“The animals I take care of are not so furry.” He laughs.
“Jeek is a scuba diver,” Ms. Tremt explains. “Among other things.”
“Really?” I ask. “My baba dives. I mean, my grandma. She’s retired now, but she was a marine biologist.”
“What is her name?” Jeek asks.
“Ayumi,” I say. “Ayumi Tanaka. But she lives far away . . . in Hawaii.”
“Oh yes, I know Ayumi,” Jeek says. “Lovely woman. Strong diver.”
“You do?” I gasp. “That’s amazing! I’ll have to tell her I met you.”
“That’s probably not a great idea,” Ms. Tremt says, looking concerned.
“Why not?” I wonder.
“Oh, you know, secret diving code of silence and all,” Jeek says with a wink.
“Really?” I say. “Baba never mentioned that before.”
“Because it ees a secret.” Jeek laughs. I do too.
“Nice to meet you, Jeek,” Maria says. “Our problem right now is trying to figure out what our small group can do to make a real difference for animals.”
“I like the way you think,” Jeek tells her. “First you must identify the problem. Then explore simple ways that you can help solve it. Even if you can’t solve it completely, there are things you can do as a start.”
“Yes, that’s what we’re thinking too,” Maria says. “We have a few ideas.”
“Excellent,” Jeek says. “Now, listen. This is very important: You must find ways to let people know why you’re doing what you’re doing. It’s important to make a difference. But people must know why they should care to make a difference too. People protect what they love.”
Maria starts to write frantically in her notebook. She is looking at Jeek like he’s more than just some French friend of Ms. Tremt’s.
“How do you do that?” Maria asks.
“I show them,” Jeek says. “I take them to places they may never go before, under the sea. I film when I dive so I can show everyone the beauty that is hidden there, so they will care about it just as much as I do.
“I am just one small man,” Jeek continues. “But I have been able to make a significant difference. There are two of you, and you are young and strong. Just think what you can do.”
This Jeek guy is pretty inspiring, I have to say. It makes me want to get to work—now!
Our work, and our conversation, is put on hold, though, when we hear a loud crash come from the other side of the library.
The largest human I have ever seen in real life comes barreling toward us. Every muscle in his body looks like it’s ready to explode. A large vein that runs down his forehead is pulsating. This dude is pumped!
I can see a lot of those muscles because the guy isn’t wearing a shirt, just a fur piece thrown over one shoulder. He has three leather belts strapped around his waist, and he is wearing pants and fur-lined boots.
Ms. Tremt looks at Jeek cautiously as the guy continues to charge toward us.
Jeek takes off his cap as he bows deeply to the guy. I’m amazed at how calm Jeek is.
“Bertrand, mon ami, how are you?” Jeek greets the hulk. “It’s been . . . what, a thousand years since we last saw each other?”
“Hitir konungrinn Oláfr,” the hulk growls.
“Oui, oui,” Jeek replies, patting the guy on his back. “Let’s go inside and catch up, shall we? We don’t want to interrupt the library with our loud seafaring tales.”
Jeek turns to us. “I’d introduce you to my colleague Bertrand, but he doesn’t speak much English.”
“He’s a marine biologist?” Maria says disbelievingly. “He looks like a Viking!”
“And it didn’t sound like he was speaking French, either,” I add.
“Silly ones.” Jeek laughs, but then he looks at Ms. Tremt a bit nervously. “What would a Viking be doing in your library? Bertrand and I are heading off to a marine biology convention nearby. He’s a bit of a—how do you say?—a character; he always loves to surprise other biologists by showing up in crazy costumes. And when he gets into costume, he goes all out. We just stopped by to see our old friend Valerie first.”
“There’s a marine biology convention nearby?” I ask. “We’re nowhere near the ocean.”
“Did I say it was nearby?” Jeek asks, smiling. “Spending time with Valerie ees always worth a side trip, of course.”
“Oh, Jeek,” Ms. Tremt says, blushing. “You’re such a charmer.”
Bertrand, aka hulking he-man, looks confused, and like he’s getting a little antsy.
“As much as I’d love to spend the whole day with you two, I think we’d better get you back now,” Ms. Tremt continues. “Time is running short.”
“Ah, yes,” Jeek says. “Time, she waits for no man. This is very true.”
Jeek turns to me and lowers his glasses.
“A question for you, young man,” he says. “What is a shark’s favorite kind of sandwich?”
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
“Ze peanut butter and jellyfish.” Jeek laughs.
Ms. Tremt hustles Jeek and Bertrand away from us while Maria and I crack up.
“Check this out, Kai,” Maria says when they’re out of sight.
She types “Jacques Cousteau” into the search engine and clicks “Images.” A face that looks exactly like the man who was just in the library fills the screen.
“I thought ‘Jeek’ looked familiar,” Maria says. “And then when he said ‘People protect what they love,’ I remembered reading that quote last Earth Day, and it was from Jacques Cousteau.
“But it can’t possibly be him,” Maria continues. “He died in 1997.”
“Weird,” I say. “Maybe Ms. Tremt is planning to surprise us with some historical presentation.”
“That would be cool,” Maria says. “And it would explain Bertrand. I don’t really believe that whole marine biology convention story.”
“I know. Me neither,” I add. “I think they’re a sign.”
“Of what?” Maria wonders.
“A sign that our first project should be about ocean life,” I reply. “Something that would make my grandmother proud.”
I type “Ayumi Tanaka” and “marine biologist” into the search engine, and Baba pops up. Maria clicks on an article she wrote about an endangered species of fish.
“She’s amazing!” Maria gushes as she grabs my arm and shakes me. “You’re so lucky!”
I feel pretty lucky at the moment.
“My mom’s pretty cool too,” I say. “She’s super funny.”
“Oh, that’s where you get it from,” Maria teases.
“You can meet her if you want,” I say, surprising myself. “I mean, you could come over later and we could work on the project.”
“I’d love that!” Maria says. “But we’d better get going, because I won’t be able to come over if I don’t get started on my homework right away. That math packet Mr. Bodon gave us is huge!”
“I know.” I sigh. “I’ve been trying not to think about it. Text me when you’re done and I’ll figure out when’s a good time to come over.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Maria says.
“By the way, how did you get my phone number?” I ask.
“Oh, a good friend of yours thought you might want me to have it.” Maria smiles.
Wait till I see Faris! My man!
Maria and I are walking through the door when Ms. Tremt calls after us.
“Kai!” she calls. “I have something important to ask you!”
“Tomorrow, Ms. Tremt,” I shout back. “I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”
• • •
I made another promise earlier today. I promised Mom I’d clean up all my sports equipment in the garage after school. What was I thinking?
I grab my muddy cleats and start banging them together to get the dirt out, then use a wire brush to get in all the nooks and crannies. I put them in one of the shoe racks by the door that leads into the house. We have two shoe racks—on
e for outside shoes, one for slippers. We never wear outside shoes in the house. I don’t even want to imagine my dad’s reaction if he saw me wearing sneakers inside. He’s a bit of a neat freak. I think his head would explode if he saw me wandering around the house in my muddy, grimy sneakers.
I open my baseball bag and find a nice collection of empty sports drink bottles. I put them in the recycling bin, then clean up the bag and put it on the shelf over the shoe rack. There are all kinds of balls, bats, helmets, and pads scattered around the garage, so I start picking them up and putting them into bins.
When Mom pulls into the driveway and sees me, she has a big smile on her face.
“Kai-chan!” Mom says. “What happened here? You did this all on your own and I didn’t see anything strange in the sky on the drive home.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask her.
“You know, like flying pigs.” She laughs.
“Very funny.” I snicker. “How was work today?”
“Oh, you know, the usual,” she says. “Lots of reading. Lots of writing. Lots of talking.”
“Right,” I say. “Hey, I was wondering about Oji-san. What were you talking about the other night? It sounded like a new case.”
“Oh yeah, he’s working on a big case to protect the waters around the Hawaiian island of Molokai from overfishing,” Mom says.
“Is it a big problem?” I ask.
“Well, it seems like it might be. Some populations of fish are in danger of disappearing from the area,” Mom explains. “The local fishermen rely on them to feed their families.”
“Wow,” I say. “Is there something we can do?”
“Kai-chan.” Mom laughs. “Are you showing your mother’s legal tendencies? And what’s with the sudden interest in Hawaii? You haven’t talked about it since last time we visited Baba.”
“I’m working on a new project with one of the kids from school,” I tell her. “We want to help protect animals. So when I heard you talking the other night, it got me thinking.”
“Oh, then you really should look more into your great-great-aunt Akemi,” Mom tells me. “Or maybe she’s your great-great-great-aunt? I can never get that straight.”
“Who’s she?” I wonder.
“Hold on a minute,” Mom says. “I may have something for you.”
Mom goes to the corner of the garage that is filled with plastic storage bins and moves them around until she finds the one she’s looking for. FAMILY HISTORY is written in marker on the side of the bin.
Mom lifts the lid off the bin and pulls out two plastic storage bags. Inside each bag is an ancient-looking notebook. Mom hands one of the bags to me.
“Akemi was the first person in my family to move from Japan to Hawaii,” Mom explains.
“Cool,” I say, looking at the Japanese writing on the cover. I can tell it says “Akemi Takahashi.” Japanese writing is formed by kanji, or calligraphy pictures that you read. Mom and Dad made me go to Japanese school on Saturdays ever since kindergarten, but once I started playing sports they let me switch to online classes. I’m pretty good at reading, writing, and speaking Japanese actually. I’m almost ready to take the high school proficiency test.
Anyway, because Japanese names are made of pictures, they all have special meanings. Depending on which kanji is used, the name can mean different things. My name, Kai, is written with the kanji meaning “ocean.” That kanji is made up of two parts. The left side is the character for “water” and the right side is for “mother.” Interesting, right?
The two kanji for Akemi mean “bright” and “beautiful.” The Takahashi kanji means “tall bridge.”
“Do you have any pictures of her?” I ask Mom. “Was she really bright and beautiful?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mom says. “I don’t remember ever seeing a picture. We can ask Baba next time we call her.”
“Okay,” I say. “But what does my great-great-great-aunt have to do with animals?”
“Read and find out,” Mom says. “After you do your homework, of course.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Oh and, Mom?”
“Yes,” Mom says.
“Is it okay if that friend comes over after dinner to work on the project?”
“Sure,” Mom says. “What’s his name?”
“Maria,” I mumble as I race to my room.
“KAI MORI!” I hear my mom call. “Get back here! Who’s Maria? Do I know her? How long have you been friends?”
“Later, Mom!” I yell as I close my bedroom door. I’m not ready to answer my mom’s questions. She’ll meet Maria soon enough.
I send Maria a text message and tell her to come over at seven. I know I should start plowing through the math packet, but Akemi’s journals are sitting on my bed calling to me. I carefully take one out of the plastic bag, hold it up to my nose and sniff. It doesn’t smell how I expect it to smell. It’s a little musty, sure, but it also smells like forest mixed with ocean water. The pages seem really fragile and I’m a little worried about turning them, but what good is preserving a journal in a plastic bag if it never gets read? So I start reading.
My eyes glance over the page. Akemi’s calligraphy is neat and almost perfectly formed, but I can’t read Japanese nearly as quickly as I read English, so I just try to get an overview of what she’s saying. It’s sad. Really sad. She’s just a teenage girl, and she’s totally alone. So even though she writes a lot about how beautiful the island is, and all the amazing wildlife she sees, she sounds super homesick.
Akemi also works harder than anyone I’ve ever met. She lives and works on a sugar plantation. She wakes up at four a.m., before the sun rises, and by six she’s working in the field, planting, watering, and loading sugarcane. She only gets a thirty-minute break for lunch, and her workday ends at four thirty p.m. All that for just six dollars a month!
I could keep reading all night, but I know I have to get the math done before Maria comes, so I dive into the packet. I’m on the last problem when Yumi knocks on my door and tells me it’s time for dinner. I shove scoops of rice and salmon into my mouth, then devour a whole bowl of mushrooms.
“Too hungry for jokes tonight?” Yumi says snarkily.
“Something like that,” I mumble.
“Kai’s having a friennnnd come over after dinner,” Mom says.
She drags out the word “friend” in a singsongy way so that Yumi and Dad know right away it’s not just any friend—it’s a girl.
“Ooooh, who is she?” Yumi asks.
“A friend,” I say. “Just a friend. You don’t know her.”
Just then the doorbell rings, and I rush to get the door before Yumi can. I invite Maria inside and quickly introduce her to my family, but I don’t give her time to face the interrogation I know they’d like to start.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” I say. “So we’ll be in Mom’s office if you need us.”
I get Maria settled and then run up to my bedroom to get Akemi’s journals.
“These are so cool,” Maria says. “You know, Kai, since you have a family connection, maybe our project should be related to ocean life. Maybe your uncle could help us.”
“I’m sure he will,” I tell her. “My mom talks to him every week.”
I sit next to Maria and tell her what it says on the first few pages of Akemi’s journal. Maria’s hair smells oceany too. She must use some special shampoo or conditioner. I know she’s talking about some ideas for projects, but I’m having a hard time concentrating on what she’s saying, mostly because her hair is close enough for me to smell, and it smells so good.
“Hold on,” I say, as I go into Mom’s desk and get a notebook and pen. “Let me write that down.”
We talk a lot, and write a lot, and before I know it Mom’s peeking her head into the room.
“Kai-chan, it’s eight thirty,” Mom says. “I’ll drive Maria home, so start finishing up.”
Mom leaves and Maria is looking at me and smiling.
“Kai-chan?” she says. “Cute. I like it.”
I know there’s no hope for my face right now. I’m sure it’s as red as Rudolph the Reindeer’s nose. Maria doesn’t seem to mind.
I come along as Mom drives Maria home, and I don’t even mind when Mom asks me some questions about her on the way back. I mean, Mom can be relentless when she starts asking questions—it’s the whole lawyer thing—but she’s also a good listener. And that’s good, since I can’t really talk to any of my friends about Maria. They’d never let me live it down. I tell my mom Maria is smart and kind and laughs at my jokes (most of the time). Mom doesn’t say much. She just smiles and nods.
Back at home, I hop into bed and try to work on some comedy lines, but my mind is racing and I have a hard time focusing on the funny. I spot Akemi’s journals and decide that they would make the perfect bedtime story. They do.
I made a promise to Ms. Tremt, so heading up to the library is the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning. I hear banging and other strange noises when I get to the library door, so I’m pretty sure Ms. Tremt came in early too. The rumor around school is that she never leaves, that there’s a secret room behind the library. But that’s ridiculous.
“Morning, Ms. Tremt,” I call when I walk in. “Hello?”
Ms. Tremt pops up from behind a tall wall of bookshelves. She’s holding a broom, and it looks like there might be some kind of cage on the floor next to her.
“Good morning, Kai,” Ms. Tremt says distractedly. “Did you need something?”
“I needed to apologize for yesterday,” I start to say, and then I get distracted by the scurrying sound coming from behind the bookshelf. Maybe a mouse?
I walk closer to Ms. Tremt, who is holding the broom now like she’s trying to defend a goal and stop me from seeing what’s back there.
More scurrying sounds. Definitely not a mouse.
I look past Ms. Tremt, and that’s when a brown furry creature starts hissing from the corner.
“What in the world?!” I yell. “Ms. Tremt, is that a Triconodon? We just studied them in my science class!”
“A small prehistoric mammal with long canine teeth and powerful jaws?” Ms. Tremt gasps. “Why would I have a dangerous creature like that in here, Kai Mori?”
Hang Ten for Dear Life! Page 2