and gives my ponytail a sweet tug. “Like you said, he’s showing them his world.”
Show-off, indeed.
Natalia pulls off her snorkel mask and starts to swim in. The water around her churns and bubbles, as if she’s swimming through a pool of seltzer. “They’re having the time of their lives. I wish y’all could see this!”
Me, too, I think. Maybe I should have swum with them when I had the chance.
I’m too full of regret to remember to take even one balloon breath.
When Mom comes home that night, I’m on my bed, leaning against a stack of pillows, notebook open on my lap. Dad’s already snoring on the couch. Muted sports highlights flash on the TV. It’s late, I should probably be sleeping, too, but I’m determined to make some headway on my article.
After the last-day excitement at Dolphina, it took me a while to wind down. Dad and I stopped by Tommy’s for hamburgers and milkshakes. On our way home, I slurped on a chocolate shake while I told him about every last bubble ring detail.
But the
afternoon was bittersweet. Saying goodbye to Tara, Jolie, Natalia, Sammy, Luna, and Ginger was tough. I wish I could have given Cola a hug. Or at least another round of balloon breaths. Tara gave me her cell phone number so that whenever I need a pick-me-up, all I have to do is let her know and she’ll send me some action shots of Cola, which made me feel a little better. I know that they’re just a fifteen-minute drive away—much closer than Cady and Kaytee all the way in Iowa City—but still. I’ve had too many goodbyes recently, and I was surprised at just how sad this one made me.
I hear Mom tiptoe down the hallway. She opens the door to my room and peeks in. “You up, KT Lady?”
“Not necessarily,” I say, doing my best to get into a convincing sleep position in less than a second.
Mom comes in and sits at the end of my bed. “How was your day?”
I launch into a bubble ring monologue, the speed of which would make Socks proud.
“Wow, that’s so cool,” she says once I’ve finished.
“Hashtag incredible,” I correct her.
“Hashtag incredible. Could you ever have imagined a few months ago that you’d get to spend so much time with your favorite animal?”
“I guess not.” I know Mom is trying to be sweet, but her comment gets me down. “I wish everything in Fernbank felt like Dolphina Cove,” I admit. Sometimes it’s easier to say what’s on my mind if I don’t think about it too much first.
“You really feel at home there, don’t you?”
“Duh,” I mutter. I think about all the cracks in the path from the picnic tables to the docks, and the one big one that requires a wind-up wheel. I remember the way Sammy’s fin felt when it grazed against my fingertips just a few weeks ago and the unavoidable scent of fish in the trainers’ office. In my mind, I hear Tara teasing Cola for being such a show-off. “Do you think it makes sense to be scared of something but also love it at the same time?”
“Well, if you refer to the DSM-V’s definition of attachment theory—”
“OMG, Mom,” I interrupt.
“Okay, okay. In non-professor terms, yes. Of course.”
I sigh. “I miss Iowa City.”
“I know, KT Lady. So do I.”
“And I can’t even figure out how to write this dumb article that was supposed to be like an ode to my favorite place and myself in a way.” I explain my assignment to Mom, who listens without interrupting. “I’m a literal expert on Iowa City. Double expert on being a middle schooler in Iowa City. Why is this so hard?”
Mom runs her fingers through my slightly knotted ponytail. “Maybe that’s not the only thing you know a lot about.”
We sit together in silence for a minute. I think Mom might be taking balloon breaths, too. I should really put some posters up on the wall, I realize. Or maybe some string lights. I have a photo of Cady, Kaytee, and me on my dresser, and one of Lucy and me when we were little, but that’s as far as the decorations go.
Before Mom kisses me good night, she says, “Iowa City is a part of you, KT Lady. It always will be. But it’s not the only part.”
“My birthday is next week,” Socks tells me during homeroom. Ms. Vasquez has given us the first fifteen minutes to finish any leftover homework. I’m pretty sure she’s behind in grading our quizzes from last Thursday.
“Chill,” I say. I’m not much in the mood for conversation. We haven’t really talked one-on-one since La Bello’s. I pretend to check my science homework. I know every answer is right, but I keep my eyes trained on the page. But then because I can’t resist, I say, “Libra?”
“Virgo cusp. Venus in Scorpio, but don’t go spreading that around.”
“Chill,” I repeat. I truly have no idea what any of that means.
“You?”
“Libra,” I answer. “October fourth.”
“Oh wow, so I’m only, like, a couple weeks older than you! It’s so not a big deal now in seventh grade, but my other cousin, Jas’s sister, says that kind of difference matters when it comes to getting your driver’s license.”
“Yeah, Lucy says the same,” I add.
“Anyway, I wanted to invite you to my birthday party. It’s this Saturday.” Socks is whispering again so I know she’s nervous. Which makes me nervous.
“That sounds fun,” I reply without looking up.
Then Socks spits it out. “Look, I still feel really bad about La Bello’s. Jas organized the whole thing, and even before you got there, I thought it would have been chill if you knew about it, but I guess I thought about it too late and I didn’t have your number. But I felt weird. I still do. Also …” Her voice trails off. She’s getting to the point now. “We didn’t know if you’d be able to get in with Sprinkle, because there are those steps and it can get kind of cramped in there.”
“You know that if I avoided all crowded restaurants and places with steps, I’d basically not be able to go anywhere, right?” I snap. I’m getting frustrated, and it’s not all Socks’s fault. This was never an issue with Cady and Kaytee. We’d just do takeout at LaFonda instead of eating in the café because the stairs there sucked, but if everyone was hanging on the landing of Schaeffer Hall, I’d tell them what I needed, and we’d figure it out. We’d just figure it out. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Socks answers quickly. She blinks back at me with those big brown eyes. “Actually, I totally don’t know what you’re thinking.”
Awful thoughts creep into my mind, like ants devouring a melted drip of ice cream on a hot summer day.
Isn’t it weird that Socks never mentioned her birthday to me earlier?
Balloon breath. Balloon breath. Balloon breath.
Then again, I never told her about mine. Or before La Bello’s that Sprinkle is named Sprinkle. I actually can’t believe she remembered.
I’ve never had a hard time expressing my opinion before. But before was before and now is now. I’m not sure how honest I can be.
Balloon breath.
I remember how it felt to talk about Iowa City with Juan Carlos. But mostly how nice it was that he cared to ask. Socks is kind of doing the same thing, I realize.
Balloon breath.
“You know …” My voice trails off. “Being new just sucks.”
There’s more I could add, but that captures it. I laugh because sometimes a smile is the best way through. Socks follows my lead.
“I bet,” Socks says. “But I can’t imagine what it’s like. Everything about my life is here. Fernbank is in my blood, ya know?”
“Fernbank and sucrose,” I remind her.
As if on cue, Socks pops a single blue M&M into her mouth. “Honestly, when Principal Lim said we were getting someone new in our grade from out of town, I was really excited. Not a lot changes around here,” she admits. I never thought about it that way before. “Change can be good. It’s nice to have you spice things up.”
“Thanks,” I say. Biggest balloon breath of the day. “So … your party. What are the deets?”
And just like that, Socks begins a trademark monologue. I smile and enjoy the enthusiasm behind her answer. “OMG, it’s going to be so fun. I was thinking about having, like, a big informal thing in the park, and just kind of inviting everybody, but then I thought, ‘Socks, you’re going to be thirteen. Time to grow up and be picky if you want!’ So, it’ll be an intimate affair.”
“Awesome.” I beam, truly thrilled I made the cut.
“So, yeah. You gave me the idea at La Bello’s, actually. I didn’t know how chill it would be, but then I thought, ‘Who cares? It’s my birthday, my fun,’ and my mom’s other first cousin, not Jas’s mom, but the other one by marriage, works in the office and got a super discount on tickets so my mom said, ‘Fiiiine.’ ”
“Tickets to what?” I beg. “The suspense is killing me!”
“Oh, sorry. Jas and my mom and her mom always say I’m like the most hyper storyteller. Anyway, drumroll, please …”
I tap my hands on Sprinkle’s sides for maximum percussive effect.
> “Dolphina Cove! We’re going to swim with dolphins!”
The night before Socks’s party, Sprinkle and I burst into Lucy’s room without knocking. She’s sprawled on her bed, playing a video game on her laptop.
“I may not go,” I declare. Lucy is slow to look up from the screen. “To the party. To Socks’s party. I can back out, right? That’s not, like, the rudest thing in the world, is it?”
“What? Why not?” Lucy asks, sitting up. “I thought you and Socks cleared the air.”
“We did.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t think I can do it.” My eyes flutter around Lucy’s bedroom. I haven’t spent a ton of time in here since we moved in, come to think of it. Photos litter the top of her dresser and she’s arranged her books according to color in neat stacks, against the wall. I don’t know where on earth she got the purple-and-turquoise tapestry hanging over her bed like a mural, but there’s a definite vibe going on.
“Do what? You’ve been to Dolphina Cove more than everyone else in your middle school combined,” Lucy says. “That’s, like, your territory. You’re a dolphin pro.”
I roll Sprinkle right up to the edge of her bed. “Okay, can I tell you a Sister Secret? Like the biggest one?”
“Okay …”
“When I went to Dolphina for the first time with Mom, I didn’t swim with them.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, it wasn’t because I was sick or nauseous or whatever I said.”
“Okay …”
“I was scared. Too scared to go through with it.” Lucy looks at me with her enormous eyes and takes what has to be a major balloon breath. “Embarrassing, huh?” I whisper.
My big sister reaches forward, past my cheek, and gives my ponytail the most gentle tug. “From everything you’ve told me, dolphins are beasts. I’m not sure I would have gotten in the water with them, either.”
“Well, they’re not flesh-eating monsters or anything.” I can’t let her call my dudes beasts. “But, yeah, they’re big.”
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